#it's kind of a private joke based on who I used to pair together and currently pair together in a disney dogs crossover AU...

[outoftheirdifferences]

And speaking of the Spaniel girls...

SLAMS THIS DOWN HERE

So I should preface by saying that yes, I know this is one massive anachronism stew going on here; but honestly it's one big mixed up crossover anyway so I figured to just let the details slide and go with what worked!

As always: Artwork is mine, outside of that I own nothing here. Characters belong to Disney or otherwise to their respective owners; Songs are by Lin-Manuel Miranda and performed by the Ham.ilton cast. I have no association with any of these, this was just made for fun.

[blackcatruse]

𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔞𝔰𝔥𝔢𝔰

«prev. ❃ next» ❃ first chapter ❃ m.list ❃ ao3 pairing: r. haitani/fem!reader ↳ she/her, fem descriptors, nickname ❃ chapter synopsis: you must've hit your head real hard, because why the fuck is rindou being considerate towards you? that's weirder than the people trying to get you. word count: 3.9k chapter cw(s): swearing, possible ooc, brief stalking, depiction of a panic attack, depiction of suicide a/n: please enjoy! <3

You weren’t sure how much time had passed from when Genbu dragged you out to when you woke up. Instead you slowly opened your bleary eyes and found yourself in the infirmary of the main base. The lights were too bright, you needed to turn them off. Shielding your eyes, you struggled to sit up and winced as the rustling of the thin sheet reverberated in your brain.

The sound of the privacy curtain sliding open grated on your already pounding head. “Hey, take it easy,” a soft feminine voice cautioned you.

“The lights,” you whimpered. It sounded so pathetic. Was that you?

Heels clicked, the lights dimmed, and your eyes weren’t as achey. When you blinked them open, they focused on Wuxing’s private doctor. She was probably the only person in Wuxing you liked.

“You gave us a bit of a scare, Lotus,” Miko chuckled. You watched the tattoo wrapped around her throat bob.

Trying to find words and put them together coherently was a struggle. Getting the words out was nearly impossible. So you just stared at Miko and hoped you looked confused enough.

“Let me guess, you want to know how long you were out?” she asked.

You started to nod but immediately stopped when it felt like your brain was throbbing. Your neck felt tense.

“It’s been about twenty-four hours,” Miko said. “You wouldn’t wake up no matter what, so I opted to let you rest. You took quite the beating there. I was almost worried you’d be in a coma or there would be some kind of extensive damage. Seems like you’ve got a hard head, though.”

You sighed.

“Yeah, that was a bad joke. Point aside, I am glad you’re awake. You’re gonna be hurting for a bit and I told Suzaku you weren’t allowed to do any jobs for at least a week. I need you to stay for observation just a bit longer, and when I’m no longer worried, I’ll send you home.” Miko smiled at you and you wondered what brought her into this kind of life.

Her charming disposition was at odds with literally everyone else in Wuxing. She kept quiet about her life, just laughing and brushing off any questions. Nobody even knew her last name. The only thing anyone knew was that Miko was an actual doctor before she started working for Wuxing. Rumors always floated around, but you didn’t think much of it. She had always patched you up kindly and that’s all you cared about. The amount of compassion in her dark eyes always struck you as odd, given the company she kept.

You stopped thinking before your brain exploded. Gingerly you leaned back down on the bed, not fully horizontal, but reclined enough to be comfortable.

“Don’t worry about falling asleep or anything,” Miko told you. “I’m monitoring all your vitals and your imaging came back okay. We’ll talk again when you wake up.”

Miko’s gentle smile that wrinkled the corners of her eyes was the last thing you saw before you sank into unconsciousness again.

Miko allowed you to go home the next day. She told you to take some ibuprofen when you needed it and if anything happened to call her. She also said that you weren’t supposed to do any rigorous tasks for the next two weeks or you’d risk exacerbating your symptoms. At least it’d keep Suzaku off your back. Knowing your luck, that job with the Haitanis was going to happen before you had fully recuperated.

Speaking of the bastards, you had several text messages waiting for you on your private burner phone. Kakucho had given both brothers the number, which made sense, but it did annoy you. The more people who knew it, the more troublesome it could be. Maybe you were paranoid, but luck was seldom on your side.

Unfortunately, your concussion meant you couldn’t just throw yourself down on your ratty couch without making the dull ache worse. You sat gently and leaned back, tilting your head so that your neck rested on the back of the couch. Without looking at the screen, you dialed the last number that texted you. As it rang, you ran through a possible script in your head, but when Rindou picked up everything you were going to say left your head.

“Why the hell haven’t you answered?” His irritation was palpable and you wanted to reach through the phone and strangle him.

“Whatever happened to a normal ‘hi, how are you’,” you grumbled. “Look, I got fuckin’ concussed okay? Just got cleared to go home today. Kinda couldn’t get to the phone.” You could almost hear his eyes roll and you smirked to yourself. “I’ve got one more thing to annoy you,” you added. “I can’t do anything strenuous for like the next two weeks. Doctor’s orders.”

A sigh was the only response you got. “You’re lucky the job was delayed a bit then,” Rindou told you. “Scoping shit out shouldn’t be too taxing on you. When would you want to go?”

You blinked a few times, trying to make sense of what you heard. You expected Rindou to tell you to suck it up and deal with it. How were you supposed to act right now? “Uh,” you said stupidly. “Sorry, I honestly don’t know. Day after tomorrow? Let me rest today and tomorrow and I think I’ll be okay to plot things.”

“I’ll call you then. Rest up.” And the line clicked.

What? What was that entire conversation? It didn’t go the way you were expecting based on your previous interactions with Rindou. He hung up before you could even ask him what the fuck his angle was. You’d have to save it for when he called next. Or... maybe you shouldn’t. Maybe that’s what he wanted. Maybe he was messing with you. Well, two could play that game. You wouldn’t react or bring it up. It’ll be like it never happened.

Except it did happen. And it wouldn’t leave your mind. For the next two days you agonized over this weird feeling in your gut. Was it because someone gave a shit about your health? That’s what you had chalked it up to. You weren’t used to someone actually taking your condition into consideration. Should you thank him for that? Would that be weird? Actually, why did you care what he thought? Still, everything about the conversation felt... well, maybe you weren’t sure how you felt.

Tugging on your jacket and boots, you were preparing to meet Rindou at a coffee shop near the cargo terminal. He’d called earlier that day to give you the address and time. He’d even asked about your head, and again, it had shocked you into silence. The pain was starting to ease up, and ibuprofen nearly made it all go away. It wasn’t anything you hadn’t dealt with before. You supposed it was only a matter of time before you got head trauma given how much people’s fists seemed to like your face. To think that a concrete floor was the thing that would do you in.

At least the swelling at your temple had gone down. Bruises were still an ugly shade of purple that you had to desperately try to hide. The crappy foundation you owned did such a poor job, but it was better than nothing. That’s what you kept telling yourself.

You left your apartment, wondering if it was okay to take your bike to the meeting spot. It would be a short drive and a much, much longer walk given your condition. You thought about calling Miko to ask, but you ultimately decided that would be a bad idea. She’d probably yell at you, and if anyone was going to set her off, it would probably be you. You started to shake your head to stop the pity party, but you immediately stopped as the world spun a little more. You steadied yourself against the wall and waited for the dizziness to pass. “Fuck,” you spat under your breath.

You couldn’t just bail last minute. Kakucho wanted the routes planned far in advance. The delay in shipping meant that you should be okay to do the job without having to worry about your head. Still, you didn’t feel like you were in a position to tell Rindou you had to do it another day because of a headache.

Minimizing your problems was a specialty of yours. If you ignored them hard enough, then everything was fine. They’ve exploded in your face a few times, but you had gotten better at tamping everything down. Push it to the side and tell it to wait its turn to beat you up. While you were working with Wuxing and any gangs in Tokyo, you couldn’t afford to let emotions or physical pain stop you. You weren’t known for your weakness, and you weren’t about to let any chinks in the armor break it apart entirely.

You took a shaky breath to ground yourself and kept on moving. It wasn’t until you were about halfway down the route that you thought about what would happen if you passed out. The bike’s usual purr sounded like a roar vibrating in your skull. Your helmet felt far too tight and your jaw ached from how tightly your teeth were clenched. Keep pushing onward, you told yourself. Once this is done you can relax for the rest of your mandated break.

You didn’t anticipate it taking long. You’d gotten blueprints of the yard layout yesterday and knew the drop off and pick up locations. There were a few good structures you could get behind and stay out of the way. There would be a few areas where the lights didn’t reach that you wanted to look at. Hopefully shipping containers wouldn’t interfere with those potential spots. Regardless, you were good at this part of your job. Planning routes was actually something you enjoyed. It felt good to piece together the parts of the puzzle. Every other runner under Suzaku hated that chore, so they would just give their maps to you. If you had one redeeming trait among Suzaku’s division, it was that you were great at figuring out the best ways to stay hidden.

As you neared the location, you could see Rindou’s silhouette outside of the cafe. The warm yellow lights lit up the admittedly pretty features of his face. He might be irritating and a member of a rival gang, but you weren’t blind. He barely turned as he heard you approach.

You parked your bike and made your way over. You watched his eyes flick down and back up. “You look like shit,” he told you.

“Thanks,” you deadpanned. “Good evening to you, too, jackass.”

The both of you stared at each other, the tense silence was on the verge of being uncomfortable. Neither of you wanted to speak first, but you weren’t sure if it was stubbornness or pride or some secret other third thing.

Rindou cracked first. “Alright,” he said, motioning with his head, “the terminal is a little ways that way. I found a decent entry point that we can use to get by the guards.”

“Sweet, let’s go,” you said, immediately going that way. Your head had gone from a dull ache to a steady pounding and the last thing you wanted was to collapse like a bitch in front of Rindou fucking Haitani of all people.

Shoving his hands in his pockets, he kept up with your pace easily, long, languid strides matching the quick march you had. You didn’t talk, and you weren’t sure what was worse—an awkward quiet or a stiff conversation. Rindou didn’t look inclined to chitchat either, which was fine by you.

Out of habit, your eyes scanned the buildings around you. The sun was dipping below the horizon and long shadows stretched over the alleys and sidewalks you traversed. There wasn’t too much out of the ordinary, a few couples on a date night, some coworkers at a bar, and the occasional straggler. You and Rindou wouldn’t stand out too much, provided nobody recognized one of the Kings of Roppongi.

A coy part of yourself wondered what these strangers would see when they looked at you and him. Would they assume you were dating? Part of you entertained the idea, and the other part of you beat that one back. No. You were not going to develop a stupid crush on anyone, especially not Rindou. Actually, it was sad how quickly you attached yourself to the first person to show sincere kindness. Pathetic. That’s exactly what you were. You came into this life alone and you would leave this life alone. That’s what you had come to terms with and refused to think of anything else. Would you even know how to be a person? No clue.

As the crowd thinned, you were aware of a presence. You didn’t outright turn around. Instead you looked at Rindou like you were going to tell him something when you saw someone duck into an alley a few meters behind you. Suspicious, but you didn’t let it get to you yet.

“What’s with that look?” Rindou asked you.

“It’s nothing,” you whispered quickly. “I just thought I heard something.”

“You sure you’re up to this?” Rindou asked, his concern masked by annoyance. You didn’t miss the sincerity that flashed briefly in his eyes before it was replaced with a calculating calm.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” you insisted. You wondered if you were seeing things. “How much longer do you think?”

“At this pace? Probably fifteen minutes or so.”

“Gotcha.” The slight nod you tried to give made your head protest. You grimaced, but didn’t give any other indication.

You continued on, pretending not to know about the person following you. You didn’t want to make it obvious, but you were absolutely certain now that you weren’t just seeing things. Quick thinking had you throw yourself at Rindou, wrapping your arms tightly around one of his. You felt him stiffen and he glared at you.

“What the hell—”

“Someone’s tailing us,” you whispered. “Just act like we’re a couple or something and check my six. Don’t stop walking. Don’t draw attention.”

Rindou leaned down close enough for his lips to brush the top of your head. You prayed desperately that he didn’t see the red crawl up your cheeks. From a distance it would probably look like a sweet gesture between lovers, but his eyes weren’t on you. They were searching for the person you’d mentioned. You knew exactly when he caught sight of the stranger because of how his body twitched. Was he fighting the urge to go attack this guy or something?

You decided to ad lib something. “C’mon babe,” you whined, just loud enough for the stranger to hear. “You said it wasn’t that far.”

Oh if looks could kill, you’d be a blood spatter on the wall behind you. But Rindou caught on fast. “I know, I know. Just a little bit further. I promise it’s worth it.”

“It better be,” you pouted. You let go of his arm and tried not to react when his hand gently touched your waist, pulling you a little closer to him.

“How the hell did you notice him?” Rindou whispered.

“You’ve clearly never been a woman walking around at night,” you muttered back. You looked him in the eyes, challenging him to break the act.

Yet Rindou said nothing. He just grunted noncommittally. You bumped into him lightly with your shoulder, trying to make it appear affectionate. You forgot that he was somehow a shit brick house underneath the baggy clothes he wore. He didn’t even react to your shove. Instead his arm moved from your waist to drape itself around your shoulders. You got the feeling he was refusing to let you one up him in this charade.

As you passed by another alley Rindou swiftly pulled you around the corner. You yelped and forced it to turn into a shy laugh. “What are you doing?” you hissed.

He’d trapped you between the brick wall and his body, hands pressed firmly on the wall behind you. Both your faces were red, but you didn’t comment on it. You could feel your heartbeat in your head. He leaned in close, his breath warm on your ear. “When he tries to sneak up on us, run,” he ordered. “We’ll split up and reconvene.”

The thought of running made you pale. With your head the way it was, you were just asking to be picked off. “Where?” you whispered urgently.

Footsteps sounded close and you both froze. Anyone passing by would assume it was a young couple that couldn’t resist each other. But you knew better. The person following you both probably knew better. You hadn’t the slightest clue who the hell would be stalking you like this, but you had a sinking feeling that the trap from a few nights ago was likely connected.

“I think they’re after me,” you said hurriedly. “When we split up, if they follow me, act like you’re getting a decent distance away, but instead circle back and get them. If they follow you…”

“I’ll still catch them,” Rindou said with a smirk. He leaned in close as if to sell the act just as the stranger rounded the corner.

You shrieked like you weren’t expecting them, and in the moment the person had startled, Rindou grabbed your hand and started running. God your head was going to fall off at this rate. You kept pace but made the mistake of looking back. Something glinted in their hands and he was going to catch up.

The alley connected with others like a familiar labyrinth and as you approached a split, Rindou called out to you, “Go!”

Ignoring the stabbing pain in your skull, you sprinted to the right and Rindou took the left. A second set of steps followed you and you no longer had any doubt. This person was connected to the people who tried to kidnap you. Unfortunately, your path led to a dead end. Great. Just great. That would happen to you.

The sound of a boot scraping against the pavement had you turning to face your pursuer. It was a man, you couldn’t see much except his uncannily wide eyes. He wore a face mask and kept his hood up, which didn’t cover the stringy bits of hair falling into his face. Instinctively, you took a step back. Your eyes flicked to the knife in his hand and you felt your blood run cold. Shit. You still backed up, trying not to trip over discarded trash bags. The man approached you slowly, knowing you were trapped.

You tried to stare him down to get him to back off, but he didn’t. You winced as your head decided that it had had enough action today. You heard the man lunge and braced yourself for the sharp pain of being stabbed. But it never came.

There was a thud and when you opened your eyes, you saw Rindou pinning the guy down. A foot was planted firmly on his back with his arm twisted back and up. It didn’t look comfortable, but the man didn’t try to throw off Rindou at all.

“Who the hell are you?” Rindou spat.

Instead of begging and struggling like a normal person, the man started laughing. It sounded like something that was pretending to be human—high pitched and on the verge of effervescent. Was this dude on something right now?

Fuck, your head was killing you too much for you to be useful. You didn’t want to appear weak, but your body was about to take control from you and make you pass out. You tried to steady yourself, but the world wouldn’t stop spinning. Closing your eyes would only make it worse, so you looked down at the man Rindou had captive.

Eyes too wide and pupils a pinpoint, the man stared straight at you as he giggled. “I see, I see,” he spoke with an eerie singsong, a manic grin spreading across his face. “Yes, yes. I knew you were familiar.”

You didn’t know who this was. You didn’t want to think about the possibility of how he knew you. It was getting harder and harder to push down the panic that bubbled in your chest. “What the fuck do you want?” you demanded, your voice cracking. “Who the hell are you?!”

You didn’t see the way Rindou was staring at you. You were too caught up drowning in the sea of emotions you kept trying to drain. It was spilling over, bleeding into your racing thoughts.

“Who I am is not important,” the man chuckled. “They told me about you. Something pure that ended up in a world she doesn’t belong in. The ones who put their hands on you corrupted you.” His voice had turned into a soft coo.

You were shaken to the core. Who the hell was this? What the fuck was he saying? You wanted to throw up.

“Yes, yes, you do not belong here. You were not supposed to be a part of this, but—”

When your brother’s name fell from the stranger’s mouth, you were plunged into ice water. There was a ringing in your ears and everything aside from your racing heart was muffled. The air was too heavy. Your body moved on its own as you lashed a foot out, kicking the man right in the teeth. Your panic only served to lessen the blow to him, as you were just frantic to get him to shut up. 

Fuck. Fuck. This wasn’t good. You could barely hear Rindou call out to you as you staggered back against the wall. You put a hand to your face and it was as if your entire body wasn’t yours. You were falling. Sinking. Losing every bit of armor you had stitched together.

The stranger just stared at you with lips spread wide over bloody teeth. You watched his jaw flex and move. It looked like he was biting down on something. You realized far too late what was happening.

Moments felt like years, and you watched as the man started seizing. Rindou immediately let go of him with a swear. Slowly time came back to you, and the man stilled. His empty gaze still bore through you.

Were you breathing? You weren’t sure. There was a familiar tightness in your chest and your fingertips tingled. You wanted to curl up and disappear into the ground. There wasn’t a chance in hell you were going to regain your composure. You’d cracked in the worst place possible in front of the worst person possible. Fuck.

You wiped your eyes viciously, trying to stop the tears from falling. But it was useless.

“Lotus.” You heard a voice. “Breathe, c’mon. Deep breaths.”

You could only gasp. Your eyes registered Rindou kneeling in front of you, but your brain didn’t quite finish the connection. The noise you made was absolutely pathetic. Desperate and feral. Nobody had ever seen you like this, and you had hoped nobody ever would. But too much had happened in the last few days. Everything was going to shit and the weight finally crushed you.

A gentle hand touched your shoulder and your body reacted violently. “Don’t,” you choked out.

The hand dropped. “Hey, you’re okay. You need to breathe or you’re gonna pass out. C’mon, just—”

Everything was fuzzy. You were so lightheaded. You couldn’t get control of your body back. You wished you could pass out faster so everything would just stop. 

Rindou had given up on you and he stood to call someone. You couldn’t make out the details. You just sat slumped against that wall, shaking uncontrollably.

Please do not reupload, translate, or steal my work! If it isn't here or on my ao3, it's not me! Likes & reblogs appreciated! <3 Dividers courtesy of @/cafekitsune & @/firefly-graphics

[shoheiakagi]

How do each of the boys get together with their girls in the band au? Is it sudden or just a kind of natural getting together? Do they make it public or hide it from their fans?

Y’know, i think the boys wouldn’t really mind making their relationships public (although Kusanagi would probably have their heads cause there goes like 45% of their fandom who were extremely delusional about them). But they have to keep it private for their girls’ sake, since fans are more tough on female idols for dating since it’s a threat to their delusions

Dewa/Miyako:

I hate to say this, but we got a woman chasing a man with this couple 🤦‍♀️ Its not that Miyako is desperate to get Dewa’s attention. she just hates how he forms his initial judgement on her based on her idol persona, and isn’t willing to get to know her because of that. Dewa doesn’t really want anything to do with some rich girl who paid her way into the music industry, and thinks Miyako lack depth as a person. As someone who’s used to getting whatever she wants with no issue, she finds herself trying to soften up this delinquent who looks down at her for using her privilege to her advantage. They finally get together when Dewa eases up on Miyako and realizes that despite her being spoiled rotten, she genuinely cares about others and that she is a lot smarter than he gives her credit for. He will never reveal this out loud, but he does find himself mesmerized by Miyako’s looks and laugh when she’s not paying attention.

Chitose/Izumi:

Chitose and Izumi are the second couple to get together, but unlike Shohei and Sakuno, they strictly remain as friends with benefits, ignoring any lingering feelings they may have. they’re pretty quick to get in bed together, since izumi’s initial hostility quickly fades away, along with her loyalty to maria. they get revealed in the messiest way possible, at least for a female idol like izumi. the paparazzi gets an anonymous tip, which leads them to secretly camp around chitose’s apartment for a week. izumi was careless and managed to get caught entering and leaving chitose’s apartment during multiple nights. with her leaving chitose’s apparent in the same outfit she wore hours earlier, it was pretty obvious what they were doing (the messy hair and smudged makeup didnt help either). izumi gets more backlash than chitose. not only is she a pop idol with a delusional fanbase who wanted to believe that she was innocent and single, but people were quick to realize that she’s fucking the same guy who broke her friend’s heart 😬

Bandou/Kaoru:

Its a slowburn 300k enemies to lovers fic with these two. Bandou makes it known that he would get with any of the other girls, but not Kaoru. If anything, I can see Bandou crushing on another member while he kept bickering with Kaoru, which adds some potential angst here! But like a lot of the pairs here, they both end up becoming friends before even thinking of any potential relationship. After all the countless arguments and insults, they both are a little awkward at first, averting eye contact, giving each other random compliments, and just being decent people. Once they get out of their awkward phase, they’re quick to bicker again, but this time its more friendly jokes. Bandou tries to get Kaoru to set him up with other girls (including some of her members), and Kaoru would purposely set him up on blind dates with some ugly or extremely shallow girls she happens to know. Its only when bandou goes on a serious date with a pretty girl he gets along with, Kaoru starts to feel a type of way. At first she shrugs it off when he’s cancelling their hang outs to go on dates, cause shes used to them failing miserably and him coming back to her so that he can vent. but when he starts ditching her all the time, she gets pissed and yells at him for ignoring their friendship. But even when he gives her enough time, she still feels weird whenever the topic of that new girl comes up. Meanwhile, bandou is confused. He finally found a pretty girl that likes him and his weird personality! But something feels off, and he can’t help but feel that he’s missing someone. Only when she gets an aggressive confidence boost from yata, does kaoru try intervening between bandou and his new girl, obnoxiously playing the “girl best friend” card. Kaoru is the one who makes the call in the relationship, so similar to dewa and miyako, their relationship is kept private

Shohei/Sakuno:

While they are the first to get together, they didn’t get into a relationship right away. It starts off with a mutual attraction at first sight, to shouhei chasing after sakuno as she tries to stay away, to them falling into a situationship and becoming friends with benefits, to finally getting into a relationship. Before their relationship gets exposed, some fans notice small hints such as sakuno wearing an oversized jacket on a night out with her girlfriends that look a little too similar to the iconic jacket shouhei wore to an award show. or how they seem to have been at the same place, but different times, according to their instagram posts. some people even notice from their ig posts that they even seem to hang with the same group of people. But none of these were made to a big deal by anyone other than those who shipped them and would over analyze their every move. They wanted to remain private, but were forced to go public to remove some steam from Chitose and Izumi.

[sunmoonandeddie]

and he kissed me right here

pairing: modern!bucky barnes x reader

word count: 6,100

summary: I've always been sure that all I ever wanted was a glamorous life.

warnings: Cuss words, mentions of the Afghanistan war (Bucky is a veteran), angst, happy ending, cheesy romantic confessions, age gap

a/n:  This is based on the song 'Stars and the Moon' from Songs for a New World! It's the first one shot in my musical series! This is written in first perspective, but there is no physical description or use of a name in this!

Twenty-Two

I sighed as I tossed a few more dirty plates into the dish window, wiping my brow. After a shitty dinner rush and an even shittier rush around two in the morning consisting only of drunk ass college kids looking for some sort of carb to suck up all the alcohol in their systems, I was ready to go the fuck home.

“Sweetheart, you head on home now,” the head chef insisted as he watched my head nod slightly as I tried my best to fight off sleep. “Ain’t nobody comin’ in before Melissa gets here. No point in you staying on your feet any longer.”

Louis was a godsend. At sixty-seven years old, you’d think he would rather be anywhere but a diner at almost four in the morning.

“Nah,” he had said when I’d asked him a few months after I’d first started. “My Ginny died a few years back, and since she’s been gone, I don’t really have the stomach to sit around that house all alone.” He had laughed, but there’d been a deep sorrow that had come over his deep brown eyes. “Kids are worried, but… Sleeping the day away is better than laying up at night staring at her side of the bed…”

“You sure, Lou?” I asked even as I headed for the back room where all the employees clocked in and kept their possessions in their own little cubbies. I did my checkout in view of the security camera, just like always. I didn’t want anyone to be able to say I stole anything.

Everyone who knew me knew that I wouldn’t, but I’d worked at two many places where the girls tried backstabbing each other and sabotaging everyone else to get them fired.

Though people were a lot nicer in Louisiana than any of the other places I’d lived.

Louis chuckled as he set a to-go box in the window, nodding towards it. “Mmhm. Long as Buck is getting you home safe.”

I gave him a joking eye roll as I took the to-go box gratefully, grinning at my name written in all caps with green Sharpie on top. “You know you don’t have to make me dinner every night.”

“Yes, I do,” he said, shooting me a look. “How else do I know you’re getting enough food in you, huh?” He pointed his rag at me. “Now you go ask him to get you home. Tell him I said he can clock out, and that he’s supposed to text me when he sees you safe inside. You better not say you’re gonna ask him again just to walk yourself home.” The old man shook his head as I headed for the back door, muttering to himself, “Damn girl thinks I’m gonna believe she’s feeding herself good enough when she’s risking her damn ass walking home alone.”

Despite the fact that I’d put off asking for Bucky Barnes’s service, I really did appreciate how fiercely Louis cared about me.

It had been a real long time since anyone had cared so much.

I hesitated at the back door of the diner, my hand resting against the cool metal.

What if he said no?

Granted, he most likely wouldn’t. But what if he said yes, and he secretly thought me some dumb little girl that couldn’t take care of herself?

What did I care if he thought that?

“I don’t care what he thinks of me,” I huffed as I straightened my shoulders, holding my chin a little higher.

“Stop talking to yourself and get going!”

I jumped in surprise, before shooting a glare in the direction of the kitchen. “Stop listening in on my private conversations!” I demanded before storming outside with new found vigor.

Only to freeze when Bucky looked up from where he was sitting on the curb, smoking a cigarette.

God, he was handsome.

“You okay, doll face?” He asked, his New York accent a sharp contrast to the southern drawls you were used to.

“Um… Y-Yeah,” I said faintly, glancing back at the door that I’d come in from. “Um… L-Louis wants me to ask you… Can you walk me home? Or give me a ride? I don’t… I don’t know if you drive…”

“I do drive.”

“O-Oh. Okay. Great.”

“But I don’t have my car on me.”

I peered at him curiously. “Oh. Um… I can just walk by myself. I don’t wanna… I don’t wanna be a nuisance…”

He stood up, tossing his cigarette to the ground and stomping it out. “Don’t be ridiculous, darlin.’ Come on. I’ll walk you.” He shoved his hands in his pockets as he began to head for the street. “Besides… It’s a real nice night.”

“Oh…,” I said in surprise at how ready he was to be of service. “Okay. But only if you’re sure.”

A faint smile graced his lips as he glanced at the ground, letting out a faint chuckle that rumbled deep in his chest. “I’m sure, darlin.’ But you gotta lead the way.”

I was surprised by the rapid pitter patter of my heart beat as we walked side by side down the street, the chorus of ‘Yellow Brick Road’ getting stuck in my head on a loop.

Bucky was an enigma that I found myself wondering about more often than not, but I always ended up talking myself out of going there. After all, he was an older man. A much older man. At least fifteen years older than my own twenty-two years, or something along those lines, not that he looked it. The man looked like some kind of rugged Greek god. Like Hades if Hades was born in the eighties. His dog tags clinked together under his shirt as we walked, his metal prosthetic glinting in the moon.

“So how did you end up in NOLA?”

It took me a moment to even realize that he was talking to me, my heart skipping a beat and my face going hot in embarrassment. “I’m sorry, what did you say?” I asked.

His bright blue eyes flickered over to look me over. “How’d you end up in New Orleans?”

“I actually don’t know,” I snorted, avoiding his eyes as I kicked at a few broken up pieces of asphalt. “I just… Picked a bus ticket and ended up in one of the Carolinas. Then I picked another bus ticket and ended up in Minnesota. And then I picked another, and another, and another, and then I actually just… ended up here.” The months I’d spent alone on those Greyhounds felt both so long ago and also like it was just yesterday. “The diner was the first place someone recommended for food that’s good but cheap, and as I was eating my mountain of cheese fries, I saw the flyer that said they were hiring. So here I am now…”

“Huh,” he said, his brows furrowed. “I didn’t take you for the type of person to run off on your own… riding buses all over the country…”

Head tilting to the side, I gave him a long look. “You didn’t? What kind of type did you peg me for?”

Bucky gave me a long look, a single brow raised as though silently telling me that I jumped to conclusions. “Just that jumping from place to place can take a lot outta someone,” he said slowly, his voice low and soothing. “Hell, if you were my girl—” He broke off as his cheeks flushed a pretty shade of pink, his long hair falling in his face.

I swore my heart had stopped inside of my chest, and I swallowed thickly around the lump in my throat. “Oh?”

He rushed to try to correct his wording. “I-I just mean, a lady should be comfortable. And if I had a g-girl like you, well… You’d never want for anything,” he stammered, stumbling over his words like a flustered school boy. “Hell, I… I’d give you the stars and the moon…”

I was shocked into silence, staring up at him like he was the sun itself. “Bucky…”

“No, no, don’t say anything. I… I know that was a lot,” he insisted quietly, unable to meet your eyes as he stared up at the shitty apartment building you called home. “Hell, you probably don’t want a gross old man hitting on you.” His metal hand, glinting in the low light of the street lamp, reached up to brush against my cheek for just a moment before it quickly dropped. “Just let me walk you home each night so I can make sure you’re safe, yeah?”

“Yeah,” I breathed out, unable to take my eyes off of him as he took a few steps back.

There’s a somewhat playful smirk on his lips as he watched me stumble up the steps, continuously glancing back at him. “Goodnight, baby doll.”

“Goodnight,” I said, barely audible before I finally headed inside.

Bucky kept his word. He walked me home every night, and honestly, there wasn’t a moment that I wasn’t thinking about what he had said, about if I was his girl.

What if I was his girl?

But… with that meant I’d have to give up the life I’d dreamed for myself. I wanted luxury, to never worry about bills or where I was gonna get my next meal or if I could afford to buy the nice work shoes or if I could only get the cheap ones that would fall apart in three months and then I’d just be right back where I started.

I wanted the life that celebrities lived. Hell, I wanted to go to parties on the same yachts the Kardashian-Jenners did, even if I couldn’t fucking stand them.

And with Bucky… I wouldn’t have that.

“So why’d you go on the run anyway?” Bucky asked one night as we sat on the curb, eating ice cream in the Louisiana heat. “I know you told me how you got here, but you’ve never told me why.”

“You’ve never told me how you ended up here or why either,” I shot back, nudging his shoulder with my own.

Somehow the age difference seemed non-existent as we sat there. Honestly, I felt like we were just a bunch of dumb teenagers, shooting the shit and enjoying each other’s company.

Bucky took in a deep breath, his shoulders sinking in a way that made it look like he had all the weight of the world on his shoulders. “I was over in Afghanistan for a long time,” he admitted quietly. “When the war first started, I was 19. I had no idea where my life was going and I had no options except my dad’s mechanic shop. So I enlisted with my best friend, Steve. The one I told you about.”

It’s completely silent except for the sound of an occasional car horn off in the distance.

“Neither one of us knew what we were doing. We realized very quickly that we had no reason being over there, but… but there was nothing else,” he said, swallowing around the lump in his throat. The ice cream he was holding was melting in his trembling hands. “I didn’t know how to do anything else, so I stayed. Steve moved up in the ranks, but I stayed pretty low… I didn’t mind. Kinda liked being the older guy all those young kids could talk to, could rely on… Because they were just like me, getting into a fight that wasn’t theirs because they had nothing else.”

My heart was shattering inside my chest as I scooted a little closer, my knee knocking against his as I tried to give him some sort of silent comfort. He’d been through Hell and made it through.

Bucky let his head rest against mine, his eyes closing as he breathed in the scent of my perfume. “They eventually moved me to some kind of specialized team… Called us the Howling Commandos. I found out that Steve was heading it and he picked me to be part of it. That’s how I met Sam, because he was on some sort of similar team with the Air Force, except it was just him and his friend, Riley,” he continued, taking a bite of his chocolate fudge brownie ice cream. “I am proud to say that I didn’t kill a single person while I was over there. I just couldn’t. Hell, they’re people just like me, terrified and unsure of what’s going to happen.” His lips pressed against my forehead, letting it linger. “But then about five years ago, I was on a mission with the Commandos, Sam, and Riley, and… this bomb went off while we were playing a game of soccer. I wasn’t even in a fight. That thing took my arm and it took Riley.”

Tentatively, I let my fingers find his, holding his hand and squeezing reassuringly.

“Sam decided to come home with me.” There was a forlorn look in his eyes, as though he was right back at that game of pick-up soccer. “After losing Riley… he couldn’t find a reason to be over there. And then Steve decided to stay, and hell, he’s still over there, leading that fucking team…” Glassy baby blue eyes finally found mine, the both of us doing our best to not cry. “I couldn’t face my family for a long time, so Sam asked me to come stay in Louisiana with him and his family, and I haven’t left since.”

“Have you gone to see your family?” I asked slowly, almost like I was scared I’d frighten him if I spoke too loudly, like a wild animal. “Let them know where you are? That you’re safe?”

He turned to look at me, his baby blues shining. “You worried about me, baby doll?”

“I can’t help it,” I said honestly, unable to tear my eyes away. I hadn’t opened up to someone like that in so damn long. “I can’t help but worry about you.”

The way that I felt about Bucky absolutely terrified me, but there was nothing I could do to stop it. It snuck up on me, like a train coming around a bend.

I hated it.

“What do you want out of this life?” Bucky asked on one walk home, his arm linked in mine. He’d become so much more… tactile. If anyone took a moment to look at us, they’d think we were a couple on a romantic stroll.

Perhaps we were.

But I couldn’t help but grin as I looked up at the sky, taking in the warm air. “I wanna live like how the movie stars do… I want a big house on the beach and twenty cars and a yacht and… and…”

He looked at me long and hard. “And you never wanna have to worry about where your next meal is coming from, if you’re gonna have a place to sleep at night…”

For some reason, I’d felt a bolt of panic over whether or not he’d understand. Whether or not he’d think differently of me, but I should’ve known that he wouldn’t. Hell, he knew me better than anyone else.

“You understand,” I said quietly, my hand squeezing his bicep gratefully. “I want to live how the other half lives for once. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that.”

A small smile graced his features as we shuffled along. “There isn’t. But… What about love?” He asked.

“Love?”

“Love.”

Love.

Could I even have love? Did I want it?

“I don’t know if there’s a lot of room for love in my plans,” I admitted after a long moment. “In my experience, love has always just been a lie. A word used to manipulate and eventually abuse.”

