#sorry if it gets repetitive towards the end i did not edit this at all

[lovelywoos]

then came you | l.jh

genre: opposites attract au, highschool au, strangers to friends to lovers; fluff, comedy, angst!!

pairings: introverted!woozi x extroverted!reader (y/n uses they/them pronouns, but small scene where it mentions that y/n wears a skirt)

word count: 7.9k... jfc

warnings: swearing, a fight scene (not violent, more like a lot of swearing), and the fight scene has a lot of repetitive swear words because i don’t swear that much help :”)

description: in which you, the student council vice president, and lee jihoon, the quiet boy in the back of the class, fell in love despite your differences.

a/n - this was a lot of fun to write but near the end of editing it i was literally pushing SHOVING this out of my drafts to publish im so sick of it now. i rushed the editing so ... forgive me pls. ***fight scene is also inspired by the ep 3 of the kdrama “our beloved summer.”

one. meet cute

well, if it wasn’t for the consequences of your actions smacking you right on the face. yes, you should’ve studied more for that physics test. and studied harder. but also yes, student council duties needed attention. that group project for math was very time-consuming as well in your defense!

all those excuses and yet you still broke down.

sitting and hiding under a table in your school’s music room was becoming familiar. sometimes you wish you weren’t so outspoken or eager because now you’ve bitten off more than you can chew and are suffering the exhaustion from it.

but anyways, thank god for sound-proof music rooms! (your sniffles were beginning to inch their way towards sobs…)

“you okay?”

you jump at the sudden voice, head bumping against the desk with a heavy thud.

you blink up at the voice’s owner, furrowing your brows in annoyance.

the pale boy stammers in shock, struggling to put together his words. he heard you crying while entering the room, but seeing your puffy and bloodshot eyes made him wonder if he should’ve just made a 360 and left the room the first time he heard sniffles.

“s-sorry! i didn’t mean to scare you!” he stutters, rushing to you as you make your way out from under the desk. he quickly puts a hand under the desk, making sure you don’t bonk your head a second time.

you get up, quickly wiping your tears away from your face with the sleeves of your school uniform, the boy could get a good look at your face.

l/n y/n. student council’s vice president and class representative. he knew you very well. everyone did really. you were always all over the place talking to people, socializing, getting things done, and leading the way. you definitely didn’t know him though (he was right).

“it’s fine. don’t worry about it,” you assured, smiling slightly in an attempt to ease his obvious nerves.

you sigh before adding, “just don’t… tell anyone, yeah?” you read his name tag pinned on the chest of his uniform. lee jihoon.

“of course, don’t worry about that.”

“okay well, i have to get going now! see you around!” you send a friendly wave, walking for the door as jihoon interrupts you.

“wait! here, ta-take this,” he hands you a wrinkled napkin he had just pulled from his pockets.

when you stare at his outstretched hand, jihoon explains, “for your tears… although you’re not crying anymore, huh.”

you hold in your smile seeing the napkin most definitely from lunch that was just placed in your hand. so cute.

jihoon watches as you make your way out of the music room, thanking him, making him promise one last time to not tell anyone about today, and saying a goodbye.

so when you close the door behind you, he sighs with a gentle smile on his face. so cute.

two. i hate everyone but you

“lee jihoon!”

before becoming friends with lee jihoon, people should know that jihoon hates five things: people who touch him, annoying people, talkative people, being told what to do, and opening up.

and you haven’t seemed to pick up on these things yet after being friends for about… two months? but for you, it was bearable.

so whenever you march up to his desk, he doesn't complain.

“your group mates just told me how you haven’t attended any of the work meets they planned!” you sighed, pressing your lips together. “and take those damn earbuds out!”

“okay, okay. sorry,” jihoon leans back in his chair with tired eyes before explaining, “i’ve been doing my share of the work anyway, so why does it matter? i can’t be needed that much.”

you pout before sitting at the empty desk in front of him. you also notice how his eyes seem so focused on his hands all of a sudden.

you poke his forehead with your forefinger, making him look up to look at you with wide eyes.

“it’s just me, be honest,” you say in the gentlest tone jihoon’s ever heard from you.

he takes a moment to think before nodding. you smile and lean in, ready to hear his side of the story.

“they’re not the greatest people. i overhear them sometimes and they’re always gossiping. i don’t think i’d be able to stand being in a room with all of them talking for like two hours,” jihoon finally explains, but he’s taken aback as he sees your attentive and genuine expression.

he clears his throat and adds, “in conclusion, they give me a headache, and being with them for hours would drain my social battery for the day, no, week.”

jihoon forgets to mention that being around his group would be unbearable also because you were a common topic amongst their gossip. he remembers the day when one of his partners said you were such a teacher’s pet only for the sake of impressing the student council’s president, choi seungcheol.

he quite literally had to take a step outside before he said something he would regret because l/n y/n doing something for male validation? he would laugh in their faces if he had the courage.

“i see… it’s alright, i’ll see what i can do. don’t worry, jihoon! just focus on your part of the work and let me do the talking!” you grin, standing up abruptly.

jihoon just smiles up at you and nods, not surprised at how you were going to speak in his defense once again (this was becoming the new norm as you two became friends).

before turning to leave, you reach a hand out to ruffle his dark black hair, messing it all up. you quickly dash off, not letting jihoon scold you.

he hides his smile and growing blush as he reaches up to fix his hair.

jihoon still hates five things: people who touch him, annoying people, talkative people, being told what to do, and opening up. but if they come in the form of you, he doesn't seem to mind so much. especially if every time he reluctantly opens up, you always seem to understand him.

three. what was this feeling?

“i swear to god if i don’t beat her, she’ll never let me hear the end of it!”

jihoon was about to lose it. you were pacing back in forth in front of him. every time you had finally stopped moving or talking, he would place the sunscreen in your hand so you could apply some on your face yourself before your race. but every single time he did, you just gave him a look and shoved it right back into his hands, continuing your rant.

“she keeps going on and on about how the class representative should be good at everything including athletics and so sports day should be a breeze for me! why do class representatives have to go last in the relay? it’s so weird! i could be helping student council pass out waters right now or something like…”

your words fade away as his attention diverted to the couple a few feet down the bench from you two. the girl squeezed some sunscreen onto the back of her hand before applying it to her boyfriend’s face.

and to be honest, he couldn’t even remember who you were talking about anymore! yuna was it? or maybe yuri? yura??

so fuck it.

“i think she’s just jealous she’s in a lower class than me! because what other reason could—"

jihoon grabs your hand, pulling you down next to him. as your mouth hangs open in surprise and confusion, he twists the cap off, throwing it to the side and squeezing some onto the back of his hand. he takes a deep intake of breath.

jihoon slaps (not that hard actually) his sunscreen-covered fingers on your forehead making you freeze. unable to form words, sounds even, you just stare at his focused eyes, the slight furrow of his brows as he spreads the sunscreen on your face.

you curse the heat, maybe also your flustered emotions, as your cheeks warm up when you take in the close proximity between you two and also because his cold, pretty hands were on your face!! he was so gentle and cautious with you that you had a feeling he was as panicked as you were right now.

as you were freaking out and praying he couldn't hear the pounding of your heart, jihoon was busy wondering if this was too much. was this weird? was he making you uncomfortable??

jihoon, now much more uncomfortable with the sudden silence, began to change the subject. “you know someone so thoughtful of their skincare shouldn’t forget to put on sunscreen.”

when you responded with a flustered silence, he snorts as you refused to maintain eye contact with him.

he takes your silence as pre-anxiousness for your event, instead of it being because of his bold actions. “you’ll be fine in your race. so beat yuri, get this day over with, and let’s do something after school together, yeah?”

so he did listen to your rants.

it made you think. when was the last time someone paid attention to your rambling? when was the last time someone cared enough to want you to put sunscreen on? when was the last time someone comforted you even when you didn’t show you were troubled?

"anyways!" jihoon yells as he jumps up from the bench, "you still have some sunscreen on your face, but I've done enough so..." (way to ruin the moment, jihoon...)

you felt your heartbeat quicken when jihoon pulled you up from the bench by hand and gave your head a couple pats to calm the anxiety.

“so remember why you wanna win and use that to motivate you. you got this, y/n!” he holds a fist up, truly wishing you the best even though you very well knew he had no care in the world for today’s sports day.

what was this feeling?

four. it's love

the moment you start running, jihoon felt his hands get clammy and heart start pumping though he wasn’t even running. okay, so maybe he was completely listening to your rants even if he didn’t want to. maybe he did want you to beat yuri because he loved seeing you so passionate about something and always rooted for your success.

so as you passed yuri in your relay right before the finish line, maybe he did jump from his seat and start cheering. for once, he ignored all the stares from people around him who were shocked to hear his voice louder than class-speaking volume. he was just so so excited to see you sprint past the finish line with the biggest smile on your face as your classmates rushed over to congratulate their class representative.

he watches as you scan the bleachers, eyes lighting up as you find his eyes and mouthed the words, ‘i won!’

jihoon nods with a smile, sending you two thumbs up as you laugh before turning away to talk to your friends.

despite you being surrounded by so many people and him on the bleachers by himself on sports day, he still can’t help but finally realizes he likes you. he always has despite all the differences. lee jihoon likes you. and his smile never fades away upon processing this fact.

five. the argument

it’s been 11 days, 10 hours, and 34 minutes since jihoon had spoken a word to you. at first, you decided to keep track of the days so you could use it as a point to argue with jihoon. but that was ultimately thrown out of the window when jihoon remained giving you the silent treatment and no argument, not a single word from him was in sight (you did not expect this). he probably just needs some time alone... right?

on the other hand, jihoon could always feel your burning, infuriated stares burning a hole in the back of his head. it came to the point where walking by you in the hallways felt like he was on fire.

lee jihoon was conflicted. he enjoyed being your friend (even if it felt like it should be more sometimes), but at what cost? his mind just kept going back to your friends' conversation that day.

just as jihoon was about to unlock the restroom stall, his hand freezes at the mention of your name from someone's mouth. his name as well.

"you think y/n is actually friends with that loser?"

"who?"

"the nerd who always listens to music in the back of the class!"

"ah, lee jihoon? i mean... i doubt it. they're probably hanging with him to make him feel like he belongs, you know? he has no friends so that's probably why."

"holy shit, that's so depressing."

"right?"

and when jihoon is conflicted, he did what he does best: stay silent. because yes, being your friend made his year. should he keep being your friend even if he knew you were doing it out of pity? would he go that far for his crush?

as jihoon makes his way to the music room after just finishing his lunch, he decides to just stay silent forever! confrontation is difficult... so none of that!!!

he reaches his hand out to turn the knob of the music room, but lets out a pained groan as the door flies into his face unbeknownst to you who just got too excited at his presence because now you could finally talk to him alone!

"jihoon! i knew you'd come here! let's talk," and suddenly all your angry, violent thoughts that said to be angry at lee jihoon for ignoring you for so long flew out of your head. all rational thoughts: gone. you grabbed his hand that wasn't rubbing his now red forehead and pulled him into the room.

jihoon sighs. so much for no confrontation.

when jihoon closes the door behind you both, you take a deep inhale of breath and exhale to calm your nerves. you've been thinking about this moment for ages, don't mess it up now!

you turn swiftly to face jihoon with a bitter expression on his face, making you gulp as the nerves begin crawling back.

"li-listen, whatever i did i'm sorry. i truly didn't mean to hurt you, so please, tell me what i did wrong so we can talk it out and i can apologize properly!"

for the first time since being pulled into that room by you, he looks at you to meet your eyes. how could they be so... genuine?

he looked at you in a way that made you want to sink to the floor. "well? are you gonna say anything?" you frown as he stares at you wordlessly.

"why are you friends with me?"

you blink at him in shock. "w-what?"

jihoon sighs and repeats, "why are you friends with me?"

you struggle to form the right words to say. "well... we kept running into each other and i liked talking to you so i just stuck around.” that could be worded much better, you think.

he didn’t believe you.

“you’re only friends with me because you’re vice president and it’s your job to help your peers, right?”

your jaw went slack.

“where did you get that from??”

this look was different. not mad, but hopeless. “not important. just answer me, is it true?”

“of course not! who told you that? why would you even believe that?” okay, now you were starting to get worked up because that’s such a horrid thing to assume of you! did he have that little faith in you?

his fists tighten because suddenly pin-pointing all the flaws in his friendship with you became easy.

“hey, but to add on to that, why do you baby me?”

your eyebrows knit together because you just got even more lost if possible. “baby you? since when? how? where did any of this come from, jihoon?”

“can you quit being so focused on where this is coming from? it’s coming from me, okay? it makes sense anyways, i am nothing like any of your friends. why me? why be friends with me—“

“why can’t i just be friends with you because i want to?? do all my friends need to be the same?”

he lets out a menacing scoff. “okay, so am i some charity case then? a friendship made out of pity because i can’t seem to ever speak up for myself and you always have to swoop in to save me? i can defend myself, y/n. why do you act like i’m a defenseless loser that needs to be protected and babied?”

“i have never thought about you that way! first of all, whoever told you i was friends with you because it was my job has no idea what you and i are. you’ve never given other people the time of day to listen to their stupid opinions, so why now, huh?”

because it was about you.

“second of all, you always complain about people not understanding you or mistreating you! you always let people walk all over you! i am sick of having to watch you pretend like you’re cool and unbothered at what people say about you, so forgive me if i’m standing up for you because i care. it’s not my job, i’m doing it because i’m your friend. and if you were uncomfortable about it, just tell me! set boundaries! not give me the silent treatment.”

“well i don’t want to be your friend anymore.” his words were eerily cold. he gave up. he clearly didn’t want to try for this or you anymore.

your gentle pants from your yelling fill the silent and tense atmosphere of the music room where you two first met. silent because his words were still processing in both of your heads and tense because this was probably the end of your friendship. you both couldn't meet each other's eyes.

as jihoon was gauging your troubled expression, a pool of heavy guilt filled his stomach. that sentence was not how he imagined it would go. he always thought it would be said bravely. lovingly. like in a confession. not like friends breaking up!

so you decide to give up too because what’s the point in trying when he doesn’t trust you.

“okay then. i respect that. i have nothing else to say. do you?”

he grimaces at the way your voice shakes. the way your nose scrunches unpleasantly. and his heart regrets the way your eyes shine over with tears. jihoon would never believe that he would one day be the cause of your pain and tears.

“no.” goddammit, that’s not what he wanted to say. why was he such a coward?

“okay.” your voice was just a whisper as you breeze past him, not wanting him to see you cry a second time.

when the door of the room shuts behind him, he cries. for the first time in a long time.

he can’t even remember what he was mad about. he could only remember your broken expression and your broken tone. he messed up something beautiful all because it was hard believing that someone as amazing as you would want to be his friend. and possibly like him.

six. right person, right time

22 days, 12 hours, and 16 minutes. why are you even keeping track anymore at this point? you two are not friends. period.

you weren’t even friends with him for that long! you had your other friends too anyways so why did cutting things off with him hurt so much? (i wonder why).

after not talking to jihoon, you start to realize how being his friend was such a breath of fresh air. a break from life. a good and genuine change. it was great. this was probably because how jihoon had no care for social cliques or no expectations or just no interest in things outside of grades and music!

and so for the first time in a long time, someone wanted to talk to you about something that had nothing to do with student council, clubs, school, volunteering, or community service. meeting jihoon was a quick and sharp realization that all your friends, all the people you surround yourself with, are people from the student council or simply smart-popular people! over-achievers! nerds!

maybe jihoon was right when he said you were the definition of a nerd who also happened to be popular… (which you refused to believe because how could a nerd be popular, jihoon?)

nevertheless! jihoon’s interest in music, critiquing animes, playing instruments for fun (not just in school like what), and best of all his carefree attitude, truly make all these nerds around you so bland and basic.

like finally, someone who busies themself with something, not about school or accomplishing something worthy enough to put on a college application.

and about his carefree attitude, it’s crazy how you never noticed until jihoon mentioned how uptight some of your friends were after hearing a close friend of yours, who was also secretary of the council, talk to you about something school related. all you and your friends talked about was school.

so yes, being friends with lee jihoon was beyond eye-opening and more life-changing, but it also made you view your friends differently. were they even your friends? if you weren't a part of all your extracurriculars, no, if you just weren't smart or outgoing, would they care about you at all?

this epiphany has let you see your friends for the people they are. you indeed saw this for yourself when some dumb boys began picking on him.

"seriously, i get if you don't like us. i respect that even. but failing us just because you think we're inferior to you makes you look like a fucking loser," park junghyung laughed cynically as he pulled a chair next to jihoon's desk, getting all up in his face.

if you don't see it, it doesn’t exist. jihoon has been repeating this sentence for the past five minutes because junghyung and his friends couldn't stand not being carried through group assignments for the first time in their lives.

"i didn't fail you, that's up to ms. lee."

with that, junghyung's tight-lipped smile dropped and his "patience" ran dry. he shot up from his seat and kicked it to the floor, the loud clanging sound making people gasp and begin to watch the situation unfold.

yeah, maybe removing his entire group's names from the presentation before submitting was too bold of a move. well, they should’ve done shit to help if they didn’t want a failing grade, right? after all, you always told him 'be bold and be strong! don't let stupid idiots walk over you! run over them instead!' wait, why as he even thinking about you in this situation?? damn it!

so, cue you walking toward jihoon's classroom, ready to confront some bullies and you’re only doing this because it’s the right thing to do, not that you still like him or anything (lie)! you don’t dare to hope you two might reconcile and maybe even become friends again after this because that’s so dumb (lie). and hopefully, jihoon won’t think you're babying him, you just want to clear his name! (truth).

however, seeing your crush (100% truth) lee jihoon being cornered by park junghyung who was grabbing his collar while everyone was staring and recording was not what you expected! are you seriously about to walk into a fight for your crush… (yes).

"you must think you're all that to pull such a move, huh. in reality, you're just a pathetic shit who can’t even pull bitches because they all pity you.” was he talking about you?

now that he thinks about it, the voice in the restroom that day was him. it was park junghyung.

honest to god, jihoon 100% firmly believes the best choice in this situation would be to run because he cannot fight. he guesses he can try, but unfortunately, junghyung is a fit dude. a big dude. if only he didn’t talk about you and insinuate you were a bitch.

jihoon grabs junghyung’s collar and throws him off. he’s at his limit right now.

“if you didn’t want to fail, maybe stop partying and getting drunk of your ass to get away from your fucked up home life? maybe actually use that empty shit brain of yours and do something with it? maybe then you wouldn’t have to ask your rich dad or student council friends to pull favors so you don’t get pushed down a class or kicked out of school even.” jihoon is suddenly very memorable of all the school gossip you’ve told him before.

junghyung laughs in disbelief. “you’re asking for it, you little fucker.”

well. this was it. this is when jihoon gets sucker punched.

“y-you dickhead!”

woah, was that… you??

everyone, including jihoon and an impatient junghyung turns to see you pushing through crowds, and marching your way in between junghyung and jihoon.

junghyung rolls his eyes when you grab jihoon’s hand reassuringly and glare up at him.

“come on, y/n. quit the charity act. it’s getting annoying now. move aside, yeah?”

a slap resonates through the filled classroom. gasps fill the room as even more phones go up to record the student council vice president slapping it boy park junghyung across the face.

jihoon’s eyes go wide. wide! he instinctively pulls you behind him, shielding you from a fuming, red junghyung.

he side-eyes you who was also very shell-shocked at your own actions.

“y/n, what the hell are you doing?” he whispers as junghyung’s group goes up to him to ask if he was okay.

“to be honest, i don’t know. just know i am not babying you. i’m doing this and have always been doing this because i care about you, now move. i’m not done.”

jihoon’s eyes soften as he caresses his thumb over the back of your hand. he doesn’t deserve you.

junghyung lets out a laugh of disbelief. “you know what, you two deserve each other. you’re both fucking insane.”

“well, you and your friends are all fucking stupid.”

yes, you knew his friends (also your friends) were in the room watching. yes, you knew you would be losing a lot of friends today if you continued talking. yes, it’s worth it if it’s for lee jihoon especially if they all think of him the same way junghyung does.

junghyung clenches his jaw before taunting, “oh really! i wonder what our friends will think about that,” he turns around to the crowd of people with arms wide, “what do you guys think about the genius and model student y/n swearing and assaulting other students? their own friend at that too!”

you scoff and roll your eyes at this boy’s sheer audacity. he was never your friend.

junghyung gets more pissed off at your reaction and says, “since when were you such an annoying bitch?”

you cross your arms across your chest impatiently. did he think he was that intimidating? “i’ll start being a bitch because it’s sickening watching you push everyone around. what? do you think i’m like everyone else?”

jihoon panics when he feels you try to push past his arm as junghyung does the same also while his friends attempt to hold him back.

jihoon laughs awkwardly, trying to calm the situation. still making sure to keep an arm between you an junghyung, he apologizes, “they’re just a bit mad at the unnecessary crowding and recording haha, please understand.”

you whip your head to glare at jihoon, “quit apologizing when you’re not in the wrong. now move.”

you move closer to junghyung staring at you with cursing eyes.

“woah junghyung, you gonna slap me back? punch me? like you do with your classmates and call it messing around?”

“man, this bitch is fucking insane!”

“i’ll show you how insane i can be if you keep taking advantage of jihoon or anyone else just because they’re nice people.” you feel jihoon turn around to face you completely, but refuse to look at him because you knew you would melt instantly. you missed him.

you hold his hand tighter before concluding, “now you’re always gonna be known as an idiot who bullies smart kids because he can’t do shit in school. i really won’t let it slide if you mess with jihoon again,” you turn to scan everyone who was in the room recording, “send that video to the principal if you want i don’t care!“

you pull jihoon away from junghyung who punches the nearest desk before letting out a frustrated yell.

“move. move!” you shove your way through the crowd as your friends, well, maybe not friends anymore after they had just seen you slap and swear at someone… but it didn’t matter you’d see them tomorrow for student council stuff anyways if you still had your position after this.

you and jihoon walk away from everyone who began to disperse, gossiping because how could model student y/n act so aggressively?

but that was the last thing on your mind because you felt like there was a lot to discuss with jihoon.

jihoon who just trails behind you, hands still entwined with yours, was zoning out thinking about what just occurred. you stop abruptly, making him walk into your back.

“s-sorry-“

you pull him into an empty classroom and shut the door behind you, letting go of his hand.

you sigh and put your hands on your knees, trying to catch your breath for a moment. you had so much adrenaline running and you could even hear your heartbeat in your ears.

you still manage to slap jihoon’s hand away when he attempts to turn on the lights, “no lights right now.”

he nods, staring at your tired figure awkwardly.

jihoon scratches the back of his head, not knowing what to say. does he thank you? scold you for nearly getting beat up for him? risking your spot and position in the student council?

his thoughts clear as you begin rambling. he sighs internally hearing your panicked tone. “i know, i know! we’re not friends anymore and you didn’t want me to speak for you or to you anymore, i know. i’m sorry. i just… i care about you so so much, even if we're not friends. i never approached you after you caught me crying because i pitied you and felt it was my duty to be there for you. th-that was never the case. so please don’t be mad at me, we can go our separate ways after today. just know—“

jihoon grabs your arm, pulling you towards him so he could wrap his arms around you. he cups the back of your head and in a hushed tone says, “it’s okay. i’m sorry. i was wrong. it was my fault. i still wanna be with you. i was just lost for a moment, i’m sorry i hurt you. you didn't deserve to be treated like that by me. i hope you can forgive me even if i don’t deserve it.”

tears brim your eyes as you nod, sniffling. you hope he understands what you were trying to say wordlessly when you wrap your arms around his waist tightly, not wanting to be apart from him again.

jihoon never knew what to say to people, especially when it came to comforting someone. but then came you. and the words flowed so easily.

seven. because i like you

your phone buzzes in your pocket, you glance down cautiously, avoiding getting caught by your teacher. back then you would have never check your phone for anyone else, but you had started to for jihoon. you blame him for being a bad influence on you, but he said you were being a bad influence on yourself.

hoon: i’m in the music room rn. can we talk?

you: yes, please. i’ll be there in ten after my council meeting

you sigh. this felt like deja vu. hopefully, it wouldn’t end up too much like last time you both were in here though.

you turn the knob and pull the door open, making eye contact with a lee jihoon who was sitting on the ground, leaning against the wall.

he couldn’t even say a word as you let go of the door, closing it in your face. you were not as mentally prepared as you thought you were.

moments later, the door swings back open and you speed walk over to him, plopping down on the floor in front of him.

“sorry. i just needed a moment,” you mutter, looking down at your shoes.

he chuckles at your cute antics, “that’s okay.”

jihoon then pulls out a wrapped triangle gimbap in one hand and a yakult in the other, hands both outstretched to you.

you blink owlishly at the two snacks in his pretty hands as he sighs with a slight smile, “it’s for you. i know you didn’t get to buy lunch because your student council meeting just ended.”

when you still didn’t move after his explanation, jihoon just places it down in front of your legs.

“a-ah! thank you, jihoon! you didn’t have to…” you clear your throat, realizing how affected you sounded by his actions.

“i wanted to,” jihoon replies nonchalantly, taking off his jacket at the same time.

you peel back the wrapper of the gimbap with a throbbing heart and smile, also trying to change the subject before you combust, “is it hot in here?”

without a response, jihoon drapes his jacket over your legs, which were also sitting uncomfortably because of your skirt.

you look up at jihoon looking off to the side with timid eyes, “sorry, i shouldn’t have sat on the ground. you can use my jacket for now.”

you punch his shoulder with a giggle, thanking him as he groans.

“since when were you such a gentleman, gosh jihoon.”

he rolls his eyes in a joking manner, “since always, you just never notice.”

“sure sure. anyways, what��. did you want to talk about?”

the light and comfortable atmosphere and banter between the two of you just now had made you completely forget this was the first time you talked to jihoon after the junghyung incident. though it was only two days ago, you were busy talking to the principal and dealing with the whole situation, which left you no time until now to talk to him. which still wasn’t even enough time!

“oh yeah,” jihoon looks up from his lap to make eye contact with you, suddenly in a serious mood, “i just wanted to see how you were. did you get in trouble?”

“mm, yes and no? like principal han was pretty mad, but all those years of sucking up to her did me good because she said she still thinks i’m a good student, i just handled the situation wrong,” you say while trying to peel off the lid of the yakult.

jihoon notices, taking the drink from your hands and poking a straw through it for you…….

was he hiding the straw from you just so he could do that….cheeky idiot. anyways!

“continue?” jihoon inquires softly, handing the drink back to you.

“t-thanks. uhh, i have to make a formal apology to several classes tomorrow morning! i think just the classes in our hallway because those were the ones that gathered to watch us the most, which was so rude by the way?? why would they just stare and record? couldn’t someone get a teacher? ugh, but i also have to do a buuunch of community service this weekend with everyone who hates me now after the whole thing.”

jihoon frowns. he forgot that you defending him that day ended up making your friends distance themselves from you. he can’t help but feel at blame. at fault. did you even have friends anymore?

your eyebrows furrow when jihoon’s expression began to get cloudy and disturbed all of a sudden.

“jihoon? what’s up?”

“i’m sorry,” he replies almost instantly, making you blink in shock.

“i’m sorry that helping me that day made you get on bad terms with everyone. god, they’re your friends and fellow members… you’ll have to see them everyday a-and i made them all turn on you. i’m sorry, i shouldn’t have said anything to junghyung that day. i shouldn’t have let you talk to him. i shouldn’t have—“

you lean forward on your hands, landing a peck on jihoon’s cheek, successfully shutting him up from his intrusive thoughts.

“geez, jihoon… i thought you said you have trouble expressing your feelings! why are you only expressing the negative ones to me??”

jihoon’s cheeks grow and feel fiery as his hand goes up to his cheek, fingers ghosting over where your lips were just a moment ago. the feeling was still there.

not noticing his blushing state, you continue ranting, “even if i knew the outcome of that fight, i still would do it all again in a heartbeat. a heartbeat! i did it because i like you, okay? i wanted to. it’s not your fault, so why would you apologize?”

jihoon’s eyes shoot up to meet yours. “you like me?”

now it was your turn to become shy. did you really say that…?

your heartbeat pounds against your rib age, not knowing what to say. “do you?”

“yes. and i have for a while.”

you nod, managing to calm your heart. you suddenly find your gimbap very interesting now. “good. we’re on the same terms then.” but then you thought about how jihoon remembered you had meetings on wednesdays and never got the chance to eat lunch.

your heartbeat goes wild again. (gosh, him and his acts of service!!!)

jihoon shakes his head with a quiet laugh at your response, “i guess we are.”

sensing how you seemed very overwhelmed with the unexpected confession, which was not how he imagined you would react if he ever confessed (not that he imagined it or anything…..), he decided maybe making another move or establishing anymore between you two would be for another day. for now, he likes you and you like him. that’s enough for the both of you to be on cloud nine.

eight. closest to the heart

today was the day. lee jihoon will be giving you his nametag today because even though you kissed him that day, nothing has been established since you two refuse to talk about it! although you both can tell the other has some sort of interest or feelings for the other, that was all. nothing more, which was enough for a few days. then jihoon got sick of it and wanted to officially be yours.

hoon: music room after school?

you: yes but buy a cola for me this time too please

hoon: of course :)

you: last time you forgot

hoon: no i ran out of money and offered you mine anyways

you: you’re a bad liar

hoon: i’m sorry

you walk into the music room with a bright smile. any bad memories of this room were quickly replaced with fun, heart-aching memories of him. memories of spending all of lunch eating in here, gossiping away at your now ex-friends. memories of watching him in amazement as he composes a beautiful melody with the several instruments in this room just with the talent of his mind. memories of your feelings only growing more and stronger for him.

waiting for jihoon to arrive, you walk around the room, smiling at all the instruments jihoon has played for you. he was so different from you in such a good way. you who only took up extracurriculars for the sake of having something to put on a college application versus jihoon who did non-academic activities just because he genuinely found peace and joy in them. he was so amazing in your eyes. you wish he could see himself the way you saw him.

while scanning around the room, your eyes land on a piece of paper with writing on a table. you raise an eyebrow. barely anyone else comes here and jihoon always comes here with you? or so you thought?

you walk towards the paper, picking it up to read it. instantly, you recognized it to be jihoon’s writing. you have never met a boy with such nice handwriting before until him.

he had made a short bullet point list.

don’t stutter. look them in the eyes. don’t ramble and be straight to the point. be honest. finally, give them the—

a high-pitched yell interrupts your reading. “Y/N!!”

you yelp as jihoon comes speeding at you, swiping the paper off your hands and into his pocket.

he pants, a hand gripping the table as you look at him bewildered.

“jihoon, what the heck?”

“s-sorry, just boy stuff, you know?”

you stare at him with a blank expression, not believing his lie for a moment. “no, i don’t know.”

jihoon laughs awkwardly with gritted teeth, desperate to move on to another topic.

“oh! i have something to tell you! that’s why i asked you to come here today.”

you nod, gesturing for him to continue.

he clears his throat, fixes his posture, and takes a breath.

“y/n. i already told you this, but i want to tell you again. i like you. i’ve liked you since the early days of our friendship when you kept following me around and i tried to make you leave me alone by constantly saying that you talk too much. that was a lie. well, you do ramble, but i didn’t mind because i do too. i just didn’t know how to deal with such a pretty person wanting to talk to me every day.”

he smiles unconsciously because even the thought of you made him smile. just the thought of you alone.

“i began to like you more when you would come to the music room with me during lunch even when you said your friends wouldn’t stop complaining about it. i liked you more when you texted me good morning and goodnight, when you asked me if i ate, when you wanted to listen to my music, and when you were just you. i don’t think i’ve ever shown my music to someone before, but you’re a special person to me. you will always be a special person to me. and… i hope to be a special person to you as well…”

with a shaky hand, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his nametag. jihoon grabs your hand and places it in your palm, closing your hand around it.

your confused expression sends jihoon into a whirlwind of panic.

“i like you too, jihoon. you’ve always been a special person to me, though.” jihoon falters when you undo the pin of his name tag and attempt to pin it back on his uniform.

“are you rejecting me?”

the absolute seriousness but also slight wavering of his voice makes you nearly drop the name tag.

“what?” you shriek, “of course not! i thought we were making this official!”

jihoon thinks, trying to connect the dots together... nothing’s connecting.

“we are. and i wanna be your boyfriend…but why are you giving me back my name tag?”

you glance down at the his name tag in your hands puzzled.

“i thought you wanted me to pin it back for you. as in like ‘i like you so much here’s the honor of letting you pin my name tag on me,’” when you take in the horrified look on your now boyfriend’s face, you laugh awkwardly, “isn’t that what you wanted me to do?”

“no! oh my gosh, i would never confess to you in such a douchey way. ever. i just…” his words trail off when he realizes maybe you didn’t know what giving a name tag to someone meant. that never occurred as a possible situation in his head. and trust when i say he thought he mapped all the possible situations that would result from him confessing.

“wait, don’t you know what giving you my name tag means?”

you blink twice.

jihoon lets out a sigh of relief and then laughs at your adorable, lost state.

he collects himself, but one look at you makes him melt and throw his arms around you in a hug.

your breath halts when jihoon practically puts all his weight on you, snuggling his head into your neck.

his soft voice makes your body shiver.

“there’s basically this … tradition where a boy gives his name tag to his crush as a way to confess his love because name tags sit close to the heart.”

the wheels in your head begin turning again.

“so … in way, i’m giving you my heart.”

when you response with a sniffle, jihoon pulls back from the hug immediately.

“are you crying??” he looks at you with wide eyes, cradling your head.

you pout, “no, but i might. that’s so cute, jihoon. i love it so much.”

your hand grasps his name tag tighter. he just gave you his heart.

you pull his hand, closing the distance between you two once again.

you lean your head on his shoulder, whispering out five words so quiet so only he could hear, “i love you so much.”

“i love you too,” he responds almost immediately.

you hold in a giggle when you feel his pounding heart as he holds back a quip when he also hears your heart beating erratically in the silence and comfort of the music room.

nine. a love that lasts

“highschool love never lasts.” okay tell that to you and jihoon then.

“are you… crying??”

when those words slip from jihoon’s mouth, a sob escapes your throat.

you hid your face with your sleeve, tears falling nonstop and crying, “you wrote a song for me!”

jihoon gawks at you because he was baffled. were these good tears? bad tears? shocked tears? angry tears??? he should be good at reading your emotions by now! he’s been dating you for seven years now. eight years as of today because it was your relationship’s anniversary! and he's written you several songs before??

he stumbles out of his chair to you as you continue to cry (sob).

“y/n, what-what’s wrong? whatever i did, i’m sorry. it's my fault,” he sits beside you on the couch of this recording studio, rubbing your back comfortingly.

“no, you did nothing wrong at all,” you sniffle, “i just love the song so much. i love you so much.”

jihoon bites his lip, holding back a chuckle. he turns your face toward him with both of his hands, cupping your face so he could wipe your falling tears away with his thumbs.

his hands pause as he squeezes your cheeks. “i love you too. i’m glad you like the song so much. happy 8th anniversary, y/n. thank you for loving me all these years even though i was so difficult and still am.”

you close your eyes, more cries erupting as jihoon dares to laugh at you and pulls you in for a warm, but a crushing hug.

you sometimes wonder how you would’ve survived high school without jihoon. then and now, he has been someone who helped you breathe when things began to get overwhelming. he was your anchor. for jihoon, he was speeding through life, wanting to grow up as soon as possible. that was until he fell in love with you. you made him feel want to cherish his days and live happily. his life had meaning again. his days had the motivation to do more. you brought out the best in him.

he now begins to wonder how you’ll react when he pulls out the rings and asks the biggest question of his and your lives. however, he has a feeling it’ll be a good cry as well.

[lcvcntc]

HSHQTASK059!

when did you join ? what made you join ? what do you remember from the plotlines that were current at the time ? where were you in life when you joined and where are you now ?

i think i joined in late 2017! i had to go check, otherwise i would lied and said in 2018! i had just started uni some months earlier, it was a very hectic and weird time. i didn't think my schedule would allow me to stay in a group setting but hshq was too addictive! now i'm an old old old working woman, uni feels a forever ago

which characters have you written over the years ?

oh boy! antonia, levente, mieke, leonor, maybe someone else but only briefly?

what is your favourite plotline that you've been part of ?

i think the english plotline will forever stay with me. don't get me wrong, i love the croÿs, they've kept me so entertained and i love them, but the english plotline was intriguing and i liked the magnitude of it. it was also a fun way to comment on the english class system. in all of its absurdity, i feel like it was a smart plotline. one of the lighter and shorter plotlines that i've loved would be lisvente and in extension levente and isabela's hate for each other. lisvente helped me a lot with characterization in the beginning, and honestly i think i lost the plot on levente at some point and he became almost too kind. i wanted him to be genuinely despicable but i think i failed at that a bit. the fights with isabela were fun and i'm sort of sad they became quite civil towards the end.

what about other people's plotlines ?

i'm a big fan of italy. i think it was interesting plotline to follow and it kept surprising me ! and i have a soft spot for viveka and ilona and i wish we could have gotten more of them :(

who is your favourite character from the ones you've played ? why ? what made you love them ? what made them so fun to write ?

weidly enough antonia. she wasn't too easy to write but at the height of the english drama, i think i got to write some of the most interesting replies. antonia allowed me to write about the politics that i actually knew something about. antonia was also a refreshing character among all the rich bitches of hshq. it was fun to offer a balancing force. levente's shit was mostly petty and while his plotlines were entertaining and it was fun to write someone horrible, he became a bit repetitive. i think if leonor's plots would have developed past the first threads, i would have fallen more in love with her. she was refreshing and i liked the opportunity to write a truly emotional character!

if you could relive a plotline, which would it be ?

the very short plotline where fanni had to pretend to sylvia that milena's ultrasound pictures were hers. it was so funny and unexpected chain of events. i had fun!

is there a plotline that you'd edit now if you could ?

i don't think so. all of my plotlines have more or less written themselves and i'm fine with the organic way things came to be.

what's a plotline you wish you would have been able to finish before closing or just write more of ?

maybe invente? i was so inactive that they never really recovered from the katya thing. i promised to isa that i'd finish one last levente x fanni thread so that's still in the works1

what is your favourite ooc memory ?

nothing particular comes to mind. i think i miss the times when people actually posted ooc stuff on the dash. the times when the dash was more ooc than ic were great because everyone were so invested!

where can others find you if they want to get in touch ?

i'm not really anywhere anymore, sorry :( if something comes up, you can try this acc but i don't know if i'll login that often

what else would you like to say ?

i've had an amazing time with all of you. this group's been truly remarkable and i am incredibly happy that i wasn't flaky. i've been able to write intricate plotlines that never would have happened if people hadn't been loyal, motivated and innovative! i will literally miss everyone so much <3 ps. i'll write the 58th task soon!

[stardustdreams-andcaffeine]

Prey | Bucky Barnes

bucky barnes x oc ✧ oneshot

Summary: OC and her brother are being hunted by the Winter Soldier to atone for the sins of their father. For reasons the Winter Soldier cannot explain, he finds himself helping this girl escape the very people he works for.

A/N: This is one of my favs, hope you all love it like I do! I always gravitate towards oc's but I've got some reader inserts to post as well. I have like 60 one shots already written so I'll be systematically editing and uploading them here, pls enjoy friends! Also, if you have literally ANY requests, ask it up! I love being of service 🤍

Warnings: oc, severe angst, violence, suspense, winter soldier bucky, mention of past abuse, protective bucky, fluff at the end

Word Count: 13,191

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦

He's been hunting us for days now. 

I don't know why. I don't even know who he is. It all happened so fast, one minute I was sitting in my apartment with my closest and really only friend, the next I was getting a frantic call from my little brother saying a man had shot up the family house.

A man with a metal arm.

My little brother, Cody, has been living with my dad alone ever since I moved out. He's nearly 18 and fully plans to leave the moment he can. I tried to persuade a few social workers to let me become his legal guardian to get him away from that sorry excuse for a father, but my attempts were in vain. Even though I'm older than Cody, old enough to be considered responsible for his care, my father stood in the way. However awful our dad may be, he's a high-ranking government official and has power. There was no way he was going to let his daughter take his son away from him. 

In a way, I think he's lonely.

Our mother passed a few years after I moved out to begin my adult life. If she had died before and my father had begun acting the way he did while I was still at home, I never would've left Cody there alone. I did visit rather frequently, trying to deflect any scorn or more...physical reprimands onto myself as much as I could. Our star of a father just happened to be away on government official business when I got the call.

Now here we are, huddled together on the same bed of a grimy motel, my brother restlessly asleep with his head in my lap while I keep watch. He begs me every night to wake him up halfway through so he can take watch.

Every night I ignore him and let him sleep.

I haven't slept in two days, both of which we've had to constantly relocate and run away from the man with the metal arm. He always manages to find us, no matter how careful we are. Somehow, by a miracle, he hasn't managed to kill us yet. In fact, he has yet to get close enough to get a good enough look at us. 

The untraceable pay phone in my trembling, exhausted hand rings, the sound repetitive and hopeless.

"Come on" I whisper, biting my lip furiously, "Pick up"

Once again, for what must be the thirtieth time, my father doesn't answer my call. When I hear the phone tell me to leave a message, I decide that after this one I will call and leave no more. By now, I'm almost convinced that he's in on this whole thing.

"Dad, it's your daughter, Caroline Bane. Remember me?" I begin, trying desperately, and failing miserably, to keep the anger out of my usually quiet and anger-less voice.

"Oh and your son Cody Bane is here too. If it wouldn't trouble you too much, maybe you'd like to pick up your phone and realize that your children are being hunted," I spit out, keeping my voice low to not wake up my brother, "I know you never really cared for us, but mom did. I wonder, what would she think of you if she could see you now? Blowing off our calls and leaving us to die?"

I pause, trying to keep the tears that water in my hazel eyes at bay. I bite my lip hard to keep from crying, I refuse to let this man hear me cry. 

"I don't know what's happening, I don't know what we did or what you did but for once in your life can you be a man and own up to it instead of letting your kids take the fall?" I grit out, a tear managing to slip down my cheek despite my best efforts to keep it in, "Randall Bane, you are a coward. You never have been and never will be my father."

I end the call, a few more tears slipping down my heated cheeks. Never in my life have I spoken with such venom to any single person, but I know, I just know, that my dad's involved in this. All of my pent up disappointment and anger towards him and the way he's beat on both me and my little brother just spilled out. I wouldn't care if he only beat on me, if he only hit me and yelled at me I could take it. I'd be able to push through it. 

But no one, not even my father, has the right to hit my little brother.

My brother stirs lightly on my lap.

"Carrie? Everything alright?" Cody mumbles, his groggy voice heavy with sleep. I nod and smooth back his hair that's the same rich brown as mine. 

"Everything's just fine," I whisper soothingly, trying to keep the emotion from my voice, "Sleep, Cody"

In a few seconds, he's fallen back asleep peacefully. When he does, I feel a tear slip down my cheek. He's only a kid, he shouldn't have to deal with any of this at such a young age. In the time since our mom passed, I've been less a sister and more a mother to Cody. I was always there to smile and laugh with him, to joke around and play video games with him. I made sure he did his homework and didn't get into too much trouble. When he'd have break downs, I'd be there. When his heart got broken, I was there. When our dad tried to hit him, I stood in the way. 

I'd do anything to protect my brother. 

I smile softly down at his sleeping form and carefully slide his head off of my lap and onto the pillow near him. Then, I carefully climb off of the bed and stand, stretching out my aching muscles slightly. I let out a long sigh and walk towards the window nearby, cautiously moving the curtain the slightest bit to look out.

I'm not used to constantly living in fear. I don't like it, not one bit. Neither Cody nor I know how to use a gun or even a knife properly. Obviously, we can give it our best shot but up until now it's been pure luck that we've stayed alive. We've managed to drive away or hide before the man with the metal arm could find us. If he had managed to get any closer, we surely would've been dead. We tried calling the police, but the officers who came were dead within minutes. Now, I have no clue what to do. I don't know how much longer we can run and hide. I don't know how much longer my luck will last.

I'm just about to step away from the window and close the curtains when something catches my eye. A large, black SUV swerves into the parking lot silently and only a single man steps out. Once I see a flash of metal, I jump away from the curtains with my heart in my throat. My pulse begins to race and adrenaline immediately floods every fiber of my being. Intense fear strikes to the very depths of me as I scramble to figure out the best escape plan. 

First, I have to wake up Cody.

I sprint over to the bed and clamp a hand over my brother's mouth to keep him from making a noise. Then, I shake him awake. He starts with a gasp, his hazel eyes matching mine flying open in a panic. When he turns to me, he relaxes only slightly. I put a finger to my lips, to which he nods. When I remove my hand, I speak hurriedly and in whispers. 

"He's here, we have to go" I rush out, scrambling around the room and grabbing our already packed backpacks. As he jumps out of bed and does the same, a few gunshots can be heard in the distance. We both freeze, looking at each other with wide eyes.

No doubt he got our room number out of the man at the front desk, who is no doubt dead now. I don't have time to dwell on the immense flood of guilt and terror that inundates me, but rather begin to shove my brother towards the bathroom and hand him both of our bags.

"There's a small window in there, get it open and get out" I command, looking up at the window just large enough to fit a body through. Cody begins to do as I say, but pauses to look over at me as I look around for any sort of makeshift weapon I can find.

"What are you doing? Aren't you coming?" my brother asks, his wide eyes locked on me. I snap my gaze up to him, sympathy pouring through me at his fright. 

"I'm gonna buy you as much time as I can, now go." I order, finally managing to pry off a bar from the wall and moving out of the bathroom.

"Caroline wait, please!" Cody calls to me, emotion thick in his tone. I spare him one last glance as he works on the window.

"Don't wait for me, get in the car and find a safe place. Please, Cody. Please just listen to me" I beg and before he can protest, I slam the door shut. Just as I do, I hear footsteps outside our motel door. 

My stomach lurches at the sound and I sprint towards the door, my mind racing for a solution. I stand right beside it, the heavy metal bar trembling in my hands. When the man with the metal arm opens the door, I plan on hitting him as hard as I can with the bar. Hopefully, by the time he gets past me and to the bathroom, Cody will be gone.

Even if it takes my life, my little brother will get out of this.

A crash sounds from the bathroom, signaling Cody has broken the window. My relief is short-lived when only a second later, the door to the motel room bursts open. Fear grips my heart but I don't freeze. When the man with metal arm walks into the room, his eyes survey the empty area in the belly of the room as the door shuts behind him. Holding my breath, I move from my blind spot by the door and swing the metal bar as hard as I can at his head. It slams into his skull, but not as hard as I'd like. I'm nowhere near strong enough to knock a man as big as him unconscious.

The man is sent off of his balance, lowering his gun slightly as he recoils from the hit. I take the advantage and move to hit him again, but just as I'm swinging, he whirls around and catches the bar mid air with his metal hand. I freeze, my eyes wide with fear as the bar bends in his metal grasp. His eyes lock onto mine for a moment and I realize that it's the first time I've been this close to the man with the metal arm.

His eyes are blue, a bright, intoxicating blue I've never seen. The kind of blue that makes me stall for a moment.

From what I can see, he doesn't seem near as old as I thought he'd be. It perplexes me that someone so young could be so incredibly lethal. His long, dark hair hangs dangerously around his face, covering up what little the mask that goes up to his nose doesn't. Within a moment, my examination of him is over as he rips the bar from my hands and throws it aside. Then, just as he's about to shoot me, a small curse of pain comes from the bathroom.

My world stops.

Cody must've been cut by some glass on his way out, and I feel the walls begin to close around me. The man looks over towards the bathroom and back to me slowly. I begin to shake my head.

"No, no! Please!" I beg, but he crashes the butt of his gun against my cheek and sends me sprawling to the floor. 

I groan in pain and look up to see the man with the metal arm stalking toward the bathroom. My heart lurches and I find the strength to force myself to my feet. I sprint over, the world swerving only slightly as I do. Just before he reaches out to open the door, I shove myself in between the man and the thin wood hiding my brother. I brace my arms on the doorway, making myself a sort of blockade. 

"Leave him alone, please!" I shout, my hair hanging wildly and some parts falling into my eyes, "He's just a kid, he's a kid."

This seems to make the man with the blue eyes pause, but only for a moment. He begins to reach out to throw me aside to get to my brother before he makes it out of the window, so with a racing heart I blurt out the first thing that comes to my mind.

"If you have to kill us kill me! Please kill me, not him!" I shout, beseeching the assassin. 

The man freezes, his eyes widening slightly. He wasn't expecting that.

"He's a kid, please! Kill me, not him. Kill me." I repeat, the words loaded with desperation. I can only hope and pray that Cody is at the car about to make it away before anyone else who might be in the van sees him. 

As my desperate eyes stay locked onto the man's bright blue ones, I furrow my brows as I catch the slightest bit of hesitation. Who is he?

In the silence of his conflicted, shocked eyes burning into mine, I hear the revving of a car engine and tires screeching as a car drives away. Relief like I've never felt it pours through me, flooding every fiber of my being. The car is enough to bring the man back to his senses, and he throws me aside before shoving his way into the bathroom. I hit the wall and quickly rebound, looking into the bathroom over my hunter's massive body and smiling when I find it empty. 

He's safe. 

Outside I hear car doors open and about a dozen more feet pounding up. My heart drops as I realize that he's not alone. Thankfully, the guards, at least that's what I'm assuming they are, didn't follow Cody but now they're outside the room. The man, now beyond furious, walks over to me and grabs me by the throat, slamming me so hard into the wall that my bones creak. I gasp, fear spiking through me as his raging blue eyes lock angrily onto me. I know the spot where his metal hand grasps will bruise.

"Where is he going?" He growls.

Surprise curls through me, I've never heard him talk before. The sound is dark and gravelly and sends shivers down my spine that I don't understand. Or maybe that I don't want to understand.

"I don't know" I answer truthfully, my voice rasping from the lack of breath because of his grip on my throat. He pulls me away and slams me into the wall again, making me cry out in pain this time. Outside, I hear the clicking of more guns, and I know that if a miracle doesn't happen, I'm going to die. 

Better me than Cody, though.

When I look back into the eyes of the metal-armed man before me, I remember the conflicted gaze from before, the way he froze. He's human, somewhere beneath the assassin's mask. I just know it. Deep in his eyes, in a way I can't explain, I see pain and brokenness and a humanity long shoved away. I know it's my best chance.

"Please, I don't know who you are but you obviously know me. I didn't do anything wrong, I know you know that," I plead, my voice barely above a whisper as his vice-like grip on my throat only tightens, "Please help me, please" 

Again, there's that same hesitation that gives me hope. His metal grip loosens ever so slightly.

"Why'd you do it?" He grits out, surprising me.

"I'm sorry?" I ask, confused as to what he's asking. 

Outside, one guard pipes up.

"Asset, is it secure?"

My eyes widen and I feel my fear spike yet again. Asset? Does this man not have a name?

"Why'd you try and sacrifice yourself for the boy?" He grits out, his hand on my throat now barely squeezing.

"He's my brother," I say simply, my wide eyes locked onto his, "I'd do anything to protect him."

"We're coming in" another voice calls out. I look towards the door and back to my assassin.

"Please help me." I whisper one last time, my voice broken and charged with emotion. 

I don't know why he does it or why I'm so incredibly surprised when he does, but he suddenly pulls away from me and shoves me behind him. I stumble, not knowing what he's about to do.

"Hold on and stay behind me" He commands, making hope spark in my chest. I do as I'm told and cower behind the large, muscular man. 

Then the door slams open and the bullets begin to fly.

I hear the ricocheting of bullets against metal and hear my assassin fire only twelve shots. Each must find their target because silence rests over the room. I step out from behind him to see twelve guards dead on the floor. My stomach lurches, nausea overtaking me as my wide, fearful eyes take in the carnage. 

"Don't make me regret this," he lowly warns, grabbing my arm and tugging me out of the room, "We have to move."

He drags me out into the black of night, the only light coming from a lamppost or two and the sliver of a moon above us. I'm in shock as the man who's been hunting me for the past few days drags me along to a random car, saving my life. My eyes inadvertently go to where my car used to sit and I can't help but smile at the empty spot. I turn back around and see the man with the metal arm breaking into a car and hot-wiring it. My eyes widen.

"What are you doing?" I ask, surprise curling through my voice. He looks up at me sharply and I close my mouth, knowing it's better to not fight with him. After all, he can kill me at any moment. When the car revs to life, I hop in the passenger seat as he gets into the driver's seat and drives away while I'm still putting my seatbelt on. 

For the first few moments, there's nothing but the humming of the engine and my own breathing. With his mask still on, I can't even hear his own breath. Finally, as I steal a glance at the side of his face, I make my terrified tongue move. 

"Where are we going?" I ask, my voice shaking. I can't help it, though. This man did try and murder my brother and I repeatedly. 

He doesn't even look over at me. The metal of his arm gleams dangerously and keeps me on high alert. All he has to do is pull a gun out and point it in my direction. Although this was most definitely not the smartest choice, it was my only choice.

"Somewhere safe" he responds simply, his voice gravelly and low. I bite my lip in nervousness and look forward. Another heavy silence settles over the car and after what must be fifteen minutes of quiet driving, I can't help but ask the burning question in my mind.

"Why are you helping me?" I ask softly, looking over at the man.

This time, he does look over at me, however briefly. His eyes meet mine and I can see a sort of war in them, as if there's two versions of himself he's fighting between. The black mask is still set on the lower half of his face so I can't truly gauge his emotions. He looks back forward, his grip tightening on the wheel.

"I don't know." 

I have yet to receive one straight forward answer from the man beside me, so I ask him the one question I feel like he could answer.

"I'm Caroline by the way, but I'm pretty sure you know that," I begin, trying to hide the panic in my voice, "What's your name?"

This time, I see more emotion flicker across his eyes that stay locked onto the road. This time, when he answers, I know it's as straight forward of an answer as he can possibly give me.

"I don't know," he almost whispers, his voice sending those same shivers down my spine. 

Sympathy curls in my chest for the man and I can't help but wonder what he's been through. For the first time in two days, for the first time since I ran from the man with the metal arm, I feel this insane curiosity to figure him out. What scares me more is that with him on my side, even though he could easily kill me in a multitude of ways, 

I've never felt safer.

|||

We drive for around six hours before the assassin finally pulls up outside an abandoned warehouse. I should've slept, but I was too terrified to let my eyes slip closed, afraid that I'd wake in containment or not wake at all.

"We should be safe here, but not for long. Just long enough to figure things out," he informs, the most he's spoken yet. 

I nod and get out of the car as he does, my entire body still on alert. I walk side by side with the man and bask in the intense heat coming off of his body. In the brisk temperatures outside, I can't help but feel grateful for it. When we step inside, the warehouse is dark and dingy with an odd smell and consistent dripping noise. Still, I'm not the slightest bit picky.

It's safe, and that's enough for me.

We walk into a separate room in the center where a few old, rat-eaten blankets sit and a makeshift fireplace rests in the corner. I go inside, not entirely sure what to do. The man walks in after me and, much to my surprise, pulls off his mask. I guess I should've put together that he'd have to take it off eventually, but it still sends shock curling through me to see him set the black mask down. He bends down to the fireplace, his back to me.

"Grab some of the wood in the corner, we need some heat if we're not going to freeze" the man orders. I don't argue, still wholly terrified of him and the things I have witnessed first hand that he can do. I walk over and grab the wood and bring it to where the man crouches. I set it down and stand somewhere beside his crouched form, not right next to him but close enough so I'll be near the fire when he gets it going. 

As I watch him build the fire, my mind goes back to what the guards called him. Asset, as if he didn't even deserve a name. As if he were an object. If this is all because of my dad, which I'm certain it is, then I can't imagine how he came to tangle himself with people like my hunters. The fire sparks to life after a few minutes and the man stands, satisfied at the flames. When he turns to me, I get my first look at the man's entire face. Shock courses through me as I take in the sharp, stubbled jaw and his angular face framed by his long dark hair.

He's hands down the most stunning man I've ever laid my eyes on.

I don't have much time to dwell on his sheer gorgeousness, though, because I see something deeply familiar. I furrow my brows, looking deeper into his face. He looks at me in confusion, not knowing what I'm doing. I know who this is, I've seen his face before. Then, like a load of bricks, it slams into me. Sergeant Barnes.

Bucky Barnes.

I saw his monument in the museum on a field trip way back in high school. The Bucky Barnes, Captain America's best friend. He's supposed to be dead. Stranger things have happened in the past few years, though. My hazel eyes widen and my lips part slightly in shock.

"You're Bucky Barnes" I breathe out.

As soon as the words leave my mouth, I watch his eyes widen slightly and something spark deep inside of them. It's almost as if he knows that name but it's just outside of his reach. This makes my intrigue spike. What's happened to Bucky in the past decades to make him into a cold killing machine who doesn't even know his own identity.

"What did you just call me?" He asks, his voice angry but also hinted with confusion. With the way his haunted, darkening eyes sear into me, I lose some of my confidence.

"Y-you're James Buchanan Barnes. Captain America was your best friend back in the-" my words are cut off when his metal hand grabs my shoulder and shoves me into the wall behind me. 

My panic spikes painfully as he clenches his jaw and glares deep into my eyes. I can feel anger radiating off of him, but I can tell it's not directed at me. In his eyes I can see that the name sparked recognition and I think it bothers him that he can't figure it out. Still, I can't keep the fear from my face.

"I don't know who the hell that is" he growls. I nod hurriedly, trying desperately to not die after making it so far. 

His broken blue eyes burn into mine, clearly seeing my terror, and I watch a part of them soften. Immediately he rips his hand away from me and steps back, running a hand through his hair. A tortured look melts onto his face and he lets out a deep breath, not even able to look over at me. Carefully, I step away from the wall, my intrigued eyes on Bucky. 

Whatever happened to him messed up his mind. I can't help but feel like someone did this intentionally, that someone is manipulating his mind. The Bucky Barnes the museum described was flirtatious and light-hearted and heroic. The man before me is quiet, murderous, and broken. I can't help the sympathy that floods into me again. My head tells me to get away from him, but the way he practically stumbled away from me when he realized he was scaring me convinces me, against my better judgement, to go with my gut.

To stay.

After all, he might be the person who can kill me easiest, but he's also the person that can protect me best from people who want me dead for reasons I don't understand.

"I'm sorry," I softly say, making him snap his wide-eyed gaze up to me. 

"Why are you sorry?" He asks, making me squirm under his intense gaze. I shrug, playing with the ends of my hair.

"Someone should say it to you," I respond, making something in his eyes change. 

Not able to hold his intense gaze anymore, I look down to the fire. All at once, I feel the exhaustion from the past few days rush over me. My adrenaline is gone and I feel like my body is made of lead. 

"We should check the perimeter" Bucky announces and I nod, looking up to find him checking a handgun and settling it in a holster, "You can take the south and I'll take the north"

I force my legs to move, but find the world swimming around me. The sleep deprivation is tearing me apart, but I can't let it show. 

"Okay" I manage out, able to take a few steps before my tired legs give out and my exhaustion takes over. 

Before I can hit the floor, I feel a pair of strong arms catch me, one flesh and one metal. Bucky helps straighten me up and I force my half-closed eyes to open. It takes all of my energy to do so as my mind tries to force me into a state of sleep. I can see a vague look of concern on Bucky's face as his eyes systematically search my body for blood or a wound. When he sees none, Bucky looks back up at me with furrowed brows.

"When was the last time you slept?" he asks, and I find my tongue lead-filled when I try to speak. I look over to see sunlight streaming into the warehouse and turn back to look at Bucky, who is holding all of my weight.

"I think that makes three days," I respond, my words slurred and groggy. I watch Bucky's eyes widen as mine try to slip closed again. 

I hear him sigh and release my waist to pick me up, one hand under my knees and the other on my back. I just let him carry me, already half-asleep when he sets me down in front of the fire and puts one of the blankets over my body. 

"Why haven't you slept?" he grinds out, crouching down beside me. In my tired stupor, I find my words coming out with much less of a filter.

"You were hunting my brother and me, remember?" I announce, yawning at the end and letting my eyes slip closed, "He slept, I watched"

Those are the last words I manage out before sleep tugs me under. Beside me, Bucky stands with a sigh, his burning gaze lingering over my peacefully sleeping form before stepping out to do the perimeter. What I don't know is the way inside, guilt crawls up his throat. He doesn't know what really made him choose to help me, he just saw the innocence in my eyes and couldn't bring himself to kill me.

That was the first time he'd defied a HYDRA order.

|||

"Why were you hunting us?"

It's been a few hours since I woke up and the sun has long set, bringing back the brisk temperatures. Bucky and I sit near the fire, but still worlds apart with him on one side of it and me on the other. At my question, I watch a muscle in his jaw tick. He looks up from the knife he'd been twirling to look at the fire.

"Your father was my original mission. When I brought him in, he asked my employer to make a trade," Bucky announces, looking over at me with the slightest hint of sympathy in his cold eyes, "Spare his life, take you and your brother's."

It should surprise me, but after the second day of running and unanswered calls I figured as much. Instead, I simply clench my jaw and look over at the fire to hide the way my heart splinters in my eyes. He may have been an awful father but he was still that—our father. At the very least I thought that would mean something to him.

I was wrong. 

We sit in silence for a while, only the crackling of the fireplace filling the room. With every minute that Bucky is away from whoever his employer is, he seems more and more aware of himself. Still just as terrifying and just as brooding, but aware.

"Wanna talk about it?" he suddenly asks.

Now this surprises me. I look over at Bucky with slightly widened eyes to find him staring at the fire. He looks back at me, and for the first time there's not a trace of anger there. For a reason I can't explain, my stomach jumps at the look and I have to keep myself from falling into his rich blue eyes. I sigh and look down at the floor.

"Randall Bane was probably the worst dad you could ask for." I focus intently on my lap, biting my lip at the sudden rise of emotion within me, "Him setting a kill order on my brother and I? It should surprise me more than it did."

I don't tell him of the way I was beaten while shielding Cody or the way if I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, a cigarette was put out on my skin because it was more convenient. I let out another sigh, willing the burning emotion in my throat to go away and looking back up at Bucky. To my surprise, he's still looking at me. I give him a small smile.

"How about you? Wanna talk about it?" I ask, hoping deep within that he'll open up to me. 

I don't know why I want him to so badly.

This time he sighs and looks over at the fire, a far away look in his eyes. 

"The longer I'm away from them the clearer my head gets, but it's like there's this fog around it that I can't shake," Bucky informs, shaking his head and clenching his jaw tightly, "I don't know who I am, but I know the things I've done. That's what haunts me."

A shudder runs through me at the thought of all of the horrible things someone has made him do. While watching the pain run rampant through his features, a part of my heart breaks for him.

"Well, I don't know everything you've done but what I do know is that you saved my life and chose not to kill me even when I'll bet someone forced you to. If you're asking me, that counts for something." I interject. He looks over at me, his broken, fragmented gaze making a part of my heart crack again. 

"Can you tell me about...well, what you know about me?" He asks reluctantly, that conflicted gaze back. Somewhere inside it I see a bit of hope, though. I smile softly and nod.

"Your name is James Buchanan Barnes, but everyone just called you Bucky," I begin, telling the man before me the story of his life, "You fought in World War II and did a lot of good. And from what I hear, you were quite the ladies man."

At this, the corner of Bucky's lips pulls up into a smile that lasts briefly, but however brief it was it was there. The sight makes me smile, and immediately I have a desperate need to see that smile again.

"You were best friends with-"

"Steve" he interrupts, a far away look in his eyes. Shock pulses through me. 

"I guess you know a little more than you thought." I whisper, the ghost of a smile on my lips. That half smile is back again and with it the butterflies. 

"You can call me Bucky," he suddenly states, looking over at me with those intoxicating blue eyes, "I promise to not throw you into the wall this time."

I can't stop the surprised laugh that breaks out of my mouth and nod, looking over at the soldier who just made an actual joke. 

"Only if you call me Caroline," I bargain, one eyebrow lifted. He nods.

"Deal."

"You should get some sleep, I'll keep watch," I inform out of habit, knowing that he'll need his rest if a fight comes. His eyebrows furrow and he looks over at me incredulously.

"Caroline," He begins, and I can't help the way my heart jumps at the sound of my name coming from his lips, "You don't need to protect me."

I stare right back, a determination set in my eyes.

"Everyone needs protecting sometimes." I respond, my words soft but unyielding. Something unreadable passes through Bucky's gaze, something that makes my heart lurch. Finally, he sighs and lays down, knowing I won't give in.

"You better wake me up in three hours. Otherwise, I just might shoot you." 

A smile quirks onto my lips as I stare into the fire.

"Somehow, I doubt that."

|||

My sleep is deep and dreamless, the kind of sleep your body slips into when it's overly exhausted.

As per Bucky's request, I did in fact wake him up three hours later. Now, as I sleep, I relish in the piece of my unconscious mind.

Until I'm startled awake from it.

"Caroline!"

I gasp awake at the shout of my name, shooting straight up to see Bucky crouched down beside me. 

"What's happening?" I ask, panic tight in my voice. He offers me a hand that I take gladly, letting him help me up. 

"They've found us, they're outside right now" Bucky grits out, checking the gun in his holster before walking over to a wooden box in the corner that I hadn't spared much thought on before. He shoves it open and pulls out a large, heavy-looking gun and loads something into the front before walking over to me.

"What is that?" I ask, a slight tremble to my tone. He looks over and sees the blatant fear in my eyes. He must remember my reaction to the bloodshed from before, how unsettled it made me, because a part of his tough face softens.

I've never watched anyone die before. I've never even seen a dead body outside of a funeral before. The movies and the shows and the true crime podcasts, none of them come close to the guttural feeling of seeing the life drain from someone's eyes. All of this, it's too much at once. 

"We have to get out of here, this is our best shot. My employer doesn't like it when I disobey."

Bucky voice is a rumble in the chaos of the warehouse, and I find myself clinging to the odd sense of security it brings me He walks out of the room and into the open area of the warehouse, the gun slung over his shoulder. I scramble to follow him, but stop short when I see what must be fifty men with guns raised, prepared to come in.

"Bucky" I breathe, my eyes going wide and fear dripping through me. Two to fifty, even for the assassin beside me that's a little much. Bucky looks over at me, but my eyes are trained outside. He spares the armed men a glance before jogging up to me.

"Winter Soldier, come out now and we will not kill you." a voice booms, probably over a speaker.

Bucky uses the hand that's not holding the terrifying gun to turn me to face him. I do, my wide eyes locking onto his oddly soothing ones. 

"If we're gonna make it out of this alive, you've got to trust me," he urges, his eyes not leaving mine even when the voice on the speaker gives him his final warning, "You've protected everyone else, let me protect you. I'm not gonna let anything happen to you, doll."

My heart leaps at the nickname he uses, and I don't know why but it makes it hard to think straight when he says it. His promise to protect me does exactly what it was meant to do. The sincerity in his eyes makes me believe he's telling me the truth. 

I trust him. 

I try not to let it show how much that promise really means to me. My entire life I've been the one to protect. Protect Cody from my dad, protect Cody from the grief of losing mom, protect my dad from losing his job and going to jail. For once, someone wants to protect me. It sparks something in me that I've never felt before.

"I trust you" I whisper, nodding to him. His eyes search mine for a moment more before he nods. 

"You're not gonna want to look at this," Bucky breathes before using his flesh arm to lift the gun and using the metal one to tug me suddenly into him. He holds me tight to his torso as if to shield me from whatever is about to happen, both physically and visually. 

Then I hear the world explode.

I don't need Bucky's iron grip on me to keep me close to him, because once I feel the heat of an explosion and the sounds of men screaming, I bury my face as much as I can into the shoulder of the black vest he's wearing. I feel him swivel us around and hear another shot before another explosion erupts. This one rattles my teeth and makes me hold onto Bucky a little tighter instinctively. 

Then just as fast as it began, it's over.

I hear a gun clatter to the ground near me and silence settles over the smoking warehouse. The heat of flames still burns in the distance and even though I know that it's over, I can't bear to look. My entire body is shaking and I hate for feeling so out of control of my fear, but it's not easy being thrust from a mundane life into one flooded with blood and explosions and guns, as much as the movies would like to persuade us it is. 

"It's over, Care. You can look" Bucky says softly. 

Slowly, I pull away as he lets the grip of his metal arm ease. Around me, flames lick up the ceiling and front wall of the warehouse where the only remainder of the armed men is the cars and the blackened body parts that I'd rather not look at. I bite my lip and run a hand through my hair, nodding to try and come to terms with the carnage before me.

"Alright, what's your plan from here?" I ask, my voice still trembling but firmer than I expected. Bucky looks over at me in surprise. I furrow my brows at him.

"What is it?" I ask, to which he shakes his head quickly and looks down before looking back up at me.

"Nothing, it's just you're one of the strongest people I've ever met." He announces. This time, I'm the surprised one. Bucky sees the shock in my gaze so he gestures to the mess around him.

"I've seen grown, trained men experience this and cry. You're made of tougher stuff, Caroline," he tells me, nodding to me as if to show he respects me. I go to refute his words, but stop. I guess if I didn't realize how strong I really had to have been the past few days.

The past few years. 

I go to respond when my eyes widen on something behind Bucky. A person, laying on the ground but raising their gun towards him. Panic shoots through me and I act without thinking.

"Bucky, look out!" I shout, scrambling in front of him just as the armed man shoots. 

The sound of the gunshot makes the confusion in Bucky's eyes clear away and he doesn't waste a second ripping his handgun out and firing a single shot, managing to nail the man right between the eyes and making him slump to the ground. I'm not paying much attention to it, though. 

The second the armed man shot, an intense fire exploded in my torso. Now, as he's dead and Bucky's turning back to me, I can't see the expression on his face because my eyes are too focused on the blood seeping between my hands that I press firmly to my stomach. Slowly, I peel them away to see blood gushing out of my stomach, the pain almost unbearable. I look up at Bucky, my eyes wide. 

His are wider.

There's an unbelieving look in his eyes as Bucky realized what has just happened, what I just did. 

"Bucky," I manage out, before my world swoops and my knees buckle. 

"Caroline!"

He rushes forward and catches me, not wasting a second to scoop me into his arms as if I weigh nothing. One of my hands that's pressed against my stomach falls, hanging down as he swiftly carries me back to the room we were in before. Bucky clears off a table in the room and sets me down on it. My head rolls to one side, the blood loss already making me tired and weak.

"What the hell where you thinking? Why would you do that?" Bucky asks, his voice tight with panic as he rummages around and grabs what he needs to help me.

"He was going to shoot you" I respond, my words slurred. I hear a number of things clamber onto the table and feel the bottom half of my shirt peeling off of my skin and being cut off to expose my bloodied torso. 

"You should've let him" Bucky reprimands, pressing a cloth to my torso that must be covered in alcohol because my skin begins to burn painfully. I cry out in pain, clenching my fists and squeezing my eyes shut.

"It's okay, