#it does bring the blue 'NEW' banner back to the live feature but it's better than the underlined colored text

[rhouxl]

APK link for the previous Tumblr version for everybody desperate to get rid of the yucky new update

[missgeniality]

Opaline Moon (m)

“The Moon can never breathe, but it can take our breath away with the beauty of its cold, arid orb.” - Munia Khan

➺ Banner: @hobiandsprite​ 💕

➺ Pairing: Seokjin x Female Reader

➺ Trope: Friends to Lovers, Idol!AU

➺ Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff

➺ Rating: 18+

➺ Word Count: 11.2k

➺ Summary: You are ingrained to love Jin, right upto the blood that courses through your veins. Confessing, however, is a whole other game. So it’s a good thing you’re bad at keeping your hands to yourself, because happenstance can handle the rest. 

➺ Warnings: talks about dance floor fucking, making out in the bar bathroom, fingering, pussy slapping, passing out drunk, daydreams about thigh riding, reader masturbates, they make out A LOT, neck kissing, a hickey, nipple play, some biting, cum eating (kind of, you’ll see), blowjob, protected sex!, reader and jin are corny, the hurt is real but the sex is real-er

➺ Author’s Note: My lovely, lovely moots - @taegularities​, @kithtaehyung​ and @baepsaetan​, thank you so much for betaing this and hyping it up, your comments made this fic a hundred times better! As I mentioned on the teaser, this fic took a lot out of me, but I thoroughly enjoyed writing the angst and will write more whenever the story aligns! I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing, and I hope this lovable Jin reaches your heart! (ngl, in usual fashion, I will come back and edit it again, so if you see a spelling mistake, your eyes are lying to you) Do let me know what you think, your asks and comments make my day!

This is the second part of my Dress Down series, find more at it’s masterlist!

ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ | ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

Sweltering heat. Blaring traffic. Little to no sleep. Through all things wrong, one man’s thoughts wrapped around you like a cooling breeze, a shield to protect you from the vicissitudes of reality, to draw you back into all of him. Unfortunately, your reality may never see that day come to light.

Kim Seokjin.

Kim Seokjin, the man who cooked you up a greasy break-up meal at three in the morning with not a sight of discomfort, putting your needs above all.

Kim Seokjin, whose puns make you roll your eyes heavenward, half awed at how he manages to pull one out of his collection at a moment's notice, and half irked by the untimely laugh it brings out of you.

Kim Seokjin, the man who will never be yours, and you have no one to blame but yourself. 

One could argue that the miscommunication that had caused this present condition was two-way. If you had stopped him, corrected him, let him know the truth… you wouldn’t have to resort to the extreme measures you’re currently entangled in. One would also say, you are trying to redeem your mistake by trying too hard. Surely, everyone and their mothers could see through your ruse. 

This is the fourth time you’re visiting Jin for his BE shoot - a shoot taking place two hours away from the city, disguised under various layers of secrecy to prevent any leakage of the album concept, or Jin in general. Of course, you had been made privy to such exclusive information, because you and Jin were ‘best friends’. 

Best. Friends.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Best friends. The term you coined for (and forced upon) the bond you had. The bond that was too close to sprouting into something new, something fresh, something that was filled with glimmering allure and dragged you in like quicksand. But also, it reeked of commitment, of shadows, of newness that you hadn’t felt in the longest time, and fear of already being far too deep in without even taking the first step. 

The loud thrum of some internet kid’s new hit pulses through the air of the club as bundles of couples occupy the dance floor, laughing and gyrating to a song that, in your opinion, most definitely does not suit gyrating. But with enough of the weekend happy hours intake combined with hormone-riddled minds, one could very well throw it back to a church choir. 

You weave through the drunken bodies, trying not to spill the precariously held three drinks in your hands, making your way to your inner circle, the only people to blame for dragging you to this slosh-fest.

“Y/N!” 

Somehow Hoseok’s voice can echo across the club, but you didn’t even need his addressal because Jin’s laughter is loud enough to navigate anyone to your table. Seeing you struggle with the glasses (and mostly the crowd, with some of them living their exhibitionist dreams), Hoseok gets up to assist you.

“I swear, if I see one more couple pretending to be dancing as they rub one off of each other’s thighs, the black market will have my eyes.”

“Oh yeah?” Jin’s breathy voice interjects your black-market dreams, still bursting in short laughs from whatever sent him rolling before your arrival. “Why don’t you go join them?”

“And whose thigh is she taking, yours?” Yeji snorts out, one hand holding her nebula blue drink, the other wrapped around Hoseok, urging him to come closer. Jin’s features scrunch into a cringe, and you’re thankful for the dim lighting because the disappointment in your features does not reach them.

“The only action these leather pants are getting is in the damned laundromat,” he points to his shiny trousers, “some jerk dropped his drink on it.”

“You could be the first person to give some chick an orgasm and a yeast infection.” Hoseok giddily adds, his fifth shot clearly making a mess of his brain cells. 

Jin claps and gets up to move away from the group. “Better than a pregnancy!” he yells, before zigzagging through the crowd, possibly to the restroom. He is on his third cocktail, and you’d think cocktails are lighter drinks. But in this bar, their taps just seem to flow with tequila, and it is very evident in the way Jin is currently walking.

His absence hits you harder than you think, but it might be the alcohol talking. Jin has always been the mood-maker of the group, the one who brings everyone together. Of late though, his magnetic persona has been an irritant in your life. Any outing you two take, any chance you have to come clean about the burgeoning crush you have on him, is effectively disrupted by one of his posse. And today, Hoseok and Yeji took that trophy. 

“Earth to Y/N. Has the cocktail finally broken you?”

You flutter your eyes in a manic fashion, to disperse the daydream you were indulging yourself in, and bring your attention back to the couple calling for you. Surprisingly, they have stood up, Yeji emptying the last of her neon drink. 

“What happened?”

“We are going to the club nearby, they have better stuff. And that’s code for ‘they actually add water to the drink and the surround sound doesn’t shatter your ear drum’.’” 

She isn’t wrong. The cocktails and music here are a 19-year-old frat party dream, not something the working class can digest. But you’re tired at this point, and don’t want to be smothered by someone else’s love life when your own is down the dumps.

“You guys carry on! I’ll tell Jin where you are and he’ll meet you there!”

You watch as Hoseok and Yeji lead each other to the exit, hands circling their partner’s waist. They giggle on and on, about nothing and everything, and it only hardens the emptiness you feel inside you. 

Why can’t you gather the balls to spit your feelings out? What could possibly go wrong? Yes, you may lose one of your closest friends, but is this friendship really worth the agony? The bitterness you feel when you see any couple enjoying themselves? The anger you harbor whenever Jin tells you about his dates? The heartache, when he hugs you and tells you that you’re the best thing that’s happened to him… as a friend? Is it? Your plastered brain tells you to not make any rash decisions, so you don’t, instead choosing to get up and search for your best friend. 

The corridor leading to the washrooms is dimly lit, throwing a merlot filter over your eyesight, making you squint in search of your friend. You being shitfaced does not help, and while relishing in your floating wooziness, you see Jin come out, and feelings you’ve held at bay for so long slither through your currently porous defenses. 

He has always been good-looking. He himself has said so a dozen times.

But wow.

His hair lays messily atop his beautiful face, unkempt, like a breeze of beauty swept across his mighty looks and displaced every strand, causing disarray, but even the disarray only frames his superior looks and adds to its potent charm. The black, patchy sweater hanging loose off his broad shoulders makes you feel things you shouldn’t feel as a friend. That stupid gut of yours is currently screaming, yelling for all hands on deck, trying to block all the feelings from gushing in and sending you into overdrive.

By the time you can gather yourself to stop from giving in to those dangerous thoughts, Jin has crossed the distance between you, coming close, too close. Chocolate-brown eyes peer into your soul, searching for whichever fantasy you chose to lose yourself in. His eyes flit down to notice your rumpled dress that has found its way a couple of inches above its designated spot. His gaze returns to yours, but not without a newfound hardness, an almost steely glaze over the kindness that you usually find in the chocolate pools, accentuated under the garnet lighting. 

“Hey, umm…” You beg for a reprieve, from your thoughts, from your filthy mind, from the way he is eyeing your cleavage, or just for the burning between your legs. You’re about to make some serious mistakes, you can feel it down to your bone.

You’re far too overdressed. 

You knew it when you were in the process of getting dressed, but right now, you feel it much more - you look like a shiny disco ball orbiting amidst the plethora of loose tees, leggings and flannels. Everything screams comfort, because the amount of work they’re putting into this begs for it. 

The strappy lace sundress you wear is extremely out of place, the halter-neck tie behind your neck fastened a little looser than necessary, giving your breasts the exposure they deserve, a nice valley view. Your dress skirt, adorned with pretty frills and dainty flowers, cut across your thigh to frame your petite hips. You are one floppy sun hat away from an extravagant Greek cruise - and in the moment you wish you had one to hide your face in shame. 

You’re just out here, trying to escape the zone. 

“Oh, would you look at the time, it’s tits out Tuesday already?”

Your eyes roll before Sanghoon even finishes his sentence, because you wouldn’t expect anything else from him. On the team of the set design, he is carrying a whole drapery worth of plush, mauve curtains, struggling with the slipping fabric. But apparently not struggling enough to stop him from getting his nose into your business, it seems.

“Literally not even a time you just mentioned. Can’t get one thing right.” You can’t stop yourself from stretching a hand out to feel the curtain fabric, the satiny sheets begging to be touched. Before you can though, Sanghoon moves away, not allowing you to shift the focus of the conversation.

“Don’t steer away from the facts. Your tits.”

“That’s the fact?”

“They’re out.” He bucks up, trying to point with the hand stuffed underneath all the cloth. “That’s the fact.”

“Ugh, can’t a girl dress up once in a while?” The pointed attention makes you uncomfortable, because everything he’s insinuating is true. With every passing staff member, you count a new shade of grey, interspersed with occasional blacks and greens, a stark contrast to your floral overtones. Amidst the thousand footsteps taken in your vicinity, only yours are pointed heels, echoing across the studio with every clack. But you’re a stubborn one, refusing to give in to his totally valid argument. “I just woke up early.”

“Girl.” Like light through frosted glass, he sees through your bullshit, but only partially. “You put an alarm to dress up? I have nightmares of the boss brandishing her whip and telling me to get into position, and even that doesn’t wake me up.” 

“Have you ever considered… not announcing your kinks to everyone and their sisters?”

“Ehh,” he simply shrugs, “nothing is new when you’ve serenaded your boss drunk in a karaoke bar and still managed to keep your job. Wait. Is that highlighter?”

“Stop staring into my tits!” You can’t believe you got caught, but also, who can you blame? After testing this outfit out from the crack of dawn, you decided your cleavage needed some extra help. Three YouTube tutorials and one TikTok lady - who make it look far easier than it is - down, the contouring brought out the swell of your breasts, and against the light fabric of your dress, it does look too good to be true.

Memories of that night in the bar come in billows and waves, of how enamored Jin was with the way your boobs looked at that time. Even under the dingy lighting, in the cramped space, under heavily inebriated scrutiny, you couldn’t miss the flicker of heat in his gaze every time it passed your chest. 

One thing led to another, and it was a cascade none of you could stop. The heat of attraction between you two does not help your wandering mind, and the fever drowns the knowledge that what you’re feeling is, beyond a shadow of a doubt, crossing some lines that can never be mended back again. With the proximity, his musky scent invades whatever defenses you were trying to patch, piercing through all your inhibitions and you pull him into you, claiming his lips to be yours. 

With his wobbly knees and your wobbly heels, you somehow find your way to the washroom - mostly he does, you give in halfway to wrap your legs around his lean waist, his sturdy legs balancing your weight on them as your back hits the wall, and his lips tear down your walls. 

“You look so fucking sexy today,” between bated breaths and indulgent sighs you confess, “just driving me nuts.” Letting your hands drag along his abdomen, feeling the ups and downs of his abs, you attempt to rid him of the sweater that’s been on your hit list all night. But to your dismay, your endeavor is blocked, when Jin gathers your wrists in his palm, turning you around to bend you over on the countertop, the smooth marble chill hitting your braless chest, perking your nipples under the cold. 

“And you?” Jin bends to give your earlobe a languid lick, progressing very slow, a complete contrast to the movement of his hips as he ruts against your ass, your already short dress bunching up with every move. “You think it’s smart to have your tits torment me like this?” Grabbing a handful from behind, he tests the weight of each fleshy mound, and by now you are certain your perked nubs can pierce his palm. 

His free hand, not yet torturing you, decides to get in on the action and disappears under the counter, swiftly crossing the bunched fabric of your dress, gaining easy access to your pussy. The cold touch of his pads sears against the heat of your core, finding your pleasure button and languidly fiddling with it, with no intention to cross you over the brink in sight. The only pleasure you can indulge in is the reflection of him abusing your nipples, pinching and tugging them down, whispering filthy words into your ear as he takes in your fucked out countenance. 

You feel lacking, weak hands balancing your dizzy self, finding purchase to keep you upright - but you’re both drunk on alcohol and hypnotized by his beauty to do much more than stare at his mirrored counterpart. “For fuck’s sake, kiss me.” 

How he understood your slurred words, you don’t know, but you are glad he did. In a moment you’ve been displaced, the hurried motion sending your neurons into a flurry. Once your back meets the hard marble, and your eyes have the privilege to see his, you pull him in closer, the force enough to hold you against the wall while your legs wrap around his lean waist. 

Originally not a fan of drunken misadventures, that side of yours is strangely mute to the going current onslaught. Well, you don’t have much breath left to say anything, because Jin is efficiently stealing it all, his teeth clashing with yours as you engage in the messiest kiss ever known to mankind (or at least, to you). He changes pace often, dragging his tongue leisurely against your lower lip, conveying tacit words, just to switch it up with a sharp bite and reel you in. 

One corner of your senses can feel his fingers messing around your cunt, and playing with the wetness your thong can barely contain. It makes you shudder, the damage that his fingers can cause solely circling around your hole. 

“Fuck me.” 

In your drunken stupor, you don’t know if the words leave you right, but you get confirmation when his long fingers finally penetrate your cunt, giving your walls something to clench on - although nothing could possibly compare to what you imagine you can get from his dick.

“God, you feel that grip,” he grunts, with two of his fingers in you, and Jin’s smile is the most sinister you’ve ever seen. “I think we should take this home,” is what his lips utter, but his fingers delve deeper, searching for the spot that crumbles you. The base of his palm grinds against your throbbing clit, and you are forced to bite down on this sweater, lest an embarrassingly loud moan escapes you and cues outsiders into your filthy doings. 

“Now,” you half-hiss, half-growl as you grab the cusp of his legs to feel his half-hard erection grow under the pressure of your hand. Your palm sliters up just to go down again, this time without the blockade of his pants, but you are stopped short of success when Jin’s fingers slip out of you to give you a sharp swat. 

“Stubborn, aren’t we? Can’t fucking wait,” he whispers into your ear, and as he envelops your lobe with his cushiony lips, he continues, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

No, no, no. 

Your brain rejects logic, chews and spits it out before any of the rationale seeps into you. You have wanted this for far too long. The need inside you for a meaningful relationship materializes in the form of recklessness, desperately looking for surface-level relief for the moment. A night of sewing sutures to your battle-worn heart, stitches that may come off at the slightest strain - but right now, that will do. 

“Please, Jin,” your tantalizing tone riles up his cock again, eagerly waiting for your next words, “can’t you feel me dripping? Come on, I can take you.”

“Fuck, hear that wetness.” He lets his palm slap against your sopping entrance, not stopping with one. With every slap, droplets of your arousal splash out, the insides of your thighs coated in the sticky sweetness, but your body is an endless reservoir producing plentiful more for Jin to play with. “Have you been sitting with this all this time?”

Two long fingers invade your channel again, leaving you with no response other than a gasp. They scissor incessantly, preparing you for what could be the railing of your lifetime. One curl inside and his fingertips hit the spot he was looking for, making you warp your body to take the pleasure coursing through your veins. His tongue seems to mimic the actions, looping around your earlobe as he sucks it inside, both ends of your body engulfed in all the attention he could provide. 

Your cunt is weeping against the assault of this man’s hands, tears of your cum flowing down your legs with every pump of his arm. You are getting there, the sweet swell of release inching closer and closer.

But something doesn’t feel right.

The tightness in your belly, that is to a point caused by Jin, is harboring other sensations that are not entirely pleasant. Maybe you’re anxious about the happenings. Maybe you haven’t had a good orgasm in a while and have just forgotten how this thing works.

Or maybe, the bar should have the water tap actually give out water.

Either your eyes close, or your brain does, but suddenly all you can see is darkness.

 Again, you are just trying to escape the zone.

“Step under those studio lights,” pointing at the too-bright stage lights being set up at the moment, Sanghoon continues, breaking your daydream, “I bet you could signal to aliens with the booby-reflection. Call them to Netflix and chill.”

“In about five seconds, my heel will be puncturing your eye. Don’t say I didn’t warn you!” 

Sanghoon’s drivel was cut short, and so were your murder plans, with his entry. “Oh look, he’s on set. Gotta go!” 

It’s like the lights, earlier threatening to burn away your skin, dim down in reverence of the glow of his face. The twinkle of his eyes when they meet yours. The shine of his smile when he throws you one. The vibrance of his tone when he calls out your name. Everything he does now threatens to burn you whole and it’s a wonder you’re not scalding, but the singe hurts you deep inside.

“Y/N! How do I look?” It’s a bathrobe. Like satin, or silk. Fucking hell, your brain could explode with the adjectives coming up, a whole chunk of them very much inappropriate to utter out in the current scene. Your arms want to rise, engulf him into you, and you have to physically halt the muscles from doing anything stupid. Brain, quick! Say something snarky and spicy, as best friends do!

“What’s the theme, unicorn puke?” The safest way to deflect is to attack. So you do just that. “You look like you dressed out of Hannah Montana’s closet. Which if it's true, I really need to see it. There’s a top that I’ve been eyeing for decades!”

“Don’t say decades.” Jin’s eyes crinkle in humor. “Makes me feel so old. Your dress is pretty cool too!” 

Cool.

You find out how difficult life can be when you count every single minute of yours. So far, you have counted 4,310 minutes. That is two days, twenty-three hours, and fifty minutes. Ten more minutes and it will be three whole days since you and Jin spoke. 

Yet again, you can’t blame him. When you came to the next day, you were in your bed, clad in the same shimmering silver bodycon that you had donned last night. The same one that had been privy to the colorful deeds you had committed in what was a dreary, colorless setting. 

One ibuProfen and ginger ale, downed with some severe recollections of the previous night, and you had been ready to throw it all up again. 

I don’t want to hurt you.

Words couldn’t describe what you were going through, and numbers weren’t invented to count the endless thoughts racing in your brain. You don’t know what is more upsetting. The fact that you actually had a chance to open your heart and you totally let your pussy think instead? Or that he was the one coherent enough to stop you from getting too far, and you let your desperation get the best of you? Everything about that night was wrong. And all the wrongs lie on your side. 

I don’t want to hurt you.

In the moment, it was physical, he had to have meant that. But there was a tremor in his voice, you can remember clear as day, a slightly shaken side of him had emerged through the intoxication, and the words he had breathed were not shallow. There was a gravity to them, that you’d stupidly ignored in the heat of the moment.

And now, here you are. Counting up till the last minute, after which you can effectively call the friendship ruined. Stirring your tea mindlessly, you try to focus on the show on TV, the variety show comedy not striking the usual funny bones that they could 4,311 minutes ago. 

The programmed ding of your phone bursts your thought bubble, a sound you have missed the past 72 hours. The ring you dedicated to Jin, that always had you running to receive because anything he sends brightens your day. But unlike those happier times, this ring has your gut fall into a pit of despair, struggling to choose between dispersing the suspense or remaining blissfully unaware of the damage you caused.

Jin: Free tmrw? We could grab coffee Jin: And talk

Talk. How? You barely remember what went down, save for fleeting moments that you recollected with great difficulty. Your fingers type back, trying to mimic the nonchalance in his text, that is very much absent in your actual demeanor.

Y/N: Sure. Paik’s at 1? Jin: Yup. See ya

Three texts, zero laughs. Of course, you’re not expecting him to land his jokes in this situation, even someone as talented as he can’t flip this tension. You’re just going to have to wait for tomorrow, when he decides whether you have a place in his life or not. 

The painstakingly worn outfit, accessorizing the whole look, the straps of your heels digging into your toes, the specks of makeup dust lying stale on your collar bones, the shine faints at that word. Cool. A perfectly normal phrase for a normal friendship. You are left maimed, while he absent-mindedly tends to the rope of his robe, blissfully unaware of the cyclonic emotions churning inside you. All you can possibly do is gulp it down. 

He runs his hands through his hair, beautiful locks coming out of place, and from one corner of the set, a groan of anguish emerges. 

“Oppa! Don’t play with your hair and face.” A masked lady runs forward waving combs that look like artillery, “We just got done setting it!”

Some finger guns, a happy apology, and some silly jokes later, all the stylists merrily round up to undo his doing, and Jin signals to you to catch up later. And as he walks away, the strings tugging at your heart reappear, as they do every time you come to meet him.

You have a masochistic streak in you, putting yourself through this every day, when he had made it clear, that you two never stood a chance. 

As if things aren’t already difficult, he looks like a dream. 

Soft, snowy skin gleaming like it has personal lighting wherever it goes, you get flashes of the rarely witnessed sweat on his skin, from the ferocity of last night. He’s blowing away the foam of his cappuccino, and tiny bubbles float into the air before falling flat on the table, like an animated shine that follows him along. God has His favorites, and God makes sure all the lighting in the world is perfect for these favorites. 

In no hurry, you wait at the counter to get your latte. After receiving it though, you can’t linger any longer and drag yourself to the table of doom.

“Hey.”

If the rasp in your voice is evident, he doesn’t show any recognition on his face. But you’ve learned to never trust an acting major. 

“Hi. How are you doing?”

Inadvertently, a snicker escapes your lips. “Are you interviewing me for a job?” you joke, trying to disperse the heavy air, filled with unspoken words. “If so, at least know that I’m very expensive.”

The familiar windshield wiper laugh does not greet you. Dead silence does. The half-smirk he painfully gives you is heavy, and the furrowed brows haven’t an inkling of joy. It shoots daggers in your heart, to know that you are the reason for this jolly man’s despondency. 

“Listen, I don’t think we should skirt around the issue too much. It happened, these things happen. You think Hoseok and Yeji didn’t have sex before making it official?”

His matter-of-fact nature isn’t new to you. Jin has always been a very practical man. Regardless of his inane sense of humor, his logical point of view has always been flawless. 

But right now, at this very moment, logic isn’t what you are looking for. You are looking for answers, but as far withdrawn from logic as possible, to take the edge off of the tension-laden air that surrounds your table.

“Yeah, but even… unofficially… we aren’t a thing, right?” 

Your abrupt question takes Jin unaware, almond eyes widening, like a toddler caught in an act. 

“No, no! Of course not! I would never!” 

His confession slips out with an ease that hurts you, digs deep to carve out the part of you that dreamt of anything more. Your eyes fall to your knees to avoid his perceptive gaze, the sting clear as the sky on a summer day. 

You force a smile and continue. “Then there’s no issue. Anyway,” you gulp your coffee down, burning your throat, but it's a distraction from the burning inside, “I need to get to work. Anything else?”

He’s still searching you, for what, you can’t possibly fathom. From the looks of it, he should be happy with this homeostasis; he doesn’t even know what this means for you. To still stay suspended in limbo, not being able to move up or down, to continue having thorns digging into your beating soul as you watch him like nothing bothers your already frail feelings. Scene by scene, you can visualize the future, him distancing himself from you as he finds the one he calls his, with you left in the shadows. Your knees tremble in fear of the impending future.

Seeing you in a tizzy, he calls out, the voice too loud for the cafe and your mind’s prison cage. 

“We’re still best friends, right?” If you knew better, you’d say his expression is that of sadness, of regret. But your judgment is clouded with your own bothers, and you interpret it as a look of pity. Like a lovesick puppy, kicked to the streets, with nowhere to call home. 

“Yeah! Always.” You give it as much enthusiasm as you can muster. 

Best friends.

Ropes wind around your heart, tugging and causing the deep ache that sets in as you walk back into your dreary building. Each string pulls you into a different dimension where you could move on, where you could be okay with the setting you had just agreed to. Where you would keep up your end of the promise and truly remain friends with him.

But no matter how strong the tug, your heart never yields, never lets go of the castle of dreams you built, staying steadfast in its own misery, choosing to hope, choosing to live the life of unrequited love.

“And that’s a wrap! Good job everyone!”

Applause and hurrays echo across the set to bring you back to the present. The shoot has officially concluded, which means it's time for your most favorite and least favorite part of the day - Jin and you doing best friend things, like grabbing lunch, gossiping about obnoxious coworkers, threatening to disembowel each other (in Mortal Kombat, of course) and other friendly activities. 

Ever so respectful, Jin takes his time thanking every member of the set, regardless of whether they moved a cushion or held the reflector screen for hours. All the women gush over his beauty, reminding him of how, even amidst the glowing ornaments, his face was the brightest. His responses vary, from quiet little giggles, to complimenting the crew for making it happen, to straight up owning his charisma like a boss. That’s your man. 

Well, not quite. Not one bit.

After exhausting the handshakes and hugs to be received, Jin walks to you, hands pushing his robe back to give it a cape like effect. You’re just glad that the man’s child persona still stays with him, no matter the situation.  He guides you to his green room, cracking his bones on the way, (very sexily, might you add).

“Holding a pose for that long gives me cramps! You’d think dancing breaks my back, and you’d be wrong.”

You’re desperately avoiding looking at his fingers, and keep your eyes below them - shoot! His ceaseless stretching gives you a glimpse under his shirt - it is dragging your memories back to the last time you saw them, and you’d rather not. It is hurting you in more ways than one. 

Eye contact is your safest bet. Looking up, you give him a lopsided grin. “Your grandfatherly days are approaching, Jinnie.” 

“Hey!” 

The rest of the conversation was less speaking, more yelling and chasing after each other to the green room, Jin taking mock-offence at your jab at his age, and his fingers reaching out to flick your forehead in retort. In your noisy, messy fashion, you both finally enter the room, dim gold light bulbs and shiny mirrors meeting your huffing self. 

One hand on your knee, you hold on to Jin’s arm with your other, gasping for breath. 

“Your grandmotherly days are already here, Y/N,” he snorts, and earns a kick on the shin, but that doesn’t stop him from bursting into snickers.

“Wow, why does one man need 4 mirrors?” You gape at his current green room, mouth wide open. It looks better than your entire apartment, with the counter carrying top-of-the-line makeup products. Only the best for this man. “So you can admire yourself from 4 different angles?”

Jin has disappeared into one of the inner rooms, but you can hear him snort at your comment. “Come on, I’m not that conceited. When the whole crew shoots together, the extra mirrors help.” The last part of that sentence is muffled, and that cues you into an important fact. 

Jin is currently changing into something more comfortable.

A process that includes him getting naked.

Well maybe he doesn’t get fully naked, top on, top off, bottom on, bottom of-

Still. You’re sweating like a whore in church. 

And things only get tougher when he finally comes out. 

The ocean blue sweater he dons is tucked in. Who tucks in sweaters? Kim Seokjin. Why does he tuck sweaters? Oh, because he’s got an amazing waistline that he should most definitely show off, and the heat between your thighs becoming increasingly potent is a testament to that. You pretend to adjust your heels, giving the right expressions to show you’re in pain, but in actuality you are bringing your legs closer to get you some relief, just any relief. 

Ripped jeans too. You get a peek of the thighs you were denied access to the night of the fuckening. Ridged and beautiful, not a speck in sight to mar his perfection. You are glad the facial expressions for pain and pleasure are not far apart, because your thighs, albeit very lacking, are helping the imagery in your head. Just Jin, seated on one of these leather chairs, and you straddling his thigh, clit aching against the strands of the rips in his denim, the fabric soaking up the wetness, with every push forwa-

“Now that you mention it, I do look dashing.”

And there goes that dream. 

You pinch his cheeks in adoration, the vulgarity of your thoughts getting whitewashed by his silliness and blooming heart-shaped flowers in their stance. You feel your own pinch in you, wondering if this scene would be the same had you blurted your feelings out that day at the cafe.

It's times like these when you remind yourself why you choose to quieten that side. This dynamic cannot reincarnate in any other form. Any imbalance to this equilibrium could cause a serious case of best-friends-turn-awkward-acquaintances, and you don’t know if that’ll hurt you more than you currently do. You don’t plan on finding out.

But on God, he tests that resolution every single day.

Jin doesn’t even hint that he knows of the turmoil blasting behind your eyes. He nonchalantly fixes his hair, gives you a one-over as you are mentally undressing him, nonchalantly as well. Then he moves to grab his cologne, and two spurts disintegrates all the whitewashing and takes you back into the obscenities you were unfolding. 

“So I’ll just go over the shoot photos, and then we can leave! You’re cool waiting here?”

“Hmmn, yeah!” You don’t let your mouth run any longer, fearing what might slip out. 

He gives you a wide, innocent smile. “Great! See you in a bit.” Poor guy. If only he knew how debase plans you were conjuring just from the aroma of his cologne. 

It is musky, like cedar or pine, perfectly suiting him. It is the same scent you remember inhaling, face stuffed in his sweater when he was fingering you to the tenth circle of hell. As he walks away, the fragrance diminishes, save for the slightest hint of lingering. You search for the source, and find the culprit strewn across the sofa.

The outfit Jin wore for the shoot held remnants of the perfume, and when you bring the shirt close and take a long, deep whiff, you transport yourself to the land of your dreams. You relish the fever smell of his cologne, mixed with his own natural scent, deciding that this is what you wish to smell like every waking morning.

Your longing for him has crossed way beyond physical boundaries. You longed for his love, longed for his attention. Longed to be the one that brings the light to his face. From morning rays to the darkness of the night, you wanted to experience it all by his side. To be his lone star, shining bright beside the moon. 

Your hands are moving without your control, disrobing you of your thirst trap of a dress and putting on Jin’s shirt instead. One look at the mirror and you let out a silent groan - it fits you just right. Just enough to cover your ass cheeks, loose enough to let the air conditioning hit your heated pussy. While well-fitting shirts have never been the cornerstone of a successful relationship, your delusional mind takes whatever wins it gets.

Adding layers to your pipe dream, you don the robe that gave you a tough time throughout the shoot. When you press the tails of the robe to your cheek, the softness of the material is soothing. Soft, like Jin’s eyes, like his hugs, like his smile. Like him.

Leaning against the counter, you steady yourself, mind split in titillation. Your fingers find their own path, drawing circles on your breasts over his shirt, imagining Jin’s long fingers in place. While teasing your nipple to pointed peaks, you slip your other hand under your panties, trying very hard to mimic his digits, twiddling your clit between your fingers. Alas, the effect isn’t achievable, because Jin seems to know how to play you better than yourself. 

The scent is getting stronger, without any provoking, and it is doing wonders for your immersion. You let out a loud moan when your fingers press inside, and you’re just glad no one can witness this.

“Y-Y/N?”

Fuck.

You are pulled away from your dreamland that was so impenetrable that you didn’t hear Jin step into the room. All the blood gushing to your nether regions has made a U-turn to flood your brain to think of a plausible explanation for this position. Instead it makes you giddy, and when you try to stand you wobble in your heels, to be rescued by what you think is a very scandalized Jin. 

Time stands still when your eyes meet, and what you see are blown out pupils trembling, many questions fluttering between you two. Jin crosses a tenth of the distance between you, lips flutter as they try to make a decision - do they want to part and give way to the voice of question? The voice of reason? The voice that will break this hush, burst this bubble where he has the one chance to give in to his longing?

You bring your lips closer, and cause immense disquiet in his dome, the way of his heart gathering speed against rationale. Your eyes dance between matching his gaze and finding his lips, every fraction of an inch you cross sending tremors through you. You can feel the shockwaves traverse through your body, making a pitstop at your lips, tingling them awake. They move downwards, passing your heart, beating it wildly against its cage, and then to the pit of your stomach to tighten in anticipation; finally reaching the tip of your toes, where you stand right now, a nanoscopic distance between you. Each one of you is afraid to cross the bridge, unaware of the other’s desires. 

Finally, Jin acqueises and meets you on your side. 

Atomic explosions ring through your head, clearing out every single thought that is not about Jin’s lips on yours. The ropes that held your heart from beating to the tune of your want, they’ve loosened their knots to give you the leeway to love freely. As your lips exchange positions, his teeth lightly drag across your plush petal, and it brings back the most important part of that night that you couldn’t recollect - the one where his lips sang wordless songs of adoration against yours. Blind as a bat, you were.

You dig your fingers into his hair, not minding your residual arousal coating his locks, and you feel his hands doing the same to you. With your eyes closed, you feel a rough edge to his cushiony soft lips, but Jin fixes that mistake - one stray strand of hair trapped in the middle of your indulgence - he pulls it away to give you all of the kiss. The hand tucked in your tresses pushes in, silently demanding more access, and you’re nothing but ready to give it.  

His tongue sneaks in to play a game with yours - when you seek it, it goes into hiding, finding perfect pleasure in soft, sweet kisses, but when you stay, it comes back in, awakening your tongue to deepen again. Everything he is doing is too much and not enough in one go, and you whine into his mouth in desperation, seeking some well-earned relief after months of holding back.

Amidst the flurry of your lips, your back hits the vanity countertop, and Jin pushes away everything on top to make space for you, not caring what expensive item flies down the counter to accommodate your ass.

As if you’ve made up for the months of holding back, the softness of the kisses erodes, teeth coming into play more and more, reminiscent of the night that went by in a blur. He swallows every mewl you give in return, blissed out beyond repair, your neediness making his cock strain against the denim. 

His hand snakes down, spreading his fingers to get a hold of your back to push you towards him, covering any gap that dared to intervene. Now unworried about the shoot, your hands have effectively ruined his perfectly placed locks and messed them up to resemble the craze he let you spin in.

Before he can glide his tongue back in, you break the kiss, lest you lose yourself in it to the point where you forget to breathe. With attached foreheads, you take deep drags of air, letting the oxygen flow to your brain before you make some ill-advised, unclarified decisions.

“I- I was jus-”

“Shhh. Wait,” he breathes out, wanting to take a second and fully savor the moment. You nod in return, making his head move along with yours.

After sufficient air fills his lungs, Jin starts. “Y/N, we should stop.”

Last time this had happened, you had tried to force your way through his barrier, without giving his feelings a second of consideration. So this time, you don’t repeat your mistakes. “Tell me why.”

“Because, I don’t know what you’re looking for, but I’m way deeper in this than you think.”

“Jin, I-”

“Let me finish.” He stops you before you can explain how much you reflect his emotions, possibly more. He doesn’t seem to want to listen now. “Let me finish, or else I’ll chicken out, for the millionth time.”

You’re dumbfounded. Millionth time? When was the first? Acting majors, by God. 

“I love you, Y/N.”

No, now you are dumbfounded. Your hands, holding his precious locks, drop down in shock, at sheer disbelief that all this time, he has been ready and waiting to return you the favor. Jin though, misinterprets it as a look of disdain. 

“I-I know I do, and I’m sorry that I do. I know you don’t feel the same way. You can hate me all you want, but this is the truth.”

“And yes,” he continues, refusing to halt for even half a second, afraid that the courage he mustered to confess would dissipate the moment he does, “I’m attracted to you, and I don’t know what went down here --” flicking his wrist to mention your (his) outfit, “--but I’m looking, okay? And I’m hard as fuck. But that’s not all there is to it.”

“I need all of you.” He takes an audible gulp, trying to stymy his emotions from overpowering him. “I want to take you out, I want to hold you hand, I want to bring you to all the places I love. I want to introduce you to people, not as my best friend, but so much more than that. It hurts me,” bringing his hand to his chest, he emphasizes the point of pain by clutching over his heart, “hurts to call you that because I’m lying through my fucking teeth.”

You break eye contact, because there are tears smarting your eyes at his heartfelt revelation. You can’t believe the idiot that you have been all this while. The man of your dreams stands in front of you, baring his soul, and you can’t even do him the decency of telling him what you felt yourself before jumping his bones.

And you love him, too. Maybe you haven’t said so, even to yourself, but you’ve known all this while.

You love him.

“If you are just looking for a fuck, or want any sort of a ‘benefits’ situation, we should stop. I can’t lie to myself anymore.”

“Jin, my God,” you half-sigh, half-laugh, feeling a burden lift off of you after months of pining.

“You don’t have to pacify me, it’s okay, I’ll be fine.” Even in this moment, he is looking out for you. His lips are curved upward to show you that he’s okay, but his pupils are shaky and restless, not in sync with his smile. You hope your next words can fix that for him.

“Pacify you? Hate you?” You shoot him an incredulous look, one you will explain to him very soon. “You are a much better person than I am, Jinnie. For months now, I’ve loved you, but even at this point, I didn’t stop to tell you.” The guilt of letting your hormones cloud your judgement for the second time lays heavily on your conscience. “I’m sorry for not making this clear earlier, but let me now. I love you, Kim Seokjin. I have for way too long. I want you, I need you. You have me, in every possible way.”

It feels unparalleled to get that off your chest. The leaden weight of your emotions immediately disappears - or the fact that it's shared, makes it much, much lighter. But then you look at Jin, and he still seems to have not put two and two together. You patiently wait for him to process all the information. 

When he finally recoups, he yells, “What?!”

You let out a loud guffaw, the first one with no inhibitions in the longest time. “What?”

“Why didn’t you say anything that day at the cafe?!” 

“You said you’d never date me, asshole!” You punch his chest softly, before slipping your hands behind him and pulling him closer. “I might not look like it, but I have some dignity.”

“I said that?” Jin brings one hand to pinch his nose in annoyance. “What an idiot. I think I was just inverting everything to make sure I don’t accidentally slip up.”

You lift your head to meet his eyes again, letting him see the tears you were hiding. You find a couple in his eyes, too. But the smile on your face is genuine, and that is all that matters. “I was blind too, so don’t beat yourself up about it.” 

Flitting your eyes down to find the contour of his cock against his jeans, you ask him innocently, “How about we make up for lost time?”

“Fuck, yes, please.” And with that, your lips are engulfed again.

When you have all your guards down, the kiss tastes sweeter than before. Mere moments ago, while thoroughly enjoying the kiss, a sense of reticence had clouded your pleasure, holding you back from luxuriating in the headiness. A series of what-ifs had plagued your subconscious without your realization, but with all that cleared, you wholly submit to the kiss, emptying your mind until nothing but his name remains.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Jin gasps out, when you bite into his pillowy lower lip, “I thought you looked the prettiest in the dress earlier but,” after pulling away, he drinks your current attire in, “you look the most beautiful in this.”

You snicker. “Even more than World Wide Handsome?”

His eyes bore into yours, no hint of the joking lilt he always carries in them. 

“So much more.”

Your hands find their place amidst his shaggy hair again, and you lodge his face into your neck - a command Jin acquiesces to with great pleasure. After a long, wet lick to your collarbone, he lays feather-soft kisses on the trail he left, starting from your shoulder and working inward, until he brushes against the back of your ear. You grasp at his sweater, because his lips feel so good. Your breaths are short, sucking in every time he allows your skin the luxury of a soft peck.  Once he lays a kiss on your forehead, he brings his gaze down to one of the main reasons that causes his cock to stir.

“Fuck, look at your nipples under my shirt.”

Gazing down, you can see the two pointed peaks that caught Jin’s eyes. 

“That tends to happen when I’m thinking of you.” 

He twists a nipple over the shirt, hardening it further, and you throw your head back in the satisfying pain. “Yeah, I remember.”

You are unraveling every second, the ache swishing amongst the bliss his fingers are bringing in you. He’s switched over to drawing circles around your nipple, until he snaps and tugs your shirt up, finally revealing the palmfulls of flesh awaiting his hands. 

“Ah that night, I didn’t get to do this. Take this off.” But then, he makes you put on his robe again. You throw him a questioning look, to which he responds with a sheepish smile, “Just so, you know… you don’t feel cold… or something.”

“Just say you like me in your clothes and move on.”

“I love you in my clothes,” he admits in a heartbeat, his expression that of anguish, “can we move on?”

“God, gladly.”

Unexpectedly, he bites the side of your boob - not hard at all, but feeling his teeth against your skin sends your head reeling backward. Your involuntary response is to wrap your legs around his waist, grinding your core against him. His teeth continue to nip you lightly across the expanse of your breasts, the trail of saliva he leaves cooling parts of your flushed body. Finally, finally, he latches onto your left nipple and gives it a long, pleasurable suck.

“Ahh, Jin - you’re too - God damn it - you’re too good at this.” 

Without stopping the onslaught he is unleashing on your breasts, his fingers begin to move - but soon, they stop, hesitation rippling off of their tips. His pace falters, and his mind is fighting on the next course of action.

“Can I-”

“Finish what you started that night?” you complete for him, already prepared with your answer. “Yes, please.”

All forms of uncertainty shoot out of his touch, and he confidently trudges forward. Playing with the band of your panties, he gives you a well-intended chuckle, murmuring, “As far as I remember, I was so good you passed out.”

“Boy,” You groan, intended in jest, but his teeth slide against your jaw and it mostly comes out more wanton than jovial, “let me see you have tequila for dinner and remember much the next day.”

“Fair fair,” he gives in, shifting to buss the valley of your cleavage, feeling your heart thud against your ribs holding it in place. “Well today,” he starts without moving his face, his nimble fingers moving past the barrier of your underwear, pressing two fingertips directly on your clit, and hissing like it's him at the receiving end, “I’ll give you enough to remember.”

You pull his sweater off and chuck it away, not wanting to be reminded of any blockades that kept you apart, and your hands roam the expanse of his back remembering the touch of his skin from the night at the bar. His body isn’t new to you, but the circumstances make it feel different. 

Finally, his fingers find their way inside you. 

Yes, this. This was what was missing from your drunken tryst. With your heads in place, your ardor intensifies, and you move his lips back to yours needing to release your animalistic desire into his mouth. Pleasure surges through both of you as you threaten to swallow him whole.

You can feel him being more present, and considering the merciless finger-fucking you had earned that night, this is taking it to a whole other degree. 

The night at the bar, his fingers did their best to ravish you, but now, Jin is paying attention, close attention to the way you respond. Every muscle movement is recorded in him as you struggle to accommodate three of his lengthy digits. Leaning close, he gives your peaked nipple the lightest feather lick - the suddenness sends shockwaves through you as he continues to tweeze the other, talented pianist hands performing his musical piece on both ends of you.

His fingers pump into you with determination, finding new depths to explore that he missed out on, and with a curl of his pointer, you blank out, screaming in the orgasm that is washing over you. Every skincell of your body feels the quiver of lust spreading, your cunt squeezing for an eternity, milking the orgasm out to the extent that you can. 

When you look down, your metaphorical orgasmic flood manifestes as a deluge of your arousal leaking on the table. And when you look back up, you can see the salacious ideas making their rounds in Jin’s head as he looks at the inundation you released. 

Hurried hands still convulsing from the intensity of your orgasm, you undo his belt, followed by his jeans and finally - getting the pleasure you were heartlessly denied of - his cock is out, in all its glory, twitching as the cool air hits its naked skin. Jin’s plans don’t go hand in hand with yours though.

“Are we just - holy fucking shit - just, umm, leave that to waste?” he lustfully looks down to your leaking core, and someway, through your hold on his dick, he tries to steer you into his plans.

“I don’t know about that,” you cheekily reply. You have the right idea to satisfy both of you, and get down to the task.

With the flat of your palm, you swipe across the droplets of cum you released, gathering them to transfer them onto his thick length. Jin thrusts into your hand, the wetness jolting him into attention, and he places an arm on your shoulder to steady himself. 

“You’re going to taste yourself?” he asks as you continue your vacillating motion, twisting at the base of his head with the wetness you graciously provided yourself. You give him a nonchalant look, something he is trying to do to you as well. 

“Who said I’m gonna suck you off?”

His look changes, and the one you get in return is cocky, arrogant, downright rude if you were honest. You expected him to play on with your banter, but one raised eyebrow and the lazy smirk he gives, to what he probably thinks is a joke - Zeus could land on earth and not be able to stop you from gobbling his meat. 

Your mouth is filled with his dick even before your knees hit the ground. Jin staggers back, but your suction on his dick is funnily strong enough to pull him back before falling.  You switch positions, having him balance himself against the counter, all while you refuse to leave his cock out. His giggle of endearment has you pouting, but it swells your heart and makes you want to give more, more of anything and everything. With your renewed vigor, you push yourself in until his pubes tickle your nose, and his tip tickles your throat. 

“Your-”, “I-”, “uhh-” 

Every new sentence Jin starts crumbles to your actions. You furrow your brows both in concentration on your blowing skills and trying to decode what he is trying to say. 

Jin takes a large gulp, adamant on making this one a coherent sentence. “You know, I used to imagine this, and in my dreams I used to be very sexy and suave, talking my way throug-oof-” You run your tongue over the tip of his leaking dick, emphasizing the point he is coming to, “Now I can’t even complete sentences here.”

“You being you is super sexy in itself.” And you curve your tongue to match the arch of his cock, letting the incoming saliva pool on it before letting it run down his shaft, dripping down from his balls. Strings of his precum connect to your lips, and you swipe your tongue through them, relishing the salty goodness before going back in for more. 

“Y/N, shit, did you just moan?”

How couldn’t you? The fact that he is horny for you, so much so that rivulets of precum don’t stop drizzling down your throat, has you preening. You hum your assent in response, not willing to let go even for a moment, but Jin pulls you off before you can get a chokehold on the base of his cock again. 

“Never had a woman moan while sucking me off. It’s sexy as fuck,” Jin breathes into your lips as he dives in for a kiss.

Your chest is heaving, catching the breaths you lost when you were down. “Then why’d you stop me?”

“Are you kidding me? I was about to lose it right there.”

“Jinnie, come on,” you break the fragmentary kiss you were sharing, looking into his glassy eyes, “let me feel you come on my tongue.” To emphasize your conviction, you lick his lips, persuading him of the sinful deeds your tongue is capable of doing if he’d just let you.

“Oh man, stop. What’s worse than busting a nut in your mouth? Busting it while you’re kissing me. Making me feel like a teenager.” You erupt into a loud laugh, soon followed by Jin as well. It is so him to joke about this. 

“And babe,” all hints of embarrassment vanishing from his tone, “I’m only going to come inside you.”

“Fuck, fuck, yes. You got a condom on you?”

“Yeah, let me grab my wallet.” The instant he moves away, you feel naked, shivering from the comfort stolen away from you. But then you hear Jin grumble, “I hope I don’t have the bacon-flavored one.” And the absurdity of it all puts you at ease again.

“Ew, stop, even you can’t make that sexy. My lady boner is dying.”

He envelops you again, and you can feel the laughter echoing in his lungs before making it out to your ears. He brings your attention to the familiar rustle of foil wrapper. “Thankfully, we got chocolate.”

“Mmmh, gotta love chocolate.”

You take the condom out of his hands, and roll it onto his stiff length, flattered that he’s holding his erection for so long. 

“Okay, stick it in me!” And you smack your ass in readiness, and a very flabbergasted Jin breaks out chortling.

“Y/N, stop being my best friend for like, five minutes!” His brows are furrowed in pretense exasperation, but you can see his lips holding back a genuine smile through the grimace, just happy that your dynamics haven’t changed the slightest, even though everything else has shifted.

“Okay okay,” you try and suppress your own laughter, before continuing, “how do you want me, baby?”

“Bend over on the vanity. And keep your eyes on the mirror.” And as you move into position, his palms grab your ass and squeeze it hard, feeling your glutes push back against his grip, and he pushes you forward till you're on the tips of your toes. You watch him through the mirror, watch him admire the way your ass curves over the table edge, how your toes struggle to keep you up, and how the dimples of your back are deepened by the arch, peeking under the bunched up robe tails, just waiting for him.

“Jin.” Your hushed whisper puts him in action.

Pushing the head in is anguish and relief at the same time. His bulbous head stretches your entrance; even with your preparation, you feel it sting. The searing gets better and better with every inch slipping in, and when he finally lodges inside, you let out a heavy breath, still panting and keeping yourself from screaming bloody murder in pleasure. Jin bends forward to paint the back of your neck, sucking the flesh till the circular bruise comes to surface. 

“Can you- can you-fuck, no, wait-” Your brain is at war with itself, battling between adjusting to his girth and having him pump you into adjustment. 

You can feel Jin’s snicker from behind you, and he finally makes the decision for you. “I’ll wait, I have things to do here,” he says before playing around the patch of skin, spreading from the base of your hair to the expanse of your back, his teasing licks relaxing your walls and accommodating his girth. The pain is almost gone, expect for the lingering ache that only helps you.

“You can move now, babe.”

“Okay, okay.” Your words snap him out of the painter’s dream he was in, and he twitches inside you. Something about the ease at which you both have adopted nicknames for each other softens his heart and hardens his cock. 

Pulling out till only the head rests inside, Jin himself struggles against the third degree grip your pussy has on him. As he is thrusting inside again, your walls tense up, making it harder and harder for him to hold back. 

“Y/N, sweetie, relax. I got you.”

“Jin, I’m-” You have tears running down your eyes, the pleasure and unsurmountable happiness rolling out in fat hot drops. “Fuck me harder. I won’t last.”

“Shit. Okay, hold on then.”

To what? Is what you’re going to ask before Jin unleashes his carnality onto you. Your breasts, dripping in sweat and saliva, are plastered to the countertop, which in itself is jiggling to the beat of Jin’s thrusts. His dick is curving inside to hit you repeatedly, and you have to gather the satin fabric to wipe your eyes to keep your gaze fixed on him. 

He looks majestic. Forehead embellished with beads of sweat, his hair coiffed up, lips sanguine red after your vicious kisses - you swipe your tongue along your own lips to find them battered in response. His honey chest is heaving with every push, and a particular one hits you just right. 

You let out a guttural groan, and Jin takes note of it immediately. 

“Up,” he commands, and loops an arm under your belly to you pull you up and closer and now every thrust hits deeper into that spot he has found in you, your back connected to his chest as the two of you move in tandem; this is the most together you’ve ever felt with anyone. This moment is to be etched in your memories forever.

You scream into your fist to muffle the sounds, the edge of the table digging into your hip bone as you feel yourself getting closer to the brink. One swipe to the clit is all you have left to bring you to your release. 

And from some telepathic force, or from the clutch your pussy has on him, Jin beats you to it. His fingers come down and carefully find your swollen nub, pinching it between his fingers. If he thought you’d shown him your hardest clench, he was wrong, because right now your dam has broken, and the iron-clad grip you give his cock sends him reeling, too.

You are gushing on his dick, the rubber dripping with your wetness. Jin too releases into the condom in stuttered gasps, his thrusts becoming shorter and shallower as he comes down from his high. 

Petal-like kisses fall on your back as the two of you regain your breaths. The mirror that served you two well is covered in a fog of hot breath and perspiration, blearing your vision of yourself, but somehow, it sparkles with Jin’s reflection. His nobility-esque visuals use the haze as a valance for his appearance, framing them to make him look like you’re among the clouds. And in some way, you actually are.

“Ah, let me go.” You jiggle your shoulders back to make the man above you move. “Fuck, can you check if my spine is in place? I think you dislodged it.”

“Shut up and come hug me, I’ll squeeze it back in place.”

Now this is something you could get used to.

As he ties and throws away the used condom, you flip over to face him and fall back into his embrace, broad shoulders promising to protect you, making you feel safe in his care. Jin on the other hand is simply ecstatic to feel you on him, feeling your thumping heart beat for him, after months of pining and pondering whether anything would become of the seed of your tumultuous friendship. Now, it has blossomed to a garden of prospect and promise, every petal of every flower here reading a new opportunity to tell you how much he adores you, cherishes you, treasures you. How much he loves you.  An opportunity he doesn’t wait to use. 

“I love you.”

The pink tinge of your cheeks either comes from the sex, or from his comment, but either way, he is glad its from him. 

“I love you too, Jin. So, so very much.”

If your heart could leap out of your chest, it would do so, to find its way to his and fuse into one. But for now, your entwined bodies give you all you want. 

You hear Jin stifle a laugh, and pull back in question. He points to something odd on the countertop.

“What is that?”

The cream white surface of the table, that was maligned by your ignoble deeds, now sports two glistening, wheatish semi circles that look very similar to the sizes of one person who was splayed on top of it just moments ago. 

“Is that…” Jin is trying to contort his lips and halt the looming snicker, and he brings his eyes down to your chest (trying not to get hard again), “Did you have makeup on your chest?”

“Shut up.” All you can do is fall closer into his arms, hopefully masking the tint of embarrassment highlighting the apples of your cheeks. “I wanted to make them look extra good for you.”

He’s given up on holding back, the full-bellied laugh that resonated from him echoing across the room. But it dwindles down fast, coming to small chuckles of tenderness, and he slips his digits beneath your chin to have you meet his gaze.

“They always look good,” he whispers, his admittance setting your chest aflame, “trust me, I’d know.”

Taglist 💛:  @little7bitchh​, @afangirllikeme-blog​, @h34rt1lly, @marpotterhead​

Thank you so much for making it to the end! I hope you enjoyed the fic, my ask box is always open for your lovely opinions. To read more of my work, find my main masterlist here. :)

[monicawoe]

spn fic masterlist

(updated 5/29/21)

I’ve written over 100 spn fics (ranging from ficlets to 70k big-bangs). Most of them are Sam-centric, largely featuring powers!Sam. The whole collection can be found here on AO3

newest fics:

Between Hell and the Hunt - Dean's deal is due, but Sam has found a way to save him. He's made a deal with someone else - someone Lilith can't touch. (2k words, Wild Hunt season 3 AU)

Closer Than You Think - Five times Sam’s eyes were demonic, and one time they weren’t. (3k words, boyKingSam AUs of multiple eps)

Behold the Beast, Behold the Lamb - Season 4 AU.  Sam tried to free Dean from Hell, but angels intervened and took Dean for their own purposes. Sam is determined to get Dean back and will do whatever it takes, embracing his abilities fully. The more demon blood Sam drinks, the more demons he kills, the more he changes inside and out until it’s impossible to hide his monstrous side. Ruby, Uriel and Castiel push Sam to fulfill his destiny and become his true self—the Beast of the Revelation. (gen, Sam/Ruby, 20k words; featuring art by @quickreaver​)

Prayers Answered - written for the boy king Sam discord server prompt: Sam has grown up in a very religious environment. He's devoted, he goes to church, he prays. He knows that God is with him, because he listens to his prayers. But as Sam grows older, he realizes it's not God that's been listening. And he realizes that he's not asking - he's been ordering, and his loyal servants would never deny their King. (2k words; gen)

Sin Eater - Sam has a different plan to cure demon Dean, but Dean doesn't want to be cured. (Sam drinking blood from demon!Dean, written for @quickreaver​ for her artwork Bitumen Kiss)

On His Head a Crown - written for the 2019-2020 SWBB, art by @slytherkins​ Hunters drug Sam, force-feed him demon blood, and bring him to where they’ve captured Brady. Brady tells Sam he knows how to stop the Apocalypse, and Sam, despite his better judgment, hears him out: Sam himself is the horsemen Conquest—aka the Antichrist—and he alone can bring Lucifer’s apocalypse to a grinding halt. Sam resists, but when he discovers the good he can do with his new powers, he decides to use them to atone for all his past mistakes.   (21k, Sam/Brady, gen, AU of 5x03-5x04)

Many more under the cut

Best Self - written for @alyndra9​​  for the prompt: King of Hell Sam meets Kale!Sam and they have many differences of opinion to work out. (aka the only one who knows what Sam really wants is Sam.) words by monicawoe banner by @quickreaver​​! (~4k words, Sam/Sam)

All You Have Is Your Fire - written for @quickreaver​ for the 2020 Supernatural Spring Fling Dean has known fire all his life. Sometimes it sounds like his brother. (~2k words; gen)

Tear You Apart - written for @wetsammywinchester​ who wanted Soulless!Sam/Brady & Soulless!Sam taking on the mantle of King of Hell:  Sam doesn’t want his soul back. He resurrects Brady who helps him figure out a way to outsmart Death: by damaging his soul so it can’t be reintegrated. With Brady’s help, Sam reclaims his power, and takes his soul apart one piece at a time. (8k words; Soulless!Sam/Brady)

Hellbound - Sam is in Hell, and then he isn't. He's standing on a sidewalk with a stranger looking back at him—a stranger that has his face. My 2020 spn-summergen fic! Featuring soulless!Sam, disembodied soul-Sam and amnesiac Dean. (gen, 8k)

Lakeside Fishing - written for @denugis​ - After defeating Famine, after days of suffering through demon blood withdrawal in the panic room, Sam needs time to clear his head. Early in the morning, he heads to a small lake seeking solitude, but instead finds an unexpected ally. (4k words; Sam/Patrick; set after My Bloody Valentine; witch!Sam)

His Soul to Keep - art by @sketchydean​​ - written for the SPN Eldritch Bang horror event - Dean’s deal is coming due soon. When he finds out from Ruby that Hell will turn him into a demon, he refuses to accept it, even though he can already feel pieces of his soul starting to crumble away. Sam is his only anchor to the world, and Dean finds it harder and harder to leave his side.    After Broward County, after watching Dean die a thousand deaths, Sam decides he’s not going to let Dean go to Hell. He’ll do whatever it takes, even if that means allying himself with Ruby and using the darkness inside of him. Sam casts a soul-binding spell on Dean; they might not be able to break the deal, but they can change who Dean’s soul belongs to. (13k, Sam/Dean, hard-gen, AU of season 3))

Last Drop - art by @quickreaver​ -written for the Twisted Tropes event - Sam/Brady AU set while Sam’s at Stanford:  Sam is slowly adjusting to his new life at Stanford University. He’s left his life of hunting behind, and traded it for endless studying and tests, but he’s plagued by dreams of Dean and Dad in danger, dreams of blood and violence. Then he meets Tyson Brady, who’s always there with a smile and a cup of coffee to get Sam through all-nighters. Sam’s dreams start to fade, but just as he’s getting used to a nice normal life, he starts to develop abilities—powers he can’t control. Brady thinks they’re great, but Sam knows power never comes without a cost. (14k, Sam/Brady)

Make Angels of Us All - art by @amberdreams1960​  - Sam has a guardian angel. It’s been with him his whole life, trying to keep him safe. The angel gives Sam power he can’t control: power to move things with his mind, power over fire, and wings that nobody else can see—bony and jagged with scaly feathers. Dean says monsters aren't real, but Dad thinks they are. Sam's power scares him, and he’s not always sure what's real, but what he does know is people keep trying to kill the three of them, and he won't let that happen. (~20K, gen)

Burdens, Doublefold - cowritten with @quickreaver​, art by ileliberte What if Dean left Sam at Stanford after the fire, hoping it would keep his little brother safe and make things better? Somehow, 'better' never seems to be in the Winchester Family cards. Sam gets tangled up with his ex-roommate Brady, tracking psychics, but dealing with demons is never honest business. Dean carries on until his father is put in grave danger. He is left on his own to deal, stumbling into Harvelle's Roadhouse for help, where Dean gets just a little more than he bargained for. Eventually, the brothers’ paths twist and turn their way back to each other, but the results could mean the End of Days. (67k, gen, AU of seasons 1-2)

Before the One You Serve When Dean comes to get Sam at Stanford, he finds him living with Brady. And Dean doesn't trust Brady, even though he can't quite put his finger on why. Not at first. (5k, Sam/Brady)

He Who Fights Monsters - cowritten with nwspaprtaxis, art by @quickreaver​ AU of the summer between Seasons 3 and 4. Dean's dead, dragged down kicking and screaming to Hell. Sam's not dealing well. And Ruby’s got her work cut out for her. (52K, Sam/Ruby)

John Winchester is Dead They say those Winchester boys're crazy. Drive around in a big black beast and drink too much and laugh about mean things. They say their daddy's worse, but you never see him. He's just a voice on the other end of the phone or a darker shape in the back seat of their dark car. They say John Winchester died two years ago. (2k, gen, horror)

Breathing, Talking, Dead Man Walking   -  John Doe, male, approximately thirty-seven years old. Subject was found by EMTs in close proximity to the site of a sizable explosion in Lebanon, Kansas. (2k, gen, Sam & Dean)

Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea - featuring art by @quickreaver​ When Sam opened Lucifer’s Cage, the only thing he found inside was Lucifer’s grace – his grace. With the return of his grace, Sam remembered his past – his war against the Host, his Fall, and his plans to bring about the End. The thing is…he doesn’t want the Apocalypse anymore. He likes things the way they are, and tries everything to keep his identity a secret- especially from Dean. Of course, the four Horsemen, Hell and Heaven have other ideas. (13K, gen)

The Last Days in the Land of Nod - comic adaptation by @quickreaver​ The year is 2014. The Devil is wearing his finest, the Angel is human, and the Brother protects the survivors at Camp Chitaqua.

The Two Ravens - art by @quickreaver​ Your brother he is, and heir to my throne. He’ll feed on the damned and he'll turn them to bone. (4k; fairy-tale)

Counteroffer About two weeks after Sam gutted a hellhound, completing the first trial, he started acting weird. (5k, psychological horror, gore)

Pattern Recognition: A Hannibal/Supernatural fusion AU  -  Sam and Dean split after River Pass, and their confrontation with the Horseman, War. Since Will’s escape from the Baltimore Institute for the Criminally Insane, he and Sam have been in hiding. They have a cabin, in the middle of nowhere, that keeps them off the radar; they find comfort in each other. But they can’t stay off the chessboard forever, especially not when Lucifer, wearing Hannibal Lecter as a vessel, is tearing the world apart around them. (33k, Sam Winchester/Will Graham)

Impala's Run - cowritten with @quickreaver, art by adrenalineshots Sam and Dean Singer (aka Winchester) aren’t your average young Kansas farmers. Their home is very, very far from Kansas, in fact. Many light-years worth of ‘far’. The boys may look human, but certain talents set them apart: Dean speaks the language of machines, and Sam can heal through manipulating energy. Hidden on Earth by their father, their agricultural lifestyle gets rocked when warring alien races discover where they’ve landed, and Sam and Dean are forced to make the run of their lives. (23k, gen)

All Our Wrath and Cutting Beauty - art by @quickreaver - Sam killed Alistair, but not before Alistair reminded Dean of who and what he’d become in Hell. Dean knows Sam can take down Lilith, and he’ll make damn sure Sam gets strong enough to do just that. They’ll stop the Apocalypse – together, no matter how many bodies stack up, or how much blood is spilt.(11k, horror) 

Diary of a Madman -Lydia’s newest patient, Sam Winchester, suffered from hallucinations, delusions, and regular bouts of insomnia. He also thought he was Lucifer. (4k, gen, horror)

Some other bundled links, for your convenience

Demon-blood Sam

King of Hell Sam

Powers!Sam

Horror

Crossovers & Fusion ‘verses

Hannibal|SPN

SPN/Preacher

SPN/Hannibal/MCU

[imanativeofswlondondahling]

Hiding in Plain Sight (1)- Tom Holland X Reader

Word Count-1792

A/N: This was inspired by this wonderful post by @starsholland. Without it this would not be happening. This will be a multi part fic, but I don’t know how many chapters or when it will be posted so if you’d like to be tagged let me know:)  Welcome to Tom being undercover on Tumblr. Quick notes- Y/T/B = Your Tumblr Blog, Y/A is your age :)

“You’re not going to make me go undercover on Tumblr are you?” Tom asks as they hook up the mike to his white t-shirt. “I’ve heard dangerous things about that site.”

“No, no. We’re sticking to Reddit, Twitter, Youtube. Maybe some Quora and IMDB.” The redheaded assistant sitting across from him states as she places the GQ laptop across from him. Tom sees Harrison’s shoulders silently moving up and down, laughing at the idea of him having to go undercover on the site that he had been telling horror stories of for weeks leading up to this interview. “If any of these don’t sound good to you, we can skip them.”

“No, those sound fine.” Tom says. “I’m ready whenever you are.”

“Camera A ready?” She asks the camera man sitting diagonally from where she is. In response she gets a nod. “Tom when you’re ready say something like I’m Tom Holland and I’m going undercover on the internet to answer your questions. It’s actually me. Something like that.”

From across the room Harrison watches as Tom flows through the questions easily, hoping from site to site with better technical luck than he normally has. He can guess that some of the answers will be giffed and blasted around social media within minutes of this interview going live. It would shock him if it didn’t.

“Check it out mate.” On his screen flashes Tom saying I drink tea darling over and over again. “Your fans love it. Which is good, seeing how upset a lot of them are over the Disney/Sony thing.”

“Where is this?”

“Your favorite site.”

“Instagram?”

“Tumblr.” Tom rolls his eyes and falls back into the couch.

“Why are you even on there?”

“Why aren’t you? So many fangirls, so little time.” Tom shoots a dirty look at Harrison. “But in all seriousness, there’s a lot of great reactions and gifs that you can only find on Tumblr. You should check it out.” Tom reaches for Harrison’s computer but he pulls away. “Make your own account. It costs nothing.”

“Ugh, fine.” Pulling his phone out of his pocket, downloads the app and creates an account. Expecting one of the fangirls to have already have taken his common username, he’s surprised to be able to fill out the form with tomholland2013 as his username. Will that seem too much like him? Who knows. It’s not like he’s planning to actually use this site. He just using it to see what Harrison wants him to see. “What do I look up?”

“Just search the hashtag Tom Holland and look under recent for the most recent stuff. Most of it is your undercover interview. Or you can look under the Tom Holland top posts and see what your fans are obsessed with.” Tom is on the main page and sees a suggestion of blogs. A lot of them have his name intertwined in them with his picture as the profile picture. Guess it wouldn’t hurt to follow some blogs while he’s on here? 

The first one he follows is @starsholland who seems to write fanfictions about him but also shares a lot of marvel pictures. By clicking follow it brings up a lot of suggested blogs to follow. He clicks on @tonguetiedholland and sees another fanfiction writer but also a lot of posts between them and other bloggers. “Is this site just fanfiction?”

“No, there’s pictures and edits and stuff too. Why? You only interested in the fanfiction?”

“I only seem to find fanfictions.” Tom replies as he clicks on a blog called @tomhollandsstan, finding a mix of fanfictions, pictures and conversations. However his eyes scroll through one of the fics and find something much more raunchy than he anticipated finding. “Holy hell. What are they writing all of this about?”

“Reading something steamy Tommy?” Harrison teases. Tom feels his face flush with the embarrassment of knowing that there are girls and guys out there picturing stuff like this with him as the main feature. 

“I’m getting off this site. It’s bloody porn.”

“No wait, you’ve just stumbled down the wrong path. Let me send you some blogs to look at.” Harrison pulls up some of the ones that are mostly pictures and reactions. “What’s your tumblr handle? I’ll send them to you?”

“Tomholland2013.”

“Really? It wasn’t taken?”

“Nope.”

“See how long it stays secretive.”

“I don’t plan on using it.” Tom says as he hits follow on some of the other blogs that Harrison sent him, including one that was @Y/T/B. He found himself scrolling through it a little more in depth than he had with any of the other pages he had been on. The posts and your reactions were more what he expected of tumblr. Glee filled, but not thirsty. Hitting follow was a no brainer.

Across the country, your phone lights up as you get a notification from Tumblr. You’re about to swipe it away, since your day is currently going down hill as the recipes you’re in the middle of trying out are turning into pinterest fails. Also you should have checked before you started baking a cake that you had powdered sugar to make frosting, so you’ll have to do another pinterest deep dive for a frosting recipe since you can’t use your tried and true recipe.

However, the name on the notification catches your eye- Tomholland2013 has followed you. Wow someone finally snatched the name. There had been jokes around the fandom for months that someone should snag the name so Tom could have it whenever or if-ever he decided to join tumblr. But it seems someone has decided to be Tom. Whoever it is though seems to enjoy your posts because they’re liking your posts in succession. While your stand mixer whirls, you open to their blog and see there’s nothing there. Not even a banner or an icon photo. They must be a super new blog. You back out of their blog and almost back out of the app when you see a message from this Tom Holland wanna be.

From: Tomholland2013

I really like all your edits of Tom. Can I use one as my profile pic? X

You pause for a second before replying. This person wasn’t the first to ask to use one of your edits as a profile picture. Why does this feel different though? It has to just be because of the name. You click to reply to the ask.

I’m so surprised someone finally took the name. Me and @imanativeofswlondondahling had a bet going on for how long it was going to stay open in case Tom wanted it. Anyway, feel free to use my edits, or if you have a favorite picture of Tom, send it my way and I’ll make an edit for you.

You hit send on the ask before you can change your mind and then you turn back to your cake- which has probably been overwhipped now.

“Do I have a favorite picture of Tom?” Tom mumbles to himself as he reads over your reply. He’d love to see something that was made for him, but that means finding a picture of himself that he wants edited. “Harrison, com’ere mate. Take a selfie with me.”

“What’s this for?” Harrison asks before posing. @Y/T/B wouldn’t know this was just a selfie. You’d probably think he just did a Google deep dive.

“Need a profile picture. For my blog.” Tom teases, before clicking back to his messages on tumblr. There has to be a way to send a direct message instead of an ask like he did before. He had been planning to use an edit you had done of him saying I drink tea darling, but he wasn’t going to toss up having a custom made icon. After fiddling around on the app for a few minutes Tom finally figures out how to send a message and sends the picture he had snapped with Harrison a few minutes earlier. He tacks on a quick message asking her to do whatever she wants with the picture and to take as long as she wants and or needs. After hitting send, he clicks back to your blog's main page, trying to learn more about you.

At the top of your page, simply stated, it reads Y/N, Y/A, Tom Holland Fan. Well that does tell him you’re around his age, so that makes him feel less like a creeper. He wants to know everything he can about you, but all he can find through scrolling is mainly, well him. He can’t explain why, but there’s a sort of pull towards you from what he can find in your messages to other people and responding to anon messages, you seem like someone he’d want to be friends with. You have a great sense of humor and make jokes as often as you can in your messages. 

“Haz, can I turn on notifications for, like a certain blog?” Tom calls across the living room.

“Thought you weren’t going to use it.”

“There’s a couple blogs I like.”

“Sure, let me show you.” Tom passes his phone over and watches as Harrison turns on notifications for your blog. “Oh she’s great. Her reactions when news is posted is great.” A notification pops up on your screen. “Apparently she just posted.”

A cake maker I am not destined to be. Gordon Ramsay will make an idiot sandwich out of me.

A picture of a very sad looking cake appears under her text. “Maybe she should stick to making edits.” Harrison jokes. 

“Mate, that’s rude.”

“But it’s not wrong. Plus it’s not like yours would look much better.”

“Mine would be worse.” Taking his phone back, he clicks on the comment bubble and types out: looks better than anything I would make X His inbox dings a couple moments later. 

How have I never seen this photo of Harrison and Tom? Did it get posted while I was attempting to bake?

I think it’s an old photo. Found it on my phone. X And technically that’s not a lie.

Well I’ll hop on that edit. Any colors you prefer?

Blue or Red would be good I guess. X

I’ll get right on that. What’s with all the x’s?

Oh it’s a European thing. It’s just how we sign off texts and messagesX

If it’s annoying I can try and not do it?X

It’s fine. Just didn’t know why it was there. 

Do you think Tom does it?

Oh most definitely. What kind of Brit would he be if he didn’t?X

Well I’ll go get on the edit, hopefully I’ll have it done in the next day or so

No hurryX

Thanks againX

[jinmindeulle]

valtameri | jwy (1)

the zeemeermin and the piraat

word count: 2.4k

pairing: jung wooyoung x reader

genre: pirate au, mermaid au, pirate!wooyoung x mermaid!reader ∣ angst, fluff

warnings: none that i had noticed?

a/n: here i am once more! lately i’ve been obsessed with ateez as pirates and mermaids so i came up with his one at 2:52 in the morning hehe! as always thanks for your support, especially to my beautiful @myghibli for creating these amazing banners ♥

a/n 2: if you wish to be part of my tag list for future updates please do not hesitate and let me know! i’ll happily add you! ♥

i highly recommend you to read the introductions first, as the story will make more sense for you with that information! read here:

ATEEZ crew

the mermaid world

link to valtameri’s masterlist here

happy reading!  

A full moon was adorning the night skies, sprinkled with shining stars and no clouds in sight. The sea was calmer than it had been in months. A warm breeze caressed her wet skin, making her sigh in contentment. Those were the nights when she felt truly happy, slightly forgetting about her life deep down the blue ocean.

Leaning on the same rock as every night but still keeping her body inside the water, she fixated her eyes in the direction of the pirate ship she wished to spend the rest of her life in. Daydreaming for a moment, she imagined herself on board of the Destiny, standing on the edge of its forecastle deck, feeling the wind through her dark blue long locks while smelling the ocean breeze.

The small smile that had appeared on her lips suddenly faded away, because the tough reality hit her in the form of a green-lilac mermaid tail. Warm tears welled her eyes and slowly went down her face. However, she tried hard not to let more out when the soft sound of running water reached her ears.

That wooden little boat was making its way towards her.

She used the back of her hands to erase any sign of fallen tears on her cheeks, and the smile that she had previously plastered on her face made its way back.

“Sorry for the delay, zeemeermin. Captain needed me to set the sails properly before going to sleep.”

“It’s okay, piraat. I was just enjoying the calm water. It’s been days since the sea was this nice.”

“I know, right? Your father must be in a good mood tonight.”

His soft laugh never failed to mesmerize her. The mere sound of his voice sent chills down her spine, but his high-pitched laugh made her feel joyful. Made her feel alive. His bright eyes reflected the moonlight and looked like two big lanterns with the ability of guiding her all the way home through the wide deep ocean. However, she knew she would never need those, because his eyes were her home. His perfect plump lips formed the big bright smile that she was so used to seeing every night. That didn’t make her immune, though. By just looking at his lips, she felt the urge to feel them closer and caress them with her own. She was sure that if she dared to just touch them with her fingertips, her heart wasn’t going to be able to take it.

Even if she felt like her world was falling apart right in front of her eyes, meeting him at the same rock every night was keeping her from falling as well. The way he kept eagerly meeting her there, always bringing a new story to tell her and make her feel better — even if he didn’t know that — made her feel good. Worthy. Loved.

“Did I tell you about that time when Yunho hyung replaced me at weighing the anchor because I had back pain and fell into the ocean?” his high-pitched chuckles made a comeback as he abandoned the safety of the boat just to sit down on the huge rock. The new proximity made her take deep breaths to try and slow down her sudden rapid heartbeat, but they didn’t help as he took her hand in his and started giving it soft caresses. He kept going on and on about the hilarious happening, his eyes so scrunched up and teary while recalling that story that she had to laugh at his expression, slightly forgetting about the skin to skin contact.

“Yunho seems like someone who would do that” she laughs, enjoying the precious moment.

“I still don’t get why he insisted in doing it when all of us know that San hyung is the best at replacing me.”

“But just at your job, piraat.”

His deep brown eyes looked at her own with a glimmer that she had never seen before. They seemed to reflect surprise, happiness and a little bit of relief.

“Right” he muttered, a content grin on his lips that reached his beautiful eyes. She felt how he squeezed her hand with his, and her heart felt like it was being crushed with it.

“Do you know when is it that you’re going back to sailing in the open sea?”

She internally cursed. Why did she have to bring that up? Was it necessary to keep reminding them of their inevitable parting every time?

“Probably in two or three nights, according to Captain.”

His demeanor quickly changed, just as it did each and every time she asked him that exact same question. His eyes were now fixated in their interlocked hands, no longer looking at her with that longing expression on his breathtakingly gorgeous face.

“I wish I could go with you.” She let out a sorrowed sigh, feeling the tears welling up in her eyes once again.

“I wish you could too.” At his confession, sadness overcame her soft pretty features, making both of their hearts ache. That’s when the pirate decided that that topic of conversation had to end there. “Are you coming tomorrow with your father?”

She used her free hand to wash away the tears that clung to her eyelashes and took a glance at the pirate ship that slowly swayed far away by their side. “I think so. He told me he needed to meet up with your Captain before you leave for some exchange of gold, or something like that.”

“Yeah, Captain informed Mingi hyung about that over dinner. Is that Arnav coming too?”

That last question was thrown at her face with such distaste, that she had to look up, smiling at his disgusted expression.

“He’s father’s second hand so yeah, he is.” She grinned, pinching his cheek at his cute pouting face.

“I don’t like him. Neither does Captain or any of my crewmembers.”

“I know. I hate him too, Wooyoungie.”

His pouting lips instantly turned into a wide smile, white teeth showing from side to side. The truth is that her calling him Wooyoungie rarely happened. They were so used to referring to each other as those mysterious Dutch terms that he sometimes forgot about the joyful feeling of hearing his nickname leave her lips.

The following hour was filled with stories, laughter and slight skin to skin contact. Neither of them had dared to go further than that, even though they both were fully aware of what was going on between them. The reason behind their nightly escapades was what kept them functioning during the day, wishing deep inside that sleep time arrived soon so that they could go out of their pole opposite worlds and meet up for a couple of hours.

Sadly, the parting hour quickly arrived, and with downhearted expressions on their faces, they said their goodbyes.

“At least we get to see each other two times tomorrow” he breathed out, leaving a soft sloppy kiss on her hand. She thanked the night skies for the darkness that covered her reddened cheeks, and with a content sigh, she nodded.

“Not the same as at night but at least it’s something. Have a good night, piraat.” She muttered, watching him go back to the wooden boat. Once he was positioned, hands over the rowing sticks, he sent her one of those beautiful, heartwarming smiles and whispered “You too, y/n”, only to start rowing his way back to the pirate ship.

She stayed there, leaning in that meaningful rock until all she could see was a little dark dot climbing back to deck. As he disappeared, she decided that it was about time to go back as well.

Looking at the bright stars one last time and wishing to see them again the following night in the presence of her favorite human being, she dove all the way down the wide deep ocean to what her fellow mermaids and mermen called home. At that moment, and just like every time she thought of the term home, she came to the conclusion that her definition of that word was nothing like theirs.

The sun was up once again, reflecting over the ocean and giving it a turquoise glimmer. Far away and deep down, y/n was quietly murmuring her favorite song, sadness visible over her features. Her mother had sung it for her each and every night to lull her to sleep, especially when she was having trouble to find her way towards Morpheus’ arms. She had never felt such grief and misfortune in her entire life — even when she thought of her desire to become a pirate — than when she lost the most important being for her. Her mother got her in a way that no one had; she had held her when she felt like her mermaid body had her real self trapped inside, and had given her advice when her father declared her the next in line for ruler of the seas.

After meeting Wooyoung, y/n felt like a part of her that had long ago died with her mother was reviving, was blossoming in a new way. That pirate was giving her hope through his loving glances, warm caresses, fond smiles and reassuring words. She was sure that she was never going to be happy if she had to live like that for the rest of her life, hiding her encounters with the pirate from everyone and merely being with him for a couple of hours at night. But at least it was something. Something to which she could cling to until the string was cut off.

“Father wants us in the meeting room now.”

Her younger sister, Gali, was fluttering in front of her, a tough look in her features. Her mid-long mahogany hair floated around her head, making her look even more intimidating. When they went to the surface together, she actually seemed like a cute little mermaid, but down the sea, she could pass like a siren merely by her harsh features — which only softened when being around her crush, Arnav. Y/n had always wondered what she had done to her sister for her to hate her so much. Even after their mother’s passing, Gali had never given her a fond look or a hug. If she had doubted her mother’s fidelity to her father, she would surely believe that there was no way they could be sisters.

Gali didn’t wait for y/n’s response and just swam her way out to the meeting room. The older sister fluttered still for a couple of minutes, until she snapped out of her bubble and began swimming to the point of meeting. While she passed by all of the different buildings, she wondered if that was what humans experienced everyday on land. She had a vague idea of how life was there thanks to Wooyoung, who had showed her plenty of books with pictures and illustrations of some of the nearby islands. He had also mentioned that some people believed that deep down the ocean, a lost city called Atlantis existed. The illustrations that she had seen were actually pretty accurate, although her “city” was nowhere near that utopian society that held enough wisdom to bring world peace.

Without realizing, she reached the meeting room. Bowing to the merman guards that fluttered by the main door, she made her way inside.

Her sister was already in front of their father, using her hands to comb through her hair. Right, Arnav was there as well. The big muscular merman was discussing something with the King of the Seas, paying no attention at all to the younger mermaid who had fully blushed by just being near him. Y/n didn’t get why Gali was so deeply in love with that arrogant being. Only his worked-out torso could have made her fall for him, because his face was nothing like Wooyoung’s, and his long tail was an ugly mixture of black and green scales. Disgusting.

“Oh, good. Y/n is here”

Her father looked at her with serious blue eyes that surely took after the ocean he was born into. While staring at them, she realized that her father had never looked at her like her mother used to. Was he only able to love just his wife? Not even his daughters?

“This is going to be quick as we must go up for our meeting and exchange with the ATEEZ crew.” He stated, deep low voice resonating in every wall of the room. “You both know it by now, but you may be realizing that I am getting old and I will not be able to continue my ruling properly. As I told you years ago, y/n is to follow the linage and will be replacing me soon.” He prompted his wrinkled, large hand to Arnav’s direction and kept on talking. “However, I do not wish for her to rule alone.”

Oh, no.

Y/n’s world was already falling apart, but it just never seemed to stop.

“You may marry Arnav in the next few weeks and take my place right after the union is consummated.”

She felt like throwing up. A gasp went out of her mouth, pure disbelief, grief and desperation taking over her. She felt her tail go numb, barely holding up. The mermaid was not able to hear anything around her. Her sight was blurred, a huge lump forming in her throat.

“Ar… are you…?” y/n muttered, trying to recompose. “Are you forcing me to marry him?”

As she recovered her hearing, and although the voices still resonated far away from her, she could hear Gali crying like a baby by her side, making a fuss like she was the one condemned to a life full of lies and misfortune.

“I am not forcing you, y/n. I am looking out for you.”

Y/n felt like her whole existence was a joke, life and destiny laughing at her with joyful tears in their eyes. Tears that she would never feel if she ever married that stupid creature and stayed the rest of her life under the sea.

“Right” she let out a sarcastic laugh and waiting no response, swam away and out of her disgrace.

With full speed, one that surely was propelled by her anger, y/n made her way towards the only place she knew somebody was going to actually listen to her and help her out. That dark cave was her only way out.

next  ↬ chapter ii — union

tag list ♥ @peterparkerismybae​ 

[sweetlittlevampire]

Rima’s Wangxian Fic Rec

So I’ve compiled these specifically for @inessencedevided , but hey, we’re all here to spread the love, so please, share and reshare to your heart’s content! :D

I’ll start with “Personal Favourites” - there are many more that I would consider a Personal Favourite, but I’ve picked those specifically because I thought you’d enjoy them. AU fics will also be included, because there are some real gems out there, and some still take place in canon universe, but with a twist, so...yeah.

Main pairing is Wangxian; I somehow don’t tend to read much else. ^^;

This thing is going to be loooong, so please find everything under the Read More. And feel free to let me know if a link doesn’t work so I can fix it.

Personal Favourites

爱不释手; never let me go by yiqie

Rating: Explicit

Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Length:  68713 words

Chapters: 1

Status: Completed

Author’s summary: “Wei Wuxian has certainly hoped so ardently in his two lifetimes, for so many different things, in so many different ways, that he could have summoned the demon to his front door with his bare hands. His eyes wander to Lan Zhan, settle on the back of his head, the blue-black curtain of his hair. Oh, how he has hoped.”

A case fic! And one of my personal all-time favourites as well! It is so well-crafted, with an engaging and captivating plot, a TON of OCs who actually do contribute to the story, and a few scenes that are so beautiful I could weep. Got hyped up on twitter, and rightfully so. It’s a delight to read.

Rabbit Heart by  Suaine

Rating: Mature

Warning: N/A

Length:   56590 words in total

Chapters: 6

Status: Completed

Author’s summary: “ Wei Wuxian walks his lonely road, but he’s not going to leave Lan Wangji entirely alone. That would be boring. “

Another case fic! Set after the show’s ending, Wei Wuxian goes his way, but leaves the paper man behind to keep Lan Wangji company. I loved this one to pieces - it has intriguing subplots and will make your heart melt several times.

Those are actually thonly two case fics I’ve read so far, but for more, be sure to visit @wangxianfics ‘s Case Fic section. It has many more, and I am planning on reading several of them.

the earth remembered me by  remux

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Warning: N/A

Length:  30321  words so far

Chapters: 2 out of scheduled 4

Status: Ongoing

Author’s Summary: “All around him, summer throbs like a heartbeat, undeniably alive. Wounds begin to heal. And Wei Wuxian, with sweat on his brow, feels ripe. Wei Wuxian, with his hands deep in the soil and mud between his toes, remembers something simple and primitive and utterly transformative: It feels good to make things grow. OR: Wei Wuxian’s travel guide to finding your place in the world.”

This fic changed me. Like, literally. It’s still ongoing, but I don’t even care. It’s not a case fic, but I’m 100% sure you’ll love it. It’s pure poetry and catharsis, and it hurts so much, but it’s so necessary. I think I cried several times while reading each of the chapters, and I’m eagerly but patiently awaiting the next one. It follows Wei Wuxian’s journey after he leaves the Cloud Recesses in episode 50 and tells the story of what he does and experiences before he returns back to Lan Wangji. So it’s absically only Wei Wuxian, Lil’ Apple, and the people they meet along his way.

Begotten by  ecorie

Rating: General Audiences

Warning: N/A

Length:   37279  words

Chapters: 6

Status: Completed

Author’s Summary: “He’s mine.” He echoed what had once been teasingly said in jest, and added, “This is my son.” Against all odds and without a choice, Lan Zhan brings A-Yuan back to Cloud Recesses. Xichen keeps his brother’s secrets, and shields the child when Lan Zhan could not.“

Also known as: Filling in the blanks with everything that happened in those 13 years. I loved this one. Wangji = Best Dad, Sizhui = Best Son.

Canon Universe

(not necessarily canon compliant though)

the soft animal by  cafecliche

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warning: N/A

Length:   5046  words

Chapters: 1

Status: Completed

Author’s Summary: “You don’t think that’s strange?” he says. His voice, his new voice, is familiar now. But sometimes it almost startles him, hearing it come from his mouth. “It’s been nine months. I’ve used them almost every day. I should know how long these legs are.” (Or: Wei Wuxian has a plan to train Mo Xuanyu’s body. The results aren’t quite what he expects.)“

A very interesting take on Wei Wuxian, and how he comes to terms with his new body. Something I had not seen previously explored, and I really loved how the author handled it.

Come let me love you (Come love me again) by  obsessivereader

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warning: N/A

Length:  9105   words

Chapters: 1

Status: Completed

Author’s Summary: “The notes from the dizi cut off as Wei Ying goes absolutely still. Over the quiet whisper of the wind through grass, Lan Wangji can hear the rapid beat of his own heart. Wei Ying's hands drop to his side slowly, so slowly, as though time has slowed down for both of them. He turns, a look almost of fear on his face. And then...And then, Wei Ying smiles—slow and beautiful and warm and relieved as though Lan Wangji standing before him is a treasured dream fulfilled. "Lan Zhan," he breathes.“

A “What happens after the end of the last episode?”-fic. I’m kind of a sucker for those. This one is very sweet and tender; I absolutely loved the interactions between Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian, and the gentleness of it all. I also adore the song it’s been titled after (”Annie’s Song” by John Denver, if you’re curious).

Death of a Ghost by  Gotcocomilk

Rating: Explicit

Warning: N/A

Length:   107397 words in total

Chapters: 30

Status: Completed

Author’s Summary: “There was a ghost that haunted the decks of Lotus Pier, it was said. If you stepped across the wooden planks at night, walked along the endless docks and flying purple banners, he would appear. He was always in darkest black, dressed as specter and shadow. In the emptiness where a face should be was a thick fog, features washed away and leaving behind only glimmering red eyes. He looked ferocious as a ghoul, it was said. Jin Ling thought he looked sad.“

Full disclosure - I am five chapters into this thing, and I am already recommending it, I am that intrigued. There is some serious Yunmeng Bros stuff in there which I think you are going to love, and the interactions between said ghost and Jin Ling are - aaaah! Cannot wait to continue!

wrap your name tight around my ribs by  sasukepositive

Rating: General Audiences

Warning: N/A

Length:   8728 words

Chapters: 1

Status: Completed

Author’s Summary: “ In true Wei Ying fashion, his return comes with a dose of mischief. “

Another “What happens after the end of the last episode?”-fic, with a good dose of Wangxian family feels. In fact. the whole thing is a huge chunk of feels. A very soft, delicate, and sweet fic, which will leave you feeling warm and fuzzy.

please linger by  sasukepositive

Rating: General Audiences

Warning: N/A

Length:   5636 words

Chapters: 1

Status: Completed

Author’s Summary: “ When A-Yuan begins crying, Lan Wangji knows it makes sense. He understands that crying will not harm him — he logically knows that. However, A-Yuan’s little face turns red so quickly that it leaves Lan Wangji a little panicked.“Ah,” he begins helplessly, stepping forward in an attempt at — something. He doesn’t know what. “It’s okay.” or: sometimes the man you love assures you that his mysteriously acquired child will nap until he gets back from shopping. for sure. “

If you liked the Dad Date Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian had with A-Yuan in Yiling, then you’ll love this one. It’s a fill-the-gaps fic in which Lan Wangji returns to Yiling several times to see Wei Wuxian and A-Yuan. Still follows canon events though, hence the bittersweet ending, but it is still so so lovely.

I hope that you will come and meet me by  feyburner

Rating: Mature

Warning: N/A

Length:   28385 words

Chapters: 1

Status: Completed

Author’s Summary: “ The second time Lan Zhan said Wei Ying, come back, Wei Wuxian did. “

Another one of tehse post-show-canon fics. I love everything feyburner writes, and this was the first fic of theirs I came across. I love the feeloings described in it, and just how sweet it is. One of those fics in which the way the mature part is executed just makes the whole thing even sweeter.

Alternate Universe

(but sometimes within the canon universe?)

Merman Lan Wangji!AU by  FleetofShippyShips ( @fleetofshippyships here on tumblr)

- which is a series of connected fics, and not one long fic with chapters, hence why the formatting is different here. 5 entries so far; ungoing. Teen And Up Audiences

...which is definetely a personal favourite of mine, - you might have noticed, since I’ve been drawing a ton for this particular AU. But since I don’t know if yu’re into merfolk!AUs I didn’t list it up there with the personal favourites.

It is following canon so far, only that Lan Wangji is, as the title suggests, a merman - with secrets.

I adore the atmosphere of this series so much, and the way Zoe writes it is just so beautiful. It’s a story in which I could live, and if you’re in for the ride, I can assure you that there will be many surprises to come.

Welcome to Gusu  by  perkynurples ( @bilboo here on tumblr)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warning: N/A

Length:   30853 words so far

Chapters: 5 so far

Status: Ongoing

Author’s Summary: “ Deep in the lush forests of Gusu hides an aging resort that hosts dozens of children every summer for an unforgettable couple of weeks. It’s where Lan Wangji grew up alongside Wei Wuxian, and when his childhood friend (for the lack of a better term) surprisingly returns years later in the position of Senior Counsellor, seemingly hell bent on causing the same kind of mischief that got him kicked out of Gusu in the first place, but also taller, broader and tanner than ever before, Lan Wangji knows he’s In Trouble. Or, this fic has it all: longing looks over campfires, found family dynamics, ill-timed skinny dipping, teenagers inappropriately shipping their counsellors, LAKE MONSTERS “

Annie wasn’t lying when she said this fic has it all. What started as some kind of crack fic turned into something beautiful that completely owns my heart.  The interactions between the characters are so heartwarming, and while I sense that some major drama is going to occur soon, I also know that this will eventually have a happy ending. It’s delightful, and it does belong to my personal favourites as well.

Some of You by  tangerinechar

Rating: Mature

Warning: N/A

Length:   60640 words

Chapters: 7

Status: Completed

Author’s Summary: “Lan Wangji gets drunk and tweets a love confession, Wei Wuxian panics, and all of twitter decides to matchmake Lan Wangji and his mystery guy. “

A social media fic! And a hilarious one at that! If you’re in the mood for an extra panicky, extra obnoxious Wei Wuxian? This is the fic for you. It has one of the sweetest love confessions ever. There’s some background Xicheng too.

Window Shopping by  thunderwear

Rating: Explicit

Warning: N/A

Length:   18000 words

Chapters: 1

Status: Completed

Author’s Summary: “Lan Wangji didn't look out across the other apartment building often, but now, as he scooped up his escaped rabbit, he looked over only to see a piece of paper taped to the window of the apartment across from him. It was written on purple construction paper in big block letters, like a child had written it. WHAT'S YOUR BUNNY'S NAME???“

I did already rec this one to you, but WHO CARES? A Quarantine fic! The first one I came across, and I loved it! A friend of mine thought Wei Wuxian was OOC, but I disagree - he didn’t exactly grow up in the same circumstances as in canon, and his life situation isn’t 100% the same, so I still think it fits. A-Yuan makes an appearance, and the interactions between Lan Wangji, Wei Wuxian, and the boy are just so very cute!

Home is Where the Heart is by  Alipeeps ( @alipeeps here on tumblr)

Rating: General Audiences

Warning: N/A

Length:  10036 words

Chapters: 1

Status: Completed

Author’s Summary: “Wei Ying’s expression is tight and unhappy, his entire body held rigidly away from Lan Zhan.He doesn’t look at Lan Zhan as he says, “You don’t have to worry, Lan Zhan, I’m never going to touch you.”The distaste in Wei Ying’s voice makes Lan Zhan’s blood run cold.“Just because our families have arranged this marriage, we don’t have to be together… like that…” Wei Ying’s mouth twists unpleasantly. “It can be a marriage in name only. A...” he swallows, looking like he might be sick, “...a business arrangement.”

Arranged Marriage AUs are also one of my weaknesses, especially if the two soon-to-be-married people are actually in love with each other but have yet to confess, This one does the trick. It’s modern era with no cultivation, and the mutual pining is REAL in this one.

what else is there? by  mme_anxious

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warning: N/A

Length:   12917 words

Chapters: 1

Status: Completed

Author’s Summary: “Did you hear the terrible news? Yiling Laozu Wei Wuxian has gone beyond the pale! He has murdered Hanguang-Jun!”This is the first thing the swan hears flying over Yiling, and it sets him to hissing. It’s the kind of sound he would never make as a human, but as a swan—a mute swan— hissing is the only form of communication available to Lan Wangji. So he hisses. -Jin Guangyao transforms Lan Wangji into a swan. Only an act of love will break the curse.”

A fairytale!AU based on Swan Lake. You might have seen my Swangji drawing; this is the fic it was drawn for. It takes place in canon universe and is super lovely and magical. I may have cried a bit.

all your life you’ll dream of this by  Attila ( @attilarrific here on tumblr)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warning: N/A

Length:  22668 words

Chapters: 1

Status: Completed

Author’s Summary: “Lan Wangji should refuse. He should. He looks back down at the mask. Beneath it is the soft creamy paper of the invitation. He could present this at the door and slip into the palace and—“Go see him, Wangji,” Lan Xichen says quietly, and Lan Wangji feels his resolve crumble beneath him”

Another fairytale!AU - this time, it’s loosely based on Cinderella, with Lan Wangji as Cinderella and the forehead ribbon as glass slipper. Such a lovely lovely fic. May also have cried a bit; it’s heartfelt and magical and so warm and sweet.

Love wakes me by  dea_liberty

Rating: Explicit

Warning: N/A

Length:   42812 words in total

Chapters: 4

Status: Completed

Author’s Summary: "It starts with a bet. All mistakes, Wei Wuxian thinks, start with a bet. It’s starts with a bet and ends with Wei Wuxian losing everything. Nine years ago, Wei Wuxian made a bet with disastrous consequences. Now, he is part-owner of the popular and eclectic Yiling Cafe, years and miles away from his old life, making the best of things and trying to leave the past where it belongs. When Lan Wangji walks into his cafe by accident, Wei Wuxian finds himself doing what he thought he'd never do again; reclaiming some small part of his past, and hoping for a future he'd given up as lost.”

If someone had told me that I would fall head over heels in love with a Coffee Shop AU, of all things? I would have laughed...yet here we are. I’ve read this thing in one sitting and cannot stop thinking about it. I absolutely have to reread it; it’s slowly but surely becoming one of my personal favourites.

[buckybarnesbingo]

BBB Flash Week 4 Roundup!

Title: Like an Hourglass Collaborator: Ribbonsflying Card Number: 3 Link: AO3 Square Filled: Memories Ship: Stucky Rating: Mature Major Tags: Past/Referenced Car Accidents, Recovery, Mentions of Alcohol Abuse (other driver) Summary: Steve has a private blog set up where he posts the pictures and makes memos of the things that happened every day. Sometimes it’s an exercise for Bucky too. “What do you want to put on the blog tonight?” Steve asks, just to see what Bucky can remember from the day. Sometimes Bucky can remember significant things from that morning… Other times, Bucky can’t remember much past the previous few hours- unable to recall anything before dinner time or unable to tell Steve what they had for lunch. “I don’t remember,” always on his tongue. (Based on a client we had at the law firm where I used to work.) Word Count: 6331

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Title: Plums Collaborator: BookDragon13 Card Number: 3 Link: Tumblr Square Filled: Bucharest Ship: Bucky/Reader Rating: Gen Major Tags: Fluff, mention of Bucky’s time as the Winter Soldier, mentions of the Great Depression and WW2 Summary: Bucky learns of something he can’t live without Word Count: 320

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Title: Ice to Meet You Collaborator: PoliZ Card Number: 2 Link: AO3 Square Filled: Fluff Ship: WinterIron Rating: Gen Major Tags: Modern No Powers AU, meet-cute fluff Summary: Thanks to a slippery sidewalk, Bucky meets a handsome stranger. Word Count: 411

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Title: Maybe With Steve - Chapter 2 Collaborator: buckybarnesdeservestobehappy Card Number: 3 Link: Tumblr Square Filled: Red Ship: Stucky Rating: Teen Major Tags: Winter Soldier, Memory Loss, Recovery, Captain America: Civil War compliant, Protective Steve Rogers Summary: Bucky Barnes doesn’t understand everything, but he knows he wants to be better. Fighting alongside Steve is what finally gives him the courage to heal. Word Count: 577

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Title: Blue Sapphire, Red Velvet Collaborator: Ribbonsflying Card Number: 3 Link: AO3 Square Filled: Red Ship: Stucky Rating: Gen Major Tags: Injuries, Blood, War (mostly as a background to the story- no battles) Summary: Their countries are at war and have been for generations. Prince Bucky is injured and alone. Enemy Prince Steve finds him. But they have something in common: this is not their war. Word Count: 2722

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Title: FUBAR (Frosted Up Beyond All Recognition) Collaborator: PoliZ Card Number: 2 Link: AO3 Square Filled: FUBAR Ship: WinterHawk Rating: Gen Major Tags: Drabble, fight scene Summary: Clint and Bucky make a desperate last stand.  [Fluffier than it sounds] Word Count: 100

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Title: Maybe With Steve - Chapter 3 Collaborator: buckybarnesdeservestobehappy Card Number: 3 Link: AO3 Square Filled: Memories Ship: Stucky Rating: Mature Major Tags: Bucky Barnes Recovering, Memory Loss, Wakanda, Canon Divergent, Shared Bed Summary: Bucky’s awake, but when he sleeps, images assail him. These aren’t childhood memories. These are more intense, more private, and decidedly more erotic. Word Count: 1146

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Title: A Hat Without Magic Collaborator: MagicaDraconia16 Card Number: 5 Link: AO3 Square Filled: Goats Ship: Bucky & Tony & Mad Hatter | Jefferson Rating: Teen Major Tags: Humour, minor angst, canon-typical insanity, alternate universe, multiverse shenanigans, a lot of swearing packed into one paragraph, goats Summary: When the bright flash of light faded, Tony staggered and fell sideways into a literal wall of fabric piles. Word Count: 1184

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Title: Meetings Get Boring. Bring Your Cat. Collaborator: Ribbonsflying Card Number: 3 Link: AO3 Square Filled: Alpine Ship: Steve/Bucky (if you squint), Mostly gen Rating: Gen Major Tags: Work, Pet Sitting, Avengers Support Cat, Bring your pet to work day, Steve/Bucky only if you squint, No Romance, No beta we die like mne Summary: Bucky takes his new cat to work thinking no one will know. Everyone soon knows. - This is featuring young Alpine. Word Count: 813

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Title: Redox-ulous Situation Collaborator: PoliZ Card Number: 2 Link: AO3 Square Filled: Rusted Ship: WinterIron Rating: Gen Major Tags: Drabble, multiverse shenanigans Summary: Tony and Bucky get sent to another dimension that tests their metal. (This is not a typo.) Word Count: 100

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Title: Maybe With Steve - Chapter 4 Collaborator: buckybarnesdeservestobehappy Card Number: 3 Link: AO3 Square Filled: Alpine Ship: Stucky Rating: Gen Major Tags: Bucky Barnes Recovering, Not Canon Compliant, Alpine, Pet Adoption, Protective Bucky Barnes Summary: Since they’ve been back in New York, Steve’s away far too often for Bucky’s taste. He walks the streets to help ease his anxiety. He does it to work through his thoughts until a plaintive cry and an impending rainstorm changes all that. Word Count: 1109

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Title: Portrait of the Artist Collaborator: Ribbonsflying Card Number: 3 Link: AO3 Square Filled: Found Family Ship: Stucky Rating: Gen Major Tags: one mention of vomit? (Not graphic) Summary: Bruce had knelt down to the little girl’s level and made a show of being surprised how much she had healed. Steve pulled out his camera and snapped a picture just in time. “Banner tonight?” Bucky asked, wrapping his arms around Steve’s middle and resting his head on Steve’s shoulder as he peered around at what his boyfriend was working on. “Bruce is so great with kids,” Steve commented as he lifted the print from the water and clipped it up on a wire. - In short: Steve takes pics of all the Avengers doing everyday, non-Avengers stuff and puts them in his hallway as a shrine to his friends. Word Count: 3515

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Title: Winter Soldier Silhouette Collaborator: PoliZ Card Number: 2 Link: Tumblr Square Filled: [image of Winter Soldier in standing sniper position] Ship: none Rating: Gen Major Tags: fancraft Summary: Simplified version of the image square (Winter Soldier in silhouette) in fleece and felt with embroidered accents.  

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Title: Maybe With Steve - Chapter 5 Collaborator: buckybarnesdeservestobehappy Card Number: 3 Link: AO3 Square Filled: Found Family Ship: Stucky Rating: Mature Major Tags: Bucky Barnes Recovering, Not Canon Compliant, Found Family, Forgiveness, Celebration Summary: Living in the Avengers Tower can be a little overwhelming, especially when unexpected visits interrupt private moments with Steve. Word Count: 1066

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Title: Avenger: An Inside Journal - Chapter 7: Getting in Trouble Collaborator: Caiti Card Number: 3 Link: Tumblr Square Filled: Found Family Ship: James Barnes/Natasha Romanoff/Clint Barton/Darcy Lewis Rating: Teen Major Tags: Journal/Diary style Summary: Darcy muses on getting herself into trouble. Word Count: 561

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Title: The Burden of Bucharest Collaborator: Ribbonsflying Card Number: 3 Link: AO3 Square Filled: Bucharest Ship: Stucky Rating: Gen Major Tags: Snipers, Bucky Barnes in Bucharest, Memories, Snacks & Snack Food Summary: Steve was quiet a long time, just listening. Bucharest didn’t sound like New York. Sure, there was the sound of cars and dogs and music and various machinery, but it was still somehow distinctly different. “Why did you choose here?” Steve asked. “For the mission? It’s where we thought was best to-“ “For yourself,” Steve interrupted. “When I found you here.” - Conversation between Steve and Bucky on a cold rooftop one night in Bucharest. Word Count: 1835

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Title: Unexpected Alliances Collaborator: Poliz Card Number: 2 Link: AO3 Square Filled: Silver Ship: Stucky Rating: Teen Major Tags: Fantasy AU, enemies to friends (lovers?), referenced/implied torture Summary: Buckthorn’s refusal to use his fae magic to support his captor’s cause has left him battered and broken; when he is given a shifter as his cellmate, they become unexpected allies. Word Count: 882

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Title: I'll Be Around For You Collaborator: IndigoNight Card Number: 5 Link: AO3 Square Filled: picture prompt Ship: WinterHawk Rating: Gen Major Tags: Deaf Clint Barton, Kidfic, Family Feels Summary: Bucky can’t breathe. He reaches out and grabs Clint’s shoulder, fingers digging in almost tight enough to bruise; as though he’s entirely lost control of his body, he catches himself shaking Clint. “I cannot lose Steve’s kid!” he says, only dimly aware that he’s shouting. Word Count: 2783

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Title: Bucharest Collaborator: Caiti Card Number: 3 Link: Tumblr Square Filled: Bucharest Ship: Natasha/Clint/Darcy with future implication of James/Natasha/Clint/Darcy Rating: Teen Major Tags: Alternate Universe - No Powers Summary: Bucky's inspiration has dried up and his artist's soul needs something to revive it. Enter three Americans on Spring Break. One look at them and he thinks they could keep him fueled for years. Word Count: 1112

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Title: graphic Collaborator: LBibliophile Card Number: 8 Link: Tumblr Square Filled: AU Ship: Winter Soldier & Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes & Steve Rogers Rating: Gen Major Tags: back from the dead, but not really, identity theft, delusion, AU Summary: Winter Soldier is not and never has been Bucky Barnes, but Steve is so desperate to have his friend back that he thinks he is. And the Soldier looks at how Steve reacts to 'Bucky' and wants that, so plays along.

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Title: Atlantean Dreams Collaborator: Caiti Card Number: 3 Link: Tumblr Square Filled: Red Ship: James Barnes/Darcy Lewis Rating: Teen Major Tags: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Mood boards, Headcanon Summary: Prince James of Atlantis and Pirate Queen Darcy Lewis have a stormy path to their shared destiny. Word Count: 250

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Title: Baking in Bucharest with Codruţa Collaborator: rebelmeg Card Number: 3 Link: AO3 Square Filled: Bucharest Ship: Bucky & Cranky old lady OFC Rating: Gen Major Tags: Bucky makes a friend, fluff, baking Summary: While James is trying to figure himself out in Bucharest, he makes an unlikely friend. Word Count: 900

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Title: Kiss With A Fist Collaborator: IndigoNight Card Number: 5 Link: AO3 Square Filled: Azzano Ship: Stucky Rating: Explicit Major Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Spanking, PTSD, Cathartic Crying, Anal Sex, Established Relationship, Porn with Feelings, Mild D/s Summary: “Undress,” Steve orders, resting his back against the door for just a second while he braces himself for what he’s about to do. He’s only done something like this a few times before; usually it was Bucky pulling him back into line and draining the pent up rage out of him after yet another back alley fist fight. But now Bucky needs him, and he’s damn well going to do whatever Bucky needs. ***** In the aftermath of Azzano, Bucky is drowning in the pent up rage and fear that he can't let go of. Fortunately, Steve is there to help. Word Count: 5142

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Title: Small Treasures Collaborator: rebelmeg Card Number: 3 Link: AO3 Square Filled: Found Family Ship: Bucky & Avengers Rating: Gen Major Tags: people like sticking things to Bucky's arm, fluff and humor, found family Summary: Bucky finds a new magnet on his arm and adds it to his box of little treasures. Word Count: 1030

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Title: Red Collaborator: BookDragon13 Card Number: 3 Link: Tumblr Square Filled: Red Ship: Bucky/Reader Rating: Gen Major Tags: angst Summary: The Soldier remembers someone from his past Word Count: 100

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Title: Gold Collaborator: Sagana Rojana Olt Card Number: 6 Link: Tumblr Square Filled: Gold Ship: WinterIron Rating: Gen Major Tags: Marriage, gold things Summary: Moodboard

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Title: Avenger: An Inside Journal - Chapter 8: The Morning After Collaborator: Caiti Card Number: 3 Link: Tumblr Square Filled: Memories Ship: James Barnes/Natasha Romanoff/Clint Barton/Darcy Lewis Rating: Teen Major Tags: Diary/journal style, Mood board, Alternate Universe - No Powers Summary: Darcy's finally accepted her place in the quartet. Word Count: 532

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Title: Protector Collaborator: Sagana Rojana Olt Card Number: 6 Link: Tumblr Square Filled: Recovery Ship: WinterIron Rating: Teen Major Tags: Serious injury, coma, recovery Summary: Moodboard

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Title: We Could Happen Collaborator: ralsbecket Card Number: 1 Link: AO3 Square Filled: Image: Sergeant Barnes Ship: Bucky Barnes/Pearl Pangan Rating: Gen Major Tags: Stark Expo 1943, Filipino Character, Military Uniforms, Flirting Summary: Bonnie drags Pearl on a double-date with Steve and his ladies-man best friend, Bucky. Word Count: 699

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Title: Small steps Collaborator: Sagana Rojana Olt Card Number: 6 Link: Tumblr Square Filled: Enemies to Friends/Lovers Ship: WinterIron Rating: Gen Major Tags: Developing relationship, soft things, cuddles Summary: Moodboard

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Title: Plums and Strawberries Collaborator: Sagana Rojana Olt Card Number: 6 Link: Tumblr Square Filled: Plums Ship: pre-WinterIron Rating: Gen Major Tags: Desserts, developing relationship

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Title: Small Differences Collaborator: Sagana Rojana Olt Card Number: 6 Link: Tumblr Square Filled: Siberia Ship: pre-WinterIron Rating: Gen Major Tags: Major Civil War compliant (the fight didn't progress into Bucky losing his arm)

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Title: Got Your Goat Collaborator: IndigoNight Card Number: 5 Link: AO3 Square Filled: Goats Ship: WinterHawk Rating: Gen Major Tags: Goats, Idiots in Love, Getting Together, Fluff Summary: Barnes shifts and at first Clint thinks it’s impatience but he squints and studies Barnes a little closer and it’s… awkwardness? Uncertainty? “Steve said you grew up on a farm,” Barnes elaborates, like that isn’t a non sequitur completely out of left field. “Um… sort of?” Barnes nods decisively. “I need your help.” He turns around and starts walking, adding over his shoulder, “come.” Clint blinks blankly at the Winter Soldier’s retreating back for a long moment. Then, as per usual, his curiosity wins out over his sense of self preservation and he starts trotting down the sidewalk after Barnes. “Where are we going?” Word Count: 3703

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Title: Journals Collaborator: BookDragon13 Card Number: 3 Link: Tumblr Square Filled: Memories Ship: none Rating: Gen Major Tags: Fluff-ish Summary: Snippets of Bucky’s journals Word Count: 100

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Title: Fear That You Can't Reverse Collaborator: ralsbecket Card Number: 1 Link: AO3 Square Filled: Scars Ship: WinterHawk Rating: Teen Major Tags: Mentions of past mind control, nightmares, referenced PTSD Summary: Bucky considered Clint quietly, unafraid to look him directly in the eyes. There was a vulnerability in them that he’d never really seen before, an openness that he wanted to fall into. Word Count: 922

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Title: Avengers Family Collaborator: BookDragon13 Card Number: 3 Link: AO3 Square Filled: Found Family Ship: Platonic Bucky and the Avengers Rating: Gen Major Tags: fluff Summary: Bucky finds a new family in the Avengers Word Count: 100

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Title: All that Glitters Collaborator: LBibliophile Card Number: 8 Link: Tumblr Square Filled: Daybreak Ship: WinterIron Rating: Gen Major Tags: Moodboard, Drabble, Mornings... Summary: Tony hates mornings. But with a view like this, maybe he could learn to like them. Word Count: 100

[onemilliongoldstars]

a crown seldom enjoyed - chapter 30

To maintain the fragile peace between north and south, Clarke of House Tyrell is sent to live in Winterfell as an act of faith between the two kingdoms. There, she is put under the protection of the first queen in the north, Queen Lexa of House Stark, Daughter of Wolves. A woman draped in steel and silver, wolves at her heels and rumoured to be a manifestation of the fury of the old gods; Clarke refuses to be awed be her quiet violence and cold smile. Instead of fostering unity, the meeting of the wolf and the rose lights a spark that spreads through the rest of Westeros, threatening to burn it to the ground.

30/33

clexa game of thrones au

read on ao3

—

Book Three: Chapter 9

The baby in her arms is warm and heavy, a little sleeping bundle with dark curly hair and lashes as delicate as a butterfly’s wing. Having never been around many young children as a child, Clarke is surprised to find that little Benam has changed even in the few weeks since she last saw him. His features are more pronounced, his hair thicker and he is definitely bigger than he was. She gazes down at him in the candlelight, utterly entranced. Jasper’s new wife Maya had told her that he would likely sleep through the night, but she can’t help but hope she is wrong. She would love to see his little eyes blink open, his little mouth stretch in a contented yawn.

The knock that comes to the door startles her, though the babe in her arms doesn’t stir. She calls a quiet entry and watches as Octavia escorts Wells into her quarters. The captain’s gaze lingers on the baby, but Clarke has no eyes for anyone but Wells. He stops just steps from the door, his wide eyes flickering from her face to Benam’s sleeping form.

“Clarke, what-”

“Wells wait,” She cannot help herself, reaching out to stop him and jostling the baby by accident. He squirms and lets out a tiny wail, his eyes still closed, and she hushes him quietly, rocking him back and forth in her arms.

“Is that…” Wells is still frozen in place, as if vines have grown from the floor and affixed him in place. She watches him, watches the way his eyes cannot seem to stray from the bundle in her arms.

“I thought you should meet your son, Wells.”

His gaze finally finds hers, but to her surprise it is filled with rage. He snaps, furiously, his voice low and mindful of the child but no less angry for it. “What were you thinking Clarke? We agreed that he would be safer away from here?”

“We did,” She admits finally, shame spilling through her like water over the banks of a river. “But I needed you to meet him Wells, if only once, before you made your decision.”

Wells eyes meet hers and they are filled with a familiar anguish, one that will not seem to leave the Baratheon heir. If she had doubted his feelings for Ivy before, if she had wondered whether the Flea Bottom girl was just a product of too much wine and a thoughtless cock, she knows now that she was wrong. Her friend has been withdrawn and filled with despair ever since Clarke told him of Ivy’s death, and there is a shadow to his eyes that she feels far too keenly.

Slowly, Wells takes a step in her direction. His hands are shaking, she realises, but he edges closer to her regardless. She watches with baited breath as he approaches and when he is close enough to see the baby, she tilts her arms to give him a better view.

“His name is Benam,” She tells him softly, “Benam Baratheon. Your son.”

“Benam,” Wells echoes, quietly and Clarke pulls in a shaking breath.

“Don’t you see,” She entreats him quietly, “If you give up your right to the throne you are giving up on Benam, don’t you want to see him take his rightful place at your side?”

Wells lets out a shaking breath and when he raises his gaze to Clarke again she is startled to see that his eyes are glassy with unshed tears.

He voice shakes. “I know that you see only me when you look at him, but I see Ivy as well. I can’t- I couldn’t bear to watch him grow and see her in every part of him and know that I caused him to be a motherless child.” She opens her mouth to argue with him, but he seems to know what she is about to say because he cuts through her. “I cannot be king Clarke, I cannot- not after Ivy and my father and your father-” He shakes his head, his voice breaking and she soothes him quietly.

“I’m sorry, Wells, I didn’t mean to push you so hard. Benam will be well cared for with Maya and Jasper, I will see to it that they have all they need to be comfortable and protect him.”

“No,” He shakes his head, his eyes dark and clouded. “I may be naïve,” He bites out a bitter laugh, “But I am not so foolish to think that you won’t need Benam when the time comes. He has the name Baratheon after all.”

“Wells,” Her stomach sinks at the sound of his voice, so twisted with grief.

“You are not pregnant Clarke, despite the rumours floating around the castle. You will need an heir within the next few months or your claim to the throne will be disputed.” His gaze settles on Benam again. “Especially one with the name Baratheon.”

“Speak clearly Wells,” She demands, frowning over Benam’s body, which is heavy with sleep.

“I will renounce my claim to the throne,” Wells tells her firmly, “And pronounce Benam my true born heir – I’m sure we can offer some country Septon enough gold to say he married Ivy and I- and you can take him as your ward.”

“But Wells, he is your son, your name, your House.” Clarke insists, as Wells turns to make his way to the door.

His hand on the frame he pauses and when he looks back at her it is as if all of her ghosts are reflected in his eyes. “I have no House anymore.”

—-

Her mother is at least kind enough to send a messenger on ahead, giving Clarke a few hours to prepare for her arrival. The castle is aflutter with the news of her coming, but nerves churn in Clarke’s gut as she stands upon the steps, surrounded by her advisors and waiting for her mother’s carriage to pass through the imposing gates of the Red Keep. She hadn’t been lying when she told Lord Marcus that she was filled with trepidation at the thought of seeing her mother again. Something has settled in her stomach at the thought of her mother, flowering up through her chest and spreading its leaves through her ribs, a queasiness, a fear of the look that her mother will level her with when she steps out of her carriage. 

The horns blow and she pulls in a shaking breath, standing straighter. The weight of the circlet on her head feels immense, pressing down through her skin and bone. Her mother’s attendants appear and the weight in her chest eases at the sight of her House sigil on the banners and uniforms. Her marriage, short and illegitimate as it may have been, have made her a Swann forever, and it is Finn’s banners that are strung through the castle. The sight of her own golden rose on a green field almost brings tears to her eyes. 

The procession of knights and squires and horses come to a stop and her mother’s carriage arrives before the steps. A footman hurries out to open the door and offer his hand, and Clarke lifts her chin as her mother steps out of the carriage. Her dark hair is slung back into a neat twist, and Clarke is unsurprised to see that she still wears a black veil of her dark blue dress. While never a woman for the trappings of noble life, her mother’s appearance is even more bleak than usual, her face wan and pale as she turns to look up at the imposing castle. The smile that passes across her lips when she sees Clarke is so bright, however, that it makes everything else fade into the background. 

Before she knows it, Clarke is descending the few steps to the courtyard, holding out her hands, and Abigail takes them between her own, pressing them together. Her mother’s eyes are just as they have always been, and Clarke feels emotion rise so strongly in her throat that she is worried she will cry before all of court. 

“Clarke,” Her mother squeezes her fingers, her voice thick with emotion. “My daughter.”

“Mother,” Clarke’s voice cracks, but it is pitched low enough that only Abigail can hear. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

Abigail’s eyes dart over the castle and there is a shadow to them that pokes at Clarke’s heart ache. Still, she lies. “So am I.”

“Please, come inside. You must be tired after your journey.” It is immensely strange to realise that this is the first time she is welcoming her mother into her own home. The Red Keep does not feel like a home in the slightest, it is only just beginning to feel like a place she can stand to be rather than a place drenched in nightmares. 

Her mother accepts her invitation, following her up the steps. She glances at Lexa, and her brows furrow even as she gives a respectful bow of her head, but when she spots Lord Marcus beside her all animosity fades from her expression. She holds out her hand and Marcus takes it gratefully, clasping it in both of his. Lady Tyrell’s voice is deep with sincerity when she says. 

“Marcus, how good to see you here.”

“And to have you here, Abby,” He answers, earnestly, and they exchange a glance that Clarke cannot quite decipher before her mother turns back to the steps into the castle. She has her servants and handmaidens take her things to her chambers, and immediately lets Clarke lead her to the queen’s rooms. The moment the door shuts behind them, Octavia and Roan loyally posted on either side of it, her mother looks at her and opens up her arms. 

Clarke allows herself to sink into them, and though there is something strange to the action which seems to set it in offset from the world around them, she is glad to rest her head against her mother’s shoulder and let familiar arms hold her, if only for a moment. Eventually, she pulls herself away, trying to ignore her mother’s yearning gaze and reaching hands. 

“How was your journey?” She asks at last, when she can think of nothing more to say, and her mother’s shrewd eyes flicker over her, seeing every doubt and uncertainty, and it is this which makes her turn quickly and pull her crown from her head, setting it on the wide table near the window. 

“Fine enough,” Her mother’s gaze is so heavy it feels like a cloak around her shoulders. “I’m glad to find you well here… better than well I suppose. You are queen.”

“Mother,” Her voice is terse and short, “Please, spare me your judgement, I did what I had to.”

“I know,” Abigail’s voice is less angry than she expected, and when she chances a glance at her she sees sadness in her eyes as her mother sinks into an armchair by the fire. “You have done more than I ever expected from you.”

“So…” She falters, her anger stuttering. “You aren’t angry with me?” 

“I was not best pleased when you didn’t return to me in the Eyrie as instructed, make no mistake,” The look Abigail fixes her with is intensely reminiscent of her childhood, when she had been caught stealing buns from the kitchen, or sneaking around with the handsome stable boy. “But what could I expect, you are your father’s daughter after all.”

“And my mother’s,” She settles into the chair beside her mother. “Lord Marcus says you went looking for trouble when you were young.”

Abigail scoffs, pursing her lips in annoyance. “Marcus says things he should not. That was a long time ago, when I was just a girl.”

“Before you met father,” Clarke says, quietly, and her mother nods. 

“He made a woman out of me,” Abigail says quite simply, and her eyes settle on Clarke, soft with apology now. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here for your wedding.”

“It wasn’t safe,” She disputes, instantly. “Not as it is now.”

“Lord Finn was always a nice boy,” Her mother’s eyes dart over her curiously, “Did he… make a woman of you.”

Her cheeks heat at the words, despite all that has happened. “Not in the way you would think,” She says at last, “I am older than I was, but you will have no grandchildren despite what they are saying in court.”

“I hear that you only got the Baratheon lords to agree to crown you on the understanding that you would give them a Baratheon heir.”

“And I still will,” Clarke answers quietly, “But not in the way that they expect.”

—-

Clarke announces Pike’s imprisonment the day after her lady mother returns to the capital. She sends Lexa a note that morning to tell her of her announcement, and Lexa stalks about her rooms like a trapped animal when she reads it. Fear has settled deeply in her heart and despite herself, there is a large part of her that wishes she had let Anya kill Pike the moment that they threw him in a black cell. This moment is crucial for Clarke in the story of her reign, more crucial even than the first time she stepped before the people after Finn’s death. If the lords and ladies, even the smallfolk of the southern kingdoms do not accept what she tells them of Lord Pike, she will surely be overthrown in days and cast down as a traitor. Lexa has her horses readied, hoping vainly that she will be able to steal the southern queen away should anything go awry, but there is little more she can do than troop down to the Great Hall with the rest of the nobles in Kings Landing when the sun has reached its highest point in the sky. 

She finds Clarke upon her throne, that appalling iron monstrosity, and around her stand her privy council. She is resplendent as always in a dark blue dress, her crown heavy upon her head and a girdle so wide it appears like plated armour around her waist. She gives Lexa the barest of nods as she enters, but otherwise watches on in silence as her nobles fill the hall, murmuring and whispering amongst themselves. 

“My lords and ladies,” She says finally, and a hush falls over them all as they watch on with bated breath to see why they have been summoned. “It is with a heavy heart that I call you all here today. A grievous crime has been committed against our crown and kingdom which I cannot allow to go unpunished.” A wave of gasped breaths come from the hall as people exchange unsure glances. “It is my sad duty to inform you all that Lord Pike of House Lannister has been arrested by the crown.” A louder gasp and affronted cries accompany her statement, but Clarke ignores them all, waving to an attendant. 

Lord Pike has been cleaned up for his appearance in front of the court. He is dressed in a plain but fresh doublet and jacket and scrubbed of the worst of the smell of death that lingers in the black cells. He is noticably thinner and there is a sickly pallor to his face, but otherwise he appears unchanged as he steps out before the crowd, a look of defiant smugness on his face. 

“I bring Lord Pike here today to announce to him and you that he is accused of regicide and muder, and plotting against this kingdom to see it thrown into war once again.” The voices of dissent grow louder, but Clarke does not hesitate, only raising her own voice above the hubbub. “Tomorrow at dawn his trial will begin, let any man who would speak for or against Lord Pike come before me and the rest of this land to make their case heard.”

“May I speak, your majesty?” There is something to the way that he speaks, a smooth confidence to his voice that sits beneath Lexa’s skin and eats away at her. 

“No, my lord, you may not.” Clarke answers him sharply. “Save your lies for the morrow, you will need them then.”

---

She retires to her chambers, Lord Marcus and Lord Robert falling into step behind her. Once inside, Harper hurries forwards to take her crown from her head, settling it carefully in a chest, and she rotates her neck once, easing it of stiffness. Then she settles her eyes on the two lords of her privy council. 

“You are ready and able to do your duty tomorrow, my lords?”

Lord Marcus bows his head, and Lord Robert answers her gruffly. 

“It will be my honour, your majesty,” His chest puffs up, as it always does when he is angry. “If Lord Pike truly is guilty of killing our beloved king I’d be happy to swing the blade myself.”

“I’m sure my late husband would be touched by your affection, my lord,” She softens herself just slightly for him. “But that is why we have a royal executioner.”

“The northerners have a saying,” Lord Robert begins, “He who passes the sentence-”

“Should swing the sword,” She finishes for him, allowing herself a small smile. “Yes, I know of it.”

“The northerners aren’t right in many regards, your majesty, but in this I think they could be.” 

She cannot help but think of the times she has seen Lexa swing a sword and end a life. Three times she has seen the northern queen take life and death into her own two hands. She thinks of the dagger Lexa gave her, thinks of Faith ripping the first assassin from on top of her, of Roan passing his sword through the second, of her own hands suffocating the life out of Cage Wallace with a strength that was not her own. 

Her voice breaks, “You may be right, my lord, but I’m not sure I could swing a sword to end Lord Pike’s life, even after everything he has done.”

Lord Robert’s smile edges on paternal and sympathetic. “Of course not, your majesty. But who better than your master of laws to end the man’s life.” His fingers twitch to his sword. 

Her eyes widen as understanding rushes over her. “I see, I will think on it, my lord.”

“That is all I ask, your majesty.”

“You must be weary,” Lord Marcus intervenes, much to her relief. “We will leave you to rest, your majesty.”

As they step from the room, Clarke turns to the wide balcony, running her fingers along the warm stone and stepping out to breath in the warm summer air. From here she can see the ocean, stretching out in a wide expanse of blue that reaches to the horizon. The sun glistens against the waves and ships come and go like dark shadows on the scene. It is good to remember that there is a whole world going on beyond the walls of this city, this castle, this room. 

“Your majesty,” Harper hesitates close by, looking out at her, and Clarke attempts to shrug off the mantle of queen. 

She is almost successful when she says. “Yes, Harper?”

“I’ve been helping the maids move things from your old room to these, and when I was cleaning I found these.” She dips her hand into her apron pocket and pulls out a scrap of parchment wrapped around a small glass vial filled with dark liquid.

Dread fills Clarke’s stomach, like sticky black tar, and she reaches out to take them hurriedly, gathering them into her hands. “Did you read this?” She demands, harshly, and Harper shakes her head, alarmed. 

“No your majesty. I just thought they might be important.”

Clarke’s eyes flicker across her face, searching for any sign of deceit, but she finds none and finally lets her breath flow from her chest. “Thank you, Harper.” A flush of affection spreads through her. “Truly, you are the most loyal handmaiden anyone could ever ask for.”

Harper colours, but is saved from answering by a knock to the door. She hurries to answer it, stepping back to let Lexa look into the room, offering her a bobbing curtsey. Clarke’s heart flourishes at the sight of Lexa looking in at her, a smile creeping across her face unbidden, brushing at imaginary creases in her dress. 

“It’s the queen, your majesty,” Harper says, unnecessarily, and Clarke offers her a wry smile. 

“I can see that Harper, you may go.” As the handmaiden slips away, Lexa shuts the door behind her and Clarke takes a few steps to the archway leading back in to the room, hesitating there like a marionette caught on her strings. 

Lexa fixes her with serious, uncertain eyes, and pauses in her place near the table. “Have I disturbed you?” She asks, quietly, and Clarke shakes her head so fiercely she fears her hair will escape its tight braided confines. 

“Not at all,” Her voice is hurried and breathy. “I’m so glad to see you.”

“You are?” Lexa’s face brightens at her words, and she steps out to join her on the balcony. “I know today must be difficult for you, I thought you might appreciate a distraction.”

“You are a wonderful distraction,” Clarke confesses, and she has to tighten her fingers around the vial and the letter to stop herself reaching out to touch Lexa. The northern queen notices her struggle, her eyes flickering down to look at her hands with interest.

“What are those?” 

“Oh,” Clarke flushes, glancing down at her hands. She is torn for a moment, wondering which Lexa would more hate to see, and eventually crumples her fingers around the letter, holding out the vial for Lexa to look at. “Harper found this beneath my mattress.”

Lexa’s eyes widen when she realises what she’s looking out. She doesn’t reach out to take it, instead she flinches back just slightly, and distaste colours her voice when she says. “The poison from Winterfell.”

“Black Thorn,” She supplies quietly, after a moment of silence, and Lexa looks at her curiously.

“I’ve never heard of that.”

“My great grandmother fancied herself an alchemist. It’s a Tyrell poison, passed from woman to woman. My grandmother gave it to me when I came north, to protect myself.”

“I suppose that was wise,” Lexa says at last, and when their eyes meet again Lexa’s are softer. “I never told you how much I respected you for coming north alone, it must have been a frightening thing to do.”

“You respected me?” Clarke’s brows shoot up, surprise painting every feature. “I always assumed you thought I was a spoiled southern lady.”

“Well,” A slight smile curls at the corners of Lexa’s lips, a lightness to her that Clarke has never quite seen before, and she finds her breath caught in her throat at the sight. “Maybe just a little.” At Clarke’s laugh she continues, bolstered. “But I saw the bravery in you as well. Perhaps I was foolish to assume you would come to us utterly defenceless.”

The words sober her, and she glances down at the poison, turning it between her fingers. “I would never have used it on you. Even when I hated you more than anything.”

“I know,” Lexa answers, after a moment of silence, and then, quickly, as if she cannot help herself, ““I’m sorry for the way that I treated you then. I was angry and I didn’t know-” 

“Stop,” The words almost pull a laugh from her, so ridiculous are they. “You have nothing to apologise for. I tricked you and lied to you, and I will spend all of my life trying to earn your forgiveness for that.” 

“Clarke,” Lexa reaches out to touch at her fingers where she is fiddling nervously with the bottle of poison. “You already have my forgiveness, I swear it.” Their eyes meet again and Clarke reads only sincerity in Lexa’s, simple and plain, and she feels her breath catch in her throat. 

“I will continue to try to earn it anyway.” She promises, solemnly. Her eyes fall back to the poison between her fingers and revulsion curls suddenly up her throat, tightening like a noose. “I should throw this in the sea.” 

“Don’t,” Lexa’s hand tightens around hers, and when their eyes meet again there is a darkness to them. “You have many more enemies here than you did in the north. You may need it yet.” 

Clarke swallows at her words, but nods once, slipping the poison into the pocket of her dress. Lexa continues a little uncertainly. 

“Speaking of enemies, may I ask you about your meeting with Cage Wallace? I know you didn’t want me there, but I had assumed you would keep me informed of events.” She bristles just slightly, and Clarke feels a flood of guilt. 

“I’m sorry, I should have told you sooner. That was not Cage Wallace.” Confusion rushes over Lexa’s features. 

“But Lord Marcus said-” 

“Lord Marcus was wrong, he was a Faceless Man wearing Cage Wallace’s face.” 

“He what?” Lexa’s voice ricochets up, her eyes widening with surprise. Her hand slides to the pommel of her sword, “He was a Faceless Man, Clarke how could you not tell me?” Her eyes flicker over Clarke’s face, suspicion settling in them, “If you really are Clarke.”

 Clarke gapes at her, “Of course I am, don’t be absurd!” 

“Prove it,” Lexa demands, though she does not draw her sword. “Tell me where we were the first time that we talked- really talked.” 

“We were in the Godswood,” The words bring back the shiver of winter, the snow settling in her hair and around her shoulders, legs like ice from kneeling in the snow. “I was picking flowers to make a garland. You gave me your cloak.” 

Lexa’s breath stutters out of her and her grip on her sword slackens. “It is you,” She breathes out, and the relief in her voice is palpable. “But how did you escape them again?” 

“He didn’t come to kill me,” She reaches in her pocket and pulls out the iron coin. “He came to free me.” 

Lexa takes the coin into her hands, passing it between her fingers with interest. “What do you mean, free you?” 

“Their god no longer wants me dead, it seems. They will not attack me again. The final assassination was Cage Wallace himself trying to kill me,” She cracks a small smile. “Which is probably why I was able to overpower him.” 

“You shouldn’t underestimate yourself,” Lexa counters, returning the coin to her. “From what I’ve seen you’re plenty able to defend yourself.” 

“Well,” She offers her a charming smile, which only widens when she sees Lexa blush. “I had an excellent teacher.” 

---

The noise coming from the Three Crows, one of the most popular taverns in the city, spills from the windows and door and out into the street. Men perch on upturned barrels and crudely made benches outside its walls, smoking and drinking and talking. Inside, the hall is filled with hubbub as people talk and bet over the dice tables, leering at the especially pretty barmaids that the owner had managed to procure. At a table near one of the open windows, Octavia watches her brother from the corner of her eyes as he sullenly drains another tankard of mead. Across the table from them, on a cushioned bench, Anya watches with feigned boredom as Raven demonstrates a trick with a silver coin that Monty had taught her, bouncing the coin from knuckle to knuckle.

There is a tension sitting upon Anya’s shoulders which Octavia knows is echoed in her own. Though they have left their queens in the capable hands of the rest of their Queensguard, both insisting that they take the evening for themselves, they are not quite content with leaving them alone. It is strange to sit across from Anya Mormont, in the same white cloak that she wears, when only months before she had thought even Queensguard was an utterly unreachable goal, let alone Captain of the Queensguard.

At her side her brother gestures for another tankard from the pretty serving girl, and utterly ignores her simpering smiles and fluttering eyelashes, shoving a couple of coppers into her hand in exchange. He is hunched over the table like an old man, cradling his cup between both hands and staring morosely into its depths.

Octavia sighs softly. When she had suggested that he join her for a drink that evening, she had not expected him to be quite so resentful. He had arrived at her quarters in the Queensguard tower – quarters she is still struggling to get used to- and scoffed darkly when she had opened the door to show the grandeur behind it. Now he glowers down at his cup, as mute and unhappy as he has been all night, and takes a long drag of the mead.

“So,” Raven finally tires of trying to impress Anya, and slips the coin – Anya’s coin if Octavia remembers correctly – into her pocket. She turns her attention to Bellamy, “Will you take up a post in the castle now Bellamy, to see your sister more?”

Bellamy’s glower only deepens at the suggestion and he presses his lips together stubbornly. ”No, I’ll be staying in Lord Pike’s service.”

“How will you do that?” Anya asks lazily, swirling her wine around her goblet. “By tomorrow he’ll no longer have a head if the queen has anything to say about it.” 

Bellamy’s eyes flicker with fury and his head snaps up to glare at her. The hatred in his voice is enough to make Octavia flinch when he spits. “I don’t give a fuck what that bitch says, she’s no queen of mine.” 

Anya’s eyes dart to Octavia, and Raven’s widen, her lips pressing into a furious line. Octavia suppresses the rage that boils up in her chest. “She wants what’s best for the kingdom, Bellamy.” 

“Like seven hells she does,” Bellamy turns to unleash his fury on her, his voice rising. “She may have bought you off with a new cloak and grand rooms, but I see her for what she really is.” 

“And what’s that?” Raven snaps, her fingers tight around her goblet.

“A murderer,” He answers hotly, “And a liar.” 

“She isn’t lying about Lord Pike,” Raven shoots back, so loudly that Anya puts a hand on her shoulder to quieten her. “I translated the letters myself.” 

“How do you know they were real?” Bellamy demands and it is Octavia who answers. 

“I took them from Lord Pike’s desk!” 

“Only because that lying whore tricked you…” 

“Alright,” She grabs him roughly by his shirt collar, pushing him from the bench so hard that he stumbles to keep his footing. “We’re leaving, you’ve had too much to drink.” 

“We’ll help you,” Raven offers, but Octavia shakes her head tersely. 

“I don’t want you to have to listen to any more of this shit. See you tomorrow at the trial.” She shoves her brother from the tavern so quickly that she doesn’t notice the unease pass across Raven’s face.

They walk in tense silence for several streets, neither one willing to speak first and both so furious that they have to walk several feet away from one another.

 Finally, Bellamy turns to say, darkly. “You’re being used Octavia.” 

“You’re being used.” She argues, “Lord Pike is a tyrant and a murderer Bellamy, how can you be so loyal to someone like that?” 

He rounds on her in the middle of the street, his expression so outraged that she momentarily pauses. “You call Lord Pike a murderer and a tyrant but what about your queen? Her father is dead and her husband… and she arrested Lord Pike in secret! You should take a long, hard look at Lady Clarke.” He shakes his head over her protests, “Pike has more supporters than anyone knows, we’ll get him out before he can be hurt.” 

Before she can say anything to rebuke him, he turns on his heel, marching away into the darkness. Octavia watches him go, trembling with rage and glad that she had managed to resist punching him in the face.

—-

When a furious knocking comes to her door while the sky is still dark, she is not startled awake. In fact, she barely remembers what sleep is like any more. When the night comes and she is bathed and undressed, settled into her bed by Harper, she spends her nights staring at the canopy through the darkness, her mind humming with her thoughts and fears. Since her visit from the Faceless Man, she at least feels slightly more at ease, and the iron coin that shines on her bedside table brings her comfort when she turns it between her fingers, but she knows she was never destined to sleep well this night. Her pieces are carefully laid and she knows the words she will say as well as any mummer’s apprentice, but still her heart thuds when she thinks of the upcoming trial. Swinging her legs from beneath the covers, she pulls the dagger from beneath her pillow and crosses the room to the locked door.

“Your majesty!” Outside the door, the familiar sound of her newest Queensguard comes, and she breathes out a small sigh of relief, unlocking the door to find Princess Emeline shifting nervously from one foot to the next. 

It had taken some time to decide who to appoint to her Queensguard, and still she has only five where there should be seven, but she has a good feeling about her most recent appointment: Princess Emeline Martell, Princess Arianna’s young niece. The girl is only twenty summers, but already one of the most renowned fighters in the Seven Kingdoms, and eager to prove herself.  

“I’m sorry to disturb you,” She says hastily now, “But something needs you attention urgently.”

At her side is the fourth member of her Queensguard, Ser Andrew Tarth, one of only two Queensguard remaining from her late husband’s Kingsguard. Though the years have robbed him of some of his good looks, Ser Andrew is still one of the best knights in the land, and he handles his sword well. Most importantly, he had loved Finn like a trueborn son, and wept over his body, and Clarke is assured that with Finn’s name attached to hers she will always have his loyalty. 

He cuts Princess Emeline a tired glance, and says, firmly. “There’s no use in wasting her majesty’s time,” Here, he turns back to Clarke. “A man was caught by Ser Roan trying to free the Lannister lord from his cell. Ser Roan would have killed him in an instant, but he gave Octavia’s name.” 

“I see,” Clarke’s brows furrow, and she rubs a hand over her eyes, trying to clear them of sleep. “Send for Harper, I may as well dress now and see this matter through before the trial. It can’t be long before dawn.” 

They do as she instructs without hesitation, and soon Harper is there to dress her in gold and blue, the lines of her dress harsh and severe, rigid shoulders and a high neckline, nothing like the draping, floating materials and strips of skin she bared when seducing Finn. The sun is just beginning to creep over the horizon when she steps into her private audience chambers, so the room is lit mostly by flickering candles and Clarke’s lips part just slightly in surprise when the lighting reveals Octavia stood beside her kneeling brother, her hand on his shoulder holding him down. 

At the sound of the door they both look up from where they have been arguing in hushed voices and Octavia bows lowly, while her brother fixes Clarke with a glower. It’s enough to bring her back to herself, and she straightens her shoulders, setting them both with an impassive look. 

Ser Roan is stood only steps away, and it is to him that she turns first. “Ser Roan, Ser Andrew tells me that you caught Blake trying to free Lord Pike.” 

“That’s right, your majesty,” Roan looks as if he is ready to impale Bellamy on his heavy longsword in this very moment, his expression thunderous. “I would have killed him on the spot but the boy gave Octavia’s name and asked to see her, and she begged for your judgement in person.”

“I didn’t beg,” Octavia bites back, before gathering herself under Clarke’s severe gaze. “Your majesty, I just wanted you to speak to my brother for yourself.”

“I’m not sure what you want to accomplish with this, Octavia,” Clarke answers her, honestly. “Your brother attempted to free Lord Pike from his cell, that isn’t something I can easily overlook. He should die for trying to disobey the queen’s orders.”

“Of course you would have me killed,” Bellamy Blake snarls from his place on the floor, twisting against his sister’s grip to look up at her. “See Octavia? I told you, she’s a tyrant!”

“Watch your mouth boy,” Roan reaches for his sword, but Clarke cuts through him. 

“A tyrant?” The word sends a thrill of fury rippling beneath her skin, but she works to keep her expression settled and calm. She lifts a curious eyebrow at the doomed man. “Is that truly what you think of me?”

“You’ve given me no reason to think you’re anything less than a tyrant,” Bellamy shoots back angrily, and she gazes down at him, interested despite herself. “You’ve locked up my lord for no reason, in secret!”

“You were Lord Pike’s man, is that right?” Clarke looks down at him, “You truly never saw anything in him that suggested at evil?”

“Never!” Bellamy spits back, passionately. “He was a good man, he wanted what was best for the realm!”

“You are one of three things, Bellamy Blake. Either you are utterly naive, completely stupid, or the most loyal man I have ever met.” Her eyes flicker up to Octavia, “I have known your sister for some time, so I am inclined to say you are neither stupid or naive, which makes you loyal. Loyalty is a valuable asset to me.” If she had not known Octavia for so long she would not have been able to interpret the tension in her shoulders and her jaw, the worrying of the inside of her cheek as her eyes dart between Bellamy and her queen. It is for her sake that she says. “I will give you a choice, Bellamy Blake: take the black and join the Night’s Watch, or face the hangman’s noose.”

“Your majesty,” Octavia’s surprised voice cuts through Bellamy’s protests, “You’re too kind, he’ll take the black of course.”

“I will not,” Bellamy turns to glower at her. “Just because she has you under her spell doesn’t mean I don’t see her for what she is.” Her looks back to Clarke and squares his shoulders as well as he can from his place on the floor. “I will not be sent to the Night’s Watch to live out my days freezing half to death. If you want me silenced, you will have to kill me.”

Her considering gaze flickers over him. “Very well,” She says, at last, ignoring the horror that washes over Octavia’s expression. Outside, bells begin to toll, long and loud, and the sun has crept high enough over the horizon to send a slant of light into the room. “But you’ve taken up enough of my time for today. Take him to the black cells,” She instructs Ser Roan, then turns a firm gaze on Octavia.

The girl seems torn, watching as Roan takes her brother by his arm and hauls him away. Carefully, Clarke crosses the space between them, pausing only inches away from Octavia to fix her with her gaze. Octavia’s eyes are wide, her mouth slightly agape as if she wants to protest, and Clarke looks upon her as if from a height, though they are nearly the same size. 

“I hope you can remember your vows, Octavia.” Her eyes flicker to the golden crown stitched onto the white cloak her Queensguard wears. “You are my captain, I trust you with my life. Am I right to?”

Octavia meets her eyes, and her chin tilts out, her jaw tightening. She nods once, a sharp motion. “Yes, your majesty.”

“Good,” She turns her back on the Queensguard, and tries to pretend she doesn’t feel a thrill of fear down the back of her neck.

[fanficwriter013]

The Tower: Unexpected - 16

The Tower: Unexpected An Avengers Fanfic

Series Masterlist Previous //

Pairing:  Avengers x ofc, Bruce Banner x Bucky Barnes x Clint Barton x Wanda Maximoff x Steve Rogers x Natasha Romanoff x Tony Stark x Thor x Sam Wilson x OFC (Elly Cooper)

Word Count:  1840

Warnings:  pregnancy

Synopsis: A little over 2 years after moving into the Avengers Tower, Elly finds herself pregnant against the odds.  While some are excited, others are terrified, and pregnancy that none expected to happen causes rifts through the group and threatens to end the relationship.  

Author’s Note:  Written with @avengerscompound whom I am slowly driving to insanity with my murderous temper

Chapter 16: Thor

We all settled into the new house.  It was far enough away from the construction and with the forest to act as a barrier so it didn’t really bother us.  When the offices were mostly ready operations began to start up again.  Including recruitment and liaising with the government.

None of that affected me very much though.  There was always a few people at home and they were all planning to be there full time for a while after the babies were born until they gradually eased back into things after the compound was done.

At 35 weeks not much had changed.  I was still on partial bed rest.  Which meant very little really.  I mostly just hung around the house or garden and took it easy.  It was nice having them around as much as they were.  It was nice all of us going to bed in the same bed and eating our meals together.  This change was good for us.  They had been my family for years but it was only really now that we were acting like it.

We were all eating together when a storm hit us out of nowhere.   A full thunderstorm, complete with pummeling rain and lightning.

“That wasn't in the forecast,”  Steve said, glancing out the window.

I sat up straighter and looked out the window.  “Is it Thor?”

Steve glanced over at Bucky and Bucky nodded.  “Yeah, that’s probably a safe bet,”  Steve said.

“Oh man. If you guys have orgies and I can't participate I’m gonna be so mad at you.”  I half-whined.

“They wouldn't dare,”  Natasha said.

“Good,”  I said sitting back again.  “They better not.”

“If it is him, how’d he find where we live?”  I asked.

“Heimdall, ya dork,”  Bucky said.

“Oh yeah, right,”  I said and went to take a bite of garlic bread, pausing just at my lips.  “You think he’d bring Loki this time?  Oh my god, you think Loki will be their Aunt slash Uncle?”

“El.  Zolotse. Relax okay?”   Natasha said rubbing my back.

“Lady, Elly!”  Thor boomed, striding into the room.  “I hear you are with child.”  He paused and looked me over.  “My child.”

I looked up at him opened my mouth to say something.  Closed it.  Then opened it again.  “Yours?”

“Aye, one is mine. The other belongs to the Archer.”  Thor said.

I looked down at my stomach back up at Thor and then over at Clint feeling completely dumbfounded.  “I - I - I’m having a demigod and a normal human?”

“Aye. That’s right.”  Thor said as Clint made a soft noise like he was trying to hold himself together.

“How do you know?”  I asked.

Thor chuckled and crouched down in front of me.  “Have we not done proper introductions?”

“What do you mean?”

“For how I am qualified to know this?”

I shook my head and looked around at the others to see if they understood what was going on.  They all looked as confused and shocked as I was feeling.  Thor chuckled and cupped my jaw, caressing my cheek with his thumb.  Thor chuckled.  “I am Thor son of Odin. I am also as you would phrase it. A god. Gifted in fertility.”

I dropped my jaw.  “You did this to me!”

“Well, it is my child.”  He said, looking slightly confused.

“No, I mean, I was on birth control.  You… You did it.”

“That is … a possibility.”  Thor said.  “I’m sorry if it caused you any distress.  It was certainly not intentional.”

I wrapped my arms around him and buried my face in his neck.  “No.  No...  I'm thankful.  These are our babies, Thor.”  I said against his skin.  “All of ours.”

He hummed and held me close, rubbing my back gently.  “That is good to hear.”

He moved and sat beside me, keeping an arm around my shoulder.  “What does this mean for them?  Will yours have powers?”

“More than likely,”  Thor said.

“Will they be born with them?  Will we have to worry about someone getting hurt because of them?”

“No, they'll come into them,”  Thor said.  “And they can be taught.”

“What about their lifespan?”  Steve asked.  “Will they outlive their mother and their twin?”

Thor nodded, a frown set on his features.  “That is probable.”

I looked down and ran my hand over my stomach.  “What do we tell them?”

“That, I don’t know.  This is a surprise to me too, Elise.”

I looked up at him.  He looked so earnest and had that same fear the others had when they found out.  But he wanted this.  I could tell.  I just couldn’t help but think about how we barely saw him.  I loved him, but he almost didn’t feel like part of this thing we had.  He was our part-time boyfriend.  How did that work if you were a father?  “Are you going to be around, Thor?  I can’t have them think they aren’t wanted.”

He frowned.  “As much as my duties allow.  I will make sure they know they are loved.”

“Do we tell them you’re their biological father.  We weren’t going to find out.  But… are they… if they’re yours and you’re the king.  Do they need to know that?”  I babbled a little.  I wasn’t sure how that would work at all. They were not full Asgardians, being raised by other people on another planet.  Did that still make them in line for the throne?

“My child will have the claim to Asgard. But you don't have to tell them.”  Thor said, rubbing my back gently.

“They - they will?”

“It's their birthright.”

All I could think was how do you raise royalty?  We were not royalty.  Shit, Clint had grown up in the circus.  How were we supposed to do this?  “We have to raise a monarch?  How do you do that?”

“Well, no,”  Thor said.  “The training and such would be my responsibility.”

“And will you take them to Asgard to live?  I mean… when they’re grown up?”

“If they wish,”  Thor said.  “It’s not immediately important to immerse them in that world.”

“Okay,”  I said with a sigh.  “God…”

“Literally,”  Tony said making some of the others laugh.

“They're gonna be a handful,”  Natasha said.

“Thank god, there’s so many of us,”  I said and looked over at Clint.  “How are you doing little bird?”

“My?  It’s.  The.  Mine?”  He babbled.

“It already was right?”  I asked him.

“Well, yes.  But…”

“So this is just biology,”  I said, trying to reassure him.  “Hey guess what we now already know definitively?”

Clint shook his head.  “Don’t know.”

“These kids have blue eyes.  It’s a recessive trait and we three all have it.”

“My babies are going to be adorable,”  Wanda said.

“That would have been trying regardless because they are related to me.”  I joked.

“Okay, El,”  Sam teased.

I laughed and looked back over at Clint.  “If you need to talk about it, Clint.  You know… I went through the same thing already.”

“Right,”  Clint said.

I leaned back against the couch and ran my hand over my stomach.  “This was a lot to process.  Do we need to worry about Loki?  Will there be a Scar and Mufasa style problem?”

“I don’t think so,”  Thor said.

I smile and look at him.  “Thor has seen the Lion King.  All is right in the world.”

He kissed my forehead gently.  “I’ve been around.”

“Yeah, you have.  As evidenced by this.”  I said and pointed to my stomach.  “I’m sorry.  I just realized that this is a shock to you too.  Are you okay with this?  You didn’t plan for it.”

“No, I didn't plan for it. But it's a pleasant surprise.”  He said.

“Do you want to feel them?”

“Oh, yes.”  He said sitting up a little straighter.

I took his hand and put it on my stomach.  It wasn’t long before there was a hard kick.  He smiled widely and looked around the room.  “They shall be quite the fighter.”

Everyone laughed and I leaned against him.  “I guess they will be.  They’ve very strong.”

He kept his hand there and just felt them, a soft, slightly drunk looking smile on his face.

“Which one do you think is Thor's?”  Natasha asked.

“Which was the bigger one?  Riley?”  I said.

Thor looked up at me.  “They have names?”

“Oh yes, sort of.  We don't have a middle name for the boy yet.”  I said rubbing the back of his hand.  “We're having a boy and a girl.  The girl is named Riley Maria.  And the boy is Pietro.”

“Those are fine names.”  He said, looking down at his hand on my stomach.

“If they are yours and Clint’s maybe one of you might have an idea for our boy’s middle name.  Your father, Thor?  Or you had a brother right, Clint?”

“The middle name should not be Odin,”  Thor said.

“You want to name him after Barney?”  Clint asked.

“If you want to.  I don’t know Barney.  Except for the trying to kill you, robbing banks thing.  You still talk about him like his the best thing ever though.”  I said with a small shrug.

“You would do that?”  He asked.  He still sounded quite shocked.  It was strange really.  Almost like he’d just found out I was pregnant in the first place.

“Yes, of course.”

“Then, yes please.”

“Alright, so Barney?  Pietro Barney... whatever the heck we settle on as a last name?”

Clint shook his head.  “Oh no, no.  Not… Barney wasn’t his name.  It was just what we called him.  Charles.  Pietro Charles?”

Natasha seemed to relax a little.  “That’s much better than Barney.”

“This has been quite the night.  Found out their biological dads.  Finished naming them.  Now we just have to agree on the last name.”  I said, rubbing my side where one of the babies was kicking me.

“I might have an idea for a last name.  One that encompasses all of us rather than just branding them as having one father.”  He said.

I turned and tilted my head.  I knew the Asgardians still named children after their father, it was quite progressive that it was him suggesting a blended name.  “Oh, what is it?”

“Skjoldbærer.”  He said.

“That sounds nice, but does it mean something?”  Steve asked.

“It means bearer of shield.”  Thor said.  “Which is what we all do, is it not.”

We all turned and looked at Steve and he raised an eyebrow.  “Why are you all looking at me like that.”

“I don’t know… You’re the guy who’s good with ideas.”  I said.

“It sounds good to me.”  He said simply.

“Maybe we should vote?”  Clint suggested.

“There’s no need, everyone likes it,”  Wanda said.

“Everyone?”  Steve asked and Wanda nodded.

“Do we really just agree on the kid's full names?”  Sam asked.

I smiled and relaxed, running my hand over the swell of my stomach.  “Hello, little Skjodbærers,” I said softly.  “I can’t wait for you to come out and join us.”

// NEXT

[chonkychornes]

Open Arms Part 5

Synopsis: You come back broken from a mission, and the one person who could barely put himself back together is one trying to help you.

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Language. Angst. And here’s the smut I’ve been promising. 5 of ? My first reader insert fic, so please be kind, and if you like it, please reblog it? 

Also, this is really for @quant-um-fizzx​ I couldn’t/wouldn’t have done any of this without her help or guidance.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Movie night has very few rules; anyone and everyone in the compound was invited. Admission was a contribution towards food, either chip in for takeout or bring something to share. 

That had been eye-opening.

Natasha is especially adept at dips; and not just salsa or ripping open a packet of onion soup powder and dumping it into a tub of sour cream. This girl will customize guacamole to your spice and chunk preference.

She’ll make vats of spinach and artichoke dip without breaking a sweat. And her BLT dip? You don’t want to know what is in it, because you’re certain that it would require an extra two hours in the gym and turning down the personal batch she’ll make just for you to horde in your fridge. 

Then there’s Steve and Barnes: The witless wonders in the kitchen. Although Steve can make a mean soup and he knows just how essential a crockpot is. And Barnes is getting better since he’s instituted dinners with you, where you’ve been teaching him how to cook. 

Sam insists that the only thing he can properly make is breakfast and a Thanksgiving turkey, so basically you’re just counting down the days for him to show up or shut up. 

Banner is the complete dark horse. You like baking; it’s relaxing and you get to make pretty and delicious things. You just don’t have the patience for the fancy stuff. 

Bruce does. 

He makes macarons, pavlovas, and pies with the most intricate and decorative crusts you’ve ever seen outside of a bakery. Two weeks ago he made chocolate souffle and you got so excited that you jumped into his arms and squeezed him tightly. 

The final rule of movie night is that if someone picks the first movie in a franchise, you have to watch all the movies before moving on to something else. Apparently, according to Tony Stark, if you pick The Hobbit … you’re not only watching those three movies, but also The Lord of the Rings trilogy ‘because they’re all set in the same universe and this is my place’.

Tonight marks the halfway point through a franchise and you thank your lucky stars that this one only has five movies in it. You like this franchise, but frankly, Johnny Depp is getting a little old to play a rummed up pirate with a questionable moral compass.

After leaving Natasha in the gym and taking a quick shower you spend the rest of your afternoon making cupcakes. Five dozen to be exact. The clean up took longer than you’d planned, but you still managed to do all the things to yourself. After loading them all up in the massive cupcakes carriers and then into a large box, you exit your quarters only to be met with Barnes. 

You can feel the heat rise in your cheeks when his eyes go wide when he sees the load you’re trying to maneuver and he reaches out to take it from you. “I could’ve managed, but thanks.” 

He gives you a wry smile and glances into the box, “You made cupcakes? What kind are they?” 

Before you can answer him though, he’s put the box down, ripped the lid off the top carrier, grabbed a treat and somehow managed to take the baking paper off and shove the whole thing in his mouth in less than 10 seconds. 

You smirk because he’s going to get a toothache or maybe he’ll choke, but it’s also sort of cute. 

He could still choke though. 

“They’re salted caramel with vanilla buttercream swirled with a caramel drizzle and then topped with sea salt.” You look at him as he groans and you can feel it straight into your bones and various other places. He finally swallows and reaches for another when you reach out to stop him. 

“I made 60, so there’s plenty,” you say, and he has the good grace to look slightly ashamed.” You also have a little buttercream right-” You reach out with your thumb and wipe at the corner of his mouth. Instinctively, his tongue darts to the spot and for whatever reason - only you and your vagina understand - you put your thumb into your mouth. 

His eyes darken and you both stand there for a solid minute staring at the other, daring each other to make a move. When he steps over the box at your feet, your heart jumps. His hands find your hips and he grips you gently and pushes you against your door. You can feel the cool metal of his left hand versus the heat radiating from his right. 

“Tell me to stop,” James whispers, begging you, but you can’t form the words that are caught in your throat. He skims his nose along the column of your neck and up to your ear. He nibbles softly and you melt against him. He thrusts one of his knees between your thighs to help support you and runs his hands up and down your ribcage. 

As you whine softly and grind on his leg he mutters into your ear, “Dracu-ma (fuck me).”

You’ve heard him speak Romanian before. He mutters in the gym while lifting weights. When a glass slipped from his hands just last week when he was doing your dishes. You’re almost certain you heard him mumble disjointed sentences when you both dozed under that maple.

This is different.

And that’s when the world comes crashing down around you. 

If you were going to go down this path with him, it won’t start out in the hallway. 

It won’t be when you can’t even figure out what name you want to call him and just realized you had real-time feelings for him. 

It won’t be when you aren’t sure how to tell him you want him you lo- 

It won’t.

It’ won’t. 

You won’t.

Your body stiffens and he immediately drops his hands, “Did I read this wrong?” His striking blue eyes search yours and you see the concern, tinged with a little fear clouded over into resignation. “I get it,” he says and takes a deliberate step back, remembering to step over the box of cupcakes. 

“James, no.” You dig the heels of your hands into your eyes and contemplate screaming for an hour to release the frustration you’re feeling. “You didn’t read this wrong.” His eyes sharpen on you. “I just … I’m not sure how to tell you what I’m feeling.”

You find yourself in the same situation you were in mere moments before; you’re both staring at each other until he finally speaks. 

“Well, I hope you’re feeling up to movie night,” he says, and bends over to pick up the box and sends you a wink and smile when he straightens. “Steve says the TV is out in the media room and it’s just the three of us tonight, so we’ll see you at our place in a bit.”

He walks away and you slide down the door into a heap on the floor and just sit there for a solid ten minutes before you pull out your phone and send off a text to Steve to make sure he’s still in for his part of the plan (and to talk you down off the ledge you’ve built for yourself.) 

When you let yourself into Steve and James’ quarters thirty minutes later, the scene you find would be comical if you hadn’t had a part in orchestrating it.

Steve is sitting in his favorite cushy armchair with a look of despair and tiredness etched across his features. 

“Boys,” you acknowledge as you enter and notice that at least one of the cupcake carriers has been relieved of at least a dozen treats. 

“Hey, sweets.” James isn’t looking at you and you raise an eyebrow at his slightly dismissive tone and a new spin on a nickname. “Have you seen my copy of ‘At World’s End’?” 

You now realize why he’s on the floor and every movie that belongs to the two men is strewn about.

“I have no idea. How could you have lost it?” You lean against the arm of the couch and watch the show as James scoots around on his hands and knees searching. When you glance over at Steve he rolls his eyes and then stares pointedly at you. 

You clear your throat, “So, who ate all those cupcakes?” James freezes in his tracks, sits up on his haunches, and turns to look at you over his shoulder. 

“I only had that one.” He smirks just enough and then points a finger at Steve who is prepared and has a sheepish look on his face. 

“I can’t resist salted caramel!” He’s protesting and James is laughing at him. You eye him to tell him to take it down a notch or two. “If it makes you feel any better, my stomach is killing me now.” He groans lightly and sinks further into the chair. 

Perfect. 

“Poor baby, can’t handle his sweets.” You wink at him and he flips you off when James goes back to searching. “Hey, Bucky,” you say, and his head swivels slowly around to look at you. “I’ve got the box set. Come over and we’ll order food and leave this child to suffer the consequences of his choices.”

You grab some cupcakes and saunter out, knowing full well that he’ll follow you. 

You offered him movie night and food. 

You called him Bucky. 

And you have some unfinished business. 

Precisely six minutes later, after you somehow manage to put the DVD in and cue it up and light a fat jar candle you have on your coffee table, you’re still waiting for the Tin Man to appear. You assume it’s taking him so long because Steve made him clean up the mess he made, but you suspect that there are just piles of DVDs stacked haphazardly around the living room down the hall. 

When he finally knocks, you call out to tell him the door is open and your voice catches a little in your throat. You walk out of your kitchen as he walks in, holding up two take-out menus. 

“Your choice, I’m fine with whatever.” You don’t mean for the phrase to come out sounding like some double entendre, but it does a little bit. 

He plucks them both out of your hands and considers them seriously for a few moments. “This one,” he hands a menu back to you and walks you back into the kitchen until you hit the island with your ass and he cages you with his arms. “I’ll take two orders of the assorted dim sum, the house special lo mein, and do you like wonton soup, doll?”

You swallow hard. 

There is no way this should feel like foreplay, but it does. 

“I love it. Do you like salt and pepper wings?” he says, nodding, and you reach into your back pocket for your phone. “Then I’ll call it in.” 

When you bring the device to your ear, he backs away and wanders around your quarters.

After quietly finishing the order and telling the restaurant the instructions for when they arrive, you hang up and stare at him. The broad expanse of his back is hunched over as he’s crouched down and looking at some photographs on one of the lower bookshelves. 

He’s been in here, but you usually push him right out the door as quickly as possible after he’s washed the dishes after one of your dinners. 

He never lingers over coffee and conversation.  So, this is the first time he’s investigating your space. You’re not sure you like. 

“My family,” you say softly and he looks over his shoulder at you. “My parents and my older brother died when I was seventeen and my younger sister was only nine.” 

He fingers the edge of the frame before standing but doesn’t say anything. He’s looking at your diploma from Columbia and the few other photos you have when you see him still and his gaze land on a photo of you and Steve. 

You suddenly think that all of this, whatever it is, is a terrible idea. Granted, whatever was between you and Steve is in the past, but that doesn’t mean everyone sees it that way. 

“You look really happy here.” His voice is soft and gentle. You know what picture it is, but have the wherewithal to walk over and look at it with him. 

You were at one of Stark’s galas. It was black tie and the two of you had gone together because it seemed easiest. Both you and Steve were bored quickly, so you made up a drinking game where you took a shot every time a woman (or man) hit on Steve in front of you.

Steve did the same for all the men that hit on you but seeing as he couldn’t get drunk, you turned yourself into a shit show rather quickly. The resulting picture is somewhere between shot numbers seven and ten. 

“I was happy. I was also incredibly drunk, but we had fun that night.” You laugh lightly to yourself, “I tried to convince him to let me throw his shield.” 

“Did he?” He looks into your eyes and smiles, “Because I don’t think you could throw it stone-cold sober.” 

“He didn’t and I can’t.” You shrug and walk towards the couch. “C’mon, let’s start this before the food gets here.”

You press play on the DVD menu and the familiar refrain begins as you side-eye James to see what he’s doing. 

The couch isn’t a loveseat but it isn’t a sprawling sectional either. It’s three-seater and you’ve both made some unspoken agreement that the middle cushion is no man’s land. In fact, you’re pretty sure you haven’t sat this far away from someone while watching a movie on a couch since high school. 

Forty minutes into the movie, the food arrives and you pause to eat and you take the opportunity to steal a few dim sum and settle in a little closer and a little more open towards him. When you start up the movie again, you’ve got one knee up on the middle cushion, body angled towards him slightly, and one elbow propped up on the back of the couch and supporting your head.

He’s not making any moves and you wonder if when you told him to stop earlier, he took it to heart. So, you start doing little things that end getting you closer, inch by inch. You kick off your little house slippers. “You can take off your shoes if you want.” 

Then you reach almost across him to get a fortune cookie that’s sitting on the table in front of him, which gains you a few millimeters. You pretend to crack your back, and at this point, you’re basically straddling the space between your cushion and the middle one. 

At some point, your arm falls to the back of the couch as you react to the scene and when you realize that your hand is on James’ forearm, he’s moving a little bit closer to you. Where you feel shy, he seems sure. His eyes are dark and determined. 

“You could come closer,” you say softly and he shrugs. His eyes flicker back to the screen and then back to you. He’s watching you and only you. 

“I could, but I need you to tell me how to move along with this.” He flips your hand over and his fingertips dance over your palm. So you scoot closer. You know he’s warm and suddenly, your skin has broken out in goosebumps. 

“I feel like there’s been a shift in the last couple of months, between us,” he says low, his voice like a hot coffee with a generous shot of whiskey, and the sound of it sends a bolt of electricity straight to your center. “It feels like there’s been a lot of starts and stops too.”

“I’d have to agree.” You look up at him and find his blue eyes dark with intensity. You rotate your wrist and mirror his actions and run your fingers along his palm and wrist. “There’s something more here, between us, I mean.”

“Of course there is. It’s why I spend all my free time with you.” He slides a little closer and his warm, rough fingers tickle that sensitive skin inside your elbow. “I just need to know what you want. I need you to spell it out for me.”

That’s when you realize that all of this has been foreplay, but where you thought he would take the lead again, he handed it directly to you. 

He wants you to spell it out for him. But he isn’t stupid, he’s playing you like a fiddle. You might have all the power tonight, which you enjoy, but he’s been orchestrating the entire thing. 

What you want is the singular focus in your mind right now, but there’s more buried underneath.

“I … want you.” He moves a little closer and smiles warmly, lips over teeth, but remains silent. 

“I need you… James.” His eyes darken slightly and he reaches for you with that metal appendage and pulls you to him this time and drapes your legs over his thighs. His hand is resting on your knee and you are acutely aware of his proximity.

“I just truly realized it today, but I’ve been feeling something for weeks now.” He shifts you both closer and his hand moves to your thigh. You can feel the muscles jumping, trembling, quivering, waiting for more. 

“I was annoyed because you were everywhere, always.” You huff as he laughs and cocks his head to the side and wets his lips with a quick dart of his tongue. “But I breathe easier when you’re around.” 

He pulls you closer and wraps an arm around your shoulders and you can feel yourself melt into his embrace. 

“It’s like,” you pause as his hand moves to curl around your neck to lightly massage the muscles there. “It’s like I hadn’t realized that I’ve been lost in the desert … that I need water.” 

That’s when he leans in a breadth away, you can see how clear and dark blue his eyes are. The short stubble that you pray will rub you raw in places people can see and places they can’t. 

“Dehydration is a bitch,” he points out and nudges his nose against yours only to pull back and look at you again. 

“I need the water to save me … I need it to be real. ” This time you move closer to him, but there’s barely any room left between you two. 

“This is real. I’m real,” he grips your hand and places it over his heart. “You can take what you need and give what you can. But I’m here now. This isn’t some mirage.”

 It’s now or never because if you can’t make this happen now, you’ll give up or spontaneously combust. 

Or leave and just never come back. 

“I’d give everything to have all of you, Bucky.” There’s a split second hesitation and then his mouth descends upon yours and it’s like he’s giving you the kiss of life because surely you weren’t truly living before this. 

His tongue sweeps across your lips begging for entrance and when you open for him he devours you and you groan in delight and surprise. You can admit now that you had dreamed of this and naturally it’s better than you imagined. 

He’s warm and firm, spicy from dinner and something that you suspect is strictly just him. The hand on your thigh has moved up your ribcage and is dancing up and down when you squeak into his mouth. 

When he pulls away, you give him an impish grin. “I’m a little ticklish.” He smiles and proceeds to dig his fingers into your side until you’re laughing and screaming in delight. 

“Is that your real laugh? I’ve never heard it before,” he says, grinning, and dips in for nips at your lips, cheeks, chin. “I like it.” 

When you smile it makes your cheeks hurt. You realize that ever since you came back, you’ve been holding back those smiles, not giving them your all -  except for this one. It’s full tilt and explosive and maybe a little manic, so your lips find his earlobe and when he shudders under your ministrations you feel it in your core.

He shifts you so you’re straddling his thighs and he’s so thick you can feel the fabric of your jeans straining against the stretch. There are no pretenses anymore. His hands are under your shirt, his thumbs flick over your hardened nipples. You’re trying desperately to garner any friction between the two of you, but the denim you both wear makes it difficult. 

You focus on his lips, his tongue, his hands, on the way he makes you feel; his touch is soft but fevered enough that you know he wants you. He’s tempering his movements for some reason. Maybe he’s worried you’ll be scared or intimidated.

In one swift motion, you pull off your shirt and unclasp your bra. You need his hands on your skin to feel the contrast between cool and warm, the polished and the rough. 

You want his lips on you and just as you look down at him he growls lowly in his throat and attacks. He grasps you by the back of the head crashes your mouth to his, teeth clanking and noses bumping. Chapped lips meeting, caressing. His stubble marking your chin and cheeks.  Tongues sliding wet and hot over each other, trying to claim every bit of real estate possible.  

Your hands are tangled in his hair and as you tug lightly he moans into your mouth and immediately kisses a trail down to your breasts. He licks and nips and sucks until you’re moaning and keening and grinding into him. 

“I need you.” You speak at the same time and the look shared between you two is soft and reverent. 

When he stands up from the couch with you wrapped around his hips, it’s not just sexy; it makes you feel safe and secure in a way you’ve never felt. When he kicks open the bedroom door, it’s with great satisfaction that the room is clean and orderly. 

He drops you softly on the bed and all but rips his long sleeve shirt from his torso while you lay there, propped up on your elbows just watching. It isn’t until he reaches for his belt that you spring into action.  

When you reach out with slightly trembling hands, he stills and looks at you questioningly. You offer him a smile because while you are nervous, it’s the good kind. 

You slide the leather through the buckle and undo the button fly and slide the jeans down to reveal nothing between the rough cotton and the already ready and willing member inside. You look up at him with a cocked eyebrow. 

“What? I don’t even own underwear.” 

You smirk and let him step out before running your hands up and down his bare thighs. His legs are spread shoulders width apart and he looks down at you. He’s breathing heavily and you understand the feeling. When your hands find him, he sucks in a breath and the muscles in his stomach clench. 

You aren’t shy; this is one of your favorite things to do. You delicately lick the head to spread his own moisture and mix it on your tongue. He gasps and his hands grip your shoulders as your mouth sinks down onto him. 

You find and set a pace that works using tongue and a little bit of teeth. Your mouth sucking, slurping, and rolling his balls in one hand. When you bottom out and he hits the back of your throat with little resistance from you, he groans from low in his gut and you can feel it reverberate in his body. 

The hands that had been gripping your shoulders reach under and hoist you up and off of him and he flings you back into the middle of the bed. 

On all fours, he stalks towards you, like a hunter after his prey. 

He reaches for your jeans and rips them off. You’re shocked. You figured something like that might hurt, but even though every nerve ending is firing, you felt nothing. 

“Those are pretty,” he murmurs and you glance down at the lace panties you’re wearing. You shrug. 

“I have plenty more.”

He grins and rips those from your body too. 

You’re both exposed to each other, naked and wanting. The air already lingers with the smell of arousal.

He doesn’t waste any time and crawls between your thighs and spreads your legs before him and sighs contentedly. 

“I’ve heard plenty of guys say a pussy is a beautiful thing, but I never got it ‘til now, sweets.” You’re laughing at the absurdity of his remark as he takes a long swipe, top to bottom and the laughter dies on your lips. 

Immediately your hands are fisted in the sheets, in his hair, clawing at his shoulders and back. His languid movements might be the death of you. 

Not a bad way to go, all in all. 

He’s humming against your nub when he inserts two cold fingers and the contrast between your hot center and his cold metal fingers makes you cum instantly.

You cry out and buck up and see him grin as his eyes meet yours but he won’t remove his mouth or his fingers from you. As you come back down, he adds a third finger and the second climax builds instantly again. 

You can’t catch your breath. 

He has you anchored to the bed with one arm wrapped around a leg and the other arm bringing you to a third, albeit slower orgasm. 

When you come down from that, you can only see stars and the curtain of his hair as he leans over you. 

“You hangin’ in there, sweets?” He leans in to kiss you and you can feel the stickiness in his stubble and on his tongue. 

You nod and feel the immense relief of knowing that he wants to make sure you’re still with him. 

And you are.

 It’s all been leading up to this, you finally realize it. Circling around each other, setting it all up. He’s ingrained himself in your life and now you’ve let him into your personal space. 

You’re both caressing each other waiting for your heart to slow, waiting for just the right moment. 

Because while it isn’t a game at all, sex and all that goes along with it never should be, this has been. It’s not cat and mouse though, it’s more like chess. Strategically testing the waters with each other over the last couple of months, delving in and learning new things. 

He’s like Bobby fucking Fischer as he settles his body between your legs and leans over you.

He’s set his queen right where he wants her. 

As he lines up his head with your entrance, gathering the wetness that lingers there and teasing you all the while. He’s taking too long, far too long. So, you wrap your legs around his hips and pull him to you and when he slides in, you never felt more perfect and full. 

You give a small laugh at the surprised expression on his face and he leans down to kiss you. 

“I want to be with you all night,” he breathes, as his lips drag across your collarbone and you clench around him. “We have all night, sweets.”

He pulls back and pumps back into you slowly, tortuously. You whine already, knowing full well that he can and will prolong this as much as possible. As he keeps up the arduous pace, your hands make trails up and down his biceps and back. Your fingers delicately trace the white and pink scars at his shoulder. 

His elbows cage your head, your legs still locked around his hips, but when you reach up and pepper gentle kisses to that left side. He slows even further. 

“You … you don’t have to …” His voice cracks but he hasn’t stilled his movements. 

“We have all night,” you parrot back to him. “I want my lips on every inch of you.” 

There’s a gleam in his eyes and by a trick of the light you think it might be tears, but it’s gone before you can question him.  He slides an arm under your back and begins to pick up his pace, pulling your hips to his to meet every thrust. 

The mingled sounds of skin on skin and your ragged breaths fill the quiet room until you shove gently at him and he pulls out of you and you move him to his back and you climb on. He twines his fingers with yours and supports your weight as you situate yourself and slide down. 

There’s a slight pain there as you adjust but he gives you a moment, softly kneading your breasts and smiling like a cat that caught the canary. 

As you begin to move he holds your hips softly, gently as you work him up and down, over and over. You have all night, there’s no need to rush. No need to move at a frantic pace. He reaches up and wraps his hands in your hair and pulls you down to catch your lips in a kiss. You’re still moving and the grinding sensation of your clit on his pelvic bone is speeding up this next orgasm. 

He bucks his hips up to meet yours and when the dam breaks you moan into his mouth while he latches onto a hardened nipple. 

You lay on top of him for a moment before he pulls you away and brushes the hair out of your face. You smile weakly at him. 

“I might need a little break,” you mutter as you try to stifle a yawn. “If we really do have all night.” 

He laughs and smacks you lightly on the ass and pulls you off of him and tucks you into his side. 

“We have all the time in the world, sweets.”

[certifiedskywalker]

That Happy Life - Bucky Barnes

Steve Rogers gets his happy ending, the love of his life, so why can’t Bucky?

ENDGAME SPOILERS

Bucky nodded at Sam the moment his wide brown eyes met his gaze. Sam missed the smile that spread on Bucky’s lips as Steve, older now, passed him his signature shield. Soon the straps that once signaled war and battle were fastened on Sam’s arm; a new captain for Bucky to follow. He would follow him, just not right now.

Bucky turned on his heel, away from the happy scene to find Bruce with his green jaw dropped. The soldier glanced over his shoulder, eyes taking in the crippled form of his oldest friend as Sam sat beside him. They had catching up to do. Bucky looked back at Bruce and offered him a half-hearted smile as the green being frowned at him.

“You knew he was going to do that?” Bucky nodded, burying his hands in the pockets of his black jacket. The soft breeze that had lingered since the morning, when they found the secluded section of forest to set up Bruce’s make shift time machine, returned and blew Bucky’s hair off of his shoulders. He turned back and saw his captains still sitting, chatting.

“Yeah, I did,” Bucky admitted, turning his blue eyes back to Bruce. “He told me last night about what he was planning.”

“And you’re okay with this?” Bruce asked, his voice coming out in a slightly panicked hiss. Bucky nodded and began to walk towards the hulking scientist.

“We all deserve a life, Banner,” he paused in his strides to stand beside Bruce before adding, “we need to live for the ones who aren’t with us anymore. It’s what they would want.”

“You think that she would want that too?” Bruce asks and, despite every battle and every scar, some in the man’s voice shakes Bucky to his core. It is love and Bucky knows it well. He knows it because after five years as dust, the first thought that raced through his mind was you. So Bucky can imagine the emptiness resounding in Bruce Banner’s chest for it was the same thing you had described to him when he had returned.

In Bruce’s question Bucky heard your pain reflected back to him. He felt your arms wrap around him despite the fact he was still covered in grime, blood and dust from the battle for Earth. You didn’t care that the remains of Thanos’ forces clung to his skin because he was back with you. Five years had felt like an eternity and Bucky knew that your same grief awaited Bruce; only, Natasha couldn’t come back like Bucky had.

“I know she would,” Bucky replied in the hopes of offering the Avenger some sort of solace. Bruce's’ green eyes meet Bucky’s gaze for a moment of silent thanks. Bucky nods, knowing that he can say nothing more to distract from the man’s pain. Especially when Bucky’s mind was still so preoccupied with the hurt his absence had caused you. He had time to account for and a life to start with you by his side. Bucky didn’t want to waste anymore time.

So, content in knowing Steve had found his happiness, Bucky left to find his own. His feet carried him to a car and from the car he landed at your door. He feels a tad self conscious as he stands on the busy New York street. You live in the suburbs surrounding the city, yet the bustle had made its way to your part of town. Before he nerves could get the better of him, Bucky hit the buzzer for your apartment. A moment of silence passed with the growing sense of dread in Bucky’s stomach before you answered.

“Hello?” Your voice was crackly over the intercom, but it soothed Bucky nonetheless.

“Hey, it’s me, Bucky.” The greeting comes out on a wave of a breath as he’s relieved that you’re home. It had been five years and Bucky was unsure if your weekly habits had changed.

“Oh! Hold on!” The sound on your end goes dead and Bucky waits yet another moment before a louder buzz reaches his ears. Quickly, he pushes open the door and hurries up the steps of your apartment building until he is standing in front of your door. He raises his hand to knock but before his knuckles can rap against the surface, you pull the door open.

Your eyes are wide and full when they met Bucky’s. A smile, a smile he didn’t know he had missed for five years, found its way to your lips at the sight of him. It was the same smile he had seen the day he returned from whatever realm he had been thrusted into after the first encounter with Thanos. Only now, you were without bittersweet tears. Now Bucky had a clear mission objective that was his and his alone.

Wordlessly, you throw your arms around his neck and lean up on your toes to hold Bucky close. His arms snake around your waist, hoisting you off your feet and he walks the two of you inside your flat. He kicks your door shut with his foot as if it is second nature. Even with the sound of the door closing, you continue to cling to him. Since he had come back to Earth, to you, you promised to hold him even closer than before.

“Doll, do you plan on greeting me like this all the time?” Bucky asks the question in a teasing manner, but he hopes you answer it seriously. He smiles when you do.

“Yes, all the time. Get used to it.” Your voice is muffled in his shoulder, his hair tickling the skin of your neck. Bucky smiles at your response before setting you back on your feet. Slowly, as if they are bound to him, your arms slip from his neck to his shoulders. Your eyes peer up into his blue ones, savoring the sight of him, safe before you now.

“I guess I have no choice,” Bucky muses, a rare smile gracing his features. You’re beaming up at him in that way that stirs something inside of Bucky’s chest. Something he, until recently, could not pin a name to. Your arms much too quickly slip from his shoulders and back to your sides as stand before him. You still look as tired as you did when Bucky returned and the sight worried him slightly. “You feelin’ alright, doll?”

“Better than ever,” you hum, reaching up to hold his bearded chin. You hold his gaze as you continue to stare at him, your eyes dancing along his lips in a too-friendly manner. “So what brings you to me, huh? Steve too busy to give you attention?”

Bucky smiles at your teasing at first, but the corners of his lips turn downwards seconds later. The shift of his thoughts is clear on his face and you let your hand fall from his chin. Bucky sees your brows furrow in concern and he can’t help but wonder if that’s how Peggy looked at Steve when he walked back into her life. He hoped that he would seamlessly fall into your life just as his friend did with the love of his own life. Now, all he had to do was explain himself.

“Bucky, what’s wrong?” Your question breaks him from his thoughts and he pulls his gaze from yours only to reach for your hands with his own. When your fingers slip into his palms, your nails scraping lightly at his metal hand, Bucky lifts his eyes to yours once more.

“Steve retired, in a sense. He went back to put the stones in their timelines but he….he stayed with Peggy.” When his words sank in, you gave his hands a reassuring squeeze.

“Oh, Buck, I’m sorry,” you comfort, taking a step closer to the man before you.

“The thing is,” Bucky begins, holding your gaze, “I’m not. He’s lived two lifetimes now, one of duty and one of happiness and I….I want that too.”

“You want to go back in time and-”

“No,” Bucky lets out a breathy chuckle as he cuts you off, “I want a life of happiness.” You bite the inside of your cheek as you try to ascertain what Bucky is implying. Your heart aches for him to tell you he wants you in that life while the other screams at your hope.

“Okay….what, what does that life look like to you then?” Bucky can’t help but smile at your question, blue eyes sparkling as bright as the sunlight shining through the windows of your apartment.

“It looks like late mornings on the weekends,” Bucky drawls, “sleeping in only to make a late breakfast that has enough sugar in it to be a desert. It looks like walks in the park that turn into unplanned picnics with those crappy hot dogs from the nearest vendors.” A giggle you had tried to suppress escapes your lips at the imagery and the sound only serves to deepen Bucky’s charming smile.

“And?” You press, wanting, yearning, to know what Bucky’s happy life could be, even if you weren’t in it in the way you longed to be.

“It’s catching up on all the things I’ve missed, maybe even getting a dog, a fish maybe, I don’t know. I haven’t thought that far ahead,” Bucky admits. He dares to take a step closer to you, your hands still held in his own, and the space between you begins to disappear. “But I do know that, with all of those things, I want you with me, Y/N. I want to share that happy life with you, if you’ll let me.”

The grin that spread across your lips is answer enough but, ever the gentleman, Bucky waits for your response. “I would love to live that happy life with you, Bucky.”

Bucky can only smile at your words before he brings your hands up to his lips. He presses the softest of kiss to the backs of your hands before, unable to hold back any longer, you throw your arms around him once more. Instead of pressing your face to his neck, you let your lips collide with Bucky’s. You can feel his smile in the kiss and you hum at the sensation. Finally, you let yourself melt into Bucky. Finally, Bucky allowed himself a taste of happiness.

[sunmoonandeddie]

god is a woman

pairing: thor odinson x reader

word count: 5,877

summary: As the Goddess of Life, you spend your days caring for the beings of the universe.  After the Snap, you arrive on Earth to help find a way to reverse it, but you run into a familiar face.

chapter warnings: Devil words.

a/n: Loosely inspired by ‘god is a woman’ by Ariana Grande, obviously.  Plus, I just really fuck with the idea of women just being like “actually, I’m the one in charge.”  Let me know what you think!

Gods, you were tired of this.  War after war, the universe never seemed to stop.  You had spent the better part of your childhood watching your father do this, and despite thinking you understood how horrible it was, you never truly had until the job had been passed on to you.

"Weston, does this ever get easier?" You asked, but you didn't pay his answer any attention as you walked over to a pile of rubble.  You thought you had heard someone crying, but you couldn't be sure.  As you knelt on the ground to peer under a large rock, you felt your heart clench inside your chest.  The child trapped underneath was teetering somewhere between life and death, the line between each so blurred that you couldn’t tell which side she was on.  The magic within you electrified your fingertips as you used it to lift the piece of granite, your heart breaking as you finally got a good look at her.  She was no older than six, her hands less than half the size of yours.  Her breathing was labored as you carefully picked her up, bringing her out into the light.  You could see the signs of death starting to take over.  You had spent all day watching as people around you died, lost in the grief of their loved ones disappearing with the Snap.  The beautiful fields of Wakanda were stained red.  You didn't know if you could take letting another child die in your arms.  Lowering your head, you pressed a soft kiss to her forehead and watched as she slowly began to regain the color in her cheeks.

"You aren't supposed to do that."

You didn't bother looking up at Weston as you smoothed the girl's hair back, rocking her to sleep in your arms.  "I can see her future," you said, images of a family and a blossoming career flashing through your mind.  "She is only a child, one who shouldn't be touched by a war that isn't hers."

"This was everyone's war," he replied, but he didn't argue as you laid her to rest in the grass.  You knew that someone would find her within a few minutes, alive and well.  The girl might tell stories of how someone saved her, but no one would believe her.  It happened anytime you helped someone.  Granted, sometimes it was better to let Weston take over and do his part of your partnership, but with children...  You had a soft spot.

“This is not any child’s war,” you countered.  “It’s not fair to them.”

He watched you with kind, soulful eyes, knowing that there was no changing your mind.  “No one said life was fair.”

“I know,” you said after a long moment, the air thick with the smell of blood.  “But if I can keep one child from dying…”

“It’s worth it,” Weston finished, his hand coming to rest on your shoulder.  “I know.”

Standing up straight, you walked the field with him, surveying for more people.  It was strange.  You couldn't see most of the casualties because they had been Snapped away.

You were meant to help those who were leaning more towards life, giving them a little extra push to recover.  Weston, however, handled those that were slipping away into death.  He gave them the gift of a quickened sleep, making sure that they didn't suffer for longer than need be.  Without the two of you, they would stay in an in between state for eternity.  They would be neither dead or alive, simply falling into a comatose state that only one of you could bring them out of.  It was exhausting, being the Goddess of Life and the God of Death, but it was a job that needed to be done.

Sometimes, like with the little girl, you took a little more liberty with your powers.  Weston did it sometimes, too, but his was more grim.  He only took people from the world of the living if it would've been more painful for them to recover.

"Hey...  Hey, I know you!"

You turned suddenly, shocked to see a familiar blonde huffing as he stormed towards you.  "Thor," you said coldly as you changed direction to walk towards him.  "I hadn't realized that you'd be here."

"Get them back," he demanded, his face red as he came upon you.  He held his axe at your neck but you didn't give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

You were the Goddess of Life.  You couldn't die from injuries of the flesh.  You only died when you had an heir that was ready to take your place, the universe sensing that it was time and your life force transferring to them.  But you had no heir, and it would be a long time before you withered away.

Thor had angry tears streaming down his cheeks.  "Bring them back, and prove you are the Goddess of Life you claim to be."

You slowly pushed away the axe, briefly noting the people that were coming up behind him.  "Were you not given proof of my powers after I left Asgard?" You asked, your eyes fixated on him in a cold glare.  The moment you had left, Ragnorok had begun.  Their planet was destroyed and the survivors wandered the universe in a space ship.  Before they could even make it to Earth, Thanos had attacked and slaughtered every single one of them.

His gaze only seemed to harden as he glared down at you.  "You are the reason my home was lost," he snarled.

But you retaliated, power seeping from your pores as you took a step towards him.  Shocked, he stumbled backwards.  "No, your insolence and disrespect is the reason your people were poor, helpless wanderers of the galaxy."  The people behind him were watching the two of you quietly, sensing that you weren't someone to be trifled with.  "I warned you of what would happen when I left your precious Asgard, and yet you still disrespected me."  In a moment of pettiness, you spit on his face.  "Don’t you dare blame me for what you did to put your people in harm's way."

"Woah, woah, woah, who the hell are you?" A man in a torn up blue suit, Steve Rogers, asked, tears marring his cheeks. “And why the everloving fuck are you spitting in a god’s face?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “You he’s the only God in the universe? I hate to be the bearer of bad news, Rogers, but he’s not the only one.  He’s not even the most powerful.”

Steve stepped towards you, his shoulders squared and his chin high.  He was clearly trying to intimidate you, even though it was absolutely pointless.  “And let me guess—that’d be you?”

“You may be Captain America, Steve Rogers, but do not trifle with me,” you warned.  “Thor learned a long time ago not to.”

That only seemed to anger him more, but right before he opened his mouth to reply, a familiar voice cut him off.

"That is Y/N, the Goddess of Life."

You turned to the sound, recognizing the man immediately.  "M'Baku," you said fondly, walking over.  You nodded in a show of respect as he bowed deeply to you, shocking the others around him.  "You have grown since I last saw you."  You had been the one to insure that T'Challa hadn't died when he fell from the waterfall in his fight against Killmonger, and you had been the one to take him to the man standing in front of you.  Despite the fact that T'Challa was almost in Weston's grasp, you knew that you couldn't leave Wakanda in the hands of a tyrant.  You had been offered a place to stay in Jabari tribe anytime you needed it, though you hadn't had the chance to take him up on it yet.

He reached for your hand, kissing it softly.  "It is a shame that we only seem to meet in such unfortunate circumstances," he said.

You winced as you nodded, humming as you glanced at the people before you.  You could pick out their names immediately, having been watching over them anytime they went into battle.  With warmth and sorrow in your eyes, you began to call them name by name.  "Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers, James Rhodes, Bruce Banner, Rocket, Okoye. You have all suffered a great loss today and my heart is with you.”  You couldn’t help but frown as you looked at the group of them.  “Where are the others?  Tony Stark and Scott Lang are still alive, but they aren’t here.”

“Tony’s alive?”  James Rhodes stepped forward, relief coloring his features.

“I can still feel his life force,” you said, your eyebrows furrowing as you tried to locate where he was in the universe.  When you finally found him, your heart clenched. “He’s…  He’s on Titan.”

“Titan?” Natasha repeated, her eyebrows almost to her hairline.

Weston cleared his throat.  “Titan is an alien planet.  But Y/N is right.  I haven’t felt his life force, which means he’s still in her hands.”

"If you're the Goddess of Life," Steve Rogers said, his voice a little softer.  He clearly held a deep respect for M’Baku.  "Can you help us get half the universe back?"

You glanced back at Weston, who was standing stoically by your side.  He simply raised an eyebrow at you.  This was your decision.  You looked back at the others, clenching your hands into fists.  "Yes.  Yes, I will help you."  Both you and Weston could feel half of the universe's life forces split between the two of you.  Those affected by the Snap were neither alive or dead.

"Can you get my brother back, too?"

You turned to see Thor standing behind you, an apology in his eyes.  The sadness surrounding him made your heart hurt.  Invisible to all those but him, you had caught Loki in your arms as Thanos let him fall from his grasp, weeping as you cradled him.  You had softly whispered reassurances as the light faded from his eyes, Weston appearing on the other side of him to take him from you.  "I will see what I can do."  It always hurt when you had to tell someone that you couldn't help them, but you truly didn't know if you could.  Loki hadn't died because of the Snap.  He had been choked to death in Thanos's hand.

Thor still didn't seem happy, but that was truly the best you could do for the moment.  At least until you assessed the full extent of Thanos's damage.

"Come," M'Baku said, taking everyone's attention.  "Let us go to the palace to regroup and start to find a solution."

Later that night, you sat in a large throne room.  Weston was at your right hand, growing more and more aware of how exhausted you were.  You were still young, and doing so much in such a short amount of time took a lot out of you.  What was left of the Avengers was sitting in the different chairs of the council.  You had allowed M’Baku and Queen Mother Ramonda to sit on the thrones, despite the fact that you and Weston technically ruled the universe.  You felt for the queen.  She had been forced to take the crown with little warning.  Part of you wondered if she was going to ask M'Baku to take over.  After all, she might’ve had experience ruling, but it had been her husband in control.

"Perhaps we should give it a rest," Weston said calmly as he looked at the others.  Rhodes and Steve were shouting at each other, bringing up issues from the past that wouldn't help anyone now.  "We can sleep on it and regroup in the morning.  It's been a long day for everyone."

"We can't waste any time," Rhodes retorted, his hands balled into fists at his side.

You looked up from where you had been about to fall asleep, shaking your head.  "We will get Tony back, Rhodes, and the rest of them."  Your voice was soft and comforting, but you could feel his anguish.  "But sitting here and bringing up bygones isn't going to help us find the solution.  We need rest in order to come up with a clear answer."

Thor shook his head, scoffing.  "You care not for bringing them back.  'Tis just another day for you."

"Thor," you said quietly, your brows furrowing together.  "I care very much about bringing everyone back.  I feel it anytime someone dies.  I feel the loss as though I knew them personally.  The only reason I know that we can get them back is because I haven't felt the pain of losing them to Death's embrace."  He seemed to be properly reprimanded as he shut his mouth, though his eyes were watching you closely.  “And even though those that have passed are safe in Weston’s hands, it still hurts me just as much as it hurts you.”  In your exhaustion, you had let down the front you put up and what everyone saw in front of them was so... human it almost hurt.  But it was true.  Every time Weston had to take a soul from you, you felt it just as much as you felt the joy from a new soul joining you.  There was a lot of give and take in your world.

Weston stood, holding his hand out to you for you to take.  You followed suit and placed your much smaller hand in his.  "I shall see you in the morning."

The next day, you awoke before the sunrise.  By the time you had taken a shower (one of the better inventions you had seen, in your opinion) and gotten ready for the day, it was just starting to peek over the horizon.  You found yourself standing at in front of a wall of windows, watching as the sun's rays began to bring the world around you to life.

It did well to remind you that even though much tragedy had been suffered the day before, the sun was still rising and that meant there was hope.

"Do you often wake this early?"

You didn't have to turn to know that it was Thor standing behind you.  Despite his size, his footsteps were almost silent as he moved to your side.  "Every morning."

"Don't you ever sleep in?" He asked, glancing down at you.

"The sunrise is what gives me energy to continue on," you said, your voice no louder than a murmur.  "It signifies new beginnings.  No matter what has transpired the day before, the sun brings a new day upon us."  His gaze was locked on you, but you were still watching the masterpiece in the sky.  "It is exhausting, being the Goddess of Life.  Even on days when there is no war, which is far and few between, I can still feel each birth and death inside me."  You finally looked up at him, your hand moving to squeeze his gently.  "I felt when Loki died.  Weston took great care as he welcomed him into the afterlife.  But I am still sorry for your loss, all the same."

Thor swallowed, nodding as he turned to look at the sun.  "I apologize for how I acted before.  It was crass and brutish of me."

"You were close with your father?"

"Yes."

Nodding, you bit your lip as you felt the pang of nostalgia.  "My father raised me by himself after my mother died, teaching me everything I would need to know.  He taught me how to care for the peoples of the universe, how to welcome each one into the world and when to let Weston take them from my grasp.  He taught me how to bend the rules a little, to bring someone back even though they were rightfully Weston's."  You laughed a little.  "Isn't it sad, how fathers can teach you everything except how to live in a world without them?"

The two of you sat there for a long time, until the sun was almost at it's peak.  Your hands were clutched together, and a new understanding and respect lied between the two of you.  It was only when Weston and Steve came to find you two that you separated, going to meet the others to find a way to undo Thanos's Snap.

You knew that it would take a long time, but the months were wearing on, turning into years.  You could see the people around you getting weary, but you just kept insisting they must keep going, that their loved ones were not lost.  You still felt them in your soul, their energies dim but steady.  But after Thanos had been killed (partially in thanks to Weston draining his life force enough for the Avengers to take him out), you had gotten the Stones and managed to find that those that had been Snapped away had been trapped inside the Soul Stone.

Thor and you...  Well, it had gone from being a mutual respect to a deep friendship.  Every morning, the two of you would meet to watch the sunrise, sometimes leaving the palace to walk through the fields.  You would speak softly, as though trying to not disturb grass and the flowers that were still waking.  You had been the one to see Thor smile for the first time since the Snap.

You were sitting by a stream, leaning back as you allowed the sun to soak into your skin.  The burly man was wading in the water to cool off from the heat.  Closing your eyes, you listened to the sounds of life all around you.  There was a herd of antelope near by, and rhinos grazing.  The wind whistled through the trees, carrying with it the songs of the birds that hid from view.

You gasped as you felt strong arms wrapping around you, your eyes popping open.  Thor was throwing you over his shoulder, carrying you towards the stream.  "What are doing?!  Thor!  No!  Put me down!"

But he didn't listen.  Instead, he tossed you into the freezing cold water.  When you finally came back up, sputtering and with your hair sticking to your face, he was laughing.

He was laughing.

The sound was infectious, though a little rusty.  He hadn't smiled or laughed in months and here he was, tossing you into the stream and playing as though you were children.  It was refreshing, to see something other than stoic eyes and pressed lips on his face.

The sight sent a warmth through your body that wasn't coming from the sun's rays.

But you pushed the thought away, a smirk pulling up on your lips as you reached your arms out and splashed him.  Within seconds, the two of you were in an all out war, splashing and giggling like school children.

It was quite a chunk of time before the two of you paused, crawling up onto the bank and collapsing next to each other.

"I haven't played like that in a long time. Even before all of this happened, I had no time for such things after my father died," you said, your chest still heaving as you caught you breath.  You turned your head to watch as Thor turned on his side to look at you.  "Thank you."

His hand reached out, brushing your wet hair from your face.  His touch lingered on your cheek, his eyes roaming over you tenderly.  "Y/N...  You have become a light in the darkness for me.  I should be the one thanking you."

Your hand reached up to cover his, keeping it on your cheek.  "It's strange," you murmured, your cheeks a soft shade of pink.  Your heart was fluttering in your chest, a sensation you weren’t used to.  The man in front of you made you feel all… warm.  Fuzzy, almost.  "You fill me with the life that I give to others.  I had not realized what it's like to be living until you."

You closed your eyes as Thor moved closer to you, his lips moving towards yours.  But you froze as you heard shouting coming towards you from the direction of the palace.

"They have horrid timing," the man holding you whispered, his breath ghosting against your face.

But the two of you stood up and separated as Steve came barreling towards you.  "We think we know how to get them back!" He shouted, waving his arm for you guys to follow him.

Without a second thought, you were running after him, the moment you had shared with Thor passed but not forgotten.

The eyes of the court turned to the large open doors of the banquet hall, pausing in their merriment and revelry.  You could feel the way their eyes traced over your form as you strolled in.  Your steps were controlled and languid, your chin held high.  You could barely hear the servant behind you announcing your arrival, clearly knowing that he was a little late.

"Announcing Y/N, Goddess of Life."

There were shocked ripples moving through the crowd, but you didn't turn to look.  You stared straight ahead at the man with long blonde hair, his hand still wrapped around a gauntlet full of what you assumed would be Asgardian mead.  You briefly wondered what he thought of you.  After all, he was God himself and he had probably not met many others like him.  There were other beings like him, filled with unworldly power, but they all tended to stay spread out, only coming together in times of need, when the Gods of Life and Death called for them.

This was the first and last time you'd be coming to Asgard unless there was a war.

But, you needed to make your presence known.  Your father, the God of Life, had passed, leaving you as the heir.  The God of Life had never been a woman, and it was sure to cause discord.  The only way you could see to remedy that was to visit all those with the power to do something about it.  You had already been to Sakaar, the Grandmaster going as far as to assume you were the Goddess of Love or Fertility before you had harshly corrected him.  As the Goddess of Life, you were the top of the pyramid.  The only person you who was on your level was the God of Death, and you had known him since you were a child.  He was like an uncle at this point, and there was little need to convince him that you were the rightful heir.  He guided you in matters that your father had yet to teach you, since the two of them had been so close.

That was another strange thing.  You had lost track of how many people thought that Life and Death were opposites, enemies even.  But truthfully, they walked hand in hand.  Death was not this evil thing that so many people had conjured it up to be.  While you were the mother telling her children to go outside and play, pushing them out the door to experience all the world had to offer, Death was the warm embrace at the end of a long day, welcoming her children home as the sun set.  You were two sides of the same coin.

"You are in your head again," the God of Death, Weston, said softly, an amused smile on his face.  He was walking beside you, towering quite a few feet overhead.  He was clothed in the colors of dusk, the dark blues swirling.  He had to slow his stride to allow you to keep up, but you knew he didn't mind.  He was here for you and you alone.  The last family you had left.

"It's hard not to be with an entire court staring at you like you’re a meal to be eaten," you said back, though to anyone watching it would appear as though your mouth hadn't moved.

Weston, though he was a few feet away, sounded as though he was right in your ear.  "Remember, this is your birthright.  You were born to the God of Life and his Queen.  You are fulfilling your destiny."

You knew he was speaking logically, but you couldn't help but wonder if he was right.  You were younger than any of the former Gods of Life and Gods of Death had been.  It would make sense if they questioned your authority.  "We are meeting Thor, correct?  The God of Thunder?"

"Correct.  His other names include Zeus, Jupiter, and Set.  His brother is also here."

By now, you were just a few feet from him, and his eyes were still locked on you.  You watched as he slowly stood, his chair scraping against the rock floor.  You could feel his energy, bright and pulsing.  He was young, though not quite as young as you.  He walked around the table, trying to match his pace to the one you had held before you had stopped in front of the table.  You tried not to let the anxiety show as he came to stand in front of you.  He was massive, standing almost as tall as Weston, and his shoulders were perhaps the broadest you had ever seen.

You held out your hand, which he stared at for a long time but didn’t take.  His blue eyes then rose to meet yours.  "I did not realize our God of Life was in fact a Goddess."

Weston stiffened beside you at the blatant disrespect, his hands clutching his scythe, and you hoped that he would keep his composure until you could find the meaning of this.  "The old God, my father, has died.  I have taken over his throne, as is my birthright."

The large man in front of you let out a guffaw, the gauntlet in his hand spilling wine.  "You are no God of Life.  You are a Goddess of Spring, at the most.  So tiny, you are," he said, and you grimaced as some of his mead spilled out onto your dress, the yellowish liquid staining the pale blue and purple swirls that mimicked the first moments of sunrise.

"You dare speak to me in such a manner?" You demanded.  Your voice had gone low and dark, your jaw clenched.

You could see a man with long black hair that had been sitting at the right hand of the God of Thunder tensing, standing up slowly as though he was going to come to his King's defense.  "Brother, I should think it wise to correct yourself and beg for forgiveness," he said as he came around the table to stand a few feet behind him, and you couldn't help but smirk.

"Brother, hm?"  You turned to the black-haired man, taking slow steps towards him.  When you were finally in front of him, you were still much shorter than him, but he seemed petrified.  "Then I assume that means you are Loki, the younger, adopted son of Odin and God of Mischief."  Beginning to circle around him, you raised your hand to tug on a strand of his hair.  "It's a pity you are not king.  You are much more levelheaded than your... thunderbolt of a brother.”

"Please, forgive him," Loki said quietly, his hands balled into fists at his side.  "We have just lost our father, and Thor was incredibly close with him."

Your blood was boiling now, but you kept your voice in a quiet whisper, which almost seemed to frighten him more than yelling would've.  You made sure to make a mental note to use it later.  If men wouldn't respond to the booming voice you held within your chest, then perhaps they would listen to the quiet murmur laced with malice.  "I was placed on the highest thrown in the universe, and my father's body is still warm.  Please, tell me again that losing his father means I should allow him to grant me such disrespect."  When he didn't respond, you turned back to the elder of the two brothers.  "If you wish for me to leave, then fine.  I shall leave."  He seemed suspicious by the calm demeanor you exhibited as you began to walk around the hall, staring down his subjects.  "But once I leave, so will my blessing.  The gift of Life that I bestow upon all of those born in the entire galaxy will leave you.  But I will not allow you to die."  You turned to look Thor straight in his eyes.  "Instead you shall suffer, unable to prosper and wandering the universe as orphans, until your king here sees the error of his ways and learns to respect his superiors."  You spit out the word king with such loathing that even Thor flinched.

"Your threat is nothing but empty words," he replied, rearing his head back.

"THOR!" Loki shouted, raising his hands as though he could stop his brother from what he was about to do.

But it was too late.  The God of Thunder spit at you, his saliva hitting your cheek as a gasp rang through the crowd.  "Come, Weston," you said coldly as you reached up to flick the spit off of your skin.  "Let us leave them to their misery."

Your heels echoed on the floor like an omen as the two of you left the grand banquet hall, the God of Death by your side.

It was months later when the solution finally came to fruition.  The other Avengers were circled around Tony and Bruce as they typed away on the tablets in their hands.

"I think we’ve really got it this time," Tony said briefly, though that was the only explanation he gave.  When Rocket started to say something, he raised a finger to shush him and you were surprised when he listened.  There was a very short list of people he listened to, and it included you, Thor, and Natasha, though sometimes Steve was added to that list.  Tony motioned to you and Weston, causing you to come closer.  "When I point at you, I need the two of you to focus your energy on the Stone."

It seemed to happen in a flash.  The two scientists were typing away and then you were projecting your energy at the Stone and then the sound of thunder as it split in half.

And then people started to reappear.  You looked outside as those that had been fighting in the battle during the Snap began to reform in swirls of dust, following after the others as they ran to the fields in front of the palace.  Tony let out a cry as he spotted Peter, who was looking around in confusion.  Steve was running for Bucky.  Okoye and Ramonda were shouting in joy as they spotted T'Challa and Princess Shuri.  Rhodey was clutching onto Sam.  You could see Vision and Wanda, who both reappeared, holding onto each other and crying as they realized that they were back home.  Rocket and Nebula were both shedding tears as the Guardians hold onto him.

But there is one person who doesn't have someone to run to.

Your heart broke as you saw Thor shouting for Loki, expecting to find him among those that reappeared.  Biting your lip, you felt your power tingle through your body, all the way to your fingers as you closed your eyes.  You knew this was wrong, bringing someone back.  But at the same time, you felt as though you needed to.  You opened your eyes at the sound of Thor's excited shouting, watching as he ran to the familiar form emerging from the trees.  The brothers embraced, both shedding happy tears.

"You weren't supposed to do that."

You don't look up as Weston stands beside you.  "I know."

"But you did it anyway."

Shrugging, you felt the joy of returned souls around the universe, feeling a little overwhelmed.  "He died at Thanos's hand.  Who can argue that he should've stayed dead?"

Your adoptive uncle stared at you for a long time, his age shining through his eyes.  For a deity, he was middle-aged and you knew that he was going to be looking to have an heir soon.  He was going to be expecting you to help whoever the next God or Goddess of Death would be, helping him raise them just as he had helped your father raise you.  Weston stared at you with a little bit of awe.  "You love him."

It wasn't a question.  It was just a fact that was proven by the soft tug of your lip as you watched the blonde man, the blush spreading over your cheeks as he glanced up to where you were standing on the front steps of the palace.

"He deserves to have his brother back," you said as you turned around, wanting to rest.  The onslaught of energy you were receiving was wearing you down.  You just needed some time to readjust.

"He is a good match for you," he called back as you headed up the steps.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you replied, not bothering to look back before you disappeared into the palace.

Later that day, you were reading on your windowsill when a knock startled you.  "Come in."

"Thank you, for what you did."

You were a little surprised to see Thor walking into your room, taking in the different things laying about, and you let him know as such.  "I thought you'd be spending your time with Loki," you said as you watched him picking up the various books and setting them back down.

His blue eyes turned to you, fiercely focused.  "I wanted to see you.  And thank you."

"You don't have to thank me.  I said that I would help bring everyone back."

He shook his head, moving to where you were and kneeling so that the two of you were eye-to-eye.  "I do not mean that.  I mean what you did to bring back my brother."  You were about to interrupt, but he saw your mouth start to open and he continued, "You didn't have to bring my brother back from the afterlife.  I know that he was not part of the deal when you agreed to undo what Thanos had done.  Why did you do it?"

You closed your eyes as his hand moved to push your hair back behind your ear, leaning into his touch.  "Sometimes I can bend the rules a little.  You deserve to have your brother in your life."

"You are the most remarkable person I have ever met," he breathed, his forehead leaning against yours.  He slowly leaned forward, pressing his lips to yours.  Your book fell to the ground, completely forgotten, as you turned, wrapping your arms around his.  "Let me be yours."

You nodded, swallowing as your lips brushed against his again.  "I am yours, and you are mine."

Thor's arms swept you up, holding you against him as he continued to kiss you.  You were laughing and whispering as the sunlight began to fade as night fell, but you didn't mind.  For you had the sun in your hands and he came with gentle hands and piercing blue eyes.

[monicawoe]

Supernatural fic masterlist

(updated 12/20/2020)

I’ve written over 100 spn fics (ranging from ficlets to 70k big-bangs). Most of them are Sam-centric, largely featuring powers!Sam. The whole collection can be found here on AO3

newest fics:

Closer Than You Think - Five times Sam’s eyes were demonic, and one time they weren’t. (3k words, boyKingSam AUs of multiple eps)

Behold the Beast, Behold the Lamb - Season 4 AU.  Sam tried to free Dean from Hell, but angels intervened and took Dean for their own purposes. Sam is determined to get Dean back and will do whatever it takes, embracing his abilities fully. The more demon blood Sam drinks, the more demons he kills, the more he changes inside and out until it’s impossible to hide his monstrous side. Ruby, Uriel and Castiel push Sam to fulfill his destiny and become his true self—the Beast of the Revelation. (gen, Sam/Ruby, 20k words; featuring art by @quickreaver​)

Hellbound - Sam is in Hell, and then he isn't. He's standing on a sidewalk with a stranger looking back at him—a stranger that has his face. My 2020 spn-summergen fic! Featuring soulless!Sam, disembodied soul-Sam and amnesiac Dean. (gen, 8k)

Sin Eater - Sam has a different plan to cure demon Dean, but Dean doesn't want to be cured. (Sam drinking blood from demon!Dean, written for @quickreaver​ for her artwork Bitumen Kiss)

Best Self - written for @alyndra9​​  for the prompt: King of Hell Sam meets Kale!Sam and they have many differences of opinion to work out. (aka the only one who knows what Sam really wants is Sam.) words by monicawoe banner by @quickreaver​​! (~4k words, Sam/Sam)

All You Have Is Your Fire - written for @quickreaver​ for the 2020 Supernatural Spring Fling  Dean has known fire all his life. Sometimes it sounds like his brother. (~2k words; gen)

Tear You Apart - written for @wetsammywinchester​ who wanted Soulless!Sam/Brady & Soulless!Sam taking on the mantle of King of Hell:  Sam doesn’t want his soul back. He resurrects Brady who helps him figure out a way to outsmart Death: by damaging his soul so it can’t be reintegrated. With Brady’s help, Sam reclaims his power, and takes his soul apart one piece at a time. (8k words; Soulless!Sam/Brady)

Prayers Answered - written for the boy king Sam discord server prompt: Sam has grown up in a very religious environment. He's devoted, he goes to church, he prays. He knows that God is with him, because he listens to his prayers. But as Sam grows older, he realizes it's not God that's been listening. And he realizes that he's not asking - he's been ordering, and his loyal servants would never deny their King. (2k words; gen)

On His Head a Crown - written for the 2019-2020 SWBB, art by @slytherkins​ Hunters drug Sam, force-feed him demon blood, and bring him to where they’ve captured Brady. Brady tells Sam he knows how to stop the Apocalypse, and Sam, despite his better judgment, hears him out: Sam himself is the horsemen Conquest—aka the Antichrist—and he alone can bring Lucifer’s apocalypse to a grinding halt. Sam resists, but when he discovers the good he can do with his new powers, he decides to use them to atone for all his past mistakes.   (21k, Sam/Brady, gen, AU of 5x03-5x04)

Many more under the cut

Lakeside Fishing - written for @denugis​ - After defeating Famine, after days of suffering through demon blood withdrawal in the panic room, Sam needs time to clear his head. Early in the morning, he heads to a small lake seeking solitude, but instead finds an unexpected ally. (4k words; Sam/Patrick; set after My Bloody Valentine; witch!Sam)

His Soul to Keep - art by @sketchydean​​ - written for the SPN Eldritch Bang horror event - Dean’s deal is coming due soon. When he finds out from Ruby that Hell will turn him into a demon, he refuses to accept it, even though he can already feel pieces of his soul starting to crumble away. Sam is his only anchor to the world, and Dean finds it harder and harder to leave his side.    After Broward County, after watching Dean die a thousand deaths, Sam decides he’s not going to let Dean go to Hell. He’ll do whatever it takes, even if that means allying himself with Ruby and using the darkness inside of him. Sam casts a soul-binding spell on Dean; they might not be able to break the deal, but they can change who Dean’s soul belongs to. (13k, Sam/Dean, hard-gen, AU of season 3))

Last Drop - art by @quickreaver​ -written for the Twisted Tropes event - Sam/Brady AU set while Sam’s at Stanford:  Sam is slowly adjusting to his new life at Stanford University. He’s left his life of hunting behind, and traded it for endless studying and tests, but he’s plagued by dreams of Dean and Dad in danger, dreams of blood and violence. Then he meets Tyson Brady, who’s always there with a smile and a cup of coffee to get Sam through all-nighters. Sam’s dreams start to fade, but just as he’s getting used to a nice normal life, he starts to develop abilities—powers he can’t control. Brady thinks they’re great, but Sam knows power never comes without a cost. (14k, Sam/Brady)

Make Angels of Us All - art by @amberdreams1960​  - Sam has a guardian angel. It’s been with him his whole life, trying to keep him safe. The angel gives Sam power he can’t control: power to move things with his mind, power over fire, and wings that nobody else can see—bony and jagged with scaly feathers. Dean says monsters aren't real, but Dad thinks they are. Sam's power scares him, and he’s not always sure what's real, but what he does know is people keep trying to kill the three of them, and he won't let that happen. (~20K, gen)

Burdens, Doublefold - cowritten with @quickreaver​, art by ileliberte What if Dean left Sam at Stanford after the fire, hoping it would keep his little brother safe and make things better? Somehow, 'better' never seems to be in the Winchester Family cards. Sam gets tangled up with his ex-roommate Brady, tracking psychics, but dealing with demons is never honest business. Dean carries on until his father is put in grave danger. He is left on his own to deal, stumbling into Harvelle's Roadhouse for help, where Dean gets just a little more than he bargained for. Eventually, the brothers’ paths twist and turn their way back to each other, but the results could mean the End of Days. (67k, gen, AU of seasons 1-2)

Before the One You Serve When Dean comes to get Sam at Stanford, he finds him living with Brady. And Dean doesn't trust Brady, even though he can't quite put his finger on why. Not at first. (5k, Sam/Brady)

He Who Fights Monsters - cowritten with nwspaprtaxis, art by @quickreaver​ AU of the summer between Seasons 3 and 4. Dean's dead, dragged down kicking and screaming to Hell. Sam's not dealing well. And Ruby’s got her work cut out for her. (52K, Sam/Ruby)

John Winchester is Dead They say those Winchester boys're crazy. Drive around in a big black beast and drink too much and laugh about mean things. They say their daddy's worse, but you never see him. He's just a voice on the other end of the phone or a darker shape in the back seat of their dark car. They say John Winchester died two years ago. (2k, gen, horror)

Breathing, Talking, Dead Man Walking   -  John Doe, male, approximately thirty-seven years old. Subject was found by EMTs in close proximity to the site of a sizable explosion in Lebanon, Kansas. (2k, gen, Sam & Dean)

Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea - featuring art by @quickreaver​ When Sam opened Lucifer’s Cage, the only thing he found inside was Lucifer’s grace – his grace. With the return of his grace, Sam remembered his past – his war against the Host, his Fall, and his plans to bring about the End. The thing is…he doesn’t want the Apocalypse anymore. He likes things the way they are, and tries everything to keep his identity a secret- especially from Dean. Of course, the four Horsemen, Hell and Heaven have other ideas. (13K, gen)

The Last Days in the Land of Nod - comic adaptation by @quickreaver​ The year is 2014. The Devil is wearing his finest, the Angel is human, and the Brother protects the survivors at Camp Chitaqua.

The Two Ravens - art by @quickreaver​ Your brother he is, and heir to my throne. He’ll feed on the damned and he'll turn them to bone. (4k; fairy-tale)

Counteroffer About two weeks after Sam gutted a hellhound, completing the first trial, he started acting weird. (5k, psychological horror, gore)

Pattern Recognition: A Hannibal/Supernatural fusion AU  -  Sam and Dean split after River Pass, and their confrontation with the Horseman, War. Since Will’s escape from the Baltimore Institute for the Criminally Insane, he and Sam have been in hiding. They have a cabin, in the middle of nowhere, that keeps them off the radar; they find comfort in each other. But they can’t stay off the chessboard forever, especially not when Lucifer, wearing Hannibal Lecter as a vessel, is tearing the world apart around them. (33k, Sam Winchester/Will Graham)

Impala's Run - cowritten with @quickreaver, art by adrenalineshots Sam and Dean Singer (aka Winchester) aren’t your average young Kansas farmers. Their home is very, very far from Kansas, in fact. Many light-years worth of ‘far’. The boys may look human, but certain talents set them apart: Dean speaks the language of machines, and Sam can heal through manipulating energy. Hidden on Earth by their father, their agricultural lifestyle gets rocked when warring alien races discover where they’ve landed, and Sam and Dean are forced to make the run of their lives. (23k, gen)

All Our Wrath and Cutting Beauty - art by @quickreaver - Sam killed Alistair, but not before Alistair reminded Dean of who and what he’d become in Hell. Dean knows Sam can take down Lilith, and he’ll make damn sure Sam gets strong enough to do just that. They’ll stop the Apocalypse – together, no matter how many bodies stack up, or how much blood is spilt.(11k, horror) 

Diary of a Madman -Lydia’s newest patient, Sam Winchester, suffered from hallucinations, delusions, and regular bouts of insomnia. He also thought he was Lucifer. (4k, gen, horror)

Some other bundled links, for your convenience

Demon-blood Sam

King of Hell Sam

Powers!Sam

Horror

Crossovers & Fusion ‘verses

Hannibal|SPN

SPN/Preacher

SPN/Hannibal/MCU

[bubbletimestories]

Don’t take him away from me (Irondad)

Summary: Tony is obsessed with Peter's disappearance and wants to bring him back at any cost. He moves away from his loved ones, sinks into depression and asks for Wong's help to save Peter.

Warnings: Major character death (?), sadness

Themes: death, father-son relationship, magic, hope, sacrifice, love, Saving Peter Parker

Translated with Google trad ^^’

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Ashes became a phobia for some, an obsession for everyone. They refused to cremate the dead, and chimney fires became rare even in the coldest winter. How could it have been otherwise?

“I’m sorry, Mr. Stark, but it’s impossible. As a guardian of the Sanctum, I cannot let you do it. ”

The whole world plunged into silence, as if the shock had taken people off the floor at the same time as their loved ones.

“We have to go ahead, Tony, to maintain a semblance of order. Take back your armour; we will be the Iron men. ”

A national mourning ceremony was organized when people ceased to hope. Captain America gave a long speech in memory of the missing, recalling that we had to keep courage, words without meaning, even for him. The world was not at war, it had lost without even being able to fight. They had failed. It was a month after the Purge.

________________________________________________________________

“The occult powers are not a toy, Mr. Stark, I cannot do anything for you. We all lost someone but that does not give us all the rights. I am sorry. ”

Bruce Banner embarked on research to understand where half of the Universe could have disappeared. He spent all his time there, perhaps to forget that he had lost a part of himself. But we had to face the facts: there was nothing to do, for Hulk as for the others. It was six months after the Purge.

________________________________________________________________

“Tony, you have to … that you stop feeling guilty about what happened. It was not your fault, it was nobody’s fault. Darling… ”

The remaining superheroes returned to service at the same time that the criminals woke up. A semblance of normality had returned, even though Absence was still strongly felt.

“No, Mr. Stark, I refuse to participate in that. The consequences are too uncertain, it is never good to play with life. We, guardians, learned it in pain. It’s no. ”

Thor had managed to find the survivors of Asgard and install them on a small planet to rebuild a kingdom, supported by Valkyrie and Korg. Despite his new responsibilities, he tried to return to see his friend as often as possible. Unfortunately, Point Break always found the genie in the same state: bitter, gnawed by guilt and obstinate not to see the truth. It was a year after the Purge.

________________________________________________________________

- Tony, that cannot continue. I cannot continue … to see you destroy youself. This obsession you have … It’s impossible.

Pepper looks at the impassive figure of the one she no longer recognizes, whom she cannot understand. She had tried with all her strength to support him, to push him forward, to overcome the horrors he had lived, but as much to speak to a wall.

The engagement ring tinkles on the glass table; this break up is different from the previous ones, it is an adieu. After taking a last look at the playboy, Pepper walks away to leave this room too dark, too quiet. Tony’s throaty voice suddenly stops her:

- Will you keep your word?

-Yes. If you succeed … he will officially be your heir.

She refrains from telling him once again that it’s madness. Oh what good would it be ? The door closes without Tony moving a centimetre. He knew it would happen, how could he blame Pepper after all he did? Somehow, it’s better that way, that they separate before…. he does what he has to do. Thoughtfully, he touches his side, where a long scar bears witness to the events of a year ago. A year already … and even more.

Outside, the sea crashes on the rocks under a stormy sky, as if the Sun itself was absent. Hard to believe he was hit by a moon… An umpteenth time, the superhero wonders how a single being could trigger so much chaos, so much suffering. But it’s no longer time to think about it, Tony Stark has never been one to feel sorry for himself, and he’s not going to start today. Not now that Wong has yielded.

The billionaire genie finally gets up, surprises his reflection in the bay window, the drawn features, the hair where pierce some silver threads, and especially his eyes surrounded where shines a flame of determination almost disturbing. To mourn, he can’t, not totally. Not while May Parker hates him. And rightly so: he was supposed to protect her nephew. Every day for months, she pursued him with her anger, her hate, and her sorrow, like a more seductive harpy. It was reminiscent of Tony Stark’s memories of Sokovi’s bitter victory and collateral damages. At the time, he wanted to use the government to fix his mistakes. It was not enough. He did not feel involved enough but today it’s different, he’s ready for anything.

The rain begins to fall while the man in armour joins the Sanctum of New York whose window shines like a gigantic eye watching over the city. Memories come back, his meeting with a man he could not know very long but who resembled him on many points. He, perhaps, has found a way to not die, floating for eternity in a parallel dimension.

- I’m sure your friend teleported to a beach in the Pacific, Wong. He looked smart enough for that.

Tony walks in the door, arranges his rain-soaked hair until the wizard deigns to arrive. It does not take long before he appears, frowning as usual, living figure of disapproval.

- You should refrain from this kind of joke or I may change my mind.

- I just made a guess, no need to come to the threat.

Wong does not answer anything, guides his guest through a series of corridors, the sound of their footsteps choked by oriental rugs. However, the mystic librarian ends up breaking the silence, visibly worried.

- Are you sure you want to do that?

Silly question, it’s been more than a year since the billionaire harassed him without his determination ever faltering and yet, Wong listed the risks more than once. But he supposes that for Tony Stark, life is a gigantic bet. His host does not even bother to answer, it’s so obvious. When the kid di …when he disappeared, it was as if he had taken some of his mentor with him, something broke and the man in armour wanted only one thing: bring him back whatever it costs. Banner told him it was hopeless, Captain asked him to mourn, but it was impossible. When it was not May who was shouting her hate, he saw the teenager’s face in his nightmares. Now he has planned everything. Pepper will run the business until he’s ready, Rhodey will look after him and train him with the other heroes, Banner will take care of the scientific part … He’s been thinking about it for months now and now that Wong has accepted, he will be able to bring back Peter. Wherever he is.

Where Tony expects to see incense, bones, mysterious symbols, in short, all the paraphernalia of resurrection, he finds only one manuscript and the master of the mystical arts donning a double ring. It would not be Wong, you could think of a scam.

- You’ll only have a few minutes to find it. After that, you will both be lost.

- Oh, I thought you were going to announce bad news ..., jokes Tony with a smile but without the spark of irony that always lit his eyes once. Not really knowing what else to do, he stands in front of the librarian, waiting, noting that the wizard carefully avoids his eye with emotion. It would be almost touching.

Wong takes a breath and circles in the air with his fingertips, articulating inaudible words for the man in front of him. This could be any teleport spell at first. But the sparks are usually of a color of fire and not of a deep blue, what we see through the portal is not a gigantic dark expanse. Tony stares for a moment, hoping to see something, a silhouette or even a shape but nothing stands out in the dark.

“Mr. Stark, is it too late to go to the bathroom?»

He probably would have said something like that … if he had been there.

To think thus of the teenager revives the determination of the hero, a moment frozen by apprehension, he turns to Wong to send him a last salute.

- Thank you very much and above all, take care of him. I do not want to have to come and kick your ass.

And without waiting for the answer of the wizard, he crosses the portal quickly, no hesitating anymore.

When Tony Stark had imagined this moment, he had envisioned an intense cold, the same that takes us when we die. But on the other side of the mirror, there is neither cold nor heat, only emptiness and an absence of sensations. All around the billionaire, a deafening silence spreads into the darkness, as if there was nothing else in the world than this visitor. After the shock of discovery, Tony decides to move forward, heart beating and thinking only of the one he must find at any cost. Under his feet, the ground is wrinkled like the surface of a pond but the billionaire is not careful, focused on his mission.

- Underoos !

His voice pierces the ambient calmness, scatters in the void before the silence falls. It is then that a pale color task is formed a few meters from the Avenger, blurry but very real, standing out against the dark background. Gradually, the task becomes clearer, as if you were focusing on it. Peter looks around him, a picture less and less flickering with each heartbeat. Looking as after a long sleep, he blinks, tries to understand where he is. On his face passes a flood of emotions as he remembers his last moments, the battle, the defeat, his death. His whole body trembles and he curls up, hiding nothing of his fear because he believes himself alone, lost forever. My god, he’s dead … so it looks like this after?

Tony slowly approaches the teenager, losing nothing of the confusion that moves him and makes him blind to what surrounds him. He kneels right in front of him, stroking his hair like a little child, making him jump.

- Mr Stark?!

The large hazel eyes express both surprise and immense joy in recognizing their hero and this reaction expresses such innocence that Tony’s heart is tightening. It is because of him that the little one suffers all this … but this ordeal ends, he will go home.

- It’s over…

Without really knowing why, Peter feels he can reassure himself, that his mentor has found a solution and that he can trust him. It’s Iron Man, he always succeeds.

The seconds go by and Tony knows they do not have a lot of time before … being separated again. Then he draws the young man against him, serves him in his arms with more emotion than he would like. No door to open to serve as an excuse, it is a real hug this time. Taken by surprise, Peter does not react immediately as this gesture seems strange to him on the part he admires. Then he puts his arms around him, gives him back his embrace, burying his face against the scarred chest. Nightmares can’t reach him now, everything will be better.

The portal reopens too early, far too early for Tony’s taste. Seeing the sapphire sparks, his first movement is to squeeze the boy closer to his heart, so that they will never be separated again. Then he regains his composure, pushes Peter aside to look into his eyes.

- You’re going home now. Your aunt must make a blood of ink.

- Mr Stark?

Something in the attitude of his mentor worries suddenly the teenager who scans the face of Tony in search of an explanation. It is at this moment that Wong passes his arms through the portal to catch the young man and pull him towards him. Reflexively, Peter clings to the arm of his hero, suddenly sensing that they will be separated.

- No, Mr Stark!

Tony smiles painfully, hoping to be a little reassuring even though he’s never been good at these things.

-It will be fine.

And with a sharp gesture, he recoils to let go of his protégé who screams, tears in his eyes.

-Dad!

The portal closes on him, leaving Tony Stark in the dark, alone but reassured. Now, the little one is safe.

[maladaptive-ninja-returns]

J.B.B. (13)

Bucky x Reader

Content: Who am I kidding. It’s all hurt, pain and the worst here.

Warnings: Please do not read it if you have a weak heart as I am sensitive bitch who cries and wants to watch others cry in the name of a good story.

Word Count: I’m sorry.

A/N: @lokis-lady-death as you can see this was inspired by the theme you followed. I cried so you have to cry. Those are the rules.

MASTERLIST

^J.B.B., ^Part 2, ^Part 3, ^Part 4, ^Part 5, ^Part 6, *Part 7, !Part 8, ^Part 9, ^Part 10, !Part 11, ^Part 12, Part 13

"How you been Buck?" "Not bad for the end of the world." Steve took him for his word. Clearly seeing the light in his eyes brighter than the day they'd first arrived in Wakanda; clearer than the daze he'd seen in his best friend's being when he had met him for the first and the last time here. Steve could see that something had changed about Bucky. There was his old friend from Brooklyn with a hint of something new. Steve couldn't really place a finger on it till he saw a familiar face walk towards him from behind Bucky. "Hey there, Captain." You greeted the man who had gone full nomad with his beard and suit.

"Y/N," Steve smiled up to his eyes as he hugged you tight, "So good to see you." "You too, Steve," you responded, your screaming nerves already feeling a little better, engulfed in his towering stature. Steve's here. Almost everyone's here. We should be good. "Come on, now you two. We're standing here too." Natasha appeared from behind him. "My favourite assassin," you gushed as you hugged her firmly. "My biggest fangirl." "Hey," Bucky quipped beside you, "I thought I was your favourite," his features clearly hurt at your declaration but you knew him too well by now to know what lied behind that humour. "Get over it, old man," Natasha teased him. "I'm surprised you're still here," Sam hugged you back, making you chuckle. "This country has good health insurance and pay benefits for teachers and science students. I'm surprised no one's moved here by now." "Who is she?" you heard a deep voice filled with unsurity whisper from behind the Falcon. "Right," Sam brought his face closer to yours to whisper, "don't be surprised," before turning aside and allowing your eyes to go wide at the figure of Bruce Banner and James Rupert Rhodes. __________ "I. Am. The. Worst," you grumbled. "Take it easy, tiger," Sam chuckled, "Banner has seen worse today. I bet you nearly squealing was actually a welcoming site for him." You scrunched up your nose at Sam while placing your comms in position, standing between him and Bucky, discussing the new threat that was out to get the earth. "How's Wanda doing?" Sam looked at you and you knew within a second it was the worst for her and Vision at the moment. "I wish I could help them up there in some way." You were clearly feeling useless right now. Shuri had taken the reigns and you knew for a fact she could help vision all on her own. "So," Sam raised his voice a bit, breaking your worrying thoughts as his eyes continued scanning the perimeter, "what's up with you two?" "Sup?" you asked Sam, not clear what exactly he was looking for. "You guys having something serious now or are you still trying to work stuff out." You inhaled the question and turned to Bucky, whose eyes mimicked your movements. The heat in your cheeks was rising by the second. "We..." you trailed off trying to calm the tremble in your voice before continuing, "have been living together for some time now." You eyed Bucky for some sort of visual confirmation and he nodded at Sam, who was elated at the news. "Nice. Cool." "Hey, Y/N," Rhodey called for you as he came back outside in his war machine battle armour, "the General says to remind you of something about the berries?" You groaned, your hand reflexively going towards your stomach as the mind revisited distressing nausea from this morning. "Berries? Is he talking about those berries?" Of course, Bucky was quick to catch on to it. We are at the verge of an alien invasion. How are we still discussing the berries? You took in one lungful of air. "I got sick this morning because of those berries." Bucky's entire body turned towards you to comprehend the words he'd just heard. "Again." You added, making his face feel a tiny jolt. "I'm fine now, really," you added before Bucky could say anything, "I wouldn't be geared up for battle if Okoye hadn't given me an all clear." Bucky shifted his weight to give you a sarcastic stare with his brows. "You are not going anywhere near the battlefield, doll. Not today," he announced. "I can only manage one crazy with no sense of self-preservation at a time," he grumbled not taking his eyes off you. "Wow. You two are cute." Rhodey stood beside you, making you squirm with his presence. The War Machine was friends with your friends who themselves were a bunch of superheros. What lifetime am I living? Is this real? Of course it's real. You've been living in a utopia for more than a year now...doll. Your boyfriend- who just asked you to marry him- is the softest supersoldier you've ever met. This is as real as it gets. Your lips involuntarily stretched into a smile. It is real. The breathing eased as you looked up, thanking the forces for this; all of this. All the pain you'd suffered were now bumps on the road that had always led to this. The clear blue sky sparkled. A tiny ray reflecting the golden you thought was from the sun. It was the smile on your face that disappeared first. "Guys," your voice bearly even a whisper, trying to bring the soldiers' attention-who were still bickering about the berries- towards the sky. "Guys!" You voice grew louder with urgency, bringing their focus to the direction you were looking in. "Cap, we got a situation here." Sam announced into the comms right the second his eyes caught anomaly. A dark solid structure burning up in the earth's atmosphere was headed straight for the capital. Right before its impact with the buildings, it blew up in the sky by the highly reactive forcefield that engulfed the city, sending the destroyed spaceship fracturing into every direction after the explosion. "God, I love this place," Bucky breathed. "Yeah, don't start celebrating yet guys," Rhodey voiced, "We got more incoming outside the dome," he declared for everyone to hear as a shower of similar golden specks went by towards the grasslands. The ominous alien pyramids landed with considerable impact outside the forcefield's perimeter one after another, destroying all the flora and fauna within the radius of their brunt, sending their vicinity in flames and dust that stopped at the edges of the protected borders. You activated your comms and adjusted the frequency to know what was going on inside the lab. "-need to destroy the stone now," Vision's voice crackled in your ear, making your nerves light up in the worst ways. Natasha was having none of it while T'Challa confirmed they will hold them off. "Wanda, as soon as that stone's out of his head, you blow it to hell." Steve's voice echoed through your ears, making you turn towards Sam and Bucky. Wanda was supposed to destroy the stone? "Steve," you whispered with the weight of the one question building up like an anthill creeping with the worst scenario inside your head. "I will," Wanda's voice showed no sign of hesitation. __________ "What do you mean I can't go?" "You are going to stay here with Shuri and protect her." It was getting really hard keeping pace with Okoye, especially after her unforseen decision of keeping you off the battlefield. "Does Bucky have something to do with this? Okoye!" She hit her staff on the ground, making you stand still opposite her. "Oh, he most definitely has something to do with this but right now we have enough mettle on the battlefield. I need someone to stay by Shuri's side who isn't present there just for exploiting my princess's knowledge. She could really use a friend right now." You felt like a moron for her having to explain the situation to you. "Have I made myself clear?" "Yes, general." "Good." Following her, you met Bucky outside where everyone was boarding the carriers. "Hey," Bucky stepped away from Sam, coming towards your direction. "I'm staying with Shuri." "Good." You hated it but the ease dripping in Bucky's poise made the sparks of rage bury themselves back in the core behind your eyes. You took his face in your tiny hands, making his pupils dilate at the gesture. "James Buchanan Barnes," you announced as you kissed him before the hidden ambers inside you ignited the sparks in his, "Give them hell." A smirk washed over his heated lips. "I'll tell them you send your regards." __________ The glass walls showed the carriers sending away platoons of warriors to the plane grasslands, near the edge of the border where the enemy waited. Dr Banner was suited up in the hulk buster because his green friend did not feel like it today and it was evident, from where you stood, that the scientist was having a hard time adjusting to it. The Jabari had already arrived on the plains, their cries being heard twice- through the comms as well as the tensed air surrounding you- while the rest of the forces filed themselves up. "Tell me if you need any help, okay?" you uttered to Shuri, who was gearing up the controls, calibrating them to function carefully and precisely around Vision's neuron threads. Shuri simply nodded, all her focus on the task at hand. "Can I get you two anything before she starts?" You asked, turning towards Wanda and Vision. "No, we're good. Thanks." Wanda didn't even make eye contact, which you probably thought was the best thing right now. But just as you walked away from the window, passing her, you heard her whisper, "And congratulations," into your ear, smiling through her bloodshot eyes. It took you a moment before you remembered what her powers were. She already knew about the proposal? Of course she did! She can read freaking minds when she's not controlling them, remember? "Oh! Thanks. We haven't told anyone yet," you kept your voice as low as possible, out of earshot from Shuri. Wanda's brows contricted a bit. "But wouldn't they already know, considering the reason that you're here ri-" War cries resonated through your earpiece, making you turn back towards the scene unfolding outside. "It's beginning." Bucky's voice cursed at the army unleashed outside the perimeter. They were all muddy dots from where you stood but their numbers were incredible. The perimeter lit up right where those dots tried to infilrate through but were evidently having a hard time. Shots were being fired at the ones who somehow made it inside from both the ground as well as air. A few from the cluster of muddy dots were moving right at edge of the perimeter but instead of breaching it they were running around it. "Cap, if these things circle the perimeter and get in behind us, there is nothing between them and vision." Apparently the world renowned scientist was smart when it came to a battlefield as well. His words made your grip harden on your staff as you did not take your eyes off the dots getting bigger and closer to you. "On my signal," T'Challa's voice came, "open North-Weat Section seventeen." Containment. WIth the final warcry in the name of Wakanda, the battalions charged forward towards the masses of aliens running haywire over the land before the barrier was opened on the king's word. You could see two dark figures from the Wakandan battalions running past the army, charging right into the wild aliens without hesitation. "Oh, heavens," you muttered. It was one thing to hear about Steve and T'Challa's incredibly thoughtless methods of charging into a fight but it was a whole different experience to watch them do it from your own eyes. So, that's what you go through, Okoye, Bucky. "How much longer, Shuri?" T'Challa's voice called out through the comms. "I've barely begun brother," Shuri stated, her hands and eyes steady on the structural neurons hologram she was recircuiting as the precision lasers did the physical work for her. "You might want to pick up the pace." And there it was again. The unsettling slither raising the hairs on your skin. You picked up a pair of binoculars and moved closer to the glass. Dr Banner was doing a decent job of taking out the mindless aliens hungry for death and destruction. Rhodey was manning the entrance, thinning out the numbers where they were clustered the most. Steve and T'Challa were beating the hell out of any beast that approached them. Bucky was not missing any shot until an alien punched him, forcing him to lose his handle on the gun. You cursed as you watched the ugly thing tower over him as Bucky's knife went through the alien's skin. But that was not the only site that froze your fast pacing heart. Rhodey was shot out of the air, Steve and T'challa were overpowered by the growing number attacking them while the hulk buster was thrown into the sand as the alien claws tried to scratch their way through the metal. Your insides screamed at the sight of your friends being dragged through the dust one by one. Stop this madness, your inner voice tried to scream. If you're listening right now, please, do something. For a second it felt like a dream, the burst of light that came down right in the middle of the battle field. Was it another enemy attack? You zoomed in to ground zero to confirm the suspicions eating you right now. But what raised your confusion was the unidentified object that came out of the blinding streak of light, sparkling with electricity as it zoomed about, taking down all the aliens in its way. "Oh, God." you didn't realise you were blurting out loud right now. "What is it? Did something happen?" voices called from behind you. It was either Wanda or Shuri but you were too dazed to even notice the difference. "No," your senses tried to find balance, "no. I meant...there is an actual God on the battlefield. It's Thor. And..." you felt the daze coming back at the sight of his companions, "a...uhh...tree and a raccon." You moved the binoculars away from your eyes for a moment. "I swear I'm not high. That's just what they are." "Bucky, the raccoon! On your six!" You announced as you saw the little animal throw curses like greetings at the hoard of aliens approaching him. Bucky turned in time to pick the talking animal and out of their while aiming for their heads. You would be lying if said you weren't internally smiling at the scene unfolding you. "Careful babe, there are laws here against animal cruelty," you smirked. "That thing just asked me the price of my arm. And I don't think the raccoon will be the one pressing charges," he grunted. "By the way, I think the tree just made a new friend." "Let me guess," Bucky responded, clearly hearing your controlled but lightly elated whisper, "Steve Rogers." Before you could say more, a heavy rumble vibrated through the lab, making Shuri stop for a moment as Wanda moved towards the glass walls beside you. A line of greenery toppled down in a clean row till the perimeter where the ground swell up and gave way to connected weaponised wheels ten times the size of a human. And there wasn't just one of them. You turned towards Wanda, whose eyes faced away from the chaos unfolding in front of you. "Wanda," you whispered, placing your hand on her arm. Her eyes locked on to yours and you had no idea how you could see the volume of her pain through them. "Take care of him till I come back." It was more of a request. You tried your best to fight back the urge to accompany her. "I will." The next thing you knew, this woman was taking down the wheels and the alien hounds over the battlefield in numbers unmatched. The sounds of crunching bones and shrieks brought you back inside the lab. "Shuri!" You heard your voice call out for your friend, whose body flew down the platform as the figure of the assaulter came into display. The pale skin of the alien emanating malice shrouded in black was ready to jump down the platform. Before you could get yourself in position a force sent you off into the wall. "I'm sorry Y/N," you heard Vision's breathless voice whisper close to you as everything around you started going blurry, "but you are in no position to be fighting right now." Niether are you, you moron, you wanted to say, but the words never came. You could see outlines of Vision moving towards the enemy finding the table empty, grabbing him and taking him out and down through the glass. You wanted to get up but your head pounded with immense pain. It had been the one to take all the impact after vision had so treacherously moved you out of harms way. Your mind wanted to check on Shuri and call out for Bucky but nothing was moving and everything was turning into a colourful mess before lights went out. __________ The sharp ringing inside your ear didn't stop till you opened your eyes. Your mind took in the familiar surroundings of the lab, the table, the chandelier, the equipment, Shuri. "Shuri," your weak voice called out for her as your throbbing limbs tried their best to get up. The caught up breath in your lungs was released once you were sure she was breathing. You picked her up and laid her in the section hidden away from the rest of the lab, covering her with a blanket. "I'll be back," you assured the princess as your disoriented self walked out of there. "Vision? Does anyone have eyes on Vision?" Static. "Steve? Do you have eyes on Vision?" Silence. Your heart picked up the speed what your steps weren't able to do yet. Picking up a staff lying closest to you you made your way to the elevator. "Nat? Sam? Can anyone hear me?" The silence brought in a tide of fear. Your back felt the cold sweat run down your spine, not wanting your worst thoughts to come true. "Bucky?" your voice gave away. Silence. The cold sweats grew as the nausea came back. Tears ran down your cheeks, nothing stopping the shaking of every cell in your body. "Y/N?" Bucky's voice made a light scream escape your throat. You were already running out of the elevator and through the doors down towards the ground. "Bucky! Are you-" "My lady," a wakandan soldier approached you from the open, "you should stay inside. General's ord-" He stopped speaking and turned to look at his hand holding the staff whither away slowly into ashes, taking the rest of him with it, making the staff land with a loud clunk reverberating through your brain. "Steve?" Bucky's voice came again with a hint of unsurity hanging in his tone. You dashed towards the treeline where you had seen Vision fall in, trying to press away the nausea and pain building up in your stomach all the while pressing away the dark thoughts. "Bucky?" Silence. Your pace accelarated but dropped as the raccoon and the tree coming into view, the latter disintegrating right in front of your eyes. Your eyes wildly went around the forest, catching Steve leaning down into someone's ashes. "Bucky?" a crack called out in your throat as Steve looked up in your direction, not able to gather what just happened. "Bucky," you whispered, making him get up and move away from the spot. You shook your head as your body moved towards the remains. "Buck." Your limbs gave way under you, bringing you down to your knees. Hey, come on, now. Wake up. Bucky's first words of this morning echoed through you in his soothing voice. Okoye's cries for her king and Rhodey's call for Sam dropped in the background. Don't you have work to do today? Natasha came running towards the now lifeless body of Vision being turned by Steve while Bruce, Thor and Rhodey watched from afar. Goodmorning, sleepyhead. Rocket sat defeated near Groot's ashes. So did you, near Bucky's. As much as I’d love to, doll, I would not last a minute under Okoye’s stare of death. Your fingers traced the fragile remains under their skin. "What is this? What the hell is happening?" Rhodey called out. It's never going to be over. The place in your chest where you heart supposedly was splintered into a thousand peices, the force driving the wind out of your lungs. They need me. Steve needs me. It's the end of the world for all we know. Steve finally sat down, dejected. "Oh, God." How are you so calm right now? Your aching body no longer registered the changes occuring inside you into your head. I’m so glad I ran into you when I did. Parts inside you were falling to pieces. I love you, Y/N. Soft thump of the hulk buster's feet coming closer behind you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. "Jesus christ," Bruce's voice marveled. No, silly. I mean I want to marry you. Your breathing slowed down, the ache in your limbs increasing with every passing second, telling your numb mind to stop it. "Nat," Bruce softly called out for her, his eyes never leaving you. "Nat." I have you. The cold sweats made you shiver, the words adding to the lack of warmth inside you. Nat came in your direction, not yet over the shock of vision's lifeless body, looking at Bruce with half the interest. "Nat," Bruce's voice broke, his breathing growing heavy, "I think she's bleeding." Jesus, you’ve gained weight. Your hands rested on your thighs, half open towards the sky, purposeless. Nat looked at your armour, confused at the sight of no open wounds until her eyes went down. "No," she came by your side within seconds, her breathing fast, her heartbeat faster. You are here. "I'm here," your voice barely a whisper. Nat picked up your unresponsive limbs, Steve coming behind her to help. "She's in shock." Nat shook her head at Steve's words. "Steve, this is worse." "I'm here," the inaudible whisper escaped again. It didn't take long for it to dawn on him, all the last breaths leaving his tired lungs. "No." He looked at your lackluster eyes still stuck on the sight of the ashes. "No, God, no." His arms wrapped your shivering body into themselves, his hands stroking your hair. "Captain," Okoye’s trembling voice called from behind him, her tears from losing her king and friend still not dry, "we have to take her inside. Now." "I'm here," the words mechanically escaping one last time before Steve's arms carried you away, from where Bucky's remains rested, all the colours around you mixing into complete darkness. I'm here. Where are you? 

^J.B.B., ^Part 2, ^Part 3, ^Part 4, ^Part 5, ^Part 6, *Part 7, !Part 8, ^Part 9, ^Part 10, !Part 11, ^Part 12, Part 13 ...

(Yes, I am the worst person right now, probably. But it isn’t over yet. This is definitely going to get a happy ending but for that we will have to wait for Avengers 4. So...I suggest you enjoy some of my fics which are far less torture and more fluff. Or not. PS- J.B.B. readers, I am going to start Steve Rogers fic soon so if you’d like to be tagged do let me know. No, we wouldn’t have to wait for a happy ending in that one so you can enjoy that one. I can only write heartbreak when it is served to me on a platter.)

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[secrecykept]

@lachalaine 

Just a random, self-indulgent kinda thing of Kav and Mags in the Chesh/Jackie verse!

-----

The moment he sat down on his office chair and relaxed into it, but before he could even take a breath to center his mind and plan for the day ahead…his phone rang.

How typical.

He huffed as he snapped up the device, answering it with his usual disregard for manners.

“What.”

A laugh came through the line and drew forth a sigh from him.

“Mags,” he said, already raising his free hand to rub his temple in anticipation of the headache the woman was likely to bring him.

‘Mags’ as she was known, was many things. A fox. A witch. A great talent. A massive flirt. A morally questionable person. And she was key to a goldmine of information, she was his inside woman.

But mostly she was a giant pain in his ass.

“That’s me, Mr Alpha, Sir~!” She mocked the part of serious soldier, and he could just imagine her lazy salute. “Lieutenant Mags, reporting for duty.”

There was a pause and thoughtful hum from her before she added, “Or more like, doing my duty and reporting I guess.”

Kav rolled his eyes and inwardly asked the universe for patience. “…Uh huh. Well, go on then. Report.”

“How come you never give me a report, huh? I wanna know what’s going on with you.”

“Because you already know everything and I’m the Alpha, I don’t report to anyone.”

“That’s so boring though! Can’t you gimme any good details? I worry about you sometimes, y’big lug.”

He was almost, deep down, touched by her concern, but that fleeting feeling evaporated as she continued.

“I know you haven’t had sex in like, foreverrrrrr. I bet I could find someone real good for you-“

The predicted headache settled in the front of his skull and began to pound on it. His voice held a rough edge as he spoke. “That’s enough, Mags. Report.”

He heard her sigh before her voice came again, “Well…at five I went for a run, then I watered my plants, then I sharpened my knives, or maybe that was before but anyway, then I –“

He clenched his jaw and forced himself to release it, his breath huffing against the receiver. “Stop messing around already.”

“Alright, alright, grumpypants…” she said rather petulantly, sounding as if she might be pouting at the growl she’d been given, but he knew she’d be restraining herself from laughing. She went on, “Target One, also known as codename ‘He Can Hammer Me Like A Nail Anytime’ has been spending every chance he can get at the human’s house. He sneaks away for work and all, but it seems like it’s super rare that he’d ever miss spending the night with her. From what I can tell, she still has absolutely no clue that he’s a shifter.”

“Good…make sure it stays that way.” He frowned and adjusted his hold on the phone as he leaned back in his chair. “How the hell hasn’t she been suspicious yet…Does she really think he’s just a normal leopard?”

Mags hummed noncommittedly, the vocal equivalent of a shrug. “Maybe she just really loves big cats, and this is just a dream come true for her lonely, cat-loving soul, so she doesn’t think about it. But don’t worry too much, she’s pretty cool and they’re sweet together.”

He tapped his fingers on his desk and ignored the way his nails wanted to sharpen into claws. There were too many things that could go wrong. There were too many things that he didn’t know.

His hand shifted over to the closed laptop sitting on the desk and he tugged it a little closer, cracking it open and jabbing the power button. Might as well get some of the day’s work started.

“Yeah, well it won’t be sweet when SIAP kick down her door and fuck with her memories. And it won’t be sweet when he gets punished for being a security risk.”

“Hey now, chill out there, big kitty,” Mags soothed, “That’s what you’ve got me for. We’re not gonna let that happen.”

He scoffed and took a moment to punch in his password. “So who is she? What’s she like, huh? Must be something pretty special if he’s barely leaving her side.”

“Well, let’s see…She’s definitely not one of us, as far as I can tell there’s nothing like us in her family line. Her name is Jacqueline Dulcet, but she goes by Jackie. She’s half French. Lived in LA as a little kid, but they moved to the Philippines when she was six. Moved again when she was twelve. Went to an all-girls academy where she was a bit of a loner and struggled with the work for a while, according to records. Looks like she was some kinda sick for a while and then things picked up and she made a friend. Became a cheerleader during college…I wonder if she’s still all flexible. Do you reckon she’ll do a cheer for me sometime?”

He rolled his eyes and opened up a news site, skimming the headlines. “Stay focused.”

“Well, whatever. Anyway. She got a boring ol’ business degree when she was twenty but did the smart thing and made a much more fun career for herself with music! Though I gotta say there seems to be a weird dark patch in her life that I’ll have to try digging through later…but anyway, she’s a popular DJ! Even has a good little set up in her house for making her music, I’m itching to break in and have a look at all that pretty stuff.”

“Dark patch, huh?” He frowned, eyes drifting from the screen for a moment.

“She’s a pretty thing herself, did I mention that? A bit shorter than me but just as sexy.”

“What dark patch?”

“ – wonder if she’s straight. I wonder if she’d think I’m hot too. Maybe -”

That’s it, he thought. He’d lost her. Once Mags started on that train of thought, she was impossible to change track, there was nothing to do but accept he wouldn’t get an answer yet. It had happened so many times before, and often he suspected that she acted this way to avoid revealing what she knew, that perhaps she was waiting until she had a deeper knowledge before telling him, because she knew how impulsive he could be.

Honestly, just hearing that this ‘Jackie’ had a murky past at any point was enough to make him want to keep his brother as far away from her as possible, to go there right now and drag Chesh from the place. And maybe Mags regretted the mention of it, but it was better that he had even a little warning that there might be trouble ahead later.

He gave a simple annoyed grunt in response to her continued ramblings, and that seemed to be all she needed to keep going on her own tangent.

“- She’s got the most magic hair. It’s all purple and bits of pink and blue, and man, it must be a bitch to maintain, I admire her dedication to it, that’s for sure. Oh, and she’s a Sagittarius, and you know what that means.”

“No idea.”

“It means she’s a hot little adventurer! A fun time to be sure. Highly compatible with a wonderful Aries like myself, just so y’know. Good for our little Leo Chesh too. Damn, they’d be one hot couple, she is fiiiiiiiine.”

“You’d better stop drooling over her,” he warned dryly, “Sounds like you’re gonna fall for her too.”

“Good one, Kavi-cakes, but just you wait until you see her. I’m sending a detailed file to you now. Check it out.”

Beneath his annoyance and skepticism, curiosity began to bud and poke through. He opened his emails, and as soon as the new message (subject line: Look at this pretty lady!!) appeared in his inbox, he clicked into it and opened the attached document.

A series of images loaded in a banner at the top of the page, a gallery featuring a young woman (and occasionally a leopard accompanying her).

“Damn...” It slipped out before he could stop it.

She really was a pretty thing. She really did have magic looking hair. She really –

He hung up on the laugh in his ear and rubbed his face. 

Damn women.

After a steadying breath, he pulled his eyes back to the images on display and studied them. She seemed relaxed and happy in most of the pictures, especially those featuring her leopard companion too.

For some reason, Chesh had gotten attached to this woman, likely without even thinking about what might happen if things went wrong, while the woman herself may prove to be just as dangerous to him.

And all Kav could do was monitor the situation…

Or maybe not.

Once again, he snapped up his phone. Within a moment, he dialled.

“Mags. Get Chesh to come meet me.”

It was time to try talking some sense into him…