Letting out a snort, he let his fingers tickle down my tricep until his fingers intertwined with mine. “I’d show you it’s not… I’d show you what real love is,” he said. “I’d give you every part of me, give you all my strength to help you grow into who you wanna be, even if I don’t particularly care about being famous or rich…” He brought my hand to his lips, kissing my knuckles. “I’ll give you a love story, a life, that’s a million times better than any recycled Hollywood plot… I’ll give you the stars and the moon, if you would just let me.”

I hated the way that he made my heart beat faster, the way my breath hitched. “Jamie,” I breathed out quietly, the two of us having stopped in our tracks to just… take each other in. Live in each other’s presence for a moment. “I…”

“You want a big life… one a lot bigger than little old me,” he said simply, shrugging. His blue eyes were so honest, so loving. So warm. A warmth I hadn’t ever experienced before. “I know. But that doesn’t change that I’m in love with you. And if you ever change your mind…” Bucky reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card, pressing it into my free hand. “This is where you can find me. I figure it’s time for me to go home.”

We’d come to a stop in front of my building, and I was shocked at how tight my chest felt. My eyes watered as I stared at him long and hard. “Jamie, please… I⏤”

“Don’t say it. It’s okay,” he insisted as he cupped my cheek, letting his thumb run over my skin as though he was memorizing it. “I just want you to be happy, darling. You got that?” His lips pressed to my forehead, letting it linger. “Go get that life you’ve been dreaming of.”

Twenty-Three

I left New Orleans the next day, grabbing a bus ticket after throwing all of my belongings into my old duffel bag. It was time to move on.

But God, did it hurt.

I didn’t stop crying for weeks, fighting the urge to go right back to Louisiana and tell Bucky to take it back, to get him to beg me to stay with him.

But what kind of life would that leave me with? Working in the diner day after day? Never getting anywhere?

But you’d have James, a voice inside my head reminded me snarkily.

Then again, he most likely wasn’t even in New Orleans anymore, if what he said was true when he gave me the business card of his father’s mechanic shop. Was he really planning on going home to New York City?

A few months later, and I’d worked my way all through the southwest to Santa Fe, where I met Pietro.

My heart was pounding as I pressed in the familiar numbers, having memorized them from the business card now soft and faded from how often I held it in my hands like a lifeline. “Come on… Pick up… Pick up…”

“Barnes Tires and Motors, this is George,” a man said in a gruff voice when he finally picked up. “How can I help you?”

“H-Hi, is James there? James Barnes? Bucky?” I stammered out, hands trembling so bad that the old payphone was almost rattling.

There was a pause, and then muffled talking away from the phone.

And then I heard it being picked up. “This is Bucky,” he said.

It felt like the wind had been knocked right out of my lungs. How had I gone so long without hearing his voice?

Breathing in sharply, I tried to figure out the words to say. But my throat was dry and it was like I’d suddenly forgotten the entire English language.

That was all that it took for Bucky to realize it was me. “Baby doll? Baby doll, is that you?” He asked quietly. “I…” He took in a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. “You don’t gotta say a thing, sweetheart… But just know that if you’re in trouble or you need help or… or anything at all, you better call me…” His voice wavered, as though he was fighting tears just like I was. “God, I miss you so much, baby doll. I love you.”

I love you, too.

I hung up before I could actually say the words. “God, I’m so fucking stupid,” I whispered as I leaned back against the wall of the gas station I’d found myself at, rubbing the heels of my hands into my eyes.

My dumb ass had decided to wander from the bus station, and I’d walked over a mile away. Unless I was staying in Santa Fe for a bit, I’d need to start making my way back.

“You okay?”

In my distress, I hadn’t even heard the rumbling of the motorcycle or noticed the handsome man making his way to me. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I’m fine,” I said even as I wiped my nose with a pathetic sniffle.

He eyed me for a long moment, his eyes roaming over my figure. “You hungry? I know a great little place nearby. My treat.”

And well, I was never one to turn down free food.

Even if that ‘little place’ ended up being a food truck.

“You know, when you said it was a little place, I didn’t picture it having wheels,” I said teasingly, licking salsa off of my lower lip. “Though, it is the best food I’ve ever gotten from a food truck before.”

“Oh, come on. This is the best food of all time!” He laughed, shaking his head.

“I don’t know if I’d go that far,” I snorted, finishing off my flautas.

Pietro looked at me long and hard. “So, are you gonna tell me what the hell was going on to have a pretty girl like you all teary eyed?” He asked, his head tilting to the side.

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. “Was this your plan all along?” I asked. Wiping my hands off on a napkin, I did everything I could to avoid his eyes. “Get me all fed and then question me?” But at the same time, the thought of being able to finally talk to someone about it was so appealing… After a long moment of hesitation, I finally gave in. “I fell in love with a man, and he let me go because he knew that I want a life he can’t give me,” I said. “And I was a bitch who didn’t even tell him I love him back when he said it to me.”

Pietro took in a deep breath, slowly letting it out. “Damn. You really are a stone cold bitch, aren’t you?”

“Hey!” I indignantly threw a chunk of tomato at him, glaring. “I just opened up my heart, you dickwad.”

“Dickwad?!” He said, blinking at me in shock. “No one’s ever called me a dickwad before.”

I raised a single eyebrow at him. “Maybe not to your face, but they definitely have.” He gave off the vibe of a fuckboy, of a really, really bad fuckboy.

“Well, since you’re running away from your feelings, how about you spend a week or two with me on the road?” He asked with a grin.

I couldn’t help but blink at him in shock. “What?” I let out a laugh, pulling one of my legs up to my chest. “Do you throw that line out to every girl you meet? Or am I just special?”

Pietro threw a chip at me, and I barely managed to dodge it. “No, I don’t. But… You remind me of me. Needing adventure. A life bigger than four walls and a fence.”

Instinctively, I wanted to snap back that sometimes, four walls and a fence could be an adventure, could be the biggest life there was, as Bucky’s face flashed across my mind.

But I couldn’t do that. Not when I wasn’t ready to face the truth myself.

“Come on, sweet cheeks,” he teased as his foot hooked around mine. “Just think of it. The open highway, a rhythm beneath your feet… Nights full of passion and days of adventure…” Pietro’s voice was deep and husky, as though he was trying to lure me in. “No strings… just warm summer rain soaking us to the bone before we find some cheap motel to huddle down in…”

Plastering on a smile, I stood up and brushed myself on. “Thanks, but… I’d rather be drinking champagne, and the quicker I get to LA, the sooner I will be.”

He let me go with a kiss on the cheek and his cell number pressed into my hand, with a promise to come and pick me up the second I rang.

And despite how sweet he was, how wild and funny and charismatic, there was only one man I wanted to call.

Twenty-Four

I sipped at my martini as I sat at the rooftop bar, absentmindedly watching the television that was mounted on the wall as people droned around me. I’d been in Los Angeles for a year, and I’d spent my time finding the best places to find a husband who could give me the life I dreamed of.

As much as I didn’t want to admit it, it took connections to build a career, and the best way to get a foot in the door when nepotism was so rampant was by marrying someone in the industry.

My silk dress was the most expensive thing I owned, something I’d saved up for months for, had skipped meals for. And fuck, was it worth it. I could feel the stares, the lingering gazes on the little bit of thigh that was exposed by the slit in the dress.

I’d already turned away several men, able to tell just from their expensive watches and cheap suits and shoes.

It was amazing how all the up and coming finance bros thought they fit in with the truly big dogs.

“Well, hello, gorgeous.”

I turned to see who was speaking, my heart skipping a beat when I realized who I was speaking to.

The world famous (or infamous) director, Tony Stark.

“Hello, handsome,” I said smoothly, my lashes fluttering innocently as I took a sip of my horrible drink.

I fucking hated martinis. Always had.

But ordering a martini was more sophisticated than ordering a frozen strawberry margarita.

“Is this seat taken?” He asked as he motioned to the empty bar stool right next to me, even as he was already sitting down. “Let me buy your next round.”

“I can’t think of anything better,” I said, feeling as though my dream life was already in reach.

Twenty-Eight

“Tony, where are you taking me?” I laughed as I let my boyfriend lead me to the private dock at our Malibu mansion.

Well, his mansion. I just happened to also live there.

It had been a whirlwind of a year since I had met Tony, and he’d bought me that second round. He’d taken me all over the globe, anywhere my heart desired.

But I made sure to avoid New York City, though he never understood why. I would never tell him.

Not when I was so close to my dream. I could practically taste it.

“Come on, come on. I have a surprise for you,” he said, keeping his hands over my eyes. He was sure to keep me from tripping and busting my ass, thank god.

The ocean waves were so comforting as they hit the shore, a sound I’d gotten used to over the past year.

He finally brought me to a stop, quietly telling me to keep my eyes closed. “Okay,” he said finally. “Open them.”

My eyes slowly opened, adjusting to the bright light of the California sun. But I was more shocked by the sight of Tony on one knee in front of me, holding out a box with a sparkling diamond ring in it. “Tony?”

The ring was the size of a fucking meteor. It was easily the biggest ring I’d ever seen.

“You know, I never thought I’d meet someone like you,” he said quietly, his dark eyes shining. But his voice was steady. “Someone who understands me, who doesn’t expect me to change into someone I’m not. You accept me as I am, and that’s why I want to give you the world.” He couldn’t help but grin as he nodded to the right. “Starting with that yacht you’ve always dreamed of.”

I hadn’t even noticed that there were two yachts at his private docks instead of just the one. The new one had SS Princess emblazoned on the side, and I couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh… Tony…”

“So, what do you say?” He asked, bringing my attention back to him. “Will you be my wife?”

“Yes.”

Thirty-Two

Swallowing nervously, I looked down at the business card in my hand for the millionth time, the stock paper soft from how often I’d looked at it in the past ten years.

Hell, just how often I’d looked at it in the past six should’ve made it fall apart by now. Not that I didn’t have it memorized.

I’d finally ended my marriage after being miserable for so long. I’d gotten my yacht, my fancy houses, my career, all the jewelry that I could dream of, and none of it made me happy. Tony and I… never grew. And I never dreamed. Every day was the same, and every day was torture as I realized that I didn’t have the one thing that actually mattered.

The garage in front of me was busy, music blasting and the sound of men shouting to each other as they worked.

Suddenly I felt absolutely ridiculous wearing a Chanel dress and Gucci heels, an Hermés bag on my arm.

BARNES TIRES AND MOTORS was lit up along the top of the shop in bright red letters, though the lights in the ‘r’ of ‘motors’ were out.

I felt like a fool. I had wanted the life I had so desperately that I gave up everything for it. I got the movie star life, my name on billboards and my face on magazines.

But it wasn’t ever enough.

My heels clicked against the blacktop as I slowly made my way towards the front area of the shop, bells clinging above my head to let them know someone was there.

“Can I help you, ma’am?” A man asked as he came around the corner.

He looked so much like Bucky, it punched the air straight from my lungs.

“H-Hi. I’m looking for James Barnes. Is he here?” I asked after a long moment of hesitation. There was no way that the man was Bucky, but I didn’t doubt he was related.

The man raised his brows, wiping his hands on a rag. “My son’s in the shop. I’ll take you to him.” His full head of hair was white, his thick facial hair matching. Even with all the wrinkles on his face, he was a handsome man. Holding open the door for me, he led me into the loud shop, some eighties rock song blasting over the speakers.

I couldn’t help but smile as ‘Rock You Like a Hurricane’ by Scorpions came on. It was one of Bucky’s favorites back when we worked in the diner together.

“BUCK! YOU GOT A VISITOR!” The man shouted, causing several people to look our way.

My cheeks felt hot as I avoided their gaze, hoping they wouldn’t recognize me. I didn’t want to be a famous movie star anymore, a celebrity that had to beg for scraps of privacy.

My mind went numb, my heart stopping inside my chest as he stepped around a gray Ford Escape another man was working on.

He was even more handsome than he was the last time I saw him.

“Can I help y—” He broke off, his blue eyes going wide when he realized that it was me. “Hi.”

All of a sudden, everything I’d planned to say flew out of my head. All of the eloquent words I’d strung together were gone. And I just proceeded to word vomit.

“Did you know that, uh, when you marry someone you’re not in love with, you won’t… you won’t grow into it?” I asked, my voice shaking. “Um… I married a man who could give me a life I thought I always wanted, and he just… sucked.” Eyes stinging, I fought back against tears. “And I thought that all I ever wanted was the life I have now, was the life movie stars and the Kardashians lived. But… But I hate it. I hated every second I was away from you.” I let out a weak laugh, unable to stop the tears. “I wanted to turn around the second I got on the bus in New Orleans, but my stupid stubborn ass didn’t. I should have. I should’ve gotten off and just run right back to you because I… I love you, James. I always have.”

The garage had gone almost deadly quiet, and my heart sank when I realized Bucky looked almost frozen in shock.

“I know that I shouldn’t have showed up like this,” I scrambled to say. “But I… I’ve been trying to get my divorce finalized for two years and I finally did, and I kept telling myself that once it was done, I’d never hold myself back from what I really want ever again. From who I want. If… If you want me.” My face felt like it was on fire, my hands shaking. I shook my head as I took a step backwards. “What am I thinking? There’s no way you’re not married. I… I’m so so—”

Before I could finish the word ‘sorry,’ Bucky had closed the distance between us, his hands cradling my face so gently. He held me like I was made of fine crystal as he kissed me. He kissed me like his life depended on it, like I was the one source of oxygen.

And I kissed him back just as fiercely. “I love you. I love you so much,” I breathed out in between kisses, unwilling to let him go as my Hermés bag fell into the dust and oil on the concrete below.

Bucky smiled into the kiss, his arm wrapping around my waist to keep me pressed to his chest. “I love you so much, darlin.’ God, I’ve missed you…” His nose nudged against mine as we finally broke for air, both of us breathing heavily.

My knees felt like Jell-O as I held onto him. His grip was the only reason I hadn’t fallen to the ground already.

“I’m sorry I was a dumb twenty-two year old,” I said, snorting as he stole another kiss.

“No… Don’t be sorry,” he insisted, his fingers massaging my scalp as our foreheads pressed together. It was like he was scared to stop touching me, like I would disappear at any second. “You were young… You had to go out and make your own mistakes… I’ve just been waiting for the day you were ready.”

All the years apart melted away and all that remained was the two of us, two souls so intertwined that there was no way to truly separate us.

Our lips were half molded together as I said, “I’m never leaving you again. I promise I swear on everything…”

My heart almost stopped inside my chest as I heard someone clearing their throat, looking to see Bucky’s father staring at us with his arms crossed over his chest. “M-Mr. Barnes, sir…”

He gave a crooked smile that was so reminiscent of Bucky that I couldn’t help but grin back. “The Mrs. will wanna know if you’re staying for dinner.”

“Yeah,” I said as I looked up at Bucky, toying with a strand of his hair. “That sounds perfect.”

Later that night, Bucky and I laid in his bed, a mess of bare limbs as his fingers ran up and down my back soothingly. “What do you want from this life, baby girl?” He asked absentmindedly.

Humming, I traced shapes on his bare chest, sometimes pressing a kiss to where his prosthetic met his shoulder, on the tender scar tissue. “You.”

A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth, despite the already mischievous look on his face. “Really? Not even the stars and the moon?” He asked teasingly.

I knew he’d give it to me anyway, give me all that he could. But I was sure now that the only thing I wanted from this life was his love. “Not even the stars and the moon.”

[neesieiumz]

Sorry {Izuku Midoriya x Reader}

[Pro-hero!Izuku Midoriya x Former Pro-hero!Reader]

[P A R T O N E] [P A R T T H R E E]

L E A V E.

Based on the song Sorry by Beyonce

Summary: You couldn't hold your tongue after all. It was a long time coming anyway. A long time coming.

A/n: So I still have special plans for this one! However, this became so long that I had to switch my original plans! So there's actually gonna be a third part to this one as well! I'm turning this into a limited series, like those shows on Netflix. So enjoy this part two of Pray You Catch me!

Word Count: 5.2k

"Now you want to say you’re sorry, now you want to call me crying"

“Good Morning sweetheart.”

You stiffened at his gruff morning voice, hearing him walking barefooted into the kitchen. YOu currently cooking over the stove, fluffy omelets currently cooking through butter, and a plate of pancakes sitting on the counter beside you. YOu glanced over at him ambling into the kitchen, wearing no shirt and his pajama pants hanging dangerously low. You glanced over his half-naked body, glancing over the many healed scars from all the villain fights he’s been through. You shook your head and turned back to the food you were making. You could hear Izuku stop in his tracks, his eyes raking over your slightly hunched-over form over the food.

“Y/n? Is everything alright?”

“Her? Oh, you don’t have to worry about her doll.”

You took a deep breath and shook your head, turning off the stove and turning towards him, giving him a half-fake, half-real smile. Pulling your robe tighter, you walked over to your husband, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pulling yourself up along his tall stature. He responded by wrapping his own arms around your waist. He smiled as you placed a longing kiss on top of his lips.

“Everything is perfectly okay, are you staying for breakfast?” You asked him, tightening your grip around him as he carried you back over the stove.

He hummed positively, “I have some time to kill before I head, so I thought why not finally join my wife for breakfast?”

“She and I… haven’t been working out for a while. That’s where you come in.”

You took a deep breath, taking the pan from the stove as he put you down. You asked Izuku to get two plates and two glass cups for juice so you could ration out the pancakes and eggs. As you put the food onto the table, you could feel Izuku wrap his arms around your waist, pulling you towards his own body. He placed his head in between your shoulder and necks and rifled his face in the crevice, blowing raspberries into your skin. The action caused you to giggle, nearly dropping the serving spoon you were young to pate the eggs. Izuku looked over your shoulder and noticed that you were done putting the food on the plates, so he let go of you, and reached over to take them off the counter.

“Here, let me help you.” He turned around swiftly, heading towards your dining room.

“The way you walked, it just…. pulled me in.”

You reached up to set your neck, popping some of your joints to relieve some of the tension slowly building. You then turned to the cup cabinet, reaching down to turn on your kettle, at the same time as you reached for your favorite cup. You stopped mid-way of grabbing it, remembering exactly what the cup looks like. It was a custom, gifted to you by Ejirou for you and Izuku's own wedding anniversary, it was a mix of both your and his hero colors. He got you both one, the designs were so intricate that no one could get them from anywhere, they were one-in-a-kind pair. Yours was dominated by Izuku’s hero colors, which were green and white, while Izuku’s was dominated by your own hero colors, (h/c) and black. You took a deep breath before continuing the reach for the cup, wrapping your fingers around the handle.

“Izuku, can you get the sugar cubes from the pantry, please? Along with a packet of tea?” You asked him as the light went off in the kettle, the water already bubbling and boiling.

You heard a hum of acknowledgment before hearing him drag his feet over to the other door in your kitchen. You poured the hot water in the mug, hearing Izuku come up beside you placing the small bag of sugar cubes, and teabag packet beside you. As you took the packet the teabag was in, placing it on your tea, Izuku leaned towards you and placed a kiss on your cheek, the feeling of slightly chapped lips leaving a slight tickle.

“You’re so beautiful.”

“Of course you know I enjoyed our time together.”

You just smiled softly at him, grabbing the small bag of sugar, and the mug, before falling into step with him to your dining room, which was connected to your kitchen of course. You looked at the rectangular table, finding Izuku placed the plates on the long side of the table, opposite of each other, making the usual gap between the two of you much shorter. You took a deep breath, pacing your mug and bag of cubed sugar beside your own plate. You took your seat, sweeping your robe from under you to allow you to sit comfortably. Izuku took his own seat opposite of you, deciding to drink orange juice with his food.

You made sure to say grace, before beginning to dig in.

It was quiet, nothing the sound of metal forks and knives hitting scratching against plates. You liked the silence, but all you could do is wait. Wait for that one thing to ruin this small vacuum of sweet yet sullen silence you haven’t had with him in so long.

You knew it was coming. It always did.

Ding!

Izuku jumped slightly as the ding came from his pocket. You followed his hands as he reached down and pulled out his personal phone from his left pocket. Your gaze shifted from his hands to his face as he unlocked the phone, to see who exactly texted him. His facial expression changed into a soft, long one, and that was it.

“Of course you know I enjoyed our time together.”

“God you look amazing tonight, and you wore my favorite color too.”

“The way you walked, it just…. pulled me in.”

“Her? Oh, you don’t have to worry about her doll.”

“She and I… haven’t been working out for a while. That’s where you come in.”

“With you… I feel a breath of fresh air, something new.”

“I love you too Doll, I have to go before she sees I’m not in bed.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow, good night doll.”

“Is that her?”

Izuku froze. His head slowly craned up to look up at you, to find you looking straight at him with cold, dead eyes. You slowly placed your utensils down and reached over to grab the cup of tea, the bag of sugar cubes, and the long teaspoon you placed on the table to stir.

“You still didn't answer my question, Izuku.” You looked down, twirling the spoon in between your hands.

“What,” he cut himself off as he swallowed some spit, “what do you mean by “Is it her?”?”

You couldn’t help the cackle that echoed throughout the entire house, dropping the spoon onto the table as you hunched over onto the table. The air was only getting tenser and tenser with every dry chuckle that escaped your mouth. You used the table as support, placing your hands on top of your forehead.

Izuku’s heart was racing, there was… there was no possible way that you knew about them? He could feel himself start to sweat from all over, the once impeccable taste of the syrup and eggs from the breakfast you made now beginning to taste like ash. He could feel his mouth drying up, and his fingers started to twitch involuntarily. A telling sign of his nervousness from the overuse of his quirk. He slowly placed his phone down, waiting for you to actually finish laughing. You were laughing, right? Which means that you were just joking with him. Right? Right?

Once you finished with your laughing spell, you leaned back into your chair, taking a deep breath before looking back at your overly anxious husband. You smiled wickedly at him before picking up your spoon once again.

“I heard you, last night, in your office.”

Izuku’s heart dropped to his stomach. It was inevitable really, he, out of all people knew that he couldn’t keep a secret. It only reminds him of his time in U.A and how Bakugo found out about his true quirk.

“Sweetheart I-”

“Don’t fucking call me that.”

The air was tense, you pulled up the robe you were wearing, you could feel it slipping with every movement you made. Deku could no longer look at your eyes, those eyes which were once filled with joy and love for him and for him only. They were now cold and filled with pain, anger, and disdain for his every being.

“What’s her name?”

Izuku continued to look down refusing to speak, while you just sat there waiting for his answer. You then grabbed the spoon next to the cup of tea that you made for yourself, dropping a couple of sugar cubes in the small mug before stirring it slowly.

“Well,” Izuku jumped at your sharp tone, “I’m waiting? What’s her name? Who was able to “snatch” you away from me?”

You slowly placed the spoon down before picking up the cup and taking a small sip of the calm, sweet liquid. You looked on at your trembling husband, whose tears were slowly falling from his eyes. You could feel your heartache at the sight of your love but you also knew that your stare had to remain cold stare. So it did.

“Her name-her name is… is…”

“Spit it out.”

“Do you… do you remember Melissa?”

Melissa…

“Y/n, you have to meet someone!”

You had just transferred into Class A, and you and Izuku hit it off just as friends, for the time being, You had already found your place in the class and it was like you were always with them. The two of you decided to arrive at this private hero gala on I-Island, him tagging along with All Might and you tagged along with Mirko. Some of your classmates were here as well, Bakugo, Kirishima, Jirou, Mina, and others. This was your first time here on the island, only hearing about their adventure from their own time on the island from Izuku and the others. You were wearing a black, ruched t-shirt that had long, flowy sleeves along with some simple black, leather pants.

Izuku pulled you over towards another girl, you had long, blonde wavy hair pulled into a slicked-up ponytail. She was wearing a lavender, silk dress that stopped right at her ankles. She saw Izuku coming to her and you could see her perk up, before following her hands and seeing that he was also pulling you over. You saw her face fall once her eyes landed on you, making you narrow your eyes at her.

“Y/n, this is Melissa Shield, her dad was All Might’s first sidekick when he worked overseas! Melissa, this is Y/n L/n, she just transferred to our class at the beginning of the year.”

You looked over at her, her face no longer fallen, giving you a softer smile as she held out her hand. The weird feeling that you got from her faded away as you smiled back at her. You took her hand and the two of you shook hands, moving into a conversation about hero support gear for you and Izuku.

You slowly nodded your head, the blond girl you haven’t seen since that time on I-Island during summer vacation in high school. You took another sip of your tea, continuing to nod your head.

“How long?”

“How-how,” he stammered and stuttered over his words, “how long have we been “seeing” each other?”

You raised an eyebrow at him, taking a sip of your tea. He blinked and leaned back into his seat, grabbing his right hand with his left to stop the nervous tics. You could see him slightly rocking in his seat, showing his anxiety was increasing. Usually, you would find yourself on the other side of the table, trying your best to calm him down. But this time, you wouldn't move an inch until you got the answers that you need.

“We’ve been talking to each other for six months, it didn't turn physical till-till about three months.”

You dropped your cup. The tea spilled all across the floor, along with broken pieces of your mug. You looked down at the cup, seeing the liquid slowly spread across your hardwood floor. You then looked up at your husband, who was just looking down at his bare feet

Three months ago was your wedding anniversary.

You just nodded your head, you could do nothing but nod your head at the words. You then stood up, the chair scraping against the floor. You turned around, and headed towards the kitchen, ignoring the way your heartfelt heavy, like lead in your chest. Ignored the way you felt tears swelling up at your waterline. You grabbed a rag and a plastic bag and walked right back to your seat in the dining room. You got on your knees, beginning to clean up the spilled tea while picking up the pieces of the mug.

Izuku peeked up and got out of his seat, walking over to you, “let me, let me clean this up.”

You swiftly turned towards him, no longer holding back tears, your piercing glare stabbing a hole into his heart. He took a couple of steps back as you stood up, your chest heaving up and down. You threw the wet rag and the plastic bag at his chest, he immediately caught it. He looked on as you broke down fully, falling to the ground. He immediately rushed over to you, trying to hold you but you summoned a thunder cloud filled to the brim with lighting. It struck him and threw him back to the kitchen. His body slammed against the dishwasher, leaving an Izuku-shaped indent. You gasped, sitting up on your knees. You wrapped yourself with your arms as Izuku groaned, as he tried to push himself off the floor. He slowly stood to his feet, swaying slightly from the impact.

“I gave up EVERYTHING for you! My life, my job, everything I worked for most of my teenage life! All for YOU, my parents cussed me out deciding to become your stupid, little braindead housewife! My brother didn't speak to me for months after I decided to not go back to being a pro hero! All for you!”

Another storm cloud shot out from your hands, this time going behind you and sending a harsh lighting bolt against the dining table. The bolt sliced the table in half, leaving behind a charred, rigged, broken table. Izuku saw the damage you were causing, and slowly approached you, hands out in front of him.

“Y/n… y/n… let’s talk about it.” You saw the look in eyes, apprehensive, as if he… as if he was approaching a villain.

You shook your head vigorously, slowly unraveling your arms from your body. Eyebrows furrowed and angry tears falling down your face at an even faster pace. You summoned a black cloud, one of your most powerful attacks back when you were a superhero. You would enclose it into a perfect sphere before throwing it at an assailant, which set off a bomb of lighting, both blinding and stunning the villains. It was effective and would get the job done when other attacks wouldn't. The black clouds swirled around to create a sphere, still as round as back on those days. Izuku's eyes widened and immediately powered, green lightning surrounded him. Teary-eyed, you swiftly throw the stunning attack, aimed straight at your deceitful husband.

Only for a wall of ice to cut between the both of you, catching the attack and surrounding the dark cloud spree with ice. It muffled the lightning as much as it could and caused it to dissipate within the ice, however, the ice couldn't fully contain the attack and so the ice broke but luckily it only was able to give a weak lighting stroke, only leaving a charred mark on your kitchen counter.

“What the hell is going here?”

Standing towards your now opened front door would be the number 2 and the number 3 heroes. Izuku’s best friends, and parents. Katsuki Bakugo and Shoto Todoroki. Shoto was huffing and puffing, gaining between the two of you. Katsuki came up beside him after closing the door behind them, his face slowly turning to his usual anger.

“The hell Y/n?! What the fuck are you even doing? You know what that attack could do to someone!”

You took a deep breath, reaching up to your face to wipe your tears. You glanced over the uninvited guests who suddenly appeared into your home. You turned your back towards them, walking back to your broken dining table, picking up the spilled breakfast that was splayed across the floor.

“Are you not going to answer our questions? Y/n? Izuku? What’s going on?” You could hear Todoroki come up behind you, waiting for one of you to speak.

You turned your head and looked up at the bi-colored hero, taking another deep breath as you leaned slightly to look at Izuku who was now kneeling on the floor staring at the charred mark left on the kitchen floor.

“Ask your best friend over there.” That was all you said before using a cloud to carry the destroyed breakfast into the sink.

You said nothing as the two of you just stared at each other, the silence between the two of you saying everything and nothing all at the same time. Bakugo and Todoroki glanced at each other before looking at the distressed husband and wife.

That’s when a noise rang through the air, a ringtone. And it wasn’t Izuku’s this time. You turned towards the counter in the kitchen and saw your own phone ringing, vibrating against the counter. You let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding and pulled the robe belt tighter across your body. You stood and walked over to the counter, taking your phone from the counter, turning away from him. The screen showed that it was Mina calling you. You smiled at the picture of the two of you on a weekend vacation, it was just the two of you, back when you were in the same agency. You clicked the answer icon and walked out of the kitchen, not wanting to acknowledge the uninvited guest in your home, and wanting privacy while you talked to your closest friend.

Meanwhile, back in the kitchen, Shoto and Katuski stared down at their friend slowly succumbing to his sobs. They glanced at each other once again before walking over to him, each taking one side of his body. They both did a silent countdown before carrying his buff body up by his arms. They carried him to the living room, laying his body across the expensive leather couch. His body just shook with sobs. He rolled over to his side, facing the back of the couch. They just let him cry, remembering the last time Katsuki interrupted his crying sessions.

Soon enough, Izuku turned towards the two of them, making them perk up. With teary eyes, he finally spoke.

“Shoto… Kacchan… I did something stupid.”

---

It had been a couple of hours since you went upstairs, leaving behind the three men to talk things out between themselves in the living room/kitchen. Mina had just invited you to a private brunch, and you figured it would be the perfect excuse to get out of the house. You need all the space you could get after all. You took a long, hot shower before getting ready, choosing to wear a more classy outfit. You pulled out a sage green satin slip dress, pairing it with a pair of ankle strap heels. You pulled your hair out of the night scarf you tied on your head last night before sitting at your pure white vanity, turning on the mirror lights. You did your makeup next, choosing a simple look with a deeper brown eyeshadow with a liner in your waterline that matched the color of your dress. Coming to your fingers to unstick your braids, you pulled them into a very high bun, leaving two pieces to frame your face. Topping your lips with some lip gloss, you looked at yourself in the mirror. You twirled around a couple of times, loving the way the satin gave you a loose yet form-fitting look around your body. You grabbed your matching purse, making sure you had all your necessities before heading out the door.

You slowly walked down the stairs, your heels clicking against the hard floors with each step. The arguing you were hearing from the living room slowly ceased as you began to peak through the steps. The three of them turned and saw you, all dressed up, their eyes slowly taking over your body. You looked at Shoto and Katsuki, giving them a soft smile before landing your eyes on your husband. His eyes, filled with all different emotions, shame, guilt, and also admiration, couldn’t tear themselves away from your form. You took a deep breath before starting to walk past them, headed towards your front door.

“I’m going out, Mina invited me out to brunch, when I get back, you better not be here, Izuku.” With those final words, you opened and closed your door behind you, not bothering to stop for both Shoto’s or Katsuki’s exclamations for you to wait.

You unlocked your car, quickly starting it, and reversing out of your driveway as soon as possible. You reached in on your phone, pulling up the address of the restaurant Mina saved reservations for the brunch, placing the device on top of your dashboard before driving down your neighborhood's street.

Back in the house, Shoto and Katsuki look at Izuku who was once again looking down in shame.

“Izuku Midoriya, what the fuck did you do?”

Izuku just said nothing.

---

Arriving at the restaurant, you parked in the accompanying parking space to the very expensive restaurant, before grabbing your purse and phone. You stepped out of the car, holding the bottom half of your dress as you did. You locked the car with the remote before heading towards the restaurant. You entered through the doors before being greeted by the hostess, who simply smiled at you before asking for your name. You saw a look of recognition shine in her eyes but she obviously held back due to her job.

“Oh no, I’m here on behalf of Ashido, the brunch?”

She gasped before nodding her head, grabbing a menu and a couple of other things before guiding towards the back of the restaurant, taking you up the stairs. Hiking your dress up slightly, you followed the worker to the second floor. She led you past the other tables, who were whispering as you passed by them.

“Look its H/n, god she looks amazing.”

“Deku is so fucking lucky, imagine coming home to that after saving heroes.”

You rolled your eyes, shuddering at the forced image of the false world in which you and your husband were actually happy together. The hostess opened the private patio doors, revealing copious amounts of chatter and laughter flowing through the balcony. She moved out of the way slightly, as you thanked her, entering through the doors. As you walked in, you saw all eyes turn on you. You smiled as they all yelled out your name, even some getting up out of their seats to come and greet you.

“Y/n! You actually came! Mina yelled, jumping up and wrapping her arms around you.

You smiled widely, as you wrapped your own arms around her waist, holding her close. You looked over at the shoulder to see the rest of your classmates, Yaomomo, Tsu, Uraraka, Jirou, and even Hagakure. You even saw some new faces, remembering them from Class B. And then you saw her, sitting in between Uraraka and Tsu, engaging in conversation with the two of them. Melissa Shield. Her long wavy hair was straightened and from what you could tell, she was wearing a dark red and black plaid dress, with a slight ruffle in her skirt. You glanced over her before taking in her body language, fidgeting fingers being hidden in the ruffles of her dress, and her face was looking everywhere but at you. Mina let you go, leading you over to the table. She had an empty seat beside her, saying something about wanting to with her best friend after being busy for so long. Luckily, or unluckily, depending on what you thought of the situation, that seat happened to be the one that was directly in front of Melissa’s own seat.

You could see her freeze up as you took your seat, seeing her slowly turn around to face you. You simply smiled in her face, taking a sip of the complimentary water sitting in front of you. She smiled back, nervously albeit, taking her own water with shaking hands as well. Uraraka, being as ever-attentive as she is, noticed Melissa’s shaking hands and the cold sweat running down her face.

“Melissa?” Uraraka started to question, reaching up to grab her by the hands, “Melissa is everything okay?”

Melissa hummed, putting down her glass of water and nodding her vigorously at Uraraka. Your face shifted into an annoyed one, rolling your eyes and as you glanced to your right and noticing the waiter and another waitress came in with notepads and a round of champagne. You put your water down before grabbing your menu, looking over all the options before deciding to eat the red velvet waffles, topped with strawberries, whip cream, and icing. Once you ordered your food and received your own flute of champagne, you heard Uraraka call your name.

Taking a sip of the bubbly, sweet alcoholic beverage, you turned towards her and gave her a smile, nodding your drink and your head towards her.

She giggled before gesturing towards Melissa, lifting and holding in her hand within her own, “you remember Melissa? From I-land? Her dad was All Might’s former sidekick? She helped out my support gear when Hatsume was out for a whole.”

You weren't the only one she was assisting.

“Hmm? What do you mean by that?”

Your eyes widened as you glanced at Uraraka, who was looking at you in confusion, as well as Tsu who heard what you said as well. Glancing at Melissa, who was taking a sip of her own water, although her hands were now starting to shake and sweat even harder in nervousness. You just shook your head and gave them a fake smile, holding up your glass,

“She and Izuku have been working together on some support gear together, and so I hear about her whenever he comes home.” You lied, taking another sip of your champagne.

Tsu and Uraraka simply “oohed” before pulling you and Yaomomo into a conversation about your daily lives, and new things you all were working on. Meanwhile, during the whole time, you and Melissa locked eyes multiple times, causing her to quickly look everywhere but at you.

---

You finally cornered her in the bathroom.

She had left, a couple of minutes before you, saying she had to use the bathroom. So you waited a moment before faking an excuse to use the bathroom as well. You found her hunched over the sink, taking deep breaths, her body shaking, from her head to her wobbling knees all the way to her heeled feet. You just leaned against the door, waiting for her to acknowledge you. You saw her slowly raise her head, before looking at herself in the mirror. She glanced to her to the left, locking eyes within the mirror. She let out a scream, turning around and jumping back into the sink. You said nothing, just stood up straight before standing at the sink beside her. You could hear her breaths sharpening up, as she just stared at you washing your hands.

“Thank you.”

It was you who said that. In the corner of your eyes, you could see her face twist in confusion. You could basically hear exactly what she was thinking. Thank you? You know that I’m sleeping with your husband, and all you can do is say thank you?

You took a deep breath and turned to face, looking deep into her blue eyes.

“Usually in these situations, I don’t blame the other girl. Most likely they didn't even know that the man was married or already had a significant other. It would all rest on the man’s shoulders. That’s not the case for this though, everyone and their mother knew that Izuku was married. To me. I am pretty sure he invited you to our wedding. So I do blame you. However, I also thank you, because I don’t care who advanced first, whoever made the first move, but all it confirmed is that Izuku never truly loved me the way I loved him. No matter how much I gave up for him, he threw it all away for… you.”

You reached over the towels sitting in an intricately fancy box, wiping your hands before placing one of them on Melissa’s shoulders. You smiled at her and she just shrunk away from you. Your smile tightened before landing a swift right hook on her face. She stumbled slightly from the force of the punch as you let go of her shoulders, walking around her to throw away your crumpled-up paper towels. You looked back at her and your fake smile face fell, your eyes narrowed in a viscous, vile glare and your mouth fell in a frown.

“If I ever see you again, it’ll be more than just a right hook.”

You opened the door and took a couple of more steps before turning your head enough to be able to look at her again. She was nursing her bruised cheek, turning her head so you heard her call out her name one more.

“You can have him, by the way, better hope he doesn't cheat on you next.”

With that, you leave the bathroom, head back to the table to leave your own split of the bill, and pick up the take-out tray of your food. You said your goodbyes to t]your old peers, mention a lie about having something to do later at the Foundation. You left the restaurant, waving at those who would wave at you. As you walked to your car, you pulled out your phone, taking it off silent mode. You noticed a couple of texts from Shoto, and Katsuki, asking you to call them asap. Well, that’s not exactly how Kats worded it, but it basically was what he said. You ignored their texts for now as you scrolled through your contacts, before finding your mom’s contact. Letting out a shaky breath, you entered your car and closed the door behind you. You clicked her name, allowing your phone to ring.

“Hello? Y/n?”

You sniffled as you could feel the tears from this morning begin to fall all over again, “M-mom, ca-can I come over please?”

-

Taglist: @introvertatitsfinest @tremendouswolfsaladranch @lazymooneye @yzviea @fan-girling-over-everything @chscklvr @simi0603 @dragonsdreamoffire

If you liked this! Please support me on my Kofi, also commissions are open! Click the link in my Bio!

[triplexdoublex]

Pornstar

Pairings: Colson x Reader

Warnings/Tags: rough sex, anal sex, face fucking, gagging, spit, spitting in mouth, slight bondange, golden showers, pissing in mouth, slapping across face, being filmed.

A/N: Shout out to Shawnie ( @heytheregreeneyes) for always letting me use her as my OC and being my best friend. Also Colson isn’t MGK in this, just a pornstar so his personality isn’t as cocky as he usually is. I know I’ve mentioned it before but the sex in this is loosely based off my fave porn star Small Hands AKA Aaron Thompson. Hope this was worth the wait. Lemme know what you think! “Open it, open it!” Your roommate and best friend Shawnie stood before you with a gift bag in hand, shaking it excitedly.

“My birthday’s not even until this weekend,” You laughed taking the bag from her. “You sure you don’t want me to wait? It’s only a few more days.”

“ No please, I’ve kept this a secret for long enough, it’s killing me! Just open it!” She exclaimed. “Plus your gonna need time to prepare.”

“Prepare?” 

“C’mom, just open it, open it, open it!!!” She was far too excited. You wondered what it could be that she was so eager to give you. But what you pulled out of the bag just left you with even more questions. 

“Thanks???” You said confused, holding up a sexy red lace bra and matching g- string that tied at hips. 

“That’s only part of it,” she assured you. “What’s your biggest wish?” She tried to clue you in.

“Ummm paying off all my student debt?” You answered still puzzled. “Did you get me a job as a stripper?” You laughed.

“Okay, maybe ‘wish’ was the wrong word to use … hmmm—oh biggest fantasy!” She corrected herself. 

“Oh to fuck my favorite porn star Huge Hands, AKA Colson Baker. You know that — wait … no, no way!”  You exclaimed as your friend started frantically nodding her head yes. “Shut up!!! What? You’re kidding. Like how?”

“Look in the bag . There’s more!” 

You reached into the bag and pulled out a pass of some kind and read it aloud. “Huge Hands/Colson Baker : Exclusive Access, Porn Star for a Day pass” 

“They were super limited, I have no clue how I managed to snag one, but I’m so happy I did! The look on your face right now is priceless!” Shawnie laughed. “It’s probably because you’re the only one I know who’s  crazy enough to actually go through with this.”

“I-I don’t even know what to say. I have no words… thank you.” You expressed your gratitude, still in shock. “I’m really about to have the best sex of my life this weekend! On my birthday yet! Have you seen his fucking cock, it’s huuuge!”

“Yes, many times,” Shawnie chuckled , entertained by how pumped you are. “Or did you forget about all the links of his umm ‘work’ you’ve sent me?” Shawnie wasn’t big on porn herself but she was always willing to take an interest in your latest obsessions, no matter what they were. That’s what you loved most about her. “Turn it over, it tells you more about what’s included on the back.”

You did as she suggested, turning the pass over to read more. “Half hour zoom call day before to privately discuss details, and needs/wants of scene; hair and make up; up to one hour of shooting time; and keepsake autographed DVD recording,” you listed off. “You know I’m gonna watch that everyday for the rest of my life, right?” 

“I’m assuming you’re gonna make me watch it at least once too, knowing you,” Shawnie laughed. 

“Yeah probably,” you laughed as well. “ I got no shame!”

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

You’re stomach was in knots as you waited for the zoom call to begin; you’d never felt so excited and  nervous at the same time. Shawnie was there with you sitting just out of frame, when the ‘bloop’ of the call came through your computer's speakers. 

“Hi, Y/N?” Colson questioned.

“Yeah, hi. That’s me!” You did a timid little wave.

“Ok good, just wanted to make sure I got the right person before we get started here. Imagine that … Awkward!,” he laughed, and you instantly began to relax; you could tell he was going to be easy to talk to. “Well, obviously you know what I do , but I’d love to hear a little about you. Says here on your forms you’re a college student?”

“Wait, what forms?” You asked.

“The ones you filled out online with your info and kinks and things you wanted to include in our video when you purchased the Pornstar for a day package,” he answers slightly confused. 

“Ohhh, my friend bought me this for my birthday, she must have filled them out.” You responded. “She’s right here. Say hi Shawnie!”

“Hi!” She giggled leaning into frame. 

“Hello. Wow this must be some “friendship” he joked making air quotes. “Because this is a very detailed list. You gotta hear this.” He smirks. “Written in the section about what you hope to include in our scene says— and  I quote: I want Huge Hands/ Colson to absolutely destroy me. I want him to fuck my throat, my pussy and my ass. I want him to slap me around, and spit and piss in my mouth, and anything else he wants to do to me, I’m all for it.”  He choked out a laugh pulling dramatically at the collar of his shirt “Whew, I’m the pornstar here and that’s even got me blushing!”

“Oh my God, Shawnie!” You covered your beet red face.

“What!?, did I lie?” She laughed.

“I mean no, but still. Damn, to hear it out loud like that.” Your eyes bulged. 

“So it’s true then?” Colson asked slyly.

“Yeah, that pretty much sums it up,” you hid your smile behind your hand, shaking your head in embarrassed disbelief.

“Aye,  no need to be embarrassed, we’re gonna have fun tomorrow, I can tell,” he smiled. “I’m especially excited that your interested in Anal. It’s kinda my favorite. I’m assuming you’ve done it before?” 

“Yeah,” you answered simply.

“Do you enjoy it?” He asked.

“Tell him what your ex said!”  Shawnie blurted out. 

“Oh, boy. I gotta hear this,” he chuckled. “What’d the ex say?”

You inhaled deeply before speaking, “I do enjoy it, probably more than regular sex, if I’m being honest,” you admitted. There was no use trying to be coy now. “Uhhh he actually said I could be a pornstar since I can take a hard anal pounding so well.” 

“Nice!” He exclaimed. “Girl, after my own heart.”

“Jesus Christ, this conversation has me sweating already,” you chuckled standing up to pull your cardigan off. 

“Is that a little tattoo I saw there, peaking out of the top of your jeans?” He asked. 

“Yeah, you wanna see?” You unzipped your jeans without waiting for a response and lowered the top of your underwear just enough to show him. 

“ The Playboy bunny, huh? How fitting,” he teased.

“What can I say, it was my first tattoo,” you giggled “Seemed like that’s what everyone was getting at the time.”

“What else you got going on down there?” He lifted his head as if trying to see more. “Is that a landing strip?” He asked referring to the thin dark stripe of short curls just  barely visible above the band of your lowered underwear. “Can I see?” 

“Yeah, sure,” you lowered them further exposing yourself, your inhibition long gone at that point. “This is just how I normally like to groom. I can shave it completely if you prefer?” 

“Nah, it’s perfect,” he smiled. “Well, I think I have a pretty good idea now of what you like and what we’ll be getting ourselves into tomorrow. Do you have any questions or anything else you want me to know, before we end the call?” 

“I don’t think so,” you said. “Shawnie pretty much laid it all out on those forms,” you laughed. 

“That she did!” He produced a chuckle as well. “I meant to ask earlier, but, since she knows so much about your kinks and what not, have you two ever —“

“ No, just best friends, I tend to overshare, I guess.” 

“Yeah it amazes me sometimes, the things women  share with their friends, but yet guys are always the ones who are known to kiss and tell and brag about their conquests. Females can be just as bad, y’all just keep it on the low a little better,” he stated. “Well, I look forward to working with you tomorrow. Take care, and I’ll see you soon.”

“Can’t wait!” You responded. “Bye.”

“Bye,”

You felt oddly comforted and at ease after the call, no longer a ball of nerves or embarrassment. He made you feel like there was no shame in enjoying the things you did. He was very professional despite the nature of the call; it didn’t feel sleezy or overly salacious; just two consenting adults having a mature conversation about their sexual desires. 

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

When you walked out of hair and make-up and onto set, you saw Colson waiting for you on a red leather couch. He was clad in only black dress pants; shirtless — his tattoos on full display. He smiled seductively when he saw you, beckoning you over with a pat to his thighs. You undid your silk robe they had given you and let it slip from your shoulders to the floor, revealing the red lacy set Shawnie had bought you, as you made your way over to him. You suddenly became very aware of all the cameras and other people in the room, as you sat on his lap. Somehow it has slipped your mind that they were all a part of what went into this.

“You get used to it,” he said softly , remembering the way he felt his first time in front of the cameras. “Just pretend they’re not even there— only me and you, okay?” He said brushing a finger along your thigh. “Unless, Shawnie forgot to mention you’re an exhibitionist too, then by all means enjoy them watching us fuck,” he joked, making you laugh. “Don’t forget, if you need me to stop at anytime for any reason, just give me three quick taps,” he demonstrated, tapping your thigh. “Don’t worry about the filming, they can always edit and piece things back together if needed. This is all for you and I want you to enjoy yourself. Oh and happy birthday by the way! It’s today right?”

“Yeah,” you smiled. “Thank you.”

“Ok, so we’ll just start the scene with some kissing and light touches, and when I feel you’re ready I’ll signal the camera man, he’ll call action, and then we'll be recording.”

“Sounds good,” you nodded your head. He had made you feel so comfortable and relaxed the last bit of nervousness you chalked up to just being slightly star struck; You never thought in a million years you’d get this opportunity.

“Ready?,” he pressed his forehead to yours, staring directly into your eyes, the corners of his mouth turned up into the most alluring devilish grin. 

“Ready,” you echoed back, biting your lip trying to suppress a needy whine. God you were always such a sucker for his killer eye contact in his films, and now you were the one his eyes were soul fucking. You’re heart pounded with excited anticipation as Colson’s face drew nearer to your own. He lightly held your chin as he pressed his lips to yours, parting them to introduce his tongue. It was a welcome greeting, cut short by the breathy “oh fuck ” that involuntarily slipped from your lips.

“”You good?” He laughed softly, a small puff of air the only thing separating your mouths; your foreheads still touching. 

“More...than good,” you spoke in a short choppy sentence trying to compose yourself. 

“That’s what I like to hear,” he smirked against your lips, continuing to kiss you. 

You melted into his kisses— slow and gentle at first,  increasing in intensity as he carried on. When he nipped at your bottom lip with a low groan, you lost all innocence, shifting positions to straddle his lap. You gripped the back of his head, as he kissed you and rolled your hips against him, demanding more. And that’s when he knew … that you were ready.  He quickly signaled to the cameraman with a thumbs up, and “Action” was called. 

His hand slipped down from your chin, settling on the highest part of your neck just under your jaw, his fingers squeezing at your pulse points on either side. Roughly he turned your head to the side with a push of his thumb and his mouth began mauling your neck with an appetite for lust, leaving blooming raspberry patches along the descending path of flesh that lead to your breasts. With one hand he expertly undid the front clasp of your red lace bra and took in the sight of you.

 “Perfect,” he whispered into your flesh with a growl, taking one breast  in each hand as he licked between them, keeping his eyes locked on yours. You slid the silky straps of your lingerie over your shoulders, letting it fall, as he took turns going back and forth between each breast treating each of your nipples to light suction and a pleasurable nibble. You let out a moan at his actions and again rolled your hips in his lap, pressing yourself against the hardening bulge inside his dress pants. “Needy are we?” He teased swiftly  spinning you around so your back was to his chest. He dug his chin into your shoulder peering over it as he snatched up the crotch of your panties roughly, tugging the material up between your lips . You canted your hips up chasing after the friction of the coarse fabric against your clit. “You like that, huh?” He pulled them harsher. 

“Mmmm, yes” you squeaked out, nodding your head.

“Yeah, I bet you do,” he growled nipping at your neck. “Look at this pretty pussy,” he shoved the material to the side exposing you, letting his fingers explore your folds as he pleased. “You want my cock right in here huh?” His voice was so gravelly and low as he slipped a finger inside you, only to quickly pull it back out, teasing you. “Taste yourself,” he brought the finger to your mouth. You wrapped your lips around it, as he slid it further into your mouth, his long fingers slipping down the back of your throat. “Oh, god, yes!” He exclaimed impressed by how you didn’t even gag. “Tell ya what—“ he paused to add a second finger to your mouth, continuing to talk as you sucked “If you can suck my dick as good as that—“   he then pulled them back out of your mouth. “I might just have to fuck you right in here too,” he shoved his spit slicked fingers into your ass.

“Yes, fuck, please!” You whined, wiggling your hips, wanting his fingers deeper.  

“You like that? Huh. You dirty little anal whore!” He grabbed your neck with his free hand, keeping you pinned back against him, the fingers of his other hand still moving inside you.

“Yes, yes! I am,” you strained to speak. “Please, please fuck my ass!” You whined impatiently with pleasure. You never heard yourself sound so needy and desperate in your life.

“You sound you pretty when you beg, but you're gonna have to earn it first,” he demanded pulling out his fingers,  leaving you feeling empty. Quickly, you dropped to your knees in front of the couch as Colson got up standing before you. You waited impatiently while Colson unbuckled his belt above you. Once undone he yanked the belt free from the loops with a satisfying ‘whoosh’ that made you pulse between your thighs. You desperately clawed his pants and boxers  down his legs like a feral cat in heat as Colson brought the tip to your mouth, still holding onto his belt in the other. “Open!,” he demanded. “Goooood,” he growled in praise as you did what you were told. You reached up to grab it but ,“no hands!” he smacked them away, and then secured them behind your back with his belt. “Let’s try this again, open!” He spoke harshly. You obliged, opening wide. “Tongue” he barked.  You let it hang from your mouth with anticipation; eager breaths rolling down it like a panting dog eyeing a steak. He teased you, slapping his cock against your tongue before shoving it fully into your mouth. Your eyes prickled with tears as you fought your gag reflex, taking him down your throat. He held your head in place with one hand , the tip of your nose pressed flush against the coarse hair of his pelvis, as he hunched his body forward over yours untying the sides of your G-string. It slipped from your body leaving you completely nude. Colson smacked your ass, then gripped it harshly, making it jiggle for him before finally standing straight up and pulling his hips back to let you come up for air. 

“Huuuuuuhhhh,” you inhaled sharply gasping for breath, letting oxygen penetrate deep into your lungs before Colson stuffed your mouth again. Mascara ran down your hollowed out cheeks as you sucked. You started pulling back out of instinct when you began to gag but Colson held you in place. 

“No, keep it in your mouth,” he instructed condescendingly, looking down at you. “Just a little longer” he promised. You tried your best, Colson letting out a throaty moan every time your raw, used throat constricted around him as he fucked into it. “Mmmgghh,” he groaned, pulling out of your mouth “Goooood girl,” he praised with a smirk, before bending down to give you a sloppy kiss, swapping mouthfuls of saliva. Just as he pulled away he let a long string of collected spit slip from his pursed lips and into your open mouth, where you eagerly accepted it, moaning as you swallowed it down. 

 You let out a breathy “awhhh” as you opened your mouth again, wiggling your tongue enticingly. 

“Such a dirty, fucking whore,” he bent down again and spat directly in your face. He smeared it all over your face with his hand before grabbing you by the neck, pulling you to your feet. “Turn around,” he ordered. You did as he said and Colson undid his belt from around your wrists. Before you even had a chance to soothe your sore wrists with a rub, Colson spun you around and pushed you down onto your back on the couch, your ass teetering on the edge of the red leather cushion. “Spread yourself for me,” he instructed, as he pumped himself. Again you did as you were told; you pulled your legs up, wrapping an arm around each thigh, holding them back as you parted your opening with your fingers.  “God, you’re so fucking wet.” He teased the head of his cock through the glistening mess on display for him. 

“Fuck me,” you said in an inpatient huff, staring into his eyes. 

“Awhhh, yessss,” he groaned out, slack jawed as he sank into you

“Ohhh, shit,” you screamed out , face twisted in pleasure, your eyes slipping shut, at the feeling of him burying himself deep in your cunt.

“Open your eyes. Look at me!” He spoke harshly, cupping your face in his hands as he thrust. You opened your eyes, trying to focus on his, but your vision was  spotted by the intensity of it all. “Feel good?” He pressed his forehead to yours just as he’d done earlier , starring directly into the windows to your soul as he fucked you. You nodded the best you could, but that wasn’t good enough for him. “Words, I want words. Say yes!”

“Yes.. yes,” you responded breathily, biting at your lip.

“Yeah, Mmmghhh, that’s it. Fuck, I like it when you use your words”  he moaned , shifting himself to be more upright. He then spit on the tips of his fingers and brought them to your clit and began rubbing it furiously, his cock still destroying you.

“OH Fuck!” You cried out, wiggling and bucking your hips. 

“You gonna fucking stay still? He roughly grabbed your face, squeezing your cheeks. You nodded your head, trying your best to calm your body’s erratic, pleasure driven movements as he thrust. “Words!” He spat, his hand letting go of your face only to connect it to your cheek again with a quick, yet harsh slap.

“Shit! ...Yes!” You corrected yourself once again, Your body was  loving how aggressive he was getting the longer he fucked you and he could tell;  spitting at and striking your face again.

“Turn over!”  He ordered, abruptly pulling out. “Hands on the back of the couch.” He roughly assisted you in turning around , and you placed your hands where instructed. You arched your back and pushed your ass out waiting for him to re enter you from the new position. “This is where you really want it, huh?” He teased his cock over your asshole. 

“Yes!,” you remembered to use your words this time.

“You’re a dirty little fucking anal whore, aren’t you? He asked, he question sounding a lot more like a statement. “Let me hear you said it.” He applied pressure to your hole with the tip, as he yanked back a fist full of your hair.

“I’m a dirty little fucking anal whore!,” you repeated desperately pushing back against him.

“Mmmghh!, That you are!” He confirmed with a groan, snapping hips hips forward, quickly entering you. 

“Uhhhhh, Oh my God!” You exclaimed at the feeling. You never fully understood why you enjoyed anal as much as you did, perhaps it was the pleasurable fullness, the taboo aspect, the fact that you were one of the few woman who were into it, or the way so many men were obsessed with it , and the look on their face when they found out you were more than willing to take it up the ass, but you absolutely loved it, and this time was no different. Every jack hammered thrust brought you closer and closer to the edge, especially when Colson reached around to between your legs adding the friction of his fingers to your clit. The sensation of your ass being stuffed combined with his  touch was the perfect recipe for orgasm and you felt it building every time his cock slid in and out. 

“Yeah, cum for me,” he could feel you tightening around him. His words perfectly in sync with the  jolt of pleasure boiling over in your abdomen and ripping through you with vast intensity. A series of explitives and sounds you’ve never heard yourself make, flew from you lips as your body went boneless under Colson. He quickly pulled out, turned you back over and came across your face with a few pumps of his hand. He collapsed to the side of you briefly, before tugging you off the couch and onto your knees. “I’m not done with you just yet,” he spoke out of breath taking his softening dick in his hand. Your eyes lit up, you knew what he was referring too— the only thing on your list of wants he hadn’t included yet. “Say ahhh!”

“Ahhh,” you echoed the request, letting his golden stream fill your mouth, splash off your tongue and dribble down your chin and body. You giggled, piss spilling from your smile as you looked up at him, all your fantasies now fulfilled. 

“Annnd cut!” Called the director. A few stage hands scrambled to bring you both a towel and small refreshments. “Almost done, just gonna get you guys a little cleaned up, rehydrated, let you catch your breath a bit, and then film the little quick, post scene interview. 

“Ok,” you both answered.

Colson tossed his towel over his shoulders and reached out his hand to you “You, good?” He asked with a faint laugh , watching your hand shake as you drank your water.

“Yeah,” you answered letting him pull you up onto the couch. 

“You were amazing,” he said, rubbing your back. He knew the come down from the adrenal rush of scenes could be taxing, especially from rough ones . “You —“

“Ready,” the director interrupted, cutting him short, and immediately pressing record. “So how was it?” the director focused the camera on you first. 

“Oh my god.. mind blowing,” you answered , still out of breath, adjusting your towel. 

“And you?” The director turned the camera to Colson.

“ Absolutely amazing. She was a natural. I’d love to work with her again.”

[bi-bard]

Please Say That You're Joking (Pt.1) - Chuck Shurley Imagine (Supernatural)

Title: Please Say You're Joking (Pt. 1) [You can read part 2 by clicking here!]

Pairing: Chuck Shurley X Winchester!Reader

Requested: Nope

Word Count: 2,930 words

Warning(s): mentions of sex, threats of violence

Summary: (Season 4; Season 11) (Y/n) had a single one-night stand while coping with loss in a not healthy way... if only they had a clue about the weight of their actions.

Author's Note: I was recently going back through some of the "lighter" episodes of Supernatural because I wanted to watch something I could chuckle at. That's where this came from.

This might be the most crackheaded thing I've written in a while.

Also, the amount of things I had to bullshit my way through this is actually ridiculous.

Hey! I did a rewrite of the ending of Supernatural. It took a really long time to complete, so it would mean a lot to me if you check it out. Here’s a link! (it’s on my personal account)

-------------------------------------

Sam, Dean, and I walked into the motel room. We were all confused and slightly scared.

We had gone to a comic book shop to do some work on a case. However, we were then called fans.

Fans of what?

Well, fans of a series of books about our lives.

I was the middle Winchester child. Two years younger than Dean, two years older than Sam. I was beyond confused when I saw some weird, romanticized version of me on the cover of a book.

"This is so weird," I mumbled, plopping onto one of the beds in the room.

Sam jumped onto his laptop and started researching. Dean was holding one of the books, reading through it. I didn't even want to touch it.

"I don't like how he describes (Y/n)," Dean commented. "It's weird. It's like he's in love. Listen to this..."

Dean dramatically clears his throat and starts to read in an even more dramatic voice, "'Even after a hard hunt, (Y/n) could easily be seen as the most beautiful of the siblings. They mimicked the beauty of their mother more than their brothers. There's no bruise or cut that could take the loveliness away from the natural curves of (Y/n)'s face. If only they could see how everyone else would stare-"

"Okay, ew," I muttered, walking to the table. "What'd you find?"

"Well, it seems like Carver Edlund is a pen name," Sam shrugged. "And the fans are intense."

"As in," Dean asked, closing the book and joining the two of us at the table.

"Well," Sam handed me the laptop so Dean and I could look at it, "there's fanfiction. About all of us."

"What's this, 'Sam/Dean'," I asked.

"It's... me and Dean... together."

"They just don't care that we're related," Dean asked. Sam nodded.

"God, this is so weird."

"So, how do we find this guy," I asked.

--time skip--

We managed to find the publisher of the novels and found her house.

"So, you published the 'Supernatural' books," I asked as we walked in.

"Yep," she nodded. "Yeah, gosh. These books... they never really got the attention that they deserved. All anybody wants to read anymore is that romance crap."

"Could not agree with you more," I said. "We're hoping that our article can shine a light on an underappreciated series."

"Yeah, because, you know, if we got a little bit of good press, then maybe we can start publishing again," she replied excitedly.

"No, no, no," Dean immediately shut her down. "I mean, why... why would you want to do that? It's such a complete series with Dean going to hell and all."

"Oh my god, that was one of my favorite ones," she rambled. "Dean was so strong and sad and brave. And Sam... I mean... the best ones are when they cry... like in 'Heart' when Sam had to kill Madison; the first woman since Jessica he'd really loved. When Dean had to call John in 'Home' and ask him for help. Or when (Y/n) went back to the motel room after getting kidnapped and just had to sit in their own head and had to truly process not only the death of their mother but now their father. The mixed feelings were amazing."

"You're a really big fan," I noted. She nodded.

"Gosh, if only real men were that open about their emotions."

"Real men," Dean asked.

"I mean, no offense," she replied. "How often do you cry like that?"

"Well, right now I'm crying on the inside," he muttered.

"Is that supposed to be funny?"

"Lady, this whole thing is funny."

"How am I supposed to know this is legit?"

"Oh, trust me," Dean mumbled. "We're legit."

"Well, I don't want some smart-ass article making fun of my boys," she snapped as she sat in her chair.

"Oh, never," I replied quickly. "We actually are big fans."

"You read the books?"

"Cover to cover," I promised.

"What's the year and model of the car?"

"1967 Chevy Impala," Dean smiled proudly.

"What's May 2nd?"

"That's my- uh... Sam's birthday," Sam replied.

"Sam's score on the LSAT?"

"Umm... 174," Sam said nervously.

"(Y/n)'s first hunt?"

"Vampire in Washington," I answered. "Dean was at the motel sick and (Y/n) almost chopped John's head off when he scared them."

"(Y/n)'s favorite memory that's not related to hunting?"

I smiled, "Helping Sam get ready for a date when he was a teenager because Sam didn't trust what Dean had told him."

"Dean's favorite song?"

"It's a tie," Dean replied. "Between Zep's 'Ramble On' and 'Traveling Riverside Blues.'"

She finally laughed and smiled again, "Okay, okay. What do you wanna know?"

"What's Carver Edlund's real name," Sam asked.

"Oh, no. I can't," she shook her head.

"We just wanna talk to him," Sam continued. "You know, get the 'Supernatural' story in his own words."

"He's very private," she shrugged. "Like Salinger."

"Please," Sam tried again. "Like I said, we're um... big fans."

Sam unbuttoned his shirt enough to show his anti-possession tattoo. Dean pulled his shirt to the side to do the same. I rolled my eyes and yanked the arm of my jacket down and pulled up the sleeve of my t-shirt. I don't wear as many layers as them and I had opted to put the tattoo on my upper arm because I thought it looked nicer.

"Awesome," the lady mumbled before standing up. "Y'know what?"

I looked away as she pulled her pants down.

"I got one too."

"Wow, you are a fan," I slapped Dean's arm. The lady fixed her clothing before grabbing a pen and paper.

"Okay," she said. "His name's Chuck Shurley-"

And I stopped listening after that. I knew that name... why did I know that name... oh... oh no. I'm gonna kill him. We're going to meet this man and I am going to end up killing him.

I followed Sam and Dean as they started walking out of the woman's house.

"Excuse me," she called as we reached the door. We looked back at her. "I'm sorry, but you look exactly like how I picture (Y/n) when I read the books."

I chuckled, "Thanks."

"He describes (Y/n) with so much detail," she smiled. "You could play them in a movie."

"Thank you," I waved as we walked out.

"'You could play them in a movie,'" Dean teased.

"I know who Chuck is," I said, ignoring him.

"What," he asked. I nodded. "How?"

I pointed to get into the car. I got in the back seat and Sam and Dean sat upfront. Dean started driving to the address the lady gave us before I started speaking.

"Okay, when you went to hell, Sam's not the only one who ran off," I explained. "I wasn't gone for four months... just two weeks. In those two weeks, I got involved in a single one-night stand. The name he gave me was Chuck Shurley."

"You screwed the man who wrote books about us," Dean asked, sounding angry.

"Do you think I knew he was writing books based on our lives?"

"He had to have known who you are," Sam added. "This isn't an accident. He has to get visions or something."

"Yeah, I know," I nodded. "He made money off of my name and then screwed me."

"Damn," Dean mumbled. "I missed a hell of a lot."

I rolled my eyes.

--time skip--

I knocked on the door loudly. Sam grabbed my arm, shaking his head at me. The door was opened and I smiled obnoxiously as Chuck. He was in a robe, his boxers, and an old white shirt. He looked tired and like he hadn't had a goodnight's sleep in days.

"Chuck Shurley," Dean asked.

"Chuck Shurley that wrote the Supernatural books," Sam added.

"Nice to meet you," I said. "This is Sam... Dean... and I'm (Y/n)... the ones you've written books about."

Chuck sighed and went to shut the door. I stepped in, stopping it with my foot.

"Listen, I appreciate the enthusiasm, I really do and I remember you," he motioned at me, awkwardly grinning before seeming to shake the memories out of his head. I almost slapped him right then. "But please... go get a life."

"You see," Dean followed me, helping to force our way inside. Sam made sure the door shut behind us. "We have a life... and you're selling books about it."

"Okay, this isn't funny," Chuck mumbled.

"You're right," I said. "We just wanna know how you're doing it?"

"I'm just a writer, I'm not doing anything."

"Then why do you know so much about demons and tulpas and changelings?"

"Is this some kind of 'Misery' thing? Ah, it is, isn't it? It's a 'Misery' thing!"

"No, it's not," I shook my head. "Believe me, we're not fans."

"What do you want then," he asked.

"I'm Sam... and that's Dean and (Y/n)," Sam tried again.

"Those are fictional characters," Chuck yelled. "They aren't real!"

Dean grabbed him and pulled him outside.

"Wait, wait-"

"We aren't kidnapping you, calm down," I rolled my eyes. Dean opened the hidden compartment in the impala's trunk.

"Are those real guns?"

"Yes," I nodded. "And real rock salt, real fake IDs."

Chuck let out a laugh at it, "Well, I gotta hand it to you guys. You really are my number-one fans. That... That's awesome. So, I-I think I've got some poster in the house."

"Chuck, stop," I rolled my eyes, grabbing his arm as he went to walk away.

"Please don't hurt me," he begged.

"How much do you know," Sam asked. "Do you know about the angels? Or Lilith breaking the seals?"

"How do you know about that?"

"Have you not been listening," I asked. "The real question is how do you?"

"Because I wrote it," he explained.

"You kept writing?"

"The books never came out because the publisher went bankrupt," he furrowed his eyebrows.

I stepped back, letting go of his arms.

"Okay, wait a minute," Chuck crossed his arms. "This is some kind of joke, right? Did Phil put you up to this?"

"Oh my god," I muttered, pinching the bridge of my nose. I grabbed his robe. "I'm sorry but I'm really tired. Nice to meet you. I'm (Y/n) Winchester, these are my brothers, Sam and Dean Winchester. You wrote and published books about us, probably knew who I was, and then you still slept with me."

He stared at me in shock.

"What," I asked.

"The last names were never in the books," he mumbled. "I never told anyone about that. I never even wrote that down."

"Then I guess we have a lot to talk about," I let go of his robe.

The three of us followed him inside.

--time skip--

"I got a visit from Cas," Dean explained as he walked in. "I've some important information."

After talking to Chuck and getting a draft of what was supposed to happen, we were all panicking. Dean told us to wait here. Lilith was going to come for Sam and we both thought it'd be harder if there was more than one of us here at all times.

Now, Dean was coming back from seeing Chuck.

"And that important information is...," Sam trailed off.

"He's a prophet of the lord," Dean said, smirking at me.

I shut my eyes, letting my head fall forward.

"Please say you're joking," I mumbled.

"Nope," Dean replied.

Sam looked over at me. He only started chuckling after his brother broke.

Dean was laughing his head off within seconds, "You screwed a prophet!"

"Shut up," I groaned. "I'm gonna kill him!"

"Archangel will kill you."

"I'll happily pay that price," I muttered. "I slept with a prophet."

"At least that means he didn't write himself to sleep with you," Sam tried to comfort me.

"Yeah, God just decided I was supposed to sleep with the guy publishing books about my life," I replied sarcastically. "That makes me feel so much better."

"Come on, it could be worst-"

"Sam, love you, but don't finish that sentence if you even kind of value your life," I muttered.

I was desperate for this conversation to just end.

--time skip--

After all was said and done, and Chuck accidentally helped us chase Lilith away for a while, we gave Chuck a lift back to his place.

I followed him up to his door, offering to look around and make sure that he's safe. He shook his head.

"I have an archangel protecting me," he reminded me. "Can't get any safer than that."

I nodded.

"I'm sorry, by the way," he said. "About us. I didn't recognize you until after... it all... and I didn't say anything because I didn't really know how to explain it. The whole event makes me feel all scummy."

"It's alright," I replied with a chuckle. "It's fine, I promise."

He offered me a nervous smile, "Y'know, in all of my visions, you're the most vivid thing."

With a grin, I leaned over and kissed his cheek gently. I stepped back and headed back toward the impala. I made sure to take note of his nervous and flustered face.

"See you around, Chuck!"

"You... You too," he called after me. I got in the backseat and got comfortable.

"So... screwing the prophet wasn't that bad," Dean asked.

I just rolled my eyes, waving through the window at Chuck as Dean pulled away from the curb. Leave it to a Winchester to end up in a situation like that.

--time skip (season 11)--

Sam and I followed Dean with our guns ready. Dean was following the amulet that he had owned for a long time without even knowing it could show us where God was.

Everyone had been infected by Amara only minutes ago but now it was okay and Dean's amulet was glowing.

"Holy shit," I mumbled, seeing who was walking over to us.

Chuck.

He was supposed to be dead. That's why Kevin's prophet powers had been activated.

"No way," Dean said.

"Hey," Chuck... or God said. "We need to talk."

Despite our understandable hesitation, Chuck reached forward, teleporting all of us back to the bunker. I stepped away from him, slightly overwhelmed.

"(Y/n)," Chuck walked over and tried to grab my arm. I instinctually slapped him. I was nothing but confusion and anger. "I deserved that. Just, please?"

I stepped away again.

From behind Chuck stepped Kevin's ghost. My breath caught in my throat. The poor boy had been through so much shit because of us.

Kevin told us about how we looked stressed and that we should listen to Chuck.

Then, Chuck waved his hand. Kevin turned into a ball of white and blue light before ascending beyond the bunker.

"Where'd he go," I asked.

"Heaven, where he deserves," Chuck promised. I nodded.

I listened to the rant about how Chuck had abandoned us all and how awful things were. Then, the conversation turned to the plan to stop Amara. The boys talked about needing Lucifer and Chuck got incredibly upset. In a fit, he went to leave. I stepped in front of him.

"No," I said bluntly. "Even if you want to avoid the subject of your estranged son, you can't just leave."

"(Y/n)-"

"Sam, Dean," I looked at them. "Give us a minute?"

They both nodded, glaring at Chuck on their way out. I tried to ignore the instincts that were telling me that Chuck was just selfish.

"(Y/n)," Chuck mumbled.

"Just answer my questions," I said. "Then we can discuss what to do with Amara without you storming away recklessly. Okay?"

He nodded.

"Have you been God the whole time," I asked.

He nodded.

"You wrote all of our stories?"

Another nod.

"Did you write that I was going to sleep with you?"

I felt manipulated and angry. I was desperate for an answer. I knew that this could've made me feel like dirt, but I needed to know.

"No," Chuck said. I clenched my jaw, ready to call him a liar. "I told you. I had been pretty much hands-off for a long time. Did I know who were? Absolutely. I'm sorry I lied to you about that. But I didn't plan anything between us. We weren't some divine plan."

I nodded, looking down.

"You know how Dean and Amara are connected," he asked. I nodded, looking back at him. "We're like them."

"And that's not a divine plan-"

"I'm not doing a good job explaining this," Chuck shook his head. "It feels like we're like them. Like there's this bond that just happened as soon as we met."

"You lied to me, for years," I said. "Saying we have some bond isn't gonna fix that."

"I know."

We both fell silent. Slowly, I started laughing. Chuck furrowed his eyebrows, "My only one-night stand... and it was God."

Chuck started laughing with me while I really processed what I had done.

I slowly stopped laughing.

I didn't notice until it was too late that Chuck had slowly gotten closer to me. As soon as his lips brushed mine, I pushed him back. Not hard, but enough to get him to step away.

"No," I mumbled. "Not that, no."

Chuck nodded, "Got it."

"Now," I sighed, "we need to actually plan to stop Amara, and if we need Luci-"

"We don't," he said bluntly. "We can do something else. We don't need him. Okay?"

I nodded. In my gut, I trusted him. Maybe that was me being an idiot but I did trust him. For now at least.

-------------------------------------

Masterlist

What I Write For

Request Guidelines

Musical Prompts

Small Moments With…

When Worlds Collide (Doctor Who Crossover Series) Masterlist

Some Original Characters

folklore/evermore Writing Challenge (and Masterlist)

[exquisitley-obsessed]

Cardinal Catastrophe

Author: @exquisitley-obsessed

Summary: Elain reaches out to Azriel after that dreaded Solstice night and they once again meet under the moonlight in the River House - but everything is different now (post ACOSF, Azriel’s the focalizer) 

Pairings: Azriel x Elain, Elriel

Word Count: 13,300+

Warnings: This does get a bit smutty and then there’s some violence towards the end.

A/N: This is like super long. It basically has everything it’s fluff, smut and angst so yeah, something for everyone. This is probably the longest oneshot I’ve ever written, I don’t know where this has come from but it’s taken me way longer to write than any of my other stuff. There’s a lot of catharsis in this and reflection on how I think both Azriel and Elain think of the situation. You’ll also get a bit of Rhys’ pov towards the ned ;)

Preview: With Elain’s eyes closed he allowed himself to greedily devour the sight of her. Just her face alone captured his attention entirely. With his eyes he memorised the curve of her cheekbones, the specific angle of her brows, even the exact chocolatey shade of her lashes. He went over it again, and again, and again, like a worshipper devouring the holy text. Azriel needed the perfection of Elain committed to memory, because he was sure that one day his luck would run out entirely. That soon he would not be permitted to even these meetings in the dead of night, with only a thousand stars as witness to their mutilated fate.

“Elain...” He tried again; his voice softer than he had ever heard it before. The person he became around Elain was foreign to himself. He had never been someone privileged enough to both love and be loved, not like this. Now that he had tasted such passions, he found he could not always recognise himself. Because he was Azriel, and he was cursed and damned, destined to be alone, to be unloved, mutilated both in mind and morality. He could not love; he shouldn’t be able to love - and yet.

MASTERLIST

It was no exaggeration to say that Azriel’s work was of a most gruesome nature. His daily routine involved cutting into people, making them sing to his shadows, working them like a carcass in a machine until they’d spilt their guts to him before painting the walls with those same organs. As the Night Court’s spymaster, Azriel knew things that would bring kings to their knees, secrets that were interwoven into the foundations of courts, hidden information that would dissolve alliances in seconds; and yet, here he was, pacing the room like a schoolboy as he tried to swallow the fluttery ‘butterfly-like’ feeling twisting his gut.

He’d noticed the note the minute he’d entered the room. A tiny slip of paper that glowed in the moonlight from where it was perched on his work desk, a stark contrast to Azriel’s messy, tea-stained paperwork. Azriel had smelt her on it before he read it, in fact, the second he opened the door to his River House bedroom he was surrounded by her faded aroma. She must’ve breezed in and out, not wanting to overstep her bounds as she left him a note no one else was to read. Knowing her, she was probably currently riddled with guilt for entering his private space, even though, quite frankly, Azriel wouldn’t mind her invading on every aspect of his life, personal or not. Not wanting to face what her scent in his room did to him, he’d crossed the room in three strides and devoured the note in seconds; the words still rang in his head.

I need to see you.

Everything had been fine. Ever since Rhysand’s outrageous demand of Azriel several months prior, Azriel had fallen into a routine, stricter than the last, for ignoring Elain Archeron. He was working more than he ever had before, not just in quantity but in quality. Unnecessarily detailed reports were showing up on the High Lord’s desk of situations that were entirely irrelevant to the current political climate and yet, Azriel thought it was only fair Rhysand suffered somewhat from this situation too.

I’m sorry for everything.

While he was anywhere but Velaris, Elain was never anywhere else, specifically in the River House, a place he had thus far avoided with painful success. Until his High Lady had demanded he come to dinner to celebrate Nesta’s birthday, Nesta who was happier than he had ever seen her before, practically glowing with the dreaded mating bond. It still baffled him how much prevalence mating bonds had played in his life the past few years after 500 years of silence, strings of fate which seemed to only bring about the greatest happiness or the wickedest pain.

I just want to make things right.

They were so happy, all of them. Rhysand with Feyre and Nyx, Nesta and Cassian - and though he just wanted to be glad for his family, the miasma of their bliss was suffocating. Because Azriel had never felt more alone, had never been so buried in his work, so achingly tired from the unnecessary flights and dreary missions, and his harmful behaviour was turning his body into something foreign. Azriel never used to have the constant tautness across his shoulders, nor the constant black shadows under his eyes from the sleepless nights, or the aching muscles that never seemed to heal. But it was necessary – if he wanted to obey Rhysand’s order, if he wanted to maintain civility between courts, and for a plethora of other supposed noble reasons – it was necessary.

I miss you.

He just wanted her. Not in any possessive way, he just wanted to be around her. He’d come to find a specific kind of peace in her company, something about that soothed his worries and aches. So, he missed their walks in the gardens, their shared book recommendations, their inside jokes, their unspoken understanding, their healing. And above all he missed her: her smile, her laughter, the shade of her flushed cheeks, her kindness, her silence.

Azriel hadn’t realised what had been happening to him as they had gotten closer, hadn’t realised how far he’d fallen till Rhysand had pulled him out of the air. Now all that was there, was a lacking. He was busier than ever, but all around him hung the privation of her.

Meet me in the foyer when the sun sets.

So he couldn’t be around his family, couldn’t face their overwhelming joy when he was so, so alone. Maybe it would’ve been better if he had never met Elain, or at least if he hadn’t allowed himself to fall for her. But in those soft moments he shared with her, the brushes of fingertips to the sun-kissed smiles, he’d been forced to face just how alone he was, how alone he had always been. Through Elain, Azriel had had a taste of honest, unwavering love - and yet he was expected to turn his back on such a discovery, by his own family no less.

Please.

He would meet her in the foyer when the sun set. He would follow her to the ends of the Earth if she asked him to, because maybe he was just so masochistic that he didn’t mind meeting Elain only to be reminded of everything he couldn’t have. Reading the note Azriel couldn’t help but think bitterly of how the flower-grower was far more courageous than he. That she was reaching out to him after he had rejected her so brutally. Azriel jolted, flaring his wings slightly to stop the train of thought. That pained, confused look in Elain’s eye when he had said that word, haunted him. Mistake. He’d called it a mistake. Azriel raked his hands down his face and sighed.

He wished he were strong enough to either commit or drop it entirely. He wished he had it in him to do something. Azriel should’ve bitten back at Rhysand all those months ago, should’ve just dealt with this catastrophe back then rather than let it fester and rot under the proverbial carpet.

As time passed in Azriel’s knotted thoughts, the sun plummeted towards the horizon. It was a perfect summers evening, and Azriel stilled at the window to watch as the sun melted the sky into shades of pink and purple. He saw it and thought of the colour of her dress tonight, or even that dress she had worn when she’d made traditional Illyrian biscuits and demanded he tried one. He’d taken it in his pocket and only took a bite when he was alone in the shadows of a different court, and he had savoured every bite, quietly smothering his growing adoration as he did so.

Elain, Elain, Elain. His shadows whispered to him, as though they knew they would soon be in her presence. No one had ever had such an effect on his shadows, and around her he was more aware of them being a separate entity to himself. Though they were bound, around Elain they seemed to grow more confident, they acted of their own accord and would often disappear in her presence, as though his shadows knew he wished to be entirely alone with her.

Foyer...Elain...flower-grower...beautiful. Azriel was inclined to agree. And before Azriel could lose himself to shyness, the sun finally dipped behind the curve of the land, allowing a thousand glimmering stars to prickle through the endless black sky.

She would already be waiting for him, and though Azriel was nervous, he had to restrain some part of himself that longed to throw open the door and jump down the stairs two at a time. Instead, he used the shadows, stepping through them to the base of the large foyer staircase. It would be more silent this way. He wouldn’t make the same mistake of not listening to the corridors as they spoke. For Elain’s sake, he would demand the utmost privacy, even from his High Lord and Lady.

He could see her before she saw him. She was leaning of the Foyer’s centre table, fiddling with the bouquet of flowers in a glass vase - of course she was. All he could see of her was the lower half of her pale gown and her dark golden hair, cascading down her back like a waterfall. The moonlight streaming in through the large French windows gave her an angelic glow, whereas the more sensuous light of the flickering candles painted shadows across her thinly veiled curves. Both warm and cold light coming together to worship the woman who seemed to him as light herself. At the sight of her, Azriel involuntarily sucked in a breath and felt her scent hit the back of his throat, his entire body seemed to sing from her aroma alone, as though it were his own personal drug. Dangerous, this was dangerous, to be with her and to be so alone. He didn’t care.

“Elain,” she didn’t start as he spoke into the thick silence. If she had the confidence to call him here tonight, then he must source some of his own. He at least owed her that. Delicately, Elain turned and looked over her shoulder, her beautiful brown eyes finding his and melting the whole world away.

“You came,” She breathed, her shoulders sagging slightly out of relief. She turned to him properly then, and Azriel flickered his eyes over her so quickly she might’ve mistaken it for a mere blink. But he saw her, saw what she was wearing, and some core part of his soul longed to weep at the sight of her beauty.

Elain was in a nightgown, off-white cotton and silk, with cream and dusty pink lace. Pale ribbons pulled the nightdress around her breasts and down to her naval, dipping in a slight ‘v’ before the skirts flowed around her natural curves and then dropped to the floor. The neckline was agonisingly flattering, though Azriel was sure he wouldn’t look twice at the nightdress on anyone else. Her creamy skin seemed browner in the warm candlelight of the house, and as the shadows flickered, he was aware of how her collarbones stretched out to the curve of her shoulders, how she didn’t have freckles on her chest and arms but rather a specific constellation of moles, even how her hair was impossibly thick and, if memory served him well, soft too. Upper sections were pulled away from her face in an intricate pattern of braids and ties, and yet lock after lock of pale brown hair cascaded down her back and over her shoulders, framing her angelic face. Oh, that face. Poets and painters alike would weep at the sight of that face. The small, angled eyebrows that somehow made her doe eyes bigger, the freckles across her cheeks and nose, her plush lips-

“I know that you’re avoiding me,” she began, crashing Azriel back into reality. He shifted slightly, ruffling his wings as though to wake himself up. Her voice wasn’t accusing, but calm and quiet, “I know there’s a reason why you’re never around. For a while I thought you were just cooped up at the House of Wind but Nesta says that she never sees you...no one ever sees you anymore.” Azriel stayed quiet, just holding her gaze. He never needed to speak around Elain, she had quickly understood that when he had something to say, he would say it, but till then, he was comforted by the silence. And so she continued, more nervous now.

“I don’t want to be...narcissistic...but it seems to me that you’ve been distancing yourself with everyone after what happened on Solstice and...” She shifted uncomfortably, her confidence running out as she looked down at the floor and wrung her hands. “I can’t take it. I can’t take being the person whose pushed you away and I...I think we need to talk about it - or not talk about it - I’m not sure. I just, I don’t want you to avoid me anymore, even if that means we pretend that it never happened, that’s fine. I just...”

He could tell her right now the exact reason why he couldn’t be around her. Elain, he would say, I would do anything to be around you. I would kill a thousand men just to have the privilege of your company. But I can’t, Elain. Because when I’m around you, everything turns inside out, I forget everything I’m supposed to be afraid of. I become this person around you Elain, I become someone who I’ve always wanted to be, and I don’t know how to be him, if I even can. I’m not used to this, to wanting something so viscerally it feels as though I might fall apart every day I don’t see you. Elain, I don’t know how to choose happiness, I don’t know how to be selfish in that way, and above all...I don’t know how to fix this.

“I don’t care if you don’t want me like that, not if it comes at the price of your friendship. I still...need you in my life, Az,” Elain was whispering now, her large eyes slightly glassy in the candlelight. 

Azriel couldn’t help but think that Elain was evidentially stronger than him, that she could still want to be around him even if he supposedly didn’t want her. If the roles were reversed, if it had been Elain who had pushed him away, he was pretty certain he would’ve manipulated his work to make him leave the Night Court for at least several years. Of course, she was stronger than him, he was beginning to think she was stronger than them all, because of this exact trait of hers - forgiveness.

“Please...say something,” Elain’s broken voice rose through the silence. She looked at him again, tears threatening to spill. Her looking at him in such a way made something deep in his chest twist, and twist and keep on twisting. 

He didn’t know what to do, so he took a step forward, and another and another, until he was a foot’s distance away from her. The whole time her eyes never left his, her hands still twisting together at the front of her beautiful, beautiful dress. He opened his mouth to speak but once again Elain had rendered him speechless. Where could he begin, how could he begin - how could he fix this?

“Elain...” was all he managed in the end, but that seemed to be enough to soothe her as her eyes fluttered shut and she breathed deeply at the sound of her name mingled with his breath.

With Elain’s eyes closed he allowed himself to greedily devour the sight of her. Just her face alone captured his attention entirely. With his eyes he memorised the curve of her cheekbones, the specific angle of her brows, even the exact chocolatey shade of her lashes. He went over it again, and again, and again, like a worshipper devouring the holy text. Azriel needed the perfection of Elain committed to memory, because he was sure that one day his luck would run out entirely. That soon he would not be permitted to even these meetings in the dead of night, with only a thousand stars as witness to their mutilated fate.

“Elain...” He tried again; his voice softer than he had ever heard it before. The person he became around Elain was foreign to himself. He had never been someone privileged enough to both love and be loved, not like this. Now that he had tasted such passions, he found he could not always recognise himself. Because he was Azriel, and he was cursed and damned, destined to be alone, to be unloved, mutilated both in mind and morality. He could not love; he shouldn’t be able to love - and yet.

“I’m sorry,” He began, his voice barely audible. And by the way Elain’s brows furrowed slightly and her mouth tightened, he knew that she knew he was talking about the last time they’d been here, in this foyer. “I wish things were different,” He whispered, now trying to memorise the exact constellations of her freckles.

“Me too,” She breathed, her eyes still closed. “I wish I was different,” She surprised him by whispering.

“Don’t...” He murmured, silently stunned, “You...you don’t know how you...” But he had to stop himself mid-sentence, had to bite his tongue between his teeth hard enough to draw blood. Because if he started to talk, he wouldn’t stop. He would tell her everything, and he wasn’t quite ready to be so vulnerable, not when he didn’t know how to be vulnerable at all.

“I...” She opened her eyes and seemed to look at him as though for the first time. After a long pause she spoke again, “I wish I had courage.”

“Courage?” Elain paused and shifted slightly from foot to foot, as though she were debating what she would say next.

“I want to be strong, like my sisters...I want to etch out my own path rather than fumble in the dark.” Azriel thought for a moment.

“You are strong, whether you perceive yourself to be or not.” He wanted nothing more than to reach up and stroke his hand along her smooth cheek, instead he dug his nails into his already marred palm and focused on the pain’s bite.

“I will never be a general,” Elain whispered, her eyes still damp, “I will never be a High Lady or a leader, I don’t care for any of that...I wish I did. You can’t imagine how badly I wish I...” Her words ran out and her eyes became slightly glossed over and detached. Again, he felt the urge to touch her, to ground her back in reality, but he just dug his nails in deeper. “I don’t belong on battlefields, though I’d always fight when the world needed me but...I’m not a warrior; and that petrifies me.”

Again, Azriel paused, taking time to absorb every word Elain offered to him under the moonlight. Azriel adored Elain, he could’ve stood there for an hour and listed everything about her that had brought him hope. How her outlook on life had been so foreign to him, so unrealistic when he first met her, that it was extraordinary now just how jealous he was of her ability to look at the morbidity of the world, and still seek out the good.

“In a world of endless bloodshed and bitterness, do not be ashamed of not wanting to be a warrior,” Azriel whispered.

“But I’m useless,” Elain quickly interjected, “I have all this power, I feel it stirring in me and there is no part of me that wishes to manipulate it or-or exploit it.” Elain’s hands came up and danced in the air as she spoke, another quirk of hers he’d both memorised and adored. Azriel thought again, long and hard, before he spoke.

“I’ve been around a lot longer than you, and from what I’ve learnt of people is...that they’re horrible,” Azriel watched as Elain’s eyes widened and drank in his words and something twisted in his chest. People didn’t look at him like that when he talked. His brothers would wink and laugh with him, his enemies cowered and flinched, those whom he bedded would smile slyly or watch his mouth as he murmured dirty things in the dead of night. But no one looked at him like that, as though he were reciting poetry, as though he were beautiful enough to say something worthy of those big eyes and parted lips.

“You wouldn’t believe the horrors I’ve seen, or the court secrets I’ve uncovered. The way people, particular those in positions of power, treat each other, treat those around them and those below them - it’s tragic. It’s merciless and cruel.” Elain was still drinking him in, still hanging onto his every word.

“I think over the centuries, I myself became desensitised to the horrors of power and politics. Especially given my start in life. When you were human I understood your naivety, your belief in the good of the world, especially after your riches had returned and your life was content.

“But what I didn’t understand was how you continued to believe good after everything you went through. After facing the most brutal torture from the Cauldron itself...you still chose to believe in the wonderful and I-I didn’t understand that. Because I couldn’t do that. Because I’d never believed in the good of people the way you do...I had never even believed in the good of myself.

“Please don’t think that kindness is something small, or something that can be overlooked. Because when the world is little more than ruin and rubble, kindness is all we have left. We’ve just been alive so long that we forget about it, us Fae, we’ve spent so much of our lives at war that it’s easy to forget why we’d even engage in such bloodshed. It wasn’t till I met you that I was reminded that such things as tenderness and humanity even existed outside my family, and once the wars were about defending those virtues rather than snuffing them out…I just, I can’t help but think that if there were more people like you in the world, maybe Prythian wouldn’t succumb to carnage every few decades, just so that the heartless noblemen of this land can feel something.”

Azriel hadn’t meant to speak for so long, in fact, he didn’t quite understand where the words had even come from. They were true, of course. He did whole-heartedly believe everything he had just said, he just hadn’t realised how much he’d ached to say it aloud. Elain was still staring at him wide-eyed, and then there was the worst thing of all, a single tear spilling over her damp eyes and trickling down her cheek.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to-”

“No,” Elain whispered, suddenly reaching out and sliding her palm into his from where it was hanging limp at his side. Electricity shot through his arm, and he forced himself to look at her in the eye as he tensed his legs so that they didn’t crumple underneath him. “No, it’s good I’m, I’m glad you said it I...”

But again, words seemed to evade Elain as she looked up at him. Azriel was now hyperaware of her how close she was, of her smooth palm that fit so nicely in his own. His body often reacted on its own accord around Elain, and he had spent months leashing his desires into chains, beasts that could only come out in the dead of night. But since that dreaded Solstice night last winter, everything had changed.

Life these past few months had consisted of the battle between two extremes. Either he was drowning in the way his body seemed to ache and beg for her, his mind obsessing over their stuttering relationship as though it were a philosophical debate. Especially since he now knew that some part of her wanted him and had wanted to kiss him even with her mate sleeping upstairs. The fact that he now knew what her scent tasted like, how her voice sounded when it was breathy and desperate - it all fuelled the fantasies that haunted him the moment he made it back to his room. He could be on the other side of Prythian and somehow the presence of Elain Archeron would find a way to him.

The other extreme was complete and total deprivation. The reality that he hadn’t seen her for months, that she would soon exist more in memory than experience. Even though his fantasies of her were so visceral, so tangible, the reality that she was not in the room with him always came crashing down by the time his head had cleared - and then he’d feel more alone than ever before.

But when he was here, with her, the argument ceased. The torture and the pain, the writhing mind and aching debates, it all fell into beautiful silence. And so, looking at her now, he was unable to help himself. And without thought, he reached up and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear as he murmured under his breath, no more than a whisper, “Elain Archeron...saviour of the cursed and damned...”

As Azriel��s fingers grazed Elain’s cheek, a horribly confused and upset look twisted her face. She seemed to freeze at the contact and Azriel halted at her discomfort, internally berated himself for pushing her too far, for being so arrogant in thinking he could touch her in such a way.

“I...Azriel...I don’t understand,” Elain’s breathless voice seemed to caress him, and once more he found himself tensing his legs so that they wouldn’t give out under him. “You don’t want me...you said it was a mistake...” Azriel stilled, and he caught her eye in a moment of alarmed sobriety.

“You and I both know that’s not true.”

He couldn’t stop the words before they spilled from his lips. It didn’t matter how soft, how quiet, his voice was, the words were innately harsh and something deep against his spine lurched at the thought of her hurting her - of hurting her again.

But Elain didn’t flinch. Her eyes, instead of widening in shock, stayed stoically still and calm. And then Azriel watched as those honeyed eyes he loved so much lapsed darker and darker, the floral musk of her arousal drifting to him like a moth to a flame, the same scent he’d been dreaming of for months, the memory of it alone making his body achingly hard and taut, as though his own skin existed only to respond to the call of hers.

The scent surrounded him, sending blood to his cock which was now throbbing viscerally against the seams of his leathers. His arousal had never felt so tight before, so extreme and sudden. He felt it, heavy in his lower abdomen, twisting and knotting his guts in both pain and pleasure. That was familiar, that he’d felt a hundred times before, but for Elain Acheron his whole body seemed to sing. His blood burned under his skin as it pounded through his body, whilst his heart was light and fluttery in his chest, as though it might edge up his throat and fall from his lips. His eyes felt heavy lidded as though he were drunk, and even though he were standing stoically still, even though he hadn’t done anything yet, he found himself short of breath.

He had never wanted something more - never. Not Mor. Not a job. Not a secret, not information. Not salvation, not mercy. God, it seemed as though in this instant, Elain had invented want for him.

He would beg for her. Right now, in the foyer where he’d first tasted this personal drug. Had Elain not been holding him up by her eyes and a single palm he would already be on his knees. He moved to fall down before her, like a worshipper at a temple, when movement at her mouth caught his eye. Azriel watched as her delicate, pink tongue slowly dragged along her lower lip to wet it as she blinked innocently at him. Azriel’s resolve was gone in a puff of smoke.

Fuck Rhysand. Fuck Lucien. Fuck the Mother, the Cauldron, the world. Fuck anyone who stood between him and Elain who he knew, he knew, wanted him as badly as he wanted her. Because of course she did. Because whatever this was, whatever was happening between them, was otherworldly and impossible to ignore.

And good luck to them, was the last though Azriel had before he leaned in. Good luck to anyone who ever dare stand between him and her, because he’d kill them - he’d fucking kill them.

Despite his body beating like a drum for Elain’s melody, he did not kiss her right away. Once he’d accepted that he would kiss her, once he’d come to that inevitable conclusion it felt like a thousand doors of golden light opened before his eyes, and it took everything he had to not sob with joy.

All those fantasies he had revelled in for the past year that had been shrouded in a miasma of fantasy and shame, rolled through his mind clear as day. He could kiss her lips. Those soft pads of blushing rose that he had already committed to memory. Or he could trace down and press his lips to the sensitive spot between her neck and shoulder, a crook of intimacy that he’d already figured out from watching her protect it with her hands when someone stood behind her. He could kiss her temples, her cheeks, her throat - every fucking inch of her.

Now that his resolve had snapped like an elastic band stretched too far, he found that he was finally free. Looking at her he hadn’t realised how long he had taken, how slowly he was leaning in until Elain’s fingers suddenly gripped the leathers across his chest and her brows furrowed as she pulled closer to him, her eyes dark and desperate, her mouth wet and parted as she half-gasped, half-whispered, “Please....Azriel...”

He did moan then. A low, throaty sound that escaped him at the sound of his name intertwined with her breathy gasps. He snapped.

He had intended to savour every second of kissing her, but the moment his lips touched hers, he felt fire. Elain’s hands ran up his chest before intertwining themselves in his hair as she pulled herself against him and he moaned again, the second time in a minute, into her mouth. Because he could feel her, all of her, pressed against his hot throbbing body. The soft pressure of her breasts, the bones of her hips, even one of her legs had tucked between his own, the sides of their knees brushing together. She was going to kill him. She was going to fucking kill him.

And then there was her mouth. Softer than petals, and so obviously hers in taste and touch. Every time their lips brushed, every time he felt her perfect breath mingling with his own, shivers erupted across his body. Unable to stop himself he brushed back her hair before firmly grasping the side of her neck, his hand was so large against her velvet skin that he knew he could probably hold her entire throat in one hand. He put it there as an ode to the last time he’d been here. He’d put it there as a fuck you to fate.

His other hand curled around her waist and pressed against her back where - and he moaned again - Elain’s exposed skin greeted him.

He wanted to take her right her. Wanted to lie her down on the carpet and bury his head between her thighs as he had done so many times before in his fantasies. How he ached to taste her, all of her, to pin her writhing thighs back with one hand and wrists with the other. He wanted to look at her perfect angelic face as he made her sing sinful sounds for him. Wanted to make her toes curl and back arch as she came on his tongue. Again, and again, and again.

Elain tugged slightly on Azriel’s hair and he was thrust back into his body, back into the present, and he had to stifle another moan because those thousands of fantasies had nothing, nothing, on this.

In response to Elain’s needy tug, Azriel bent slightly and curled a hand around the back of each of her thighs and hoisted her up against his chest. Elain, much to his delight, snapped her legs around him as he lifted her against his chest, their lips still ferociously dancing. He only had to walk a few paces to set her against the edge of the lobby table, but that particular move was one that had been haunting him more recently of late.

He went to pull away after she was set down on the wooden tabletop. He wanted to see her, with her hair ruffled and her cheeks flushed, her lips swollen and her chest heaving. He wanted to commit that image to memory because there was still some part of him that could not believe this was real.

But as he moved to step back, Elain caught him off guard as her legs tightened from where they were wrapped around his hips, something of a growl arising from the back of her throat as she fisted his leathers and pulled him against her. Azriel obeyed her, like a puppy on a leash, leaning his hands against the table, either side of her hips, in order to stay standing.

She was flushed against him once more. Her breasts pushed against his chest which felt suffocated by the Illyrian leathers, he ached to have her skin brushing against his own, but all in good time. He slipped his tongue into her mouth then and revelled in the juxtaposing thrill and relaxation of exploring her in this way. But there was still an inch of space between their hips. He didn’t know why he left it there, even when Elain dragged him against her, perhaps it was because he knew the minute they were aligned in cardinal perfection, there would be no turning back. He would be hers and vice versa, and she would be his muse and his priority, and he would put her before everything - even his High Lord.

To steady himself, Azriel made the mistake of taking his hand and bracing himself on Elain’s thigh. What he was not expecting was for his palm to find the soft, exposed flesh of her leg from where her dress must’ve mischievously ridden upwards when he had lifted her.

Purely on instinct, Azriel moaned and drove his hips forward into her core, earning a breathy sigh from them both as they finally found an inch of friction in their writhing. There was only fabric now. Measly layers of fabric that came between them.

“Fuck...” Elain gasped into his mouth and some outrageously animalistic part of him growled in satisfaction at having pulled a sinful swear from her angelic mouth. Azriel kept one hand against the wood near her hips to stay steady, to stop himself from grounding his hips into her like an uncontrollable beast, the other stayed on the warm, smooth flesh of her exposed thigh.

Slowly, he began to trace rough circles with his thumb on her inner thigh earning a flutter of breathy sighs to dance from her lips which pleased his soul to no avail. Azriel parted from her lips and began to pepper kisses along her jawline as he torturously inched his thumb up, inch by inch with each circle. When Azriel began to kiss and suck on the spot just below her ear he allowed himself to peek at her as he worked.

Her head was tilted back slightly, her throat bobbing as high hums fluttered from her. If he could paint he would paint the perfect blush of her swollen lips. If he were a poet he would turn her breathy moans into the sweetest of sonnets. And then she tugged on her bottom lip with her teeth as a soft moan escaped her and he had to look away, if only to stop himself from reaching down and fisting himself at the sight of it.

With his head turned Azriel hissed out of surprise as his thumb rubbed against a sticky sweetness coating her inner thigh. God she was wet. And as he rubbed further, coating his thumb in her essence, he had to bite his cheek as to not come in his pants like a schoolboy. Azriel stopped rubbing circles in favour for taking his first finger and tracing back and forth over the highest point of her thigh, slow and torturous as he familiarised himself with the feel of her. His heart threatening to beat out of his chest when his fingers brushed against a lacy frill at the apex of her thigh. Tilting his head Azriel was able to husk into her ear.

“What do you want Elain?” His voice was low and breathy before he caught her lobe between his teeth. Another shuddering gasp floated from her lips. 

“I want you to touch me...and I don’t want you stop,” the sound of her voice so mingled with pleasure and need was almost enough to undo him. “Ever,” She went on, “Not until I don’t know my own name.” 

She was going to kill him. Growling in satisfaction he rewarded her answer with one quick brush over her lace underthing's, the touch was like electricity for them both. Elain physically tremored as Azriel finally brushed where she needed him most, and Azriel shuddered at the contact with the girl of his dreams. 

“Please, Azriel,” Azriel stilled for a moment, wondering how she would react to his instinctual next move. His particular flavour of making love.

“Say that again,” He said slowly, his voice barely more than a brutal, low husk. As he spoke Azriel allowed some of his power to ebb into the words, the siphons a top his hands guttering as they came to life. It felt slightly wrong to use such a voice on her, the one he so often used with enemies, but Azriel watched as Elain’s lips parted, her pupils expanding as her breath grew heavy in response to his dominant voice. Oh, Azriel couldn’t help but think in agonising awe. Maybe his deep assumptions, the ones that only haunted him in that void he entered before he fell asleep, were true. That Elain, the purest of sisters, was also the filthiest.

“Please, Az,” Her voice was breathy and pleading, but there was something alight in her eyes as she begged him.

“Good girl,” Azriel couldn’t stop himself from husking as he peeled back the top of the lace. They both stared unwaveringly into each other’s eyes as Azriel dipped his hands along her, not touching just hovering. He held his hand there, an inch away from where she needed him most, waiting until she almost whimpered before he slid a single finger slowly through her folds. 

Her reaction was blissful to see. The way she bit her lip, her back arched, and her eyes fluttered shut. Azriel moved with her, his own mouth parted, and brows furrowed as he stroked her again.

“Don’t close your eyes,” He murmured in his voice of steel, “Look at me.” Elain’s eyes snapped open, and it was his turn to be caught off guard. Gone was the hazelnut colour, even the sensuous black he had somehow lulled them into, what met him was the colour of bright honey and her eyes, they were glowing. They stood out like gemstones being pierced by golden light. It was then that Azriel began to take note of their surroundings and realise that the thrumming was not just happening inside him but all around him. Ripple after ripple of raw, ancient power was bleeding from Elain, fizzing into the air and turning the entire foyer into something alive and electric. A shiver ran along Azriel’s entire body as his own powers itched to sing in harmony with hers; cobalt energy rising to meet her golden light.

Her folds were dripping, and he was having an internal debate on whether or not to rip off her underwear. On one hand he would have better access, he would be able to pleasure her better, and he could even push her back against the table and lower his head and taste her. On the other, he couldn’t stand being disconnected from her for a second. 

Whilst he debated, he slowly raked his finger up her again before finding that small bundle of nerves. When he caught it with his fingertip and began to drag slow, luxurious circles over it, a throaty, guttural moan escaped her lips. He bit his cheek again. He wondered if anyone had fucked her like this and again, that pride bloomed when he realised that he might be the first. Not her first, but the first person to show her the true ecstasy of pleasure.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” Elain gasped as her head fell forward on his shoulder. Azriel allowed the eye contact to break, too absorbed by the feeling of having Elain writhing under his fingers to care.

He’d always thought that he could die a happy man if ever he was blessed enough to experience such a joy as Elain Archeron, but now he realised what a stupid notion that was. Because Elain wasn’t cause for death but cause for life. He’d live for Elain, Azriel realised. Elain who was writhing and mewling into his shoulder as he slowly brought her to the ecstasy she deserved. She was close and following this he would winnow them away to either his unused apartment in central Velaris, or deep in the gardens on this summer night, where they would be entirely alone, and everything would be perfect. And once they’d had their fill on the pure bliss of one another they could talk about everything, and they’d find a solution and they’d work it out, and everything would be okay - and then Rhysand walked in, and everything came crashing down.

Some part of Azriel’s hazy mind had been aware of the movement deep in the house but it had been so, so inconsequential compared to what was in front of him. And his shadows, well his shadows were nowhere to be seen, not with golden light quite literally thrumming from Elain. There had been no warning, and as Rhys met Azriel’s eye when he still had his fingers flush against Elain some primal part of Azriel reared its head.

In an instant Azriel’s siphons were spluttering to life as power surged through Azriel, his wings instinctively flaring as wide as they would stretch, so that the cresting talon of each wing scraped into the polished walls. Rhys, who was standing at the edge of the foyer, an unrecognisable expression scorched into his face, was a threat at that moment, and the whole world seemed to still as Azriel slowly came down from the high of his arousal.

Slowly, Azriel removed his hand from Elain’s underwear and smoothed down her skirts to cover her legs, all the while never moving his eyes from Rhys. He didn’t care if he was in for the doghouse, didn’t give a shit about what consequences his happiness had just induced - Elain came first.

And right now, even though it was a ludicrous thought, Azriel was preparing himself to protect Elain from Rhysand. Elain’s whose nightgown had slipped down her shoulder, whose eyes were wide as she glanced over her shoulder at her brother-in-law, exposed and vulnerable just as she’d been on the worst night of her life.

“Azriel,” Rhysand finally spoke and Azriel shifted slightly to pull Elain closer to his chest. “My office...now.” It seemed as though all sense of formality had dropped as Rhysand’s High Lord voice billowed into the room. Azriel didn’t speak, didn’t move either, just shifted his eyes to Elain whose face was blanch and confused.

“Can’t this wait?” Azriel asked, his voice low and full of strength. Instantly he realised that he should’ve worded his question better. He didn’t want time in order to finish off what he and Elain had begun, but rather to give Elain a moment to breathe, for her to fix her dress and smooth her hair, for her to do whatever she needed to do before she was forced to face her family. Rhysand’s eyes darkened, and he entered the room in a low stride, both hands digging deep into his pockets. Azriel moved instantly, stepping around Elain to put himself in front of her as Rhysand approached.

Without a word Rhysand came closer and closer, and Azriel continued to stretch his wings to cover Elain from whatever vitriol was about to be thrown his way. But Rhysand didn’t say anything, he didn’t even move suddenly, just reached out a single hand until it was barely touching Azriel’s arm as darkness surrounded them both.

Before Azriel even had a chance to realise that Rhysand was winnowing them away – away from Elain – they were standing in his office, and Azriel couldn’t help but shake his head at the slight Deja-vu of the whole situation. Except this time, he wouldn’t be bounding himself in shackles, he’d be setting himself free, whether Rhys wanted him to or not.

Azriel was standing in front of the large mahogany desk of Rhysand’s office whilst it’s owner moved behind it, one hand still in his pocket. Already the air in the room was taut with energy, as though the very air were cowering in the face of the upcoming argument. And still Azriel’s mind was still thinking of the girl in the foyer, her name like a mantra beating through his body,

“Put your cock away Azriel,” Rhys immediately spat in response to the ripples of cobalt energy rippling from Azriel’s form. Azriel didn’t deem the childish comment with a retort, though his arousal was already gone, and quickly replaced by the tautness of anger and frustration. His shadows had returned to him now that he was away from Elain, and they were writhing uncontrollably around his legs and back.

Azriel stayed standing, folding his arms over his chest just for something to do. It was then that Rhys sighed heavily, leaning against his desk and hanging his head. He wasn’t as tired nor as desperate as when they’d last spoken like this - of this. No, now Rhys had everything. Everything he had ever, and could ever want, and now his fight lay in protecting the paradise he had found in Feyre and Nyx. Whilst Azriel was still in the dark, still alone, still secretly in agony - they were not the same.

“I gave you the simplest of orders,” Rhys sighed like a disappointed father and something brutally aggressive awoke in Azriel. How dare he, how dare Rhys speak to him like that?

“I know,” Azriel said, his voice indiscernible and calm. Rhys swung his head up to glare at Azriel, something emotional lingering in his violet eyes.

“You know? Then, Azriel, why did you take it upon yourself to disobey me?” Azriel’s grip on his biceps tightened. 

“Elain is...” Azriel began before he had to lower his eyes. What was Elain? How could he explain to Rhys the inexplicable way he felt about the angelic gardener? The effect she had on him, it was both irrational and yet made perfect sense. And right now, he could barely focus with knowing that somewhere in this house she was looking around confused, wondering what the hell had just happened. “She’s important to me. More than you realise.”

“She has a mate.”

“That is irrelevant-”

“Irrelevant?” Rhysand looked as though he might laugh and Azriel once more gripped his arms tight enough to bruise. “I thought I made it perfectly clear to you Azriel that the bond between Elain and Lucien-” Azriel growled at his name, Rhys ignored him, “-is paramount to the civility between us and not just the Autumn Court, not just the Spring Court or the Day Court, but also the Band of Exiles and the Human realms.”

“And have you ever wondered if maybe Elain deserves better?”

“Better than Lucien-” Rhys practically squawked. 

“No,” Azriel growled, allowing his anger to show, “Better than us. Better than a family who reduce her to little more than a political pawn-”

“She is my sister,” Rhysand spat, standing up straight with a newfound intensity. “Don’t you dare question my treatment of her, don’t you dare suggest I don’t care for her.”

“Are you truly so out of touch that you do not see the shackles you’ve tied around her wrists?” Azriel uncurled his arms, “You’ve stripped her of any choice-”

“This is not about choice!”

“This has everything to do with choice!”

“Elain is a valued member of my family but also of my court. As her High Lord, I have made a difficult decision but one that will undoubtedly strengthen this us in the now impending war. It was a tough decision and if you want me to be the bad guy, fine, I’ll be the bad guy, but you will obey my orders as this is the best choice for Elain.”

“Then why don’t you ask her,” Azriel growled, grappling with the internal leash on his powers, “Why don’t you actually include her in the decisions you’ve made about her life.”

“I don’t know what you’re insinuating,” Rhys flicked invisible lint from his suit, “But Elain is a valued member of these discussions.” 

“Then why isn’t she here?” Azriel husked quietly, full of venom. Rhysand apparently didn’t have anything to say to that, so Azriel went on. “You claim to value choice Rhysand, and yet you’ve stripped Elain of not just her own volition, but the simple knowledge of the choices made about her life.”

There was something bitter clanging through Azriel as he spat the words, he knew what it was, it was a word - hypocrite. Because whilst Azriel was fighting for Elain, really he should be allowing for Elain to fight for herself. He should’ve left the office the minute Rhysand winnowed them and searched for Elain. He should’ve told her, all those months ago, about why he could no longer be around her. And that’s why Elain deserved better, better than Rhys and better than him, because even now they talked of her rather than with her.

“You are to stay away from her,” Rhysand said at last, glaring out the study’s window almost as though he was ignoring Azriel.

“I can’t do that. Not anymore,” Azriel husked, and Rhys paused, catching Azriel’s eye before he hastily looked to the side and raked a hand through his hair. 

“I told you, Azriel. I told you to stay away from Ly-” Both Azriel and Rhys’ eyes widened at the name that nearly fell from Rhysand’s lips. A revelation occurring to them both as the name Rhys’ long deceased sister was brought into the room. “Elain,” Rhys corrected himself, acting unbothered by his slip. “I told you stay away.”

Azriel didn’t know how to respond. He’d spend hours in training rings, on long haul flights or espionage ventures thinking of this specific argument. The way he’d tell Rhys all the things he should’ve said on that Solstice night, about the disservice they were both doing to Elain, about how it was outrageous of Rhys to demand Azriel put politics before his happiness after, well, everything. 

After Azriel had spent 500 years alone with only a doomed infatuation with a woman who would never love him back. After Azriel had always favoured to be alone, to suffer in silence, to take the blame, and now he finally had an out. After Azriel had to put up with both his brothers finding their perfect happiness, Rhys himself almost starting a war by perusing and protecting Feyre.

Why was it so different for him? Why was it the moment Azriel had happiness within an arm’s reach there were a thousand excuses for him not to have it? What was so poisonous about his desires? About him?

“She’s not Lydia,” Azriel said at last. It was a low blow. Especially since Rhys had so clearly tried to cover up his slip a moment ago. “For one, you would never treat Lydia with such little respect. Elain is her own person and I’m not going to fight with you, or Lucien, or anyone for that matter like she’s some kind of prize.”

This argument was too real. Of course, they’d had arguments before, all three of them had. Azriel could remember a particularly nasty one between Cassian and Rhys where they hadn’t spoken for a year, Azriel bouncing between them like an owl. But this wasn’t a brotherly squabble, not when the stakes were so high.

Rhys sighed, still not meeting Azriel’s eye as a muscle in his jaw ticked. It seemed as though the High Lord also understood the irregularity of the dispute, or maybe he was just furious at facing his own errors, at his spymaster criticising him on failing someone so important on a matter which Rhysand prided himself on - the volition of the women in his life. After what happened with his mother and his sister, to find out he was now failing his new family must be driving him mad.

“You just can’t keep it in your pants can you Azriel?” 

It may have been less shocking if Rhys had just leaned over and stabbed Azriel in the gut. His words clanged into the air with a sour metallic taste, and for a moment Azriel lost his breath, his jaw slackening as his shock registered before he could swiftly cover the expression with the mask of steel he’d perfected. The silence following the comment was perhaps worse than the blow itself. Now it was Azriel who couldn’t stand looking at his brother. He didn’t care if Rhys looked apologetic, didn’t care for him at all. 

“Do you really think so low of me?” Azriel’s voice was deathly quiet, before he finally shifted his eyes up to see the raw regret plastered on his brothers face.

“No, I-” A vicious knock came at the door then, interrupting whatever apology Rhys was going to throw his way.

“Open the door,” Came Elain’s voice, more brutal than he’d ever heard it before. Something electric shot through Azriel at the sound of it, of her. If anything, her voice was a reminder that this was real, that his hair was tousled, and lips swollen because of Elain-fucking-Archeron.

Rhys didn’t move for the door, so Azriel did. Turning around, he walked the length of Rhys’ office to the large double oak doors and pulled one back without hesitation. He knew she deserved to be here, that she should’ve been here from the start. 

Azriel was so set on opening the door for the sake of justice and fairness that he momentarily forget that it was Elain on the other side, and the sight of her made his breath stop in his throat. Her hair was still ruffled from where he had raked his hands through it, and her lips still blushed from where he had tugged on them with his teeth. There was also a faint flush of her cheeks, either from their previous activities or from running through the River House searching for him and his brother.

Something electric and charged ran the entire length of his body at the sight of her - not arousal, something deeper. And by the way her glowing eyes drank him in, he knew she felt it too. Azriel stepped aside and let her pass into the office and walk up to Rhysand’s desk. As he followed her, something bitter twisted in his gut - whatever was blooming between himself and the gardener was a thing to celebrate. Such love, light and warmth in his life which had thus far consisted of cold loneliness was a joyous and wonderful thing. And yet he was made to feel ashamed of his happiness, by his brother. His own damn brother.

“What’s going on?” Elain spoke in her traditionally soft voice, but even Rhys must’ve picked up and the unwavering steel that seeped from her tone, so similar to Nesta’s pitch. 

“Nothing, Elain. Just a dispute between myself and Azriel. It’s nothing you need concern yourself with,” Rhysand’s easy smile warmed through his cheeks and Azriel was sure he was going to punch him before the night was out.  

“Don’t lie to me Rhysand, it’s not a good look for a High Lord,” Elain spoke smoothly, folding her arms over her chest as Azriel had done moments ago. Rhys’ expression only flickered in response. “Now, what’s going on?” Elain asked again.

“Well,” Rhysand began, “Me and Azriel have been discussing you actually, you see, your bond with Lucien is unfortunately paramount to a lot of peace and unity between our court and others.” Rhysand looked blankly at Evie as he spoke, completely dethatched from the emotional anger he’d unleashed on Azriel moments ago.

“Is this about me breaking the bond?” Elain said, her voice smooth like honey, healing the sparking energy in the room as Azriel and Rhysand had geared up for a fight. Something about the question twisted Azriel’s guts. It was her terminology; it was all wrong. There was no such thing as breaking a bond, one could reject it and render the attachment limp and lifeless, but breaking a bond was only achieved in death, and even then some believe the bond to continue in the next life. It was just a reminder that Elain knew nothing about this world, Lucien had placed the acceptance or rejection of the bond in her hands, but she did not even know what either option would truly entail. Her education, it was another thing they’d all failed her on.

“If you wish to reject your bond with Lucien I, nor anyone in this court, will prevent you from doing so,” Rhysand said smoothly, “However, given the current political climate, I must say it would be best to leave this till after the war.” Elain did not look away as she thought.

“I don’t want the bond,”

“That’s perfectly okay-”

“No,” Elain interrupted, “I don’t want the bond at all. I don’t want to have to accept or reject anything - I just don’t want it...you....you don’t know what it’s like, to be pulled apart limb by limb, and be remade against your will, to find yourself destroyed and then re-crafted by something as unapologetic as the Cauldron itself. I was violated to the most extravagant degree and when I finally came around, when I finally managed to find something recognisable in myself, months after that night, I came around to find that I had been reduced to some ancient claim a stranger possessed over me. You are all kind, and you all mean well, but I know you all see myself as his.

“It was on the worst night of my life, the night when I had been pulled apart till I was only vessels and blood, he called me his. He is not a bad person I can see that,” her voice wobbled slightly then, “He is kind and witty, he’s working harder than any of you for the forgiveness of my sister. He doesn’t deserve…” She choked up slightly, but cleared her throat to cover it up, “He’s not bad…but this bond is terrible, it’s worst then terrible, it’s suffocating. And when I think of that bond, tied around my ribs like some kind of violating shackle, I just think of how it felt to suffocate on black water...that’s what this bond means to me, it’s a violation on top of a violation. So, to hear that to you, this bond gives you a political advantage, that you get a gain out of it and that you wish me to continue living in torment I...

“I wish I could be sorry about feeling this way, but I don’t. I have stayed quiet, and I have played the role you needed me to play. I keep out of your way; I busy myself with the gardens and dinner and I do everything I can to not bare my teeth every time he visits. But I...” Her wide, damp eyes turned to look at Azriel, “I have found something living in the never ending grave of my life. After I found myself again, all those months after the Cauldron, it felt as though it was only then I emerged from the black water. After I found...” She trailed off, stilling holding Azriel’s eye, “...I was not just out the black water, but back on the ground.” 

A small silence settled over the room as Azriel and Elain found themselves quickly lost in one another again, Rhys was merely glancing between the two, his mind whirring as he tried to click together the puzzle in front of him.

“I tried Rhys…I really did,” Azriel finally whispered into the heavy silence, still not looking away from his beloved. “I’ve done everything short of chaining myself in the dungeons to stay away, but I can’t.” It wasn’t until the words had left Azriel’s mouth that he realised his error. And it wasn’t until Elain’s brows furrowed and her eyes moved to Rhysand, that he felt his heart drop.

“What?” Elain whispered. One of the thousand questions she no doubt harvested. Azriel couldn’t look away from her, couldn’t meet his brothers eye. He had this awful feeling now twisting his guts, the feeling that everything was about to come crashing down.

“I ordered Azriel to stay away from you,” Rhys said evenly. Always the honest man.

“I...what?” Elain spluttered softly, her eyes narrowing on Rhysand. “What?”

“He called me away on solstice night when I was about to kiss you, that’s why I stopped.” That’s why I called it a mistake. Elain’s eyes burned even brighter and Azriel wondered if he should’ve held his tongue. If he should’ve just waited to have this conversation tomorrow where whatever ancient power that was stirring in Elain had calmed down. Now Elain’s glowing eyes seemed to fill the room with golden light, even the black night shrouding Rhysand’s figure ebbed back and inch.

“What?” Elain’s voice rung out, the magic in the room quickly turning volatile.

“I am sorry Elain; I didn’t mean to meddle with your private affairs, but with Lucien under the same roof it would’ve been too risky for those in the house. He could’ve invoked something called a ‘blood duel’.” Of course, Elain didn’t know that, of course none of her friends or family had taken the time to explain that to her. 

“You…you sanctimonious dick,” Elain spat. Had it been any other day, Azriel would’ve had to fight an astonished grin at hearing the words on her lips, but not tonight, not when everything was turning so morbid in front of his eyes.

“I’m sorry Elain, I truly am. But I’m not just your brother-in-law but your High Lord and I cannot risk my entire court for the mild infatuation of a-”

“Don’t speak to her like that,” The words were writhing in venom as Azriel spat them out. He would go down with her. 

“No, Azriel, you don’t speak to me like that,” And with that Rhys’ last straw was gone. In an instant his power was billowing into the room in clouds of black smoke. Rhys acting in such a way in front of Elain, who was already vulnerable, her dress already ruffled and her eyes wide in alarm, made Azriel furious.

“I am your high lord, Azriel, and I gave you a direct command and you have disobeyed me-” Without thinking Azriel’s own icy power rose to the surface, his siphons lighting on fire at the surge. If Elain was frightened by their display of bottomless power she did not show it, perhaps as her own fire was still burning vividly behind her eyes, perhaps since she knew she had more power than them both.

“Have you ever thought perhaps you stepped out of line by asking such a thing of me?” Azriel had never heard his voice so loud and angry before. He didn’t do this. His arguments were stoic and brutal, but mostly silent. He never fought politics - he carved into people who were in chains, and when there was an argument he stayed in the shadows and listened.

“You are my spymaster-”

“I am your brother!” Azriel’s choked sob echoed into the room. “Do I not deserve to be happy?” Rhysand at least had the decency to flinch, to reel back and allow his jaw to slacken in shock.

“Of course, you deserve to be happy brother,” Rhysand’s voice was low and strangled, “But this isn’t just romance – it’s never just romance – this will be a battle-”

“And I’m willing to fight!” Azriel roared, his hands slamming into Rhysand’s desk, his power causing the entire house to shudder, right down to the foundations.

“Azriel,” Rhys’ voice was deathly quiet, “I need you to calm down.” For a moment Azriel didn’t understand, his mind was so focused on Elain, on his own shuddering heart and writhing powers that he simply could not comprehend the words that came out his brothers mouth. Finally, the message registered in his mind and he became aware of his shadows, flourishing and filling the entire room, crawling over the windows and blocking out all the light. The only way he was seeing Rhysand was via the golden glow that came from Elain’s eyes. Disgust racked through his body at the sight of the manifestation of his swirling pain, but before he could do anything, the leash on his powers snapped.

“Azriel-” The next series of events was a blur. Power billowed into the room in a quick explosion, God knows whose it was. Perhaps it was initially Azriel who had finally lost control on that leash on his Illyrian gifts, perhaps Rhysand moved to repress Azriel’s powers with his own, premature or not. Maybe the quiet Elain had had enough of the noise. In an instant, a cocktail of three brands of magic billowed towards each other before exploding outwards, sending a wave of pure, unhinged chaos through the room, the house, and the whole of Velaris.

They all were thrown back from each other, Rhys flying up and landing on his feet, bracing himself against the ornamental globe as his wings appeared and flared. But even he, the most powerful High Lord in history had his knees bent and his arms raised as he braced himself against the fizzling aftershock of the ancient power that tore through the air. Azriel’s centuries of training kicked in as he was catapulted the length of the room, his own wings flared to slow his flight before he caught himself on the doorframe, the weighty wooden doors having flung open, it took an immense amount of physical upper body strength to keep himself upright as the wave of power subsided, his teeth grinding together as his muscles screamed.

But he wasn’t aware of the pain of his screaming muscles, wasn’t thinking about how his wings were in danger of being shredded by the power that ripped through the room. There was only one person, that his entire being seemed to lurch for as his mind screamed her name over and over. Elain.

Elain.

Elain.

He had seen as her pale form was flung away from him towards the cabinets, had heard the shattering of glass over the howling in his ears. Of course, he and Rhysand were okay, they had centuries of power and training under their belts but Elain…Elain didn’t have training, and she had flown through the air the fastest, taking the brunt of the powers rebound, her small form crashing into the case of Rhysand’s prized artefacts.

The minute Azriel had control of his own body and wasn’t being thrust back into the hallway, he winnowed to her, stepped into the shadows with a haste and urgency he’d never felt before. Wrong. He’d felt this fear before, he recognised it’s taste from the poisonous memories of that night Elain had been ripped away from them, leaving behind nothing but a vacant cot and warm sheets. Memories of that night often haunted his dreams; how ridiculously lucky they had gotten that they had reached Elain minutes before the King of Hybern got his hands on her. In his dreams he was too late. In his nightmares he fails her, and by the time he and Feyre find the tent she’s already gone. Sometimes there’s a body, and sometimes his unconscious mind is kind enough to just leave behind her lingering scent. That night he learned what it was like to truly fear, to have the blood leave your body, to feel the world still.

And that’s what the world did as he stepped onto the other side of the shadows. Elain was crumpled on the floor underneath the large bay windows, moonlight streaming into the mutilated room and illuminating her still form. It was as though the starlight was searching for her, reaching out to her with hands made of silver shadows.

Glass crunched under Azriel’s boots as he took a step forward, and another, and another. Because he could scent it before he saw it – the blood. The sour metallic taste that clogged up the air, interwoven with her own delicate scent. Wrong, it was so wrong, to have Elain’s scent fused with that of blood. She was facing away from him, crumpled on her side in a foetal position, and he could see her arms, her beautiful nimble arms so like the legs of a doe, limp on the floor and marred with what seemed to be a thousand cuts.

Her blood was black in the moonlight, and was colouring her beautiful, beautiful night dress. The roaring in Azriel’s ears was nothing short of explosive. And before him he saw a black wave, taller than the Ramiel, heading straight for him. One that was made of self-loathing, anger, frustration and agony, and as he dropped to his knees in front of Elain he felt it wash over him, burying him deeper in himself than he’d ever been before, and he knew he would not resurface.

Slowly, as not to hurt her further, Azriel rolled Elain over onto her back and into his lap. With shaky fingers he pushed back her hair, just as he had done less than an hour earlier. Her eyes were shut again, but this time he didn’t look at her face for beauty, but for a sign of life.

“Elain…” He whispered; his voice was softer than petals. She did not stir.

“Elain…” He murmured again as he bowed his head and pressed it against her chest, sticky blood rubbing against his cheek as he did so. For a moment it was all silent, and Azriel felt the world drop away, felt himself falling through bottomless black water only to never resurface.

And then there it was. The familiar ‘thu-thump’ beating slow and steady in her chest, the sweetest melody Azriel had ever heard. But before he could revel in the relief of Elain being alive, movement at the side of his eye made him snap his head, turn up his top lip and let loose a nothing but feral growl. It was his brother, and a small wave of shame rolled through him at having behaved in such a way to someone whom he owed so much.

“Azriel…” Rhysand’s voice was soothing, calm, “She’s having a vision…look, Azriel look. She’s okay, she’s just having a vision.”

And so, he looked again and yes, she was having a vision. Behind her eyelids Azriel could see her pupils flurrying side to side as though she were engaged in some riveting dream.

She’s having a vision; she’s having a vision. His shadows chanted to him, running up his back and whispering in his ear. It didn’t soothe him, but rather caused the cloud of anger around him to disappear, so that he was numb again. Some movement deep in the house pulled at his attention, but it was like a ribbon trying to move an ocean, there was nothing for it to hold onto.

And soon both men were turning to the worst thing of all: Feyre and Nesta, standing at the doorway looking at their sister unresponsive in a pool of blood, both primed and ready to kill. 

“Get away from her.” Nesta’s voice clanged through the room like steel as she strode forward, seeming to fill the broken room with her strength alone. As she moved she revealed a slightly dazed Cassian behind her, still dressed in his night clothes and yet armed to the teeth, clearly having been awoken in a haste. Rhys took a step back, there was too much power, too much energy, in the room already, provoking Nesta would surely lead them all to their sudden deaths.

Then there was Feyre, walking into the room behind her sister, quiet but observant, the perfect High Lady. She seemed to assess everything around her. The tautness of her husband’s stature, the silent flood of emotions that seemed to be rippling from her spymaster, Elain’s shallow breaths and bloodied night gown. After a moment of quiet assessment, she moved forth to the stoic and emotionless figure of her shadowsinger.

“Azriel,” Rhys recognised Feyre’s tone as she approached his brother, it was the tone she used with Nyx, motherly and soft. Azriel pulled his eyes from Elain to look at Feyre vacantly. “It’s okay, everything’s going to be okay…but I need you to let me take her.” Azriel’s mouth contorted in pain as he pulled Elain slighter closer to his chest.

“I know,” Feyre whispered, dropping to her knees next to him, not caring that her own silken nightgown was turning splotchy and red. “I know it’s hard but everything’s going to be okay. She’s my sister, and I as your High Lady will not let anything harm her.” There’s no need, Azriel thought bitterly as he looked down at Elain’s deathly pale skin, her abuser is here, right in front of you. The only harm you need protect her from, is me.

But he didn’t say any of that out loud, he wasn’t even sure his voice would work for him in that moment. Azriel didn’t quite hand Elain over to Feyre, rather he just let his arms go limp around her, and Feyre was able to scoop her sister out of his arms as though they were passing Nyx from one another. Every instinct Azriel had was screaming at him to take Elain back, to at least look at her unconscious form in Feyre’s arms as they moved away from him, but he kept his eyes on the floor, now kneeling to only the pools of Elain’s blood.

Voices began to erupt around him in hushes whispers, he could distantly hear Rhysand guiding his subjects through the plan, explaining to them what had happened whilst withholding the reason why. It was all numb to him as he continued to float under that black wave, sinking deeper and deeper, their voices were above the surface and so they just sounded warbled and strange.

But one movement did catch Azriel’s eye. It cut through the room’s silent chaos like a knife, a figure appearing at the ruined doorway that caught Azriel’s attention the same way an earthquake would. It was him.

Lucien.

“What happened?” Lucien growled out and something roared in Azriel. He knew that tone of voice, could smell the mate-tarnished anger that was rolling out of him. That animalistic claim on the woman Azriel had nearly lost himself in only moments ago. That’s why he was here, because he would’ve felt the energy down the bond, because even though he was at the other end of Prythian with his own family, he had that claim. 

“She’s okay,” Feyre breathed softly as she lifted her sister up into her arms, “Her cuts are already healing, it looks worse than it is. She’s just had a vision so it might take a while for her to come around.” Feyre’s voice was so like her husband’s, even and balanced, reassuring everyone in the room that everything was okay, even if that were not necessarily true.

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

Azriel didn’t want to hate Lucien, even now he could see that the Autumn son was grappling with the bond that was no doubt screaming at him to rip his mate from Feyre’s arms and winnow them both to the other side of the continent. Azriel knew, because he felt it too. Like Elain he didn’t really hate Lucien, he hated the bond, hated what it told him about himself, clear as day, that he wasn’t worthy of Elain. And though some part of him already assumed just as much, no one was so self-deprecating to not at least hold of a sliver of hope in the face of such agony.

“She’s fine,” Nesta snarled at Lucien, one hand on Feyre’s shoulder, the other on Elain’s pale and bloodied forehead as she guided her sisters towards to mutilated door frame. They were right to take their sister away from the scene, God knew that no one there could help Elain now.

And so Elain disappeared around the corner, and Azriel slowly brought himself off the floor, trying to ignore the sight of his marred hands, covered in her blood.

What...even...Cassian’s voice swam into Rhys mind, dripping in confusion and concern. Did you and Az have a fight?

Rhys put off audibly groaning. Whenever he and Az fought it was normally not difficult to keep Cassian oblivious, he didn’t always pick up and stuff like that and sometimes it was just easier to deal with debates behind closed doors. Not to treat Cassian as his and Az’s overgrown child, it was just that Cassian was never meant to be a mediator.

It’s complicated, Rhys reported back keeping his voice level and calm - his High Lord voice.

I’ll let you off for tonight but, Rhys, you have to let me help you. Especially when it comes to Az. He was right of course, just like Azriel had been.

Deal, Rhys shot back, for tonight I need eyes on Az, I don’t care if he pushes you away I need someone with him at all times, at least until Elain comes around. We’ll re-group then. Cassian didn’t respond besides the smallest of nods. He stayed where he was, more awake now with his eyes trained on their other brother, and Rhys knew Cassian wouldn’t take his eyes off him for the foreseeable future.

Rhysand couldn’t help but sigh, it’s not as though Azriel or Lucien were aware of him to notice. This was a mess. Worse than a mess, it was a catastrophe. Everything Azriel had said was right but, he had broken his order, he had defied rank in a way he’d never done before and that squeezed something deep in Rhysand’s gut. Above all he needed to be able to trust his friends, so that when push came to shove he’d be able to make the tough decisions and his friends would let him go into the belly of the beast. But tonight, that had changed. Everything had changed.

And Elain, Elain who he had nearly called by his sisters name, she’d stood up for herself tonight. And then there was the situation of her powers, savage and rippling out of her like a beast. He had tasted those powers when they’d tore out of her, and they were ancient. The same power that was interwoven in the very fields of the earth, concentrated in the form of the sweetest girl of all. Rhys knew at least a thousand fae who would pay a hefty price to possess Elain, a hundred who might be willing to go to war - and then there were the Fae who would claw for her hand, the noblemen who would see her for her potential offspring. Rhysand physically shuddered as he sent his wings away.

Yes, tonight had been a catastrophe all right.

Rhysand looked away from Cassian’s half-hidden grimace and turned to the two males standing off, the blood of the woman they were unspokenly fighting over still pooling across the hardwood floors. Lucien glaring with restrained anger at Azriel, his masculine mating bond clogging up the air, whilst Azriel wore an impenetrable mask, hiding the bottomless torment and agony that was no doubt running rife in the shadowsinger, as he stared at the weeping puddle of Elain’s blood.

[sukiglycerin]

the scrapbook documenting denki kaminari and his experiences with love, subtlety, and volumes of manga || denki kaminari.

* pairing: denki kaminari x oblivious!reader (gender neutral!)

* genre: fluff, normal conflict(??) but not much, uni!au, friends to lovers, mutual pining, idiots to lovers

* words: 4.5k

* warnings: brief scenario of intoxication, mentions of maidgirls (one of them has a gun because mey-rin from kuroshitsuji), reader has past bad experiences with relationships, bakusquad is supportive af, reader is oblivious (duh), i love sero, side kiribaku

* original request: Can you do a fluff Denki crushing on the reader but the reader is really oblivious to him just badly flirting and bakusquad gets annoyed and helps them get together 😳

* a/n: this turned out much longer than expected, but i’m satisfied with the turn-out! i call this a “scrapbook” because it’s like a collection of short moments. i’m experimenting with this writing style, so i hope you enjoy it! i started writing reader by basing them off of this one pretty girl i know (and very much like), but then reader started morphing into me projecting myself and oh boy. yeah. fun fact: i actually own the kuroshitsuji manga volume with the maidgirl on the cover (volume 22).

“please don’t like me,” is the first thing you say to denki kaminari. you don’t know who he is, though, when you say these words. all you know is that he’s presumably a college student like you and that he’s quite extroverted. behind him stand three of his friends giggling to themselves. it’s apparent they’re playing a practical joke. 

the first thing the blond boy said to you was, “hey, you’re cute, i like you.” that was thirty seconds ago, after you’d put your manga down when you noticed his friends pushing him towards you.

he cracks a grin upon your response. “alright.” he puts his hands up in mock surrender. “the point still stands - you’re cute.” his eyes fall to the manga you set down. “hey- is that detective conan?”

it’s an old, worn copy of detective conan’s first volume.

“oh, yeah,” you reply.

“can i see it?” he asks. you nod.

he picks up the book, surprisingly gentle with its fading corners and creased spine. 

"i used to read the series all the time," he says quietly, reliving a memory in his eyes. "i always tried to solve the crime before conan." 

you're not sure what to answer, but he introduces himself before you can.

"i'm kaminari, by the way." he slips a piece of paper in your manga, setting the book down on your table. "text me."

“please don’t fall in love with me,” is the first thing you whisper to denki kaminari, hushed under the sheets in mina’s room. you're surprised he can hear you over the quiet murmurings of a ghibli movie playing on the tv; you're surprised he's awake.

“okay,” and it’s the first promise he’s ever broken, voice all low and hoarse from the after-effects of prolonged silence. 

(maybe he should've feigned sleep, he later thinks, as his heart stupidly falls and crashes clumsily into love. maybe he shouldn't have said anything at all.)

he turns onto his back, staring at the ceiling. it's dotted with glow-in-the-dark stars mina and sero had impulsively hung up one friday evening instead of studying. there's a couple moons, too, which bakugou had frowned upon, stating, "where are we, jupiter? there's only one moon orbiting earth." kirishima laughed. 

from the sound of shuffling sheets and a quick glance next to him, denki can tell you're now laying on your back, too. he almost makes a comment about you copying him. he stares at the faux stars overhead, not tired enough to close his eyes and allow sleep it's victory for the night. there's not much to do while awake at the moment other than strain his ear to decipher to the tv's audio. his throat feels dry, but he's not motivated enough to sit up to grab a water bottle. anyway, he supposes you and he are staring at the same sky, in a cheesy way. he remembers reading something like that in a book.

he kills the time and his aching mind by finding stupid constellations in the stick-on stars. there's a slightly distorted dipper of some sort, and a heart. there's a lot of squares. there's a shape he passes off as orion, but he knows anyone a tad more into astronomy than him would gasp at the abstract shape and completely dismiss its resemblance to orion. 

eventually, your breathing slows to a rhythmic pace beside him. the logical part of his mind tells him to sleep now that you, too, are sleeping. he doesn't know why he waited for you to be asleep first. one pentagon constellation later, kaminari allows sleep's gaze to wash over and envelope him. the ghibli movie is still playing.

it seems that his friends have beat him, somehow, to the conclusion that denki kaminari has a bit of a crush on you. it's childish, really. he shouldn't like you, recalling your first words to him. they struck you apart from other people he'd met. back then, though, he never seriously thought about you like that. sure, you were conventionally attractive (enough for him to approach you to give you his number), but it was all in good fun. that's what you were, too, for the longest time: good fun and a friend.

until one day, glances lingered for too long while you weren't looking. one day, kaminari's jokes became more and more aimed for you, to hear your laughter in his ears. one day, kaminari realizes he has your usual coffee and bubble tea order memorized, when he can barely remember his own.

he pretends all of it is completely normal, but mina assures him differently. as does bakugou, which is strange, because he's usually not wrapped up in other people's affairs (when voicing this to the blond, he responded, "it's hard not to notice because you're too damn obvious"). it's kind of hard to ignore when bakugou calls it obvious (he's literally had kirishima pining over him since day one with no notice).

kaminari really does try to ignore the bubbling feeling rising at the bottom of his heart. he really does, but you keep on shaking and shaking his poor heart until it's all fizzy like a bottle of soda. he's weak, okay? one day, he’ll explode.

his friends are all urging him to confess to you already, but he cannot work up the nerve to do so. instead, kaminari drops you obvious hints that he likes you. he doesn't know whether you're completely oblivious to them or if you're deliberately ignoring them.

he's been so painfully obvious, he swears.

he's practically able to write a list of hints he's dropped. he's fairly confident he could publish it as an advice book with the title "how to tell your crush you like them without saying 'i like you.'" by this point, he's the king of obvious subtlety. 

the list would go something like this, in no particular order:

pick-up lines

"did it hurt, when you fell-" you were silent, "-from the vending machine? because you're a snack." 

silence. absolute radio silence. he was extremely tempted to run away from the sheer awkwardness between the two of you. as he turned to leave and freak out in private, he heard you mumble a belated "thanks," which made everything worth it.

he still left to freak out, though (and plan his next pick-up line to tell you).

manga references

"hey, y/n," kaminari had said one day, after a particular burst of confidence. you hadn't looked up from your book.

"if i were shinichi from detective conan, you'd be ran," he'd said, referencing the main love interests from the manga. "or maybe vice versa. you are the smart one in this relationship..."

you didn't bat an eye. "they never get together, though? shinichi and ran."

"they- they don't?!" he'd sputtered indignantly. he definitely needed to read up his detective conan lore. "but they both like each other?"

"true," you'd replied in typical you fashion, neither letting on whether you did like him or not. well, hey, kaminari had thought. you didn't deny it. progress.

hand size comparison (which was, in reality, just an excuse to kind of hold your hand)

kaminari had smoothly been planning this for weeks (which, according to sero, was a little sad). he'd bring up the topic of hands one day in your daily conversations, then nonchalantly slip a "oh, y/n, let's do a hand size comparison!" he high-fived himself mentally upon the formulation of this genius plan - you'd definitely fall for him (or at least, realize his feelings for you - this state of teetering between do they like me or do they not like me frustrated him for months on end). the perfect opportunity presented itself one day as the two of you lounged in mina’s room (which, at this point, had become you and your friends’ hangout spot) studying. 

“wow, you type fast,” kaminari remarked as he pretended to innocently look up from the “work” (changing his laptop wallpaper for the tenth time that day) he was doing. you were focused on your work, sitting on mina’s bed with your laptop propped up by a pillow on your lap. you’d barely registered his words, judging by the way your eyebrows scrunched and how you looked up at him after a slow beat. 

“oh, uh, thanks,” you replied. “i’m just copying some text down. i don’t usually type this fas…” you trailed off, eyes widening as you watched kaminari scooching next to you on the bed. he put his hand next to yours, whose fingers still ghosted the keys of your keyboard.

“look,” he said softly, bringing your hands up to eye level. “hand size comparison.” it was breathed out belatedly, but your crystalline eyes didn’t leave his. he started to curve his fingers in between yours, holding your hand so tenderly. he really, really didn’t want to let go. “we fit.” it was a whisper he wasn’t sure you could hear - did he want you to hear it? “like… a puzzle,” he added awkwardly.

you nodded, dazed, slowly bending your fingers over his. he rocked your clasped hands side to side, a fond feeling creeping through his limbs. it was warm and tingly - and maybe it was contagious. could you feel it too, buzzing past his fingertips to you?

precisely three minutes passed before kaminari’s arm started to ache. he didn’t catch your disappointed expression when he let go of your hand, but he did catch the smile that emerged when he held your hand as the sides of your fingers nudged the bed. you didn’t get much work done after that, sitting in silence with him. 

brushing your hand in a popcorn bucket

movie nights on fridays were commonplace at mina’s. the plan, this time, was created by kirishima, who said that it was manly with just the right amount of romantic. kaminari hoped so. the movie settled on was some romance flick, as decided by mina, kirishima, and sero’s pleading with a very begrudging bakugou.

he can’t remember much of the movie. what he can remember, however, is the very close presence of you next to him as the two of you shared a popcorn bucket (courtesy of sero’s very romantic ideas). your hands brushed a (purposeful, on kaminari’s end) dozen times throughout the film. the last couple were accidents. on the first time, though, kaminari watched with satisfaction from his peripheral view as you looked from him to the popcorn that obscured the place where your hands made contact. he was very satisfied by the time the movie ended. 

truth or drink (which just ended up with you and he both getting very, very drunk)

you didn’t particularly enjoy the taste of sake, but that night was an exception. according to your drunken explanation, you had a very rough day. your exam, first and foremost, did not go particularly well (“who cares about freud!?” you blurted. “i dooooon’t!”). kaminari didn’t have the heart to ask who this freud was. then, one of your close friends confessed to you (which almost made kaminari’s heart stop, when you first recounted it to him), and you had to turn them down. you adamantly refused any sort of relationship, you told kaminari. (“nuh uh,” you shook your head. “they’re not good.”) it was surprising to him that you opened up that night. your first couple drinks left you quieter than usual - which was scary, because kaminari was practically having a conversation with himself then. a couple more drinks loosened your tongue, though. 

“there’s someone i like.” you jabbed a finger at him. “but i’m not supposed to saaaay… and it’s scaaary,” you slurred.

“ohh?” kaminari asked, more focused on the burn in the back of his throat. “whooo is it?”

you looked at your arm outstretched to him, and the pieces fell into place slower than they should’ve. he first looked around, just in case he was covering the person you were really pointing to (of course, you and him were the only ones there).

“this guy?" he asked, flabbergasted and pointing to himself. "him?!"

you nodded solemnly. "but i don't like dating," you said stubbornly. "love is dead!" you announced, flopping on the carpet. 

kaminari watched the heaving of your breaths as you lay on the ground, and strained his ears to hear your soft, soberish murmuring.

"i really like you, denki kaminari."

a dopish grin formed itself on his face. "i really like you too, y/n." 

kaminari then promptly blacked out, but not before hearing you running to the bathroom to throw up.

as of now, he can’t recall anything he or you said that night. on the contrary, he can vividly remember the ringing in his head and the sickly feeling that overtook him the next morning.

"you two are so frustrating!" mina declares over her sweetened iced tea. she points at kaminari, then to you standing with sero in the distance. you’re animatedly talking about some painting (“it’s renoir!” you mooned when you first saw it) while he and the rest of the group sit on a nearby bench. 

kaminari puts his hands up. “don’t look at me - i tried my best!”

“yeah, sure,” mina dismisses. “and i’m the queen of england.”

“i mean, they already told me not to like them!” kaminari counters. “what am i supposed to do about that?”

“shoot your shot!” mina urges. “c’mon, what’s the worst that could happen? …wait, don’t answer that.”

“yeah, kaminari, bro,” kirishima puts his elbow on kaminari’s shoulder. “flirt a little bit more.”

“that’s all you two seem to do,” bakugou grumbles from the other side of kirishima.

“you just need a little push,” mina says. kaminari isn’t sure he likes mina’s definition of push.

“i think i’m g-”

“hey, sero, come here!” mina calls to sero in the distance, earning her a couple dirty glances from others in the gallery. “kaminari wants to look at the painting with y/n.”

oh, god, kaminari groans internally. sero, already walking toward the bench, flashes a knowing grin toward him. 

“go get ‘em, champ.” sero pats kaminari on the back as the blond stands up, emitting a low, audible groan. 

the four on the bench watch as your eyes light up at the approaching kaminari, who’s sheepishly scratching his neck. he says something - then you start again, rambling something about “impressionism” then “salon.” mina watches with clasped, anticipating hands; kirishima’s hand accidentally brushes bakugou’s, who’s holding a juice box and watching the two of you; sero simply smiles with knowledge that the others are unaware of.

“well, what do you think?” you finally ask kaminari, gesturing to the painting. 

“uhh,” kaminari says. he was too busy staring at your face - the twinkle in your eyes, the curve of your lips - to pay attention to any of what you’d said. something about impressing and fleeting moments. he looks at the person depicted in the composition, then back to you. he remembers kirishima’s words - flirt a little bit more. it couldn’t hurt, could it?

“i think it’s pretty,” he leans into you, murmuring so he can be sure no one but you and he hears his words, “but it’s definitely not as pretty as you.”

you look down at yourself; then, for whatever reason, to sero. kaminari looks at sero, too, who’s wearing this stupid smile that sets unease in kaminari’s chest. he gives you two big thumbs-up. he’s so confused by sero’s behavior that he barely registers the light sensation of something on his cheek - a kiss. he looks at you, who’s looking away, then to the bench, where his friends are cheering despite the disapproving looks from those around them. he touches his cheek out of disbelief. light swells in his chest - it’s warm, so warm - but your aloof voice brings him back to reality (which really, isn’t much different from a dream).

“kaminari, you’re very red right now.”

“the two of you,” mina exclaims with the two of her hands clasped together in excitement over skype, “should go to a manga cafe!”

kaminari blinks. “as a date?”

“i wasn’t thinking about it like that.” mina nudges him, a sly smile creeping across her lips. “but hey, that works too. i mean, they did kiss y-”

kaminari cuts the pink-haired girl off before she can finish. “is that something… they’d want to do?”

“mmm…. probably,” mina says. “they were reading manga when you first met them right?”

he can vividly remember the somewhat tattered volume of conan, the detective turned little boy who must solve crime while hiding his own identity. really, the wear was only on the soft cover, nudged and peeling on the corners with faded text splayed on the spine. the pages were in crisp condition, he’d noted one day as he (totally, completely discreetly) watched you read the copy again. the bookshelf in your dorm and the stack of books on your desk is littered with different mangas, ranging from the old classics (astroboy) to some newer works (your lie in april). he only remembers this fact because he really, really wants to borrow a copy of black butler (yes, it’s the one with the maid on it. she looks really hot with a gun, okay?). all your manga are well-taken care of, cared for diligently as if each book has a piece of your heart in it. besides, you rarely lend out any (sero once asked to borrow jujutsu kaisen and you very, very reluctantly handed it to him), so he doubts you’d trust him with it.

“hang on, lemme ask sero if they’d be interested in a manga cafe,” mina says, pulling out her phone. “they’ve been close lately,” she mumbles as she types out a quick text to him, a quiet ping letting kaminari know that she’s sent it.

after a pause, mina excitedly reads sero’s reply: “yeah, probably.”

well, that was a definitive answer. 

“there’s one nearby here,” mina offers. “hagakure told me good things about it, and she has a knack for finding the best spots in town. i’ll send you the address.”

“you think they’d like it?” kaminari says in an atypical bout of self-consciousness.

“of course,” mina replies instantly. “don’t you see how they look at you?”

usagi manga kissa makes kaminari cringe. it’s not the bunny-themed logo on the top of the building, nor is it the wide assortment of manga lining the walls, nor is it the cozy, soft seats nuzzled in the nooks and crannies of the café. it’s not even the life-sized cardboard cut-outs of various anime maid girls (he actually particularly really likes that detail). it’s the name itself. usagi is fine - kaminari likes bunnies as much as the next guy. manga is fine, too - he wouldn’t be here if not for the manga. the kissa makes him cringe for the most immature of reasons, like a five year old just learning basic english vocabulary. kissa innocently shortens the word kissaten, for cafeteria, but suspiciously sounds like the english word kiss. he does not want to think about kissing as he walks into the café with you, and especially not when the lady at the counter asks if you want a couples’ discount (you say yes, solely because it’s cheaper). 

he does not want to think about kissing as he walks next to you, browsing the manga selection and passing the shoujo section that boasts illustrations of happy couples and romantic imagery. he doesn’t want to think about kissing as the two of you walk to a “couple’s” room, you rambling about the plot of the manga you chose and him with some shounen volleyball manga in his hand. kissing is the worst thing to think about as your knee touches his in the cramped apparent two-person room. he is not thinking about kissing at all when you offer him your water bottle, half full, and he’s definitely not thinking about indirect kissing or anything when he takes a sip. that would be crazy. 

fortunate for him, his manga is full of not-kissing, so he’s able to somewhat enjoy it without his mind bombarding him with the fact that your face is less than a metre away. as he finishes up the volume, he realizes how much of a middle school student he feels like. 

“y/n,” he looks up to you and says. you’re watching an old episode of neon genesis evangelion on the computer provided in the room, the manga you were reading sitting on the table beside the keyboard. 

“yeah?” you respond and pause the anime. out of his peripherals, he can see you turn to look at him. he stares at the wall ahead of him, lacking the confidence to face you head-on. 

“remember when we first met?” he reminisces. 

“the cafe?” you say. “yeah.”

“if… i can ask,” he musters, “why did you say what you did then?”

you pause, taken aback. “i… i don’t know.”

“because,” kaminari starts, and you flinch, “i like you. a-and i know you said not to-”

a ghost has crossed your face. your mouth is agape, as if you suspected his feelings but never thought he’d verbalize them. he wonders what the kiss was about. 

“i’m,” you gulp, breath stuttering, “i’m sorry.”

kaminari lied. five days later of zero contact with you, he realizes he’s in deep. he doesn’t like you - he’s in love with you. they say distance makes the heart grow fonder, and here he is, sifting through memories he had with you like they’re books. he should probably be studying instead of lying spread eagle on his bed, thinking of you. he can recall a promise made one night and the moment it was broken; he can remember the plastic stars he studied that night, falsely shining and lighting hope within him. he can remember dozens of constellations, half of which were geometric shapes, that he fell asleep to with you at his side. his heart aches, alighting a dull burn within him like a protostar barely able to burn hydrogen. 

there’s a polite knock at his door, so he assumes it to be either kirishima or sero. mina always enters unannounced and bakugou is far too brash to knock softly. slowly - almost reluctantly - he sits up in bed, standing up and making his way to the door. he catches a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror, telling him that his hair is an absolute mess and in no way presentable. he figures that either kirishima or sero will comment about it, but he never needed to impress them in the first place. turning the knob and opening the door, he’s expecting either of his friends, maybe here to nag him or ask him to come and study or say “hey, why haven’t you spammed the group chat with memes in a while? i missed them.”

he definitely isn’t expecting you, face pulled into a worried expression and lips held in a thin, anticipating line before you meet his eyes. you’re pouring out a waterfall of apologies at a thousand words per second as soon as he opens the door, letting yourself in and hardly taking notice of his bird’s nest hair. he guides you to the couch, attempting to interject and ask you to slow down, but he finds that it sounds rude at any given moment. you’re sitting on the couch, lamentations and explanations spilling from your lips as you grip the plush material of the cushion you sit on, when you finally pause to take a breath. kaminari uses this opportunity to interrupt you.

“woah, woah, woah.” he hesitantly puts a hand on your shoulder. “can you back up?”

“oh, yeah,” you start to move back in your seat and kaminari stifles a laugh.

“no, can you start your story from the beginning?” he asks. “take your time, i’m not going anywhere.”

“i’m really, really sorry about what happened the other day,” you apologize, then look at him finally and ogle his hair. “i got… scared,” you admit earnestly. before he can make any question of it, you continue, “i like you too, see. and i never really, seriously acted on it - i didn’t want to. so when you did the inevitable and confessed… it scared me. the truth is… i’m not the best at romance or relationships. i don’t want to put anyone through that, again.” your voice wavers but finishes strong as you look kaminari in the eyes.

“that?” he asks. he’s afraid he’s crossed a line, but you reply all the same.

“i was in a relationship, once. i wasn’t… i wasn’t good enough. i didn’t do the things that people in a relationship are supposed to do, i guess.” you fiddle with the fabric of the couch, looking down at your fingers. your voice gives away the vulnerability of the topic, wrapped in a stiff disconnection; you’ve distanced yourself from it, probably once too familiar with the feelings you speak of.

“it’s okay,” kaminari says, almost too quickly. he slows himself down. “that’s… completely fine,” he admits truthfully. “we can go slow. i… i can wait.”

“can you?” you look up at him, hope shining your eyes. it dims quickly before you say, “you don’t have to. i don’t want to limit you…”

“the only person i want is you,” he reassures you, hesitantly taking your hand in his. “you’re not…” he struggles for words, “...limiting me if i don’t have eyes for anyone else.”

“are you sure?” it’s an almost inaudible whisper, clutching your hopes in three words that are held together by thin threads. 

“i’ve never been more sure,” kaminari replies confidently, giving your hand an encouraging squeeze.

“okay,” you breathe out, relief tingeing your speech. “i… want to be with you.”

it takes everything in kaminari not to kiss you right there. 

“oh, by the way-” you say, standing up from the couch and leaving kaminari to sit alone, “did you still want to borrow that copy of black butler?”

“the one with the maid who has a gun?” kaminari asks, eyes wide. how did you know about that?

“yeah. you kept staring at it before, so i assumed…”

“yeah. yeah, no, yeah, that’d be really great. amazing, actually. wonderful. stupendous-” kaminari shuts himself up before he can ramble on longer. 

“okay, give me a second,” you respond, smiling, and exit to the hallway to retrieve the manga. 

you return with the volume in hand, placing it in kaminari’s hands. 

“thanks,” he says as he glides his thumb over the glossy cover and mint condition. it’s heavier than kaminari thought, and it feels like the weight of a heart. he’ll be sure to take extra care of it, holding it with ginger fingers and a sweet, sweet feeling in his chest.

[uten4]

Shun and Aren's relationship is simultaneously so adorable and hilarious.

Like first you've got Aren, who when he was introduced had just transferred schools and dropped his usual (very physical) method of befriending others, but is now lonely and wants to make friends.

And then you have Shun, whose main goal in the series before he befriended Aren was to make friends! And he did... sort of... succeed in befriending Saiki and Nendou-- they hung out a lot and cared about Shun in their own way. But clearly Shun still wanted to have a really corny poster-child of best-friendship, showing frustration for Nendou's annoying tendencies and Saiki's resistance to being around Shun almost all the time. Like in one episode, when Shun is daydreaming about being a hero, he fantasizes about Saiki calling him by his given name (as opposed to his family name), so you can tell that increased closeness is something he still really wants. And what gets me about that in particular is that very same episode, Shun and Aren become friends, and from then on you only see them referring to each other by given name ^D^ By being friends with Aren, Shun gets some of that cheesy closeness he really wants, but that Saiki is too reserved to offer him.

But yes, when Shun and Aren first speak, Aren is already disheartened by all his friendship attempts up til then failing... and they do that amazing bit where Shun does his chuunibyou monologue and Aren mistakenly thinks this is how all normal people sound. And THEN, even better, some of Shun's chuunibyou terminology are actually things that Aren recognizes... from the world of delinquency. So they're able to have Aren's first satisfactory conversation at PK Academy, and it's completely incomprehensible to anyone else. Beautiful. Amazing. In the anime I don't think they ever do that again, so I thought it was a one-time joke and from then on Aren has become more aware of Shun's delusional qualities... but they actually do it again in the video game. Several times (you can check it for yourself on tumblr user silenthikari's blog). Shun makes some really weird dramatic statement, and Aren either translates it into something meaningful, or translates it into having some equally weird meaning in the delinquent world, and they are able to have a terrible and hilarious conversation this way. Overall their dynamic of Real-life Delinquent Who's Trying To Seem Nerdy and Real Nerd Who's Trying To Seem Tough And Cool is so funny when you think about it (and made more compatible with the fact that Shun is brave when it counts !!). I honestly don't know if I prefer the version of Aren who responds to Shun's chuunibyou monologues with delinquent monologues, or with passing over it while slightly confused... Maybe both. Both is good.

But yeah, Aren is super concerned about keeping his delinquent past hidden, but when Shun figures it out, he decides to judge him based on his current self and not his past, which Aren really appreciates, and it's sweet.

I also like how they spend so much time together and share their interests. In the manga Shun is really into the series Odd-Eye Persona Cerberus, but no one else he knows likes it or even really likes the magazine it runs in, but Aren shows up and HE LIKES THE SERIES... and he follows the other series in that magazine, and of course he and Shun immediately have a conversation about it that is unintelligible to everyone around them. ❤️ In other words, Shun finally gets to share his nerdy manga interests with someone else now that he's friends with Aren! And in turn, Aren is able to share his interests with Shun-- they of course get really into motorcycles together. Also they just hang out in general all the time; they're constantly sharing panels together and in the manga it's mentioned that they spent one summer break just hanging out all the time, to the point where Shun has been influenced by Aren to become foul-mouthed, which is very funny.

I also like that they're so supportive of each other. They compliment and hype each other up A LOT, on their actions, looks, accomplishments, whatever. That doesn't mean they're blind to each other's faults or unfailingly sweet to each other though, which I think is realistic and interesting. They have their casual petty arguments where they make fun of each other or call each other dumb. Also, Aren is aware that Shun is not the best at drawing and even avoids being paired up to do portraits of each other in art class. He's not a big fan of Shun's writing when he first sees it either, which (along with the disapproval of Nendou and Saiki) hurts Shun's feelings-- but in the manga he at least tries to compliment (pretty awkwardly; that's Aren for ya) Shun on something by saying he used a lot of complicated vocabulary. He also privately expects Shun to show up to the class play unprepared, thinking he can be unreliable. But when Shun shows up with an epic costume, Aren mentally takes it back and thinks he's amazing. And when everyone was stranded on an island, he doesn't put Shun on the raft group even though he wanted to go because he gets motion sickness, but Aren just states this straight-up and doesn't dwell on it. He is a person who's very geared towards showing his feelings and acting on them, so he doesn't spare Shun the harsh truth (except when he does), but to my knowledge he never goes out of his way to put Shun down, esp for things he's sensitive about.

And Shun also has moments of not supporting Aren's actions 100%. When Aren draws the protagonist of their manga with a ducktail, Shun tries to let him know that he finds it weird, and after going back and forth a little Aren's like "yeah sure I'll draw him with the hairstyle you want" and they immediately get over it. And in the video game Aren explains the instructions of something in a really vague way and Shun's like "that's so unclear man, here let me", and after he's finished Aren's just like "as expected from Shun! That was so detailed ^D^". And then there are several times in the series where Aren's about to get into a fight or do something aggressive and Shun holds him back, and honestly that's just a Good Friend thing to do. I think it's cool-- Aren looks out for Shun (ex. taking care of him when he gets motion sickness), and Shun looks out for him in turn. And this is kind of just my thinking but it seems like Aren gives Shun more... confidence by being his friend (and a really supportive one at that) and rubbing his delinquency off on him a little, and Shun helps Aren with his own goal of living a peaceful life by trying to keep him out of trouble and doing non-aggressive activities with him, like building forts, studying, playing video games, etc.!

[barnesandco]

Little Hands (IV)

Series Masterlist

Communication is key.

This is an entry for @star-spangled-bingo 2021. Word count: 2248. Square filled: “Sung to Sleep”

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: More Hydra Evilness, More Sad Child, Parental Anxieties. Brief mentions of war, sickness, death, grief. 

A/N: I know 2.2k words isn’t objectively a lot but boy did this feel like it. I hope every word is worth it and that you enjoy! Lmk what you think!!! Also I won’t even lie, the idea of Steve’s kids is 100% from one of my favorite comfort fics, family means no one gets left behind or forgotten, by the genius, the wonderful cosmicocean. IT’S SO SOFT. Pls read it.

You’re stunned when Bucky tells you what’s going on. The idea that his daughter (?) was made in a lab like some kind of experiment, and that the man who led said experiment now wants her back like she is his property, his weapon, is too horrid to consider for very long. Weaponizing an innocent child. Hydra.

Bucky gave you the broad strokes of the investigation – currently running on little more than educated guesses based on the meagre intel they have – and has let you know that he has had to recuse himself from the case, due to his… personal connection. That leaves him somewhere he finds awkward, to say the least.

It's evident in the way the corners of his lips turn down, how he is constantly rubbing the pads of his fingers against the coarse scratch of denim, while he watches Ana watch Zoya, Steve’s 17-year-old daughter, working on a tablet. Zoya tucks a strand of hair behind her hijab, then continues to draw up a storyboard, narrating the events to the younger girl. Steve had apparently forgotten the lunch his kids had made him at home, so Zoya had brought it in, and decided to stay the day.

Ana’s quiet, attentive for the most part, listening with her full capabilities, but her eyes flit away from the screen every now and then to look at you and Bucky, as if to reassure herself that you’re still there.

Besides that, there aren’t all that many distractions present for an already precocious child. Most of the team has dispersed for the investigation, with the exception of Peter, who is sat at a table in the corner making intentionally fruitless efforts at teaching Morgan chess, while she giggles and tries to stack the pieces like Jenga blocks instead.

However, Bucky’s restlessness is infectious, and you think he needs to get it under check before it grows any further. That’s why you stand, saying, “Could we go for a little walk, Bucky?”

He nods, man of few words that he is, and leads the way. You’re sure he knows that you formulated it like a request for his benefit, but he doesn’t mention it. It’s just as well – that he knows you like that, and knows when to accept the proverbial hand being offered.

Bucky takes you to a corner of the roof that you’d mistake for a community garden if you didn’t know any better. The Avengers seem to have green thumbs, or at least, a significant portion of them do. They’re good with plants, and possessive about them, too. Autumn ferns grow outside the circle they seem to have been planted in – with a sign shouting Wanda! – to invade the territory of a vegetable garden labelled Bruce (accompanied by a Hulkish, green thumbs up presumably not drawn by the man himself).  

Meticulously maintained daylilies and columbines, in vivid reds and vibrant purples, litter the edges of the path that has been carved through this little paradise, and the birdhouses between them stake the claim of the owner more effectively than a neon sign screaming Sam Wilson. Bucky’s told you about his abilities, how they veer into the decidedly supernatural but Sam insists are only the residue of a childhood with homing pigeons.

Nothing here looks like Bucky’s, though. He seems to be taking it in, perhaps thinking about his own little paradise back in the city, and how he’s chosen to keep it distant from that of his teammates. That worries you. He worries you.

And this, the situation with Anastasia, becoming a father, it’s terrifying. Hell, if it scares you this much, how is he feeling? You ask him as much.

“Bucky, are you okay?”

He laughs, softly, disbelievingly, no malice in his scoff, only fear. Only the sound of a voice saturated with consternation and total, complete anxiety. “Would you be?” He asks back.

“That’s why I’m asking.”

Bucky evades the questions, turning first one way on the path, and then the other, approaching the edge clear of shrubbery and blooms alike, resting his palms on the top of the wall.

“I can’t be a father.”

The solemnity in his tone allows no room for negotiations, but then, neither do the facts. “You are,” you reply, somewhat hesitantly, because the technicalities of how Ana came to be are still a little blurry to you. She’s far from a normal child, and not quite a clone, either. She is of Bucky, though. His, in any way that counts.

“That little girl was created in a Hydra lab as a super soldier to serve the cause,” he says, shaking his head vigorously as the cause repulses him even more than it does you. “And who knows what else she was put through before SHIELD fell and Orlov got her out, and it’s my fault.”

“You didn’t—”

“I didn’t ask for it to happen but it wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t happened. They used me to make a super soldier from scratch, and now I’m supposed to raise her? It’s not that simple. I’m not Steve. I can’t…”

Being honest, you feel you’re pretty far out of your depth here. But you’ve promised him your help, and you’ll do your best.

“You don’t have to. There are other options.” You’re sure you’re overstepping. Perhaps this gentle companionship has not yet reached the point where you can give advice on parenting. But if you don’t, who will? Steve, whose answers don’t enter the gray territory Bucky’s mind is residing in right now, who parents like he was born for it?

Steve chose fatherhood. Bucky has been nailed to it like it’s a new cross to bear, heavier than all the previous ones put together.

His gaze roams the grounds that stretch as far as you can see. You’re both far away from home right now, far outside your comfort zones.

“I’m sorry for dragging you into my mess, sweetheart. It’s not right. You have things to do, and I shouldn’t have—”

“Bucky, I’ve been staring at the same four sentences of dialogue for the past month. I literally could not have been happier to get out of the house. Even if I do wish it was under better circumstances,” you say fervently. You’re here because he needs you. Because Ana needs you. It’s nice to be needed.

“That’s one way to put it,” he smiles, and you’re glad to see it.

“Not to mention, it’s not your fault. It’s not anyone’s fault except whoever your team is looking for,” you insist. “And Ana’s a sweet girl. A little quiet, but Baba says I was, too.”

This, Bucky thinks about. You wonder if he was a quiet child, too. “What’s he like?”

“Hmm?” The reverie snaps like a rubber band.

“Your father?” Bucky asks, shyly, his eyes meeting yours, letting you know exactly why he’s asking.

You look up at the clouds, think back to Boston, to time shared between the library and the park. A childhood with books, lunch breaks under a desk in an office at MIT, stealing his glasses and running away with them, rubbing at his stubbly beard like he was a housecat. Inside jokes with your father and rolled eyes with your mother. Laughter and tears, laughter with tears.

After a long while, trying and failing to summarize your father, you say, “A jokester. The most sarcastic person I know. But still kind of neurotic, to be honest. The kind of parent that makes you show up at the airport a full four hours before your flight.” It’s grossly insufficient. For a writer, you’re not very good with words. You suppose it’s not the words that are the problem; it’s the lifetime they have to encompass. “What about yours?”

Bucky sighs. “Soldier. He’s one thing I don’t feel bad for not remembering because it wasn’t Hydra that wiped those memories. He just died when I was really small. Survived the Great War only to be killed by TB a few years later at home.”

“I’m sorry.” You avert your eyes. Grief feels private, even decades later, even in the smallest doses.

He shakes his head, smiles fondly, up at the sky, too, like you did. Only, he’s smiling at it, like he’s thinking of someone beyond the clouds. “Don’t be. Was a long time ago.”

“That doesn’t mean it isn’t allowed to hurt anymore.”

“You sound like my therapist.”

“I sound like my therapist.”

At this, the two of you look at each other and burst into laughter. It feels forbidden, as though the severity of the situation condemns joy. That isn’t fair, you think. The situation is that of a child, and nobody needs laughter more than kids do. Food for the soul.

When the echo of your exhilarations falls, Bucky grows serious once more. “They have them for kids, now, too, right?” He asks, referring to therapists. “Do you think Anastasia should see one? She’s not exactly… normal, you know?”

“Maybe.” It’s a difficult question, but a good indicator of how Bucky is growing to feel about Ana. “You’d make a good dad, if you wanted to be one, Bucky,” you say, and mean it. It’s plain as day that he cares about her.

“I can’t even remember my own.”

“Parental instincts are intuitive, not genetic,” you tell him.

“You been reading handbooks?” He teases.

“You’d be surprised by how much you learn from the rabbit holes you fall down while researching books,” you deadpan.

“Can any of that research get the nightmares out of my head? I think it might scare a kid.”

The self-deprecation hurts, but your response is honest, heartfelt. “She likes you already.”

“She won’t if she thinks I’ve run away,” he answers, straightening up. He might be trying to evade the conversation, but you’ll let him, for now. He’s gotten some fresh air, had some time to clear his thoughts, or sort them, at least. And so you return, to the little girl who has a tighter grip on both of you than you even realize.

------

Ana grows unsettled as night darkens the sky. It could be the ruckus she isn’t quite used to. It could be the toy fire truck Tony has been altering with his utensils to increase its noise output, much to Morgan’s amusement. It could be the actual parrot perched on Sam’s shoulder.

Whatever the cause, she hasn’t succumbed to it enough to make a seat out of the fridge again. She’s sitting in her seat, between Bucky and yourself, eating the hummus Bruce and Wanda have made. Nat discusses sniper scopes with Clint, Peter tries to get away with eating the side of vegetables on Jordan’s plate without Steve noticing, and Bucky eats silently, eyes almost constantly on Anastasia, who takes it all in while her knee bounces up and down with an ever-increasing speed, much like her father’s.

You excuse yourselves soon after dessert, after Morgan has fallen asleep against Jordan’s arm on the couch, and Steve and Tony’s friendly debate is starting to develop the edge it tends to when they’ve been bantering for too long.

Bucky sets up on the sectional in his room, and leaves the ridiculously large double bed to you and Anastasia. It’s been a strange, strange day, and one can only hope that tomorrow brings some ease, a balm for the prickly, fiery ache that has settled over the man you care so much about.

------

When you wake, it’s because of singing. For half a moment, you think you’re in a dream, but as your eyes adjust to the blanket of dark, you see the shadow on the sofa nearby. Only, it’s bigger than just Bucky. Anastasia is sitting on his lap, her head cushioned against his chest. Scrambling for your glasses, and turning on the lamp on the bedside table, you notice that there are trails of drying tears on her little cheeks, and she’s still shaking with the aftershocks of whatever scare she must’ve had during the night.

Not for the first time, you curse your deep sleep that meant you didn’t wake with Ana, but watch in wonder as Bucky sings.

Hush, little baby, don't say a word Papa's going to buy you a mockingbird

And if that mockingbird won't sing Papa's going to buy you a diamond ring

Ana’s eyes begin to close, but she fights the sleep. Bucky doesn’t let her. He lies down, easing her down beside himself, singing all the while.

And if that diamond ring turns brass Papa's going to buy you a looking glass

And if that looking glass gets broke Papa's going to buy you a billy goat

His voice fills the room, low though it may be, and he curls himself around Ana.

And if that billy goat won't pull Papa's going to buy you a cart and bull

And if that cart and bull turn over Papa's going to buy you a dog named Rover

She succumbs to the lull of his tone, his song, his promises, sighs a little sigh, lets the last, little hiccup leave her body.

And if that dog named Rover won't bark Papa's going to buy you a horse and cart

And if that horse and cart fall down You'll still be the sweetest little baby in town

Bucky lifts his hand from where it was stroking the hair at her temple, and lays his arm over his daughter. They’re safe, for now. Together.

[validity-is-powerful]

if you don't tell me I'll find out anyway

[Masterlist]

Warnings: none

Characters: Emily Prentiss, Jennifer "JJ" Jareau, Aaron Hotchner, Spencer Reid, Derek Morgan, David Rossi

Relationships: Prentiss/Hotch, Prentiss & JJ

Genre: fluff

Summary: Prentiss and Hotch have been dating for eight months now, and the team is none the wiser. That changes when Prentiss and JJ share a room after a case, and Prentiss wears one of Hotch's shirts to bed.

Word Count: 2k

Prompt was #20 on this list by @whump-town.

Fic below the cut, or read on ao3.

__

"Okay, so," JJ begins, coming back from the receptionist counter to address the team. In her hands are three room cards. "They're booked and we're here on short notice. They've only got three rooms they can spare us. It was originally two, but one of the customers with a reservation cancelled last minute." She fans the cards out in front of her. "Who's sleeping where?"

"I'm not sleeping with Reid," Morgan chimes in almost immediately with a smile. Reid looks mock-offended, but doesn't protest.

"I'll share with the kid," Rossi says with a heavy sigh.

"I'm not that bad," Reid protests.

"Last time I shared a room with you, you kept me up until four am with rants about sci-fi movies. And don't think I've forgotten the Red Bull incident, either," Morgan says. He pats Rossi's shoulder in condolence. JJ hands the older agent the key card.

"Morgan, room with me," Hotch offers. Morgan nods, and JJ hands their boss one of the remaining key cards.

"That leaves you and me," Prentiss says, but while her voice is heavy, her eyes are anything but. They sparkle with quiet mirth.

"Thank god," JJ jokes. She loops her arm through her friend's.

They make their way to the elevator, all of them, then as they reach the third floor, the pairs go their separate ways. Reid and Rossi are already engaged in a deep conversation, neither of them noticing as Prentiss studies them. Hotch and Morgan look ready to pass out as they make their way over to their room. The two of them are roomed closest to the elevator, she notices.

"God I'm tired," Prentiss says as she and JJ enter their hotel room. She's tempted to faceplant straight onto the bed, but she's still dressed. The case is over and the plane is leaving at nine-thirty tomorrow, meaning she has a chance to get some proper sleep tonight. It'll be more comfortable to get out of the suit she's wearing.

"Only one bed," JJ remarks. Prentiss lifts an eyebrow.

"You handed out the key cards. Did you do that intentionally?" Her friend laughs.

"No. Truth be told, all three rooms are singles." Prentiss makes an amused face.

"Scandalous. And just imagine the boys' reactions." She lounges on one side of the bed, watching absent-mindedly as JJ methodically strips off her outer layers.

As if on cue, their phones ding with a text notification. Prentiss reaches for hers as JJ pulls out a clean shirt.

"Get changed," the blonde suggests, snagging the phone playfully from Prentiss. Prentiss rolls her eyes, also playfully, and gets up. She begins digging through her go-bag for any sleepwear she might have brought, and failing that, something clean and appealing to wear.

"Hotch is checking that everyone's alright and knows what time we're leaving," JJ reports, reading the text.

"That sounds like Hotch," Prentiss says, tossing an old shirt onto the bed. It's a little worn, but it brings her no small amount of comfort. She throws a pair of shorts after it. JJ frowns at the shirt, but doesn't comment.

Prentiss pulls them both on and climbs into bed beside her friend. "JJ. Get under the blankets."

"Sorry," JJ says automatically, still staring at Prentiss' phone. She turns off the lights and gets under the blankets automatically as well, then hands Prentiss her phone back.

"Who's your boyfriend?" Prentiss freezes, then realises that JJ had looked at who she had sent texts to recently. One of the conversations was simply titled '<3'. "Or girlfriend," JJ continues. "You know I don't care that you're bi, beyond supporting you unconditionally." She props herself up on one elbow, smirking as she looks down at Prentiss. "So. Who is it?"

Prentiss clicks off her phone. "None of your business," she says, the words coming out like she's trying too hard for casual. JJ pokes her shoulder.

"If you don't tell me, I'll find out anyway," she teases warningly. Prentiss smirks at her.

"Good luck." And with that, Prentiss rolls herself in her share of the blankets, facing towards JJ as she turns her phone on again. This way, the screen is angled away from her friend. JJ rolls her eyes, but she still looks amused.

"I see how it is," she says, and rearranges her pillow until she's content. She lies on her back and closes her eyes. Prentiss sends off a text to the partner JJ had just asked about.

Emily: JJ's getting suspicious. She saw I had our private messages labeled with a heart.

Aaron: Morgan has some questions as well.

Emily: Chocolate thunder wants to know who you're texting when you should be sleeping?

Aaron: You don't have a healthy sleep schedule either. I told him it was a friend.

Emily: Did he believe you?

Aaron: Yes, but he suspects it's something more. I've appeased him for now.

Emily: I know we've discussed this before, but we should tell the team soon. It's been over eight months.

Aaron: I agree. If we keep this from them much longer, they'll lose trust in us.

Emily: That, and I hate keeping this kind of secret from my best friend.

"Go to sleep, Emily," JJ mumbles, one arm tossed over her eyes. "It's bedtime."

"In a minute."

"Your mystery person can wait." Prentiss glances at her.

"He's my boyfriend." JJ moves her arm and cracks an eye open to look at her.

Aaron: What, that you're dating your boss?

Emily: That I'm dating at all. Speaking of which, I just told her I have a boyfriend.

Aaron: How'd she react?

"Since when?" JJ asks, sounding a bit more awake. "And why didn't you tell me an' Penelope on girls' night or somethin'? We're the people who hype you up for dates."

"We uh, we decided it was best not to say anything," Prentiss says, trying to keep her composure.

Emily: Fine. She wishes I'd told her and Garcia I was seeing someone.

JJ gives her a long, drawn-out, suspicious hum, then turns onto her other side and goes back to sleep. Prentiss is left staring at her friend's back.

Emily: How's Derek doing?

Aaron: He's asleep. Like we should be.

Emily: Sleep is too mainstream for me.

Aaron: ?

Emily: Don't worry about it babe.

Aaron: Riiiight. Goodnight.

Emily: Goodnight, love you.

Aaron: Love you too, Emily.

Prentiss clicks off her phone and sets it aside, then moulds herself around JJ's sleeping form. Her friend presses back against her a little, and Prentiss wraps an arm around the blonde.

She lies awake for a long time, head still buzzing from the case. She compartmentalizes well, but it still sometimes takes her time to wind down. This case wasn't particularly bloody or long, but it did involve an abnormal amount of guesswork and haste, because the unsub was moving from city to city, state to state, then killing and moving on again within a matter of hours. The team's home base had become their SUVs as they chased.

Luckily, the victim count was low, all things considered. But it had been one hell of a few days.

Around one in the morning, the rain starts. It taps familiar patterns against the glass, and she's finally able to doze off as the noise drowns out her thoughts.

*

JJ's alarm goes off, and Prentiss wants to strangle her. The blonde shuts off the noise before it gets to be too unbearable, but by then, Prentiss is already awake. JJ, as usual, is awake before her and is already stirring a cup of hotel coffee, giving it a disappointed look.

"Is it that bad?" Prentiss asks from where she's lying in the bed, blankets ending at her ribcage. JJ just shakes her head slowly.

"It's awful, and not in the good way. Shitty police coffee is one thing, shitty hotel coffee is another." She takes a sip regardless. "Also, we're leaving in half an hour, so you might want to get up." Prentiss groans, but drags herself out of bed. JJ gladly hands her a cup of the hotel coffee when she approaches, then smooths Prentiss' hair out of her face where it had tangled in the night.

Prentiss takes a sip, and makes a face. "Uch. You weren't kidding." JJ laughs a little. They drink in silence, JJ studying her more intensely than usual. Prentiss is about to ask her what's going on when JJ's eyes widen in realisation.

"That's Hotch's shirt," she says, pointing at what Prentiss is wearing with her free hand. Prentiss looks down at her shirt in a mild panic.

It is, in fact, one of Hotch's old shirts that she's wearing. She had swiped it from him, along with a sweatshirt, when they started dating. It's old and faded, but very clearly Hotch, and it brings her comfort to wear it.

Unfortunately, Hotch used to wear the shirt before she asked him out. Around the team, sometimes. Which means JJ knows it.

"No way," the blonde says. She sets her coffee aside, and Prentiss is quick to do the same. "Don't tell me you're dating Hotch."

"Um-"

"Oh my god, you are." An incredulous laugh escapes JJ's throat. She pressed her hands to her mouth in disbelief. Prentiss examines her reaction, but nothing screams hostile. Surprised, a little offended that she wasn't told, sure, but nothing hostile. Mostly surprised. "Wow."

JJ grabs Prentiss' wrist and pulls her to sit on the bed, grinning. "So, what's he like outside of work?" Prentiss raises her eyebrows.

"You mean, in- in private?" JJ makes a 'keep talking' gesture. Prentiss laughs a little. "I'm not telling you what he's like in bed."

"So you've slept together?"

"We have," she confirms. "We've been together eight months now."

"When were you going to tell the rest of us?" Prentiss shrugs.

"I don't know," she answers honestly. "We were planning on doing it soon, but an opportune moment just never came up." JJ grips her hand.

"Em," she says softly. Prentiss looks at her. "Please know I'm happy for you."

*

"We need to tell them," Prentiss says to Hotch as soon as they have a moment alone. The rest of the team has disappeared down to the lobby, and the two of them have a few minutes before their teammates grow suspicious. She and Hotch are standing outside the door to her room. "JJ already pieced it together."

"Will she tell the others?"

"I don't think so. I think she knows it's our secret to tell, and I told her that we'd been planning to reveal it soon." Hotch nods. They're both dressed formally again, in what attire they had worn yesterday for the flight home.

One of Hotch's hands comes up to rest on her jaw. Leaning into his kiss is easier than breathing. Both of them are loathe to separate.

"They'll be waiting for us," Hotch murmurs as she trails kisses along his jaw, pausing to nip the very edge of it before continuing. "Prentiss."

"I know," she says against his skin. She slows, ending with another kiss to his lips.

Hotch's hand grips hers as they walk to the elevators, throwing caution into the wind as they talk, planning together what to say and when to say it.

*

On the flight back to DC, everyone is awake. It's unusual for them to have an opportunity for a full night's rest the night before. Usually, they fly home in the evening. It means that when Hotch stands up, everyone looks over.

"Prentiss and I have an announcement," he begins. JJ breaks into a grin, knowing what's coming. Rossi looks like he's hiding a smile as well. Reid and Morgan just look confused.

"We uh, we meant to tell you guys before," Prentiss says, continuing where Hotch left off. "We're dating." A second of silence. Then:

"Congratulations!"

"I'm so happy for you guys!"

"Reid owes me five bucks," Morgan says with a grin. Reid groans good-naturedly, then looks at Prentiss and Hotch.

"If you guys had waited another four months, Morgan would've owed me ten," he says, and the team can't help but laugh with him.

[foodieforthoughts]

Sand and Stars - Prologue

Series Summary: After the water pump being blown up, the insurgents in Baqubah are taking a hold of the food supply to the village. Camp Warhorse is in dire need of reinforcements. It has been eight months of submitting countless requests when the High Command commissions Sergeant Olivia Ross to take her group of men and women and help Captain Syverson and his team to restore a semblance of normalcy. But with the war raging, does it get two hearts closer too?

Pairing: Captain Syverson x OFC x OMC

Word Count: 1925

Warnings: 18+, Mentions of war, military technicalities, smut in future chapters

A/N: This (x) has finally taken birth. I am very excited about this fic, it is literally the only thing I can focus on right now. A big thanks to @thelastsock​ for beta-ing this. Sending her lot of love and good health, always. Please don’t come down on me if I have gotten any of the army-related things wrong, because this is a work of fiction.

Title: Prologue

Olivia Ross was everything but a heavy sleeper. She slept like a feral cat ready to jump at even the slightest bit of disturbance. And that is why she was wide awake at 3 a.m.

The sound of Alex’s snores, deep and rumbling, echoed from beside her. A strong arm was draped tightly over her torso-his bull’s head tattoo peeking out from under his sleeve. Olivia looked to her side and sighed.

She hated sneaking out of his room the next day. The walk of shame she could take-her squad mates were already bored by the gossip of yesteryears-but the imminent questioning that Alex would barrage her with later, was what broke her.

Carefully, Olivia moved his arm from over her body and slid out from the bunk bed they were sharing. She watched as Alex turned to the other side and a moment later, continued snoring; oblivious to the loss of bodily warmth from besides him.

Grabbing her discarded clothes piled on the floor and hurriedly pulling them on, Olivia grabbed her dog tags from the table. Her eyes also fell on the other chain lying on the metal desk; a Saint Christopher Medal in a silver chain which Alex had gotten for her the last time he had flown home. Reluctantly, she grabbed the chain and wore it with her dog tags and swiftly snuck out of the Captain’s room.

As soon as Olivia was out in the corridors of the Baghdad base camp, the sweet noise of military men going about their duties graced her ears. She looked around as she made her way towards the ladies quarters; some of the men were loading up their Humvees for a patrol around the city, a few of them out for their morning run and then there were others like her who were hurrying away to reach their beds.

Closing the door to her quarters, Olivia was met with two sets of narrowed eyes looking at her. “Busy night there, Sergeant Ross?” The smugness in their voices, nothing new but annoying nonetheless, made Olivia roll her eyes.

“Aren’t you guys supposed to be sleeping?” She laid on her bed-her legs dangling from the ends-feeling relaxed more than she was when sleeping next to Alex.

A loud bang on the hard metal door interrupted them. A young private recruit peaked inside, her cheeks going red as she came face to face with her seniors.

Raising her head from her bed, Olivia looked at the blushing Private edging around the door. “What is it, Private?”

“Uhm…”

“You need to speak faster, sister. No one’s going to be waiting that long for you to finish your sentences.” Sergeant Sloan, a blond beauty with Victoria’s Secret model’s look, said from her bunk on the other side of the room.

“I was told to get Sergeant Ross to Lieutenant Crowley.”

Olivia nodded at the soldier and she hurried out, closing the door behind her. “What does Crowley want?”

“Hopefully, he sends us somewhere. I’m tired of looking at the same old shaved heads around here.” Corporal Sierra said from her corner of the room. Both the ladies laughed at their joke, Sloan snorting while laughing and Sierra basking in her comedic skills. Olivia smiled looking at her fellow bunk mates, loving their laughter ringing in the dilapidated and make-shift room.

After taming her wild bed hair into a braid and pulling on a fresh set of clothes to meet the lieutenant, Olivia made her way towards the central meeting hub. Lieutenant Crowley was a balding man in his late fifties, irritating beyond belief and the epitome of a male chauvinist. Olivia looked at him while he shuffled through his folders and pulled out one to hand over to her.

“You need to go to Baqubah.” His nasally voice ordered, his height an inch shorter than hers.

“Sir?” Olivia looked down at the brown manila folder in her hand. Camp Warhorse was written below the bold printed letters of Baqubah.

“They had a water problem which was not fixed and now the militants have been targeting the food supply trucks entering the city.” He pulled out another folder from underneath the table, handing it to her with a grunt. “They need air support, but Command wants us to only send one. You can take the Little Bird and two Humvees with any twelve members for your unit. I’m making you responsible for the mission.”

“What are we to do there? Can’t we just drop food rather than driving it in-?” Olivia opened the first folder to find a letter of co-ordinates and sitreps from the Captain stationed at the camp.

“They have asked for help. You’ll meet with the Captain there and gauge the situation personally. Is that clear, Sergeant?”

When anyone pulls rank on the other, it usually means the conversation is over. So, Olivia with her two manila folders, nodded at Lieutenant Crowley and turned to walk away. “Sergeant, you leave in two hours.”

Perfect. She turned to nod at the Lieutenant who had already sat down to get back to his work.

Olivia made her way back towards the quarters from the hub. The base camp looked more alive now that almost everyone was awake. Loud music blared from the speakers with shirtless men playing basketball or getting their daily workout in. Olivia opened the folder and took the first paper in her hand; it was a sitrep from eight months ago from Captain Syverson about the blast at the water pump they were supposedly fixing. She went through the report, noticing Sergeant Harper’s name whom she personally knew from a previous mission.

Lost in her task at hand, Olivia missed the man coming her way and bumped into him, her steps faltering behind with the impact. When she looked up, the unmistaken glare of two narrowed blue-green eyes met her own. She let out a sigh even before he could speak another word.

“Captain Cooper,” She greeted the man whom she had only left a couple of hours ago. “Good morning.”

“You snuck out, again.” The harshness in his voice made Olivia remember why she despised this particular exchange of words in the morning. Alex, unlike the state she had left him in, was now dressed in his army pants and the beige army t-shirt with his hair groomed to the nines. Never a day did Alex show up with disheveled hair and unshaven, he was always the well-groomed kind of man that romance novels idealized about.

“Crowley wanted me for a briefing,” she showed him the folders, “We leave for Baqubah in under two hours. Going to be delivery guys for them.”

Alex scrunched his eyebrows as his attention from last night’s shenanigans were drawn to the mission at hand. He took the folders from her and shifted through the papers. “Baqubah? Wasn’t there an unsuccessful mission already?”

The change in his tone, from the attention seeking friend to a decorated military man, made Olivia realize why she had fallen for him in the first place. It was that very dedication to his work, the life choice that he had made, that had made her pursue him like an eagle does it’s prey.

Too bad the eagle realized it wasn’t really hungry.

“Liv?” Alex asked, the long lashes lining his eyes fluttering as he looked at her.

“Yeah, but there’s an insurgence of militants and food supply shortage.” He handed the folders back to her, crossing his arms over his chest. The sleeve of his t-shirt stretched over his muscles, revealing the tattoos on either side of his arms. A single vein stretched over each of his bulging biceps, taunting her with the memories of her tracing it with her fingertips.

Olivia shook her head, choosing to look behind Alex and spotting her unit coming her way. “I need to go. I haven’t even told my people.” She started to walk away when Alex held her wrist. She looked at him wide-eyed and frantically looked around to see if anyone was looking at them. This was the first time Alex was being so forthcoming about their twisted relationship out in the open.

“Were you going to at least say goodbye?”

Olivia froze hearing the pain in his voice. She did not wish to discuss whatever was going on between them. In a deep corner of her mind, she was secretly happy that she was being sent away from the base camp. It meant she could think about a way to gently let Alex know that they were done.

“Alex,” the use of his informal name, always made him smile. Olivia used it to her advantage on more than one occasion. “We need to head out. I need to brief them. Please can we do this later?”

She wanted to wait for his answer but when her eyes darted to the makeshift clock hanging on the wall, that the men had put together one night after getting drunk on local liquor, showed she had over an hour and half to roll out; Olivia mouthed a ‘sorry’ and walked away. She hated when she left Alex standing like that, alone and dejected. She was the cause of this shit-show, but she had no idea how to end it.

“Groundhog, this is echo 1-1, we are set to fly out the nest. Over.” Sergeant Gary Schmidt, Olivia's most trusted co-pilot, said into the communications line. They had gathered a group of twelve soldiers, including Olivia’s bunk mates Sloan and Sierra and were now ready to leave for Camp Warhorse. The blades of their chopper, the beautiful and reliable MH-6 Little Bird, whirred by cutting the dry air of Baghdad.

“This is Groundhog to Echo 1-1. You are cleared for flight. Over.”

Olivia looked to her right at Schmidt and gave a thumbs up. “Echo 1-1 is flying out. Welcome on board, people.” She said into her comms, controlling the stick and feeling the skids lift off from the ground.

In an unplanned glance towards the tarmac, Olivia caught sight of Alex standing a few feet away with his face impassive; lips pursed tight and eyes covered with shades, the last thing Olivia saw before they flew off from the Baghdad Base Camp.

“What a dump of desert and sand, Red.” Schmidt said into the comms to her, making her smile being referenced by her nickname and distracting her from the unsettling feeling she had by looking at Alex. Her command officer had jokingly compared her hair to fire after one heated argument she had with a fellow soldier and called her ‘Red’, making the name become a core part of her identity. “Baqubah better be forgiving.” Schmidt continued as they turned towards the road leading up to the destroyed city.

An hour into the flight and their comms came alive. “This is Warhorse to Echo 1-1.” Olivia looked at her co-pilot and nodded her head to take over the communications. In the distance, over the expanse of the dry desert, the heat was coming down hard on them, making little beads of sweat form on the underside of their helmets.

“Echo 1-1, receiving, over.”

“Echo 1-1, this is Captain Syverson,” the previous emotionless voice was replaced by a strongly accented one. Olivia was borderline impressed by Syverson's command in his voice. She looked at Schmidt at the same time he did-they always referred to each other as ‘twins’ because their minds were almost always in sync. “The tarmac is ready for your landing. Welcome to Warhorse.”

Chapter One>

✨Series Masterlist✨

Tagging: @wanderlustkitkat @michelehansel @stephartrave @yuhsophie @hennerslionhat @henrythickcavill @eldarwen333 @peakygroupie @klaine-92 @thelastsock @indigosaurus @oddsnendsfanfics @viking-raider @cavillliketravel @geralt-of-baevia @achaoticaugust @dancingwendigo @littlefreya @luclittlepond @mansaaay @agniavateira @inlovewithhisblueeyes @henryobsessed @henryfanfics101 @poucinette1333 @ohmygoodie @oolicity @wolvesandhoundshowltogether @asyverson @demivampirew @cavills-cavalry @raspberrydreamclouds @fuckoffbard @the-soot-sprite @hell1129-blog @inthenameofcavill @heartfelt-pen @shyinadarkplace @mary-ann84 @sciapod @toomanyfandomsshreya @madbaddic7ed @mariestark @feralrunaway @infinite-shite @killjoy-assbutt-1112 @summersong69​ @its--fandom--darling​ @awhitewolfandhisvibraniumshield

[theycallmebecca]

Drabble: The Clause in the Will

I never planned to write a Ransom story. And then @eurynome827 posted her 2K Celebration and the opening to Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice was one of the prompts. I’m a whore for anything Pride and Prejudice... and my brain automatically connected the quote with Ransom. And would not let go.

To make an already complicated drabble even harder... I decided to write it with each section being exactly 100 words. It was both a blessing (this story could have SNOWBALLED quickly) and a curse (if you’ve written a 100 word drabble, you get it).

But it’s finished and I love how it turned out! And I was quite proud of myself for the very-Eury way I ended it.

So to @eurynome827​ congrats again on 2,000 followers!

Title: The Clause in the Will

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x reader

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: some language, some minor violence/threats, suggestive

Note: This is AU and it uses the characters from Knives Out but doesn’t follow the story.

Disclaimer: This work of fiction is not to be reposted, used or translated without my permission.

"It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife." Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice

“Bull. Fucking. Shit.” Ransom Drysdale muttered as he wadded up another of his late grandfather's marriage-related quote notecards. They were hidden everywhere.

It had been nearly a year since his grandfather, the famed author Harlan Thrombey, had passed away, leaving Ransom as the head of Blood Like Wine Publishing. A role that he had spent the last twenty years being groomed for.

Ransom had worked his way through the ranks of the company following college and had been prepared when the time had come.

Well, prepared for everything except his grandfather's cluttered office.

At least the houses weren't his problem.

-- -- -- --

You’d started at BLW Publishing as an marketing intern after college and you’d climbed your way to the vice president of that department in the twelve years that had followed.

You loved every single part of your job.

Or at least you had until Mr. “Call Me Ransom” Drysdale had taken over the running of the company.

He had spent his years at the company floating between departments, to learn everything he could. Which meant the two of you had worked together multiple times.

But he seemed to enjoy pushing your buttons. And knew exactly what buttons to push when.

-- -- -- --

"You told me months ago that the marriage clause wasn't legally binding," Ransom fumed. "And now you're telling me it is?!"

His lawyers avoided his gaze.

"Get out!" Ransom shouted and they scurried out.

He had seven days to find a wife and marry her.

If he didn't, he lost the company.

It was just like his grandfather to pull a stunt like this. Even from the grave.

He should just let his prick of an uncle have the company. Just to prove a point.

But he knew he couldn't.

His uncle would ruin everything.

Ransom wouldn't let that happen.

-- -- -- --

"You're not the pizza guy," you said, opening your front door to find Ransom standing on the other side with a bouquet of roses and your pizza.

"Met him in the elevator. Can I come in?"

Stepping aside, you let him in. Only noticing as he passed that his normal confident aura was missing.

"What's wrong?"

He explained everything while the two of you ate pizza.

"Walt would destroy everything," you commiserated.

"Exactly."

Then he pulled out a ring box.

"Will you marry me and help me save the company we both love from ruin?"

How could you say no?

-- -- -- --

"I got married."

Ransom had chosen a public setting to share his news in hopes that his uncle wouldn't make a scene.

The fact that it was day six of his seven day window was pure coincidence.

Glancing at his wife, he found her staring across the table at his uncle, who, Ransom soon saw, was nearly purple with rage.

"This can't be legal!" his uncle shouted over the congratulations from the others. "It should have been mine! All of it!"

Then Walt pushed his chair back and stormed out of the private dining room, his wife and son following.

-- -- -- --

Logically, you knew marrying Ransom would mean moving into his house, but you'd thought you'd have more time.

But with his uncle looking for any reason to question the legitimacy of the marriage, you and Ransom agreed it had to happen now.

The two of you packed up your apartment and then had everything you were keeping moved to his house.

To his credit, Ransom made as much room for your stuff in the common areas of the house as possible, wanting you to feel at home.

But the only place that truly felt that way was your private bedroom.

-- -- -- --

Ransom sat in the hall with Walt as their lawyers met with a judge behind closed doors following another of Walter's attempts to fight the will.

"I’ve heard rumors," Walt said, his tone was nonchalant, but it was laced with venom. "About how your wife became v-"

Ransom had his hand around his uncle's throat before Walt could make another sound.

"That is my wife," he growled. "You will not say one more fucking thing about her or I will sue you for libel. Do you understand me?"

Walt let out a squeak of acknowledgement and Ransom let him go.

-- -- -- --

You'd known Ransom for years.

But after living with him for a few weeks, you realized you hadn't really known him at all.

Work Ransom demanded the respect and attention owed to the boss.

Home Ransom was softer and wore faded blue jeans instead of three piece suits.

He liked spending Saturday mornings at the market and he loved to cook.

And boy could he cook!

The one on one time with him at home had given you a whole new appreciation for your husband.

He opened up to you about things you were sure he'd never told anyone else.

-- -- -- --

Ball buster.

That's how he'd described her the first time he had worked with her on a project.

It was the reason he had recommended her for the vice president role when it had opened up.

Kind. Funny. Caring. Passionate. 

Those were the words that came to mind now when he thought of her.

She was the type of woman who could tell a dirty joke one minute and then have a serious conversation about his upbringing.

He'd been hesitant to include her at first, but their Saturday morning shopping trips were quickly becoming his favorite activity of the week.

-- -- -- --

You loved Ransom.

It hit you like a ton of bricks as you sat in the middle of a meeting at work, a month later.

You were supposed to be paying attention, but your eyes kept going across the table to where Ransom sat.

You couldn't explain how you knew, you just did.

When had it happened? You didn't know that either.

All you knew was that he was handsome and he was all yours.

At least on paper.

The joy faded from you as you remembered the two of you were roommates. Nothing more.

You wished that could change.

-- -- -- --

Ransom didn't know when it happened, but he realized one Saturday morning, a few months in, that he was in love with his wife.

He hadn't planned to fall in love with her. He'd envisioned them being married for a few years, to solidify his role at the publishing company, and then divorcing as quietly as they had married.

Being in love complicated things.

It made him think about her happiness above his own.

Was she happy with him?

If she wasn't, was he prepared to walk away from her and the company to ensure her happiness?

Yes, he decided.

-- -- -- --

"We need to talk," he said, setting a manilla envelope on the kitchen counter.

"What's that?"

"Annulment papers."

"What?!" you asked in complete disbelief.

"I love you," he confessed. "If you're not happy, I'm -"

"I love you, too," you cut him off, joy filling your heart.

Moving around the island, you grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him in for a long, slow kiss.

"An annulment would have cost you everything," you said.

"Your happiness means more to me," he said. "Even if it meant giving everything to Walt."

"The company is yours," you told him. "Forever."

"Ours."

-- -- -- --

"Are you coming in?"

She stood in the doorway to what had been his bedroom.

After their declaration of love, he'd properly courted her.

Taking her out on dates. Sending her flowers just because.

They'd kissed a lot and had made it to all the bases, as they say, except home.

That was the plan tonight, she'd told him.

They'd gone out for dinner and then she'd asked him to take her home.

Home to their home.

To their bedroom.

Her eyes met his as she reached behind her back and unzipped her dress. Letting it fall to the floor.

[abbysfrenchbraid]

Nothing Else Matters

reference picture by @amisthiosintraining​

anonymous said:  Abby + Female reader, but it's Abby the one being f—cked with the strap on (I'm curious on that one)

Well, here you go. Abby and the reader have been hooking up for a while and the reader has managed to get their hands on some toys to make things more interesting. (5k words of SMUT)

content warning for bondage, light degradation and swearing, risk of exposure, ask to tag

Nothing Else Matters

The air in the room was damp and the smell of the sweaty bodies twitching and jumping reached your nostrils as you sat down to watch. You took off your sweater and placed it beside you, scanning the group of people for a familiar face.

There she was, her blonde braid flying as she whirled around, her face red and sweaty, full of concentrated rage. With an angry cry, she backhanded her partner across the face and sent him straight to the ground. She was glorious, muscles glistening in the neon light as she straddled the man on the ground and caught him in a headlock, grunting as she tightened her grip while he thrashed about trying to free himself. You could see her bicep flexing against his throat and his eyes widening at the sensation. 

Finally, he tapped her underarm two times and she let go immediately, rolling off of him and laying on the ground next to him, arms and legs spread wide. The man with hazel hair and a short beard was half-coughing, half-laughing and clutching his throat while the other soldiers ignored the pair and kept training.

“Jesus Christ Abby, do you want to kill me?”

She huffed and sat up, giving him a pat on the thigh.

“You deserved it, always skipping combat training to fool around with Mel.”

“Oh, so that’s the reason you’re so angry! You’re jealous,” he laughed and immediately put his arms up in defense before she could slap him, but she only leaned back on her arms and shrugged. When she looked up, she caught your gaze and you almost believed she had known you were there all along. The look only lasted a moment, then she smiled back at Owen.

“I’m not, you know that. Why would I waste my time thinking about you when there’s someone a million times hotter than you?”

Owen gasped in feigned shock and sat up as well.

“Better than this beautiful face and these” - he flexed his biceps - “perfectly sculpted muscles?”

Now Abby actually slapped him. He stood up and reached out a hand to help her up.

“Come on, tell me who it is. A soldier?”

The blonde slapped his hand away and got up on her own.

“I’ll tell you if you win this next round. Let’s go!”

She clapped her hands and let him attack, dodging his first few punches with ease before knocking him back into another pair of fighting wolves.

You smiled to yourself and leaned forward to rest your elbows on your knees. As your thoughts drifted elsewhere, the heavy breathing and grunting became white noise and Abby’s arms were the only thing you saw.

Working as a cook, you had often seen her and her friends in the cafeteria, always joking around and making a mess, clearly the popular kids at the base. Abby had been the one to clean up after the boys and apologize for their behavior when they were gone, always making sure to thank your colleagues for their effort and be nice to everyone.

She had noticed you a few weeks ago when you were on your break, sitting alone at a table reading and enjoying the silence in the big hall between mealtimes. The wolf had come over and asked if there were some leftovers for her as she had missed lunchtime for an extra round of training. You had made her some food and kept her company, both of you quickly finding out you got along extremely well and had many shared interests, especially the books you liked to read.

It had gone very fast from there. Secret meetings in empty hallways, sneaking out from work to steal a kiss between the clothing racks, slipping into her room when Manny was away for missions, you always found your way into each other’s arms. While you hadn’t admitted to yourself that it was anything more than just sex, you also spent quite a lot of time just reading or watching movies together, cooking or playing cards and Abby had even shown you some self-defense and wrestling moves that always ended with the two of you naked.

While the wolf was usually very dominant and protective, it was entirely different when you were alone. After you had hooked up the first few times, she had asked you to be rougher with her, leaving you surprised but not at all disinclined.

 You had found out that she actually liked to let go of all control and submit in the safe environment you had created for yourselves. While you had never really been super dominant before, you had quickly learned to enjoy this new role, always coming up with new ideas to make your lover squirm, suffer and cry beneath you.

Today you had something special in mind. Manny was out taking younger soldiers to an outpost for the first time and wouldn’t be back until tomorrow night, so you’d have the room to yourself. 

Your friend Jessie was running a little secret business on the base and you had already purchased a few goods for yourself but never shared them with Abby. Jessie, a trained soldier that wasn’t on active duty because of an injury but still did regular patrol runs to secure the area, had made it her purpose to find all the sex shops in the city and bring back merchandise that was still good to use. Together with her girlfriend who worked in the clothing department, she had started to sell toys, lingerie, and anything of that kind you couldn’t get at the commissary.

You often had coffee with the two of them, referring them to new customers around the stadium and talking about your new sexual adventures. Of course they didn’t know your partner was Isaac’s top soldier, but they gave you a lot of good ideas. Today you had decided it was time to try something more daring. Jessie had shown you how to use the things you had bought and now they were lying in a bag between your feet, drawing your eyes and thoughts toward them and whispering to you about all the things you could do with them.

You were torn from your thoughts by the trainer in the corner clapping loudly.

“Alright guys, dinner’s in half an hour. Good work, I’ll see you on Wednesday. You too, Owen.”

She gave the grinning man a stern look, but he just winked at her and turned around to Abby.

“So, you gonna tell me who you’ve got your eye on?”

“Hell no, you lost three times. Try again next time.” Abby shoved him playfully and walked past him to collect her bag. She emptied half her water bottle in one go and looked up at you before splashing some water on her face. What a tease.

“You coming?” Owen was already at the door.

“I need a minute to talk to someone. I’ll see you at dinner.”

“Alright.” He shrugged and disappeared into the hallway.

The sweaty blonde casually came over to your bench and sat next to you, keeping a few inches between you.

“Did you enjoy the show?” You didn’t look at her but you could tell by her voice she was trying to stifle a grin.

“Oh, I most definitely did. It stopped far too soon though.” You turned your head and let your eyes wander over her freckled shoulders, her neck glistening with sweat and her chest still moving rapidly underneath the tight sports bra. “I was thinking maybe I could get a private encore back at your room.”

Abby suddenly sat up straight and her face seemed to go even more red than it already was. She was still staring at the floor in front of you, tightening her grip around the water bottle and biting her lip. You decided to take a risk and ran your fingertips over her lower back, otherwise completely relaxed and watching the remaining few people in case anyone noticed.

“You fought so well today, baby. What would they say if they knew how you surrender to me with a single word from me? How you’ll beg me to fuck you just for the chance of having my fingers inside of you?”

Abby let out a shaky breath and squirmed on her seat, a mere tilt of her head in your direction telling you she enjoyed this as much as she hated it.

“What would they say if they knew I have a rope inside my bag, waiting for me to tie you up and leave you completely defenseless at my mercy?”

Her knuckles were white from the tension in her hands and she pressed her thighs together.

“Baby…” she gave you a pleading look, “please stop torturing me.”

The last few people were clearing out and the trainer nodded at Abby who just raised a hand in greeting, trying to act normal. As soon as the room was empty you turned to her, grabbed her braid and pulled it down and towards you, her face only an inch from yours as a moan escaped her.

“Are you so needy already, you little slut?” You lightly pinched her breast and she whined, leaning into you and pressing her head against your collarbone.

“Please, please, baby, let’s go back to my room. I’ll do everything you want. I need you.”

You let go of her braid, stood up abruptly and turned to her. Abby immediately grabbed your thighs and pulled you in, pressing her forehead to the seam of your jeans. You put your hands on your hips and sighed.

“I don’t know, maybe we should have dinner first. Also, you need to shower, you’re filthy.”

In reality, Abby being all sweaty and hot made you want to pin her against a wall and lick her clean, but you kept that to yourself for now.

“Please, Y/N. I’ll be good. I can’t wait that long.”

You freed yourself and pulled her up, giving her a peck on the lips.

“You go shower. I’ll wait for you in your room.”

She smiled and quickly grabbed her stuff, stealing another kiss before rushing toward the community showers. Also not a bad place for some secret public action, you thought. Maybe in the early morning when no one was there. You could order the soldier to be quiet as you fucked her senseless and force her to relive the moment every time she took a shower afterward.

You slung the bag over your shoulder and grabbed your sweater, debating if you should make Abby have dinner with you in the cafeteria, teasing her the entire time and forcing her to keep calm in front of everyone while she was dripping wet for you. But you had to admit that you needed her, too. You could always get some leftovers for you later or wait until the morning when you had to work the breakfast shift anyway.

When you arrived at Abby’s room, you quickly looked left and right before entering and then headed straight for her bed. You took the smooth, black rope from your bag and laid it on the bed. Your second surprise could wait until later.

You let your fingers run over the spines of the books on the top bunk, smiling to yourself over the selection of old classics that definitely worked as a form of escapism from this place. Don Quijote, A Thousand and One Nights, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. Abby didn’t seem like it at first glance, but she was a dreamer, always mentally wandering off and spending her time in other realities, ones where adventures were something you chose to go on. No infected, no sad remnants of what the world had once been, but beautiful landscapes, interesting strangers, and the joy of being alone but never lonely, wandering but at home anywhere in the world.

Her life had never been easy and she had suffered unspeakable pain, but she always found something worth smiling for, worth living for and she loved letting go of all the sadness and harshness and enjoying herself in those short, sweet moments when everything was okay.

Your time together had definitely made her happier than she had been in a long time and you were so, so good at letting her escape this reality and carrying her somewhere else.

The door opened and you snapped out of your reverie, turning around to see a freshly showered Abby come down the stairs to the lower part of the room. She was wearing shorts and a tank top, unintentionally showing off her round shoulders, her breasts, and her thick, hard thighs stretching out the fabric of her shorts as she walked towards you. Her hair was still wet and she had already brushed it, the dark strands falling over her shoulders and framing her beautiful, still slightly flushed face.

“Hey baby,” she murmured and moved in for a kiss. Her lips were incredibly soft, gently brushing against yours and opening slightly for her tongue to touch your upper lip. You grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her in, immediately deepening the kiss, dipping your tongue into her mouth and biting the blonde’s bottom lip. She sighed and fell into you, pushing you towards the bed but you grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled without too much force, just enough to make her stand straight and look at you with pleading eyes. She knew it wasn’t going to be that easy.

You took a step back and looked her up and down.

“Clothes off.”

Abby’s eyes quickly went to the privacy shield next to her bed that she normally used to get dressed without half the stadium being able to see her naked, but you shook your head and she dropped her gaze, blushing again. You watched her as she pulled up the shirt over her head, revealing her freckled chest, perfectly sculpted abs and hard, dark pink nipples in the center of soft, ivory flesh.

When she ran her thumbs along the waistband of her shorts, she stared at you defiantly but you just held her gaze and smiled. You knew she was probably already dripping wet, secretly liking the risk and humiliation. If anyone were to walk by below you or stare up from afar knowing who’s room they were looking at, they would see the two of you facing each other, one clothed and one completely naked, the tension between you almost flickering in the air.

You stepped aside and pointed towards the bed.

“On the bed, Abigail.”

The wolf shuddered at your use of her full name and you could see goosebumps forming on her arms. She lay down on the bed and you took the rope, very content about her eyes widening at the sight. Before you could say anything she held out her hands, breath catching in her throat.

You wrapped the black rope around her wrists, gently pulling it tight, and tied her hands to the metal rods at the top of the bed. Still having a few meters left, you tied the next knot around Abby’s left ankle, fastening it to the bed frame pressed to the wall and doing the same to the other foot, spreading her legs and pinning them in place.

You crouched down next to her head, brushing a strand of hair out of her face and cupping her cheek with your hand.

“I know this is new for you and I promise you, I’ll never do anything you don’t want. Just say the safeword and I’ll stop.”

The blonde nodded, squirming in her restraints.

“Abby, I need to hear you say it.”

“I’m okay. I’ll let you know if something is wrong. Now can you please fucking touch me already?” She bucked her hips up and tried to pull down her hands to touch you, grunting in frustration when the rope didn’t let her move an inch.

You reached out and ran your fingertips over her collarbone, her chest and down over her stomach, stopping right above the curls between her legs. She tried to press her legs together to get some form of friction but and whined when she couldn’t, but you just let your fingers wander further down her leg and up the other, caressing the inside of her thigh. When your fingers came closer to her sex, her breathing got faster and she stopped moving, hoping you would grant her a touch now that she was good.

Watching her face, you ran a finger along her hot folds, immediately coating your fingertip in her juices. She gasped when you stopped to draw small circles around her clit.

“So wet already? God, you just love being completely in my power.”

You dipped your finger in the pooling wetness, holding back for just a moment longer. Abby was already a mess beneath you, her legs twitching and her back arching in response to your teasing. You suddenly pulled your hand away and her eyes flew open to stare at you with a mixture of frustration and pleading.

“What if I just let you lie there while I get myself off over here? Make you watch without being able to do anything about it while you lie in your own juices? Take you to dinner after while you’re all needy and soaked?”

Abby’s mouth twisted into a pout and she looked like she was about to cry.

“Please, Y/N, please touch me. I can’t take it any longer. Please?” The last word was a whine and you decided to stop being cruel.

With one swift motion, you pushed two fingers all the way inside her. The blonde cried out and immediately pushed back against your hand, craving more. You slowly pulled your fingers back out and made sure to catch her gaze as you put them in your mouth and licked them clean.

“Such a sweet girl.”

Her eyes were full of longing when she accepted your fingers into her mouth, sucking on them as she looked up at you. You moved your hand downwards again, pushing your fingers inside her much slower this time and pulling them out again, beginning to stroke her in a slow rhythm.

With your other hand, you squeezed her breast and trailed your fingers over her nipples before running your fingers along the delicate skin of her jaw and throat.

You picked up the pace, fucking Abby harder while her whining got louder. Curving your fingers upwards and letting them flutter against that tender spot inside her, you heard her breath stop for a second before she let out a high pitched moan. You didn’t give her time to catch her breath, now hitting her in all the right spots, your fingers thrusting deep inside her and your thumb on that sweet, pulsing nub that had patiently waited for its turn.

It was wonderful, watching the small muscles on her stomach contract and her broad thighs pull on the restraints as she got closer and closer. Her whole body was tensing up and her moans got faster and higher until she cried out “I’m gonna cum, can I please cum!” and you immediately pulled your hand away.

She almost screamed in frustration.

“Baby, please, I’m so close!”

You slowly drew your digit along her bottom lip.

“Only if you ask me nicely. No cumming without my permission.”

She licked the tip of your finger and looked up at you.

“I promise I’ll be good, please.”

You lightly scratched her stomach on the way down and she trembled at the sensation. This time you lightly placed two fingers on her clit and started rubbing it in slow circles, never losing your pace as your lover’s moans got louder again. As soon as she asked if she could cum, you stopped moving but left your hand in place, keeping her dangerously close to the edge and to the possibility of a ruined orgasm.

The wolf was now actively fighting her restraints, pulling her hands downwards and trying to get loose but you had known what you were doing and the knots didn’t budge. Some strands of hair had fallen into her face, a thin coat of sweat was glistening on her forehead and between her breasts. She was a mess.

“Baby, please, please, I’m begging you. Please let me cum.”

You slid a finger inside her again, brushing against her g-spot as you gently put your other hand on her lower stomach and pressed down. She arched beneath you, pushing her hips into your touch and letting out a much deeper, almost animalistic groan. You took your time driving her closer and closer to that sweet high and waited for her to ask again, knowing she was scared to lose your fingers again but also not wanting to be punished for not asking permission.

Finally, she couldn’t wait any longer. “Can I please cum, please, please, oh god -”

The words fell from her lips just as you pressed the pad of your thumb to her clit.

“Cum for me, baby.”

You were out of breath, pressing your thighs together to soothe the ache that had been growing between your legs. Suddenly the wolf beneath you cried out, her entire body twitching and convulsing around your fingers as you carried her through her orgasm. When she finally stopped moving, the room was filled with the sound of both of you panting and the smell of sex, sweat and heat had spread in every corner.

Slowly, you pulled your fingers from the blonde’s body and got up. She was still disoriented and gave you a confused look as you bent down to pick up your bag.

“You gonna cut me loose here?”

You didn’t reply, instead choosing to pull your shirt over your head and take off your pants and ignoring your lover’s squirming.

“I got something else for you. I know I already make you scream with the touch of a single finger, but I think it’s time I gave you something bigger.”

Her eyes widened as you pulled a harness and a small package out of the bag. Sitting down next to her, you opened the carton and pulled out a black silicone dildo. Abby visibly shifted next to you and pressed her lips together, unwilling to give away her thoughts. As if she had any chance of hiding from you how much she wanted you to fuck her senseless, to make her see stars and completely destroy her.

You turned to her. “I need you to tell me what you want. We can do this another time or not at all. I’m all ears.”

You knew exactly what you were doing. While being an absolute service top, it was also extremely fun to watch Abby blush and stammer trying to pluck up the courage to tell you what she wanted. She was always so shy and embarrassed about wanting to be dominated, so you had made it your little game to force her to admit it.

“You can do whatever you want with me, baby.”

“Oh Abs, you know you don’t get it that easily. What do you want me to do with it?”

She tried to avoid your gaze.

“You could fuck me with it?” she mumbled.

“I didn’t hear you. Speak up.” Oh, this was so much fun.

“Fuck you! You heard me right, you’re just teasing me.”

You slapped her breast and she sucked in a sharp breath.

“You don’t speak that way to me, you little whore. Don’t think I haven’t noticed how you’ve been eyeing that dick. You want me to fucking ruin you and you’re too cowardly to say it. How disappointing.”

With a theatrical sigh, you got up and took a few steps towards your clothes on the stairs.

“Wait, baby, please. I’m sorry. Please.”

You turned on your heel and stared at her, lifting a brow.

“Come here, please. I want you to fuck me. Fuck me until I can’t do anything but scream your name. Please, baby.”

Satisfied, you stepped into the loops of the harness and put the dildo through the metal ring, pulling everything tight as you felt Abby’s eyes roaming over you. Then you were next to her and started untying her feet. On second thought, you loosened the rope around her wrists as well.

“I’m not making this easy for you by tying you up. Your hands stay at the head of the bed. If you touch me, I’ll stop. If you behave, I’ll think about letting you cum a second time.”

The fear in Abby’s eyes was exhilarating. She nodded.

“Am I allowed to make noise?”

You thought about it for a second, then you agreed. This was the first time with a strap on, it would surely be hard enough to keep her hands still.

Checking to see if you’d need more lubrication, you inserted a finger into her - she was dripping wet.

“Pathetic.”

Before she could respond, you spat into your hand and coated the dildo in it. The wolf audibly swallowed at the sight. You knelt between her legs, rubbing your hand over her abs and breasts and mixing your saliva with her sweat. Goosebumps grew on her freckled skin.

Slowly, you lined yourself up with her throbbing cunt and started pushing into her. When you were all the way in, you stopped for a moment so Abby could adjust to the size. You slowly ran a hand up her body again and wrapped your fingers around her throat.

“I want to hear you.”

She gasped as you pulled out just a tiny bit and thrust back into her.

“Fuck me, please. I can take it. Fuck me hard.”

Without taking your hand off her, you pulled all the way out and watched her face as you pushed back into her with deep, hard strokes. She melted in your fingers. Her expression was a mixture of surprise, lust, satisfaction, a little bit of pain and an ever-growing hunger.

“Faster, baby,” she whined, her hands twitching towards your face for a moment before she stopped herself and pushed her hips up against you instead.

Deciding the wolf had begged enough, you straightened up and started picking up a faster pace. She started moaning, arching her back and pressing her hands against the metal bed frame. Going faster and faster, you savored every second of seeing her writhe beneath you, hearing the slaps of your skin against hers and the delightfully obscene wet noises her cunt made as it swallowed every thrust.

The strap on and the leather front of the harness worked just right in putting pressure on your clit, your breathing getting harder from effort and arousal at the same time. With one swift motion, you grabbed Abby’s ankles and pulled them up on your shoulders to get a deeper angle.

She let out a deep, coarse moan coming from deep within her and her eyelids flew open. Giving her a devilish smile, you folded your arms around her legs and began slamming your hips into her, your groans falling into the rhythm of Abby’s cries. Her biceps flexed deliciously as she pulled on the bed frame and threw her head back in ecstasy, a steady flow of curses streaming from her mouth.

Losing strength in your arms, you let go of her legs and they fell to your sides as you dropped forward onto your lover’s chest, keeping a steady pace. The friction to your own core was much stronger now and you felt yourself getting close to the peak.

“Touch me, now!” you commanded and her arms flew down and closed around your back, holding you close while digging her nails into your skin. She dragged them down as you fucked her harder, leaving burning streaks on your shoulder blades. Her legs also closed around your hips, amplifying your thrusts into her as you grabbed a fistful of her hair and made her scream out in pain and pleasure. You wanted her to cum with you, to ride this high together.

“Baby, I’m so close.” Finally.

“Come for me, Abby.” You sank your teeth into her throat and tightened your grip in her hair, grinding into her with all your strength until you both started crying out each other’s names, scratching and grabbing at each other’s bodies as waves of pleasure rushed over you and made you twitch and shake.

Still inside her, you lay on Abby’s chest, both of you coated in sweat, spit and each other’s juices. She ran a hand through your hair and drew the pad of her thumb over the red marks on your back.

“Oh Y/N, what are you doing to me?”

You reached back a hand to loosen the straps of the harness and lifted your head to look at the flustered blonde. Slowly, you pulled out of her and enjoyed the almost unnoticeable twitches of her face, small echoes of the sensations she had felt minutes before. The strap on fell to the floor with a heavy thud and you both had to laugh at the sound.

Abby sighed and pulled you closer.

“I think every single person on the base either saw or heard us. Or both.”

You buried your face between her breasts and soaked in her wonderful musk before licking a line all the way up to her earlobe.

“Do you care?”

She laughed again, her chest vibrating against yours.

“Not really, no. When I have you, nothing else matters.”

You both paused for a second, letting that sentence sink in. Carefully, you placed a soft kiss to her lips and she deepened it, caressing your tongue with hers and gently biting your bottom lip.

You would have to have this conversation sometime soon. But right now, it was enough to feel the deep, intense connection between you as you nestled your face in the crook of your lover’s neck and she pulled a sheet over both of you, enjoying this moment together without thinking of anything else, especially not the future.

When you were together, nothing else mattered.

-

Author’s note: Thank you for reading, feel free to tell me what you thought 💌 if you’d like, you can support me by buying me a coffee 💛

[adventuresinwonderlust]

Title: I Still Get Jealous

Pairing: jealous dom! yoongi x reader ft. JK

Warnings: established relationship, jealousy themes, public sex kind of, smut, like filthy nasty smut, degradation, cum eating, spitting just a little, daddy kink, fluff if you squint at the end, teasing, oral (m) receiving, spanking, unprotected sex (wrap it up folks!)

Rating: 18 and over

“Cheers to us!” You shout, slamming your shot glass into that of your coworkers. You and your team had hit your sales quote for the end of the year, and you all wanted to celebrate, so you head out to a local lounge after work to get drunk. “Let’s dance!” Your coworker Alice pulls you over to join her on the dance floor. “I’m waiting for Yoongi.” You shout over the music. “OK well, he can find you shaking your ass on the dance floor. Now come on!” You laugh and give in, shaking your hips to the music.

This would be the first time Yoongi would be meeting people from the team, which was fine by you. There was only one person you were nervous of him meeting; one person in particular. Jungkook, the office hottie, who looked more like he should be posing in one of those firefighter calendars rather than pushing malware sales. Yoongi was always super jealous and so you made sure to stray away from talking about JK and the fact that all the women at your office would drool over him in the work group chat, yourself included.

It definitely didn’t help that he was your direct partner in sales or that he had a huge crush on you. Try as you might to avoid it, you couldn’t help but flirt a bit when he threw on his charms. “Don’t look now! JK!” Alice yells, arms opened wide as he joins you both on the dance floor. “Hey pint size.” JK greets you with your office nickname that pokes fun at your height and you can’t help but smile wide. “You look amazing! Definitely not pint sized tonight! ” He comments, pulling you close to his body as he sways you back and forth to the rhythm of the music. You dressed in a black mini skater skirt, black thigh high socks, and black booties offset with a white crop top sweater. Your intention was to drive Yoongi wild tonight, it seems however to be catching JK off guard. You blush profusely as he drinks you in.

“Finished up the last of your work?” You inquire to take his mind off undressing you with his eyes. “Yeah. I wanted to make sure all of our numbers were sent in before the end of business. Sorry I showed up late.” “No worries. You haven’t missed much.” He smirks at your comment, drinking you in once again, and your stomach knots. Your mind shifts to Yoongi and how he’d react seeing you right now. “You ok?” JK whispers in your ear, briefly placing his hand on the small of your back. You nod quickly. “I’m good, yeah.” “I just want to say. I think you’re an amazing partner. I couldn’t have met my number if you weren’t by my side.” JK praises, lifting his hand to tuck your hair behind your ear. You see his eyes scan your face, your lips, your neck. You clear your throat, feeling your face flush. “Uh, you, are so awesome also, like we make a good team. All of us, really, are great.” You try to bring the focus to the entire team. “Yeah definitely. I couldn’t agree more but I guess what I am trying to say is that I would really love to get to know you on a more personal level. Take you out to dinner sometime.” He smiles seductively, twirling your hair around his finger before pulling your waist into his. You stumble over your words, feeling your body tense. “JK, that’s nice of you but…” You begin to explain and push his waist away before being interrupted.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Alice whispers in your ear while stepping between you and JK, “but please tell me that that gorgeous guy sitting on the couch in our VIP section staring at you is not Yoongi.” You scan past her, searching, feeling as if you could gag as your eyes meet those of Yoongi’s. He sits slightly bent over, mouth open, looking your body up and down. His palms are pressed together while his chin rest on his thumbs. Your breath hitches at how amazing he looks. He shows no emotion but you can feel his heat from across the room. You swallow thickly as JK wraps himself around you, bringing you both into a slow sway.

Yoongi’s eyes darken at the sight of another man’s hands on you. He stands quickly and smirks at you, walking over to you and JK. He stands before you both and cocks his head to the side. JK notices and pulls you closer causing Yoongi’s lips to pull into a tight smile. “What’s up man? Can I help you? Do you know pint size over here?” JK questions. Yoongi smiles seductively at you and a chill runs down your spine. “Pint size and I go way back. Don’t we baby?” Yoongi nods to you then brings his lips to a pout. “Uh, JK, this is Yoongi, my boyfriend.” You turn to announce to JK’s surprise. Yoongi gives JK a shit eating grin. “Oh wow,” He pulls his body away from you but still holds onto your hip, “I didn’t know she had a boyfriend. Sorry man.” Yoongi raises his eyebrows briefly. “No worries friend. Pint size loves keeping things fun and exciting for me, don’t you baby?” “Don’t be a dick Yoongi.” You snip. “Oh, I’m sorry. Are pet names only for, I’m sorry, what was your name again?” Yoongi points at JK. “Jungkook.” Yoongi nods but keeps his eyes locked on you. “Tell me Jungkook, does she have a cute pet name for you?” “Five alarm.” JK responds with confidence and your heart drops. Yoongi looks at him in complete confusion.

“Like five alarm fire. All the girls at the office call me that. They joke that I look like a fireman.” He chuckles. Yoongi joins in for a brief moment before excusing himself, heading to grab a drink at the bar. You scurry behind him. “Don’t be upset. It’s not what you think.” You say as Yoongi throws back a shot. “I’m not mad pint size.” He licks his lips, turning to face you. “Don’t call me that ok. You’re just doing it to be an asshole.” Yoongi hums, leaning in to whisper in your ear. “Tell me whore, are you loose with your mouth tonight because you think daddy won’t bend you over in front of all of your little friends?” “No.” You reply meekly, feeling your core heat under his lust filled gaze. He runs his slender fingers along your jawline before walking off to join your group of friends. You bite your lip, trying to calm yourself as JK approaches you.

“Everything ok?” “Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?” “Your boyfriend seems uncomfortable. Just wanted to check on you…” He nods in Yoongi’s direction and continues talking but soon his voice fades off as you look over at Yoongi who is seated watching your every move. “Y/N, hello?” “Huh? What? I’m sorry.” “I said that I would still like to take you out sometime. I know you have a boyfriend but I figure we can still have dinner as friends.” “Sure, uh, yeah. I’d like that.” He smiles wide and pulls you into a hug, nuzzling into your neck. You tap his back awkwardly and watch as Yoongi cocks his head to the side. “We should get back to the group.” You pull away and head over to sit beside Yoongi. You scan his face for any sort of emotion but he gives you none. He never even looks over at you, instead striking up conversation with Alice. As the night progresses, Yoongi does everything in his power to ignore you. He moves through the party with ease, mingling with all your coworkers as if they’ve been friends for years. Alice laughs loudly, throwing her head back obnoxiously, at something Yoongi has said and you shoot them both a deadly look, having had enough.

You pull Yoongi from the couch and over towards the dance floor where you can speak privately. “Everything ok pint size?” He drawls. “Are you serious? You’re going to act like a child and ignore me? And cut the shit with the nickname ok, I’m over it already.” Yoongi looks over at your coworkers who are all engaged in conversation before grabbing a handful of your hair and pulling you into his body. He forcefully yanks back your head to expose your neck to him and licks a long stripe from the base of your neck to your chin, digging you into his growing erection and sway you back and forth as if your dancing. “Keep talking whore, I’m just taking notes for when I have you all to myself. I can’t wait to have you repeat everything you’ve said tonight with my cock stuffed down your throat.” “Fuck, Yoongi.” You pant, grinding your hips into his hard on. “Such a cock whore for me. Dying for me to wreck you. Maybe I should pull you into the bathroom and fuck you stupid while five alarm and all your coworkers wonder where you’ve gone. You’d like that wouldn’t you? Having your little work crush come looking for you, find me pounding your needy cunt. Do you think he’d stay and watch? I bet you’d like that wouldn’t you whore? Have him palm his cock to the sounds of your desperate moans.” Yoongi whispers into your ear, placing kisses along your lobe. You moan softly. “Answer me whore.” “Yes daddy. I want you to fuck me so bad. I want to be punished.” Yoongi chuckles softly into your ear. “Hm, that’s too bad, only good girls get fucked and right now you’re being a very bad girl. ” He grabs a handful of your ass, kisses your neck gently, and walks away with a bite of his lip. You clench your now soaked cunt around nothing, whimpering as he leaves you high and dry. You loved and hated when Yoongi was in a jealous fit. He was unreasonable outside the bedroom, always unwilling to give into your antics as you made attempts at seeking his attention but inside the bedroom, he was the most amazing lover. He was always sure to tease and please you in the most delicious way, reminding you exactly who you belonged to.

You collect yourself and walk over to the group, taking a seat on the arm of the couch since your seat next to Yoongi has been occupied by Alice. Your blood boils as he stares so deeply at her, biting his lip, and giving her all his attention. You know he is just trying to make you feel the way he is right now, he has no interest in Alice, still it eats at you, provokes you even. “So, JK, when did you wanna grab dinner?” You say loud enough for Yoongi’s ears to perk up. “Uh, whenever you want. I’m free whenever.” “Cool, how about during the week, after work. Let’s say Monday.” JK nods. “Yeah, I’m down. Any place in particular you want to go?” You shrug. “You pick. I love being surprised.” You smirk, rubbing your hand along his bicep, and you swear you hear Yoongi growl. “How about a dance Alice?” Yoongi offers, getting up and extending a hand to her. “Uh, if it's ok with Y/N.” Alice turns to you. You scoff and look at Yoongi. “She doesn’t mind, right pint size? Now come on gorgeous, show me how you move.” Alice giggles and allows Yoongi to lead her out on the dance floor.

You watch as Yoongi takes Alice by the hips and maneuvers her body around. She all too willingly allows him to control her every move. She wraps her arms around Yoongi’s neck, seeming to have found a steady rhythm, and bravely pushes her hips into his. He smiles in amusement at her before looking over at you. “Sorry, had to run to the restroom. What did I miss?” JK pops up again, handing you a fresh shot. You drink it happily, rising from your seat and taking JK around the neck. “Let's dance JK. You’re such a good dancer.” You giggle, feeling JK trail his hands along your spine. “You sure that’s a good idea.” You nod slowly, pulling him towards the dance floor, taking a spot right beside Yoongi and Alice. “Y/N, you never mentioned Yoongi was such a good dancer.” Alice calls out to you, spinning around to press her small ass into Yoongi’s crotch. You seethe watching her act like a bitch in heat all over your man. “You shouldn't start what you can't finish." Yoongi warns as you and he spin past each other. You raise your eyebrows at him in defiance and decide to take matters into your own hands, turning just the same as Alice, grinding your very plump ass shamelessly into JK’s crotch, unbothered by your skirt hitching up a bit.

JK grips your hips tightly, a small moan escaping his lips. You run your hands up into his hair and press your back into his chest, falling into a sensual rhythm with your dance partner, all the while watching the color fade from Yoongi’s face. He whispers something to Alice, who nods simply. Yoongi walks over to you and JK, staring down at where your hips are connected. “It's time to go.” Yoongi states calmly. JK scoffs and wraps his arms around you completely. You drop your hands from his hair and wrap them over his, allowing him to pull you closer. “I can drop her off later friend.” He remarks, nuzzling into your neck. You watch as Yoongi’s eyes light on fire. “I wasn’t talking to you, friend.” He’s so hot when he’s this pissed off. You decide to push your luck. “What’s the magic word Min Min?” You tease playfully. JK laughs out loud whilst Yoongi says nothing. He doesn’t have to; you watch as he grips tightly around his belt buckle and you know what he has in mind. He’s had enough of your antics and if you aren’t careful, he may just take you right here on this dance floor, in front of all these people as warned earlier. You turn to face JK. “This was fun. I should really get going though. Dinner Monday yeah?” “Yeah definitely! I had such a good time with you tonight, shame it has to end early. Get home safe. It was nice meeting you Yoongi.” Yoongi nods, hurrying ahead to get away from your group.

He takes you by the wrist, bobbing and weaving through the crowd. “Please don’t be mad at me daddy. I was just teasing. You know how much I love to push your buttons; you’re so sexy when you get riled up.” Yoongi just ignores you, still pulling you along. Annoyed you yank your hand away causing Yoongi to stop and look at you. “If you’re going to ignore me, then I think we should go to our respective apartments tonight. As a matter of fact, I’ll just rejoin my friends and enjoy the rest of my night with them.” You turn to walk away but are immediately yanked back. Yoongi’s lips are on yours in no time, pulling you into an angry kiss. You moan lustfully into his mouth reaching up to cup his face. He grabs your wrist and pulls your arms behind your back, continuing the assault on your mouth. “Yoongi, please. There are people watching. We can’t.” You begin to plead breathlessly between kisses, wriggling in his hold as he trails kisses down your neck, lifting your sweater to fondle your breast. “Afraid of everyone knowing what a cock whore you are?” He growls, nipping at your nipple through your bra.

You yelp, frantically looking around, hoping no one sees. “Oh god, Yoongi, the security guard is walking this way." You cry out, feeling Yoongi suckle your erect nub through the sheer material. He mutters a curse under his breath and begins to yank you behind him once again. “You’re going the wrong way,” You shout at the back of his head, “the exit is the other way.” He pulls you hard into the restroom and slams the door shut being sure to lock it behind him. He presses you against the door, lifting your sweater up, once again latching onto your nipple through your sheer bra. You moan loudly, wrapping a leg around his waist. He takes the opportunity run his hand up your exposed thigh, slapping it hard before gripping the plump flesh. “God damn, Fuck me daddy, please!” You cry out reaching down to stroke his massive erection. He releases your nipple to watch in pleasure as you mewl and wriggle against him, dying for his cock. “My greedy little cock whore. So desperate for cock, didn’t care who filled you tonight did you?” He pants against your ear, grinding into your throbbing cunt. You whimper at the sweet sensation his cock against your clit causes.

“Please, daddy, I only want you.” “Really,” He drops his head to your neck and bites down hard, suckling soon after to create a large purple mark in its wake, “I remember someone else’s hands on these hips.” He replies, lifting you off the ground, wrapping both legs around his waist. You cuss over his lips, shoving your tongue into his mouth as you buck and grind against his jailed member. “I need you, want you inside me.” You pant, feeling your core tighten with your quickened pace. “That’s enough whore.” Yoongi groans, dropping you to your feet. Your legs are shaky, and you feel your climax fade away. “What the fuck Yoongi?” You shove him back. His eyes darken as he smirks at you, pulling you away from the door and leading you further into the restroom. “I’m not playing around Yoongi! Fuck me or let me leave. I’m not going to stroke your ego tonight. Especially when there are other people out there who want me.” “Other people huh? Like your little work boyfriend?” “Exactly right, and please believe he’s more than eager to taste this cunt.” He chuckles now, unbuckling his belt. “Lean on the sink whore, lift that skirt, show me your ass! Right now!” You watch him for a moment longer, then excitedly turn and pull your skirt up, leaning on your elbows, pushing your ass out as far as you can. “Always so eager.” He growls. “Anything for you daddy." “That’s my girl.” He praises before coming down on your exposed ass with his leather belt. You cry out at the burning sensation. Your cunt clenching and soaking through your sheer thong. He hums in approval at you as you twirl your hips side to side, coming down again with another thwack. You gasp, pressing your forehead against the cold counter, pushing out further for him. “Fuck my whore is so sexy. Look how red this sweet ass gets for me. My cock is so hard for you baby. How’d I get so lucky?” You pout and twirl your hips some more. “Don’t stop daddy. I need more. I’ve been so bad.” Yoongi dips his head back so overcome with lust as a low growl escapes his throat. He gladly obliges with two more hard cracks of his leather, one across the ass, the other across your thighs. You scream his name with each one, earning low groans from him. “Such a good whore.” He praises, slowly lowering down to his knees, unbuttoning his jeans. “Get on all fours right now you fucking slut.” You nod and lower yourself before him. “Open your mouth for me.” He pants, freeing his thick length. You moan out whilst opening as wide as you can. Yoongi strokes himself gently, moving towards your gaping mouth. He slowly swirls his head around your lips, coating them in his salty pre-cum. “Tongue out.” He commands. You roll your tongue out, curling it around his length as he slaps his member against it. He takes you by your hair and slowly shoves the whole of his cock into your mouth, hitching his hips forward ever so gently. You moan around him causing him to grip your hair tighter.

“God has never made a better cock sleeve.” He grunts, slamming into your throat, eliciting a body trembling gag. He moans loudly at the feeling. “No one takes cock like you baby. Do you think I’d ever let that inexperienced bag of muscle touch you? He’d cum just from the scent of your needy cunt.” He hitches forward once more, hissing as you gag and drool all over him. “Still wish it was him in your mouth? Still wish he could watch?” He growls pulling out slightly, allowing you time to catch your breath. “No, daddy.” You pant. He pouts at you, shoving himself deep into your throat again. “I love when you lie.” He moans, coming down on your ass with a hard thwack of his belt. You shove forward swallowing more of his cock, your nose pressed against his pubic bone. “Fuck!” He cries out, coming down again with his belt. A loud slam on the door causes you pull off his cock much to his surprise. “I wasn’t finished whore.” “Someone’s knocking.” You swallow hard, nervously looking at the door. Yoongi stands now, helping you to your feet. “I don’t give a fuck who’s at the door.” He lifts you up and onto the counter. You cry out at the sting from the cold against your fresh formed welts. Another slam on the door causes you to jump and attempt to lean forward. Yoongi shoves you back, dropping his hand between your legs to rub your clothed center. “Occupied,” He yells before turning his attention to you, “already soaked through huh whore? I bet I’d slide right inside you, wouldn’t I?”

You grind against his hand, nodding excitedly. “Use your words whore!” He shouts, pinching your sensitive bud through your panties. You hiss, bucking forward. “Yes! Fuck yes!” He smiles wide at your reaction. “You like that, do you whore?” “Yes.” You quiver, opening your legs wide. He shoves your skirt up, yanking down your thong. “Spread your lips for me.” You drop your hands down, opening your folds for him. He bites his lip looking over your exposed pussy. “So. Fucking. Wet! Look at yourself whore, dripping down onto this counter with your fucking need.” He hums to himself, dropping his head down to your exposed hood and slurping up your clit in his mouth. “Jesus, God! Yoongi!” You yell, thighs shaking at the twisted feeling of pleasure and overstimulation. He nips at your clit, lifting his head up to your dismay. “What did you call me?” “I’m sorry,” You pant, “please don’t stop.” He smiles. “Don’t stop what?” He muses, shoving two fingers into your sopping pussy. You clench instantly as he begins to pump in and out of you. You throw your head back against the mirror. “More.” You barely manage. “So, fucking greedy.” He replies softly into your ear, shoving a third finger into you. You whimper, grabbing hold of his rock-hard cock, stroking him from root to tip. “Please can I make daddy cum? I want you to cum all over my face. Use me as your cum rag.” You breathlessly beg, hastening your pace. Yoongi pants against your ear, moving his fingers in and out of you at the same pace in which you stroke his length. “Faster whore.” He goads, removing his fingers from your clenching cunt. You whine at the sudden loss of his touch but revel in his glorious lust filled stance. He grips your thighs for balance, tossing his head back, spewing curses under his breath, his bangs sticking to his sweat covered forehead.

Soft moans escape his bobbing throat. “I’m going to cum. On your knees!” You slide off the counter quickly, still stroking, hitting your knees with a loud thud. He takes his cock from you, rubbing large circles around his tip with one hand, and guiding your head back with the other. You open your mouth for him as he cries out, the first shot of his hot seed shooting into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat, he guides his quivering cock around your face, releasing long strands onto your cheeks, your lips, and your chin, sure to avoid your eyes. He moves his tip against your lips, rubbing it softly against your tongue, the last bits of his climax coating the tip of your moist appendage. He pulls his cock away wrapping his long slender fingers around your jaw, keeping it wide open for him, a small moan escapes as you watch your lover drop a small amount of spit into your mouth. “Swallow whore.” He commands, releasing you. You gulp down the concoction happily, opening wide to show him what a good girl you are. He breaths raggedly, watching you in approval, lifting a hand to swirl his cum around your face and into your mouth. You lap up all the sweet/ salty mixture you can reach with your tongue before Yoongi swirls his coated fingers over your lips. “Such a cum whore for daddy. Look how you eat up my cum up like it’s your favorite treat. I could drain my balls and you'd still want more.” You suckle at his fingers, swallowing his thick fluids, and nod. “I love daddy's cum.” He helps you to your feet and spins you around, bending you over the counter. “You’ve been such a good whore for daddy. Is my whore ready to cum?” “Yes daddy, please.” He bites on your earlobe as he slowly enters your sopping cunt. You both gasp at how desperately your walls clench and grip at his thick cock. “Fuck, always so fucking tight for daddy.” He admires you for a minute in the mirror, your mouth wide, holding back a sob whilst he shoves deeper inside your tight walls until he bottoms out. You cry out as he begins to slam in and out of your cunt, curving his body slightly to rub his full head against your g-spot. He takes a handful of your hair and lifts your head up so you can see yourself in the mirror. “I want you to see what I see whore. I want you to see why I love you so fucking much. Just look at how gorgeous you look when you take my cock. Fuck, I could explode just watching you come undone.” His words cause your belly to burn as your climax rises from your toes, you can barely even form words, only able to babble as drool forms at the sides of your mouth.

He smirks at your fucked out look, swirling the fresh drool with his dried cum, and bringing it into your gaping mouth. You moan around his fingers, sucking hard at his digits. He yanks his fingers from your mouth, coming down hard on your ass with a loud slap. “Whose sopping cunt is this?” “Yours daddy! It’s all yours.” “Damn fucking right it is!” He grunts, taking you by the hips, quickening his pace. You hopelessly claw at something to hold onto as he rams into you. His animal like sounds bringing you closer and closer to your finish. Your toes curl in your shoes and your calf muscles tighten as you try to maintain a steady footing. Yoongi wraps an arm around your waist to help steady you, bringing his free hand down to make figure eights on your swollen clit. “Uh, fuck, I can't, I'm gonna fucking come so hard daddy.” “Mm, that’s right whore, cum on daddy's cock. Scream for me, I want to hear you cry for this cock.” Your climax begins as a slow tremor within your walls that burns deliciously into an explosion of forceful pulses throughout your cunt that has her clamping down on Yoongi’s cock so intensely it pulls a sob from his throat. You don’t hold back, so overcome by the crashing waves of bliss you yell out his name until your throat is raw. He continues fucking into you his breath becoming more and more uneasy as his balls tighten against you. “It’s too much daddy.” You whine, overstimulation hitting you. “Fuck! This glorious fucking cunt!” He shouts, slamming hard into your cervix, his release pulsing against your cervical opening. His thrust become sloppy as he comes down from his high, his cum slowly seeping out of you. He rests his head on your back, allowing you both time to catch your breath. “I love you. I fucking love you so much.” He pulls out of you, helping you up, and pulling you into a soft kiss. You melt into his warmth, nibbling at his plump bottom lip. “I love you too.” “I’m sorry if I was too rough,” He rubs his large hands over your sore ass, “I still get jealous. I’m trying to be better.” You laugh at his pouty confession. “If you keep fucking me like that, I might just keep making you jealous.” He scoffs kissing you softly again. “Let’s go home for real baby. I’ll take care of you.” You nod in approval, fixing yourselves up. Yoongi holds your hair back as you wash your face in the sink, once you feel you look presentable again, you stuff your thong in his jacket pocket and make for the exit. You unlock the door anxiously expecting a line but luckily there is no one waiting. You both shove through the crowd toward the exit when you feel a tug on your hand. “You’re still here?” JK smiles at you. “Uh, well, we uh.” “Fucked in the bathroom.” Yoongi offers up with a straight face. Your eyes nearly bulge out of your head as JK laughs out loud. “Wait, what? Are you serious?” He looks from you to Yoongi and back again. Yoongi laughs wide, exposing his gums. “I’m fucking with you kid!” JK huffy a bit before breaking into a full laugh. “You’re funny man,” JK bumps his fist into Yoongi's shoulder, “Hey get home safe again ok pint size, dinner Monday night.” He winks with all his might at you, walking off into the crowd. Yoongi rolls his eyes, resting his hand on the small of your back. He places a soft kiss on your temple, lowering a bit to whisper in your ear. “You know you’re not going to dinner with him right?” You chuckle, leaning into Yoongi’s chest. “Will you fuck me in the ass as punishment if I do?” Yoongi bites his lip, “Such an insatiable appetite my whore has.” He whispers, swatting you on the ass. “I’ll never get enough of you daddy.” You mewl, savoring the feel of the night air on your face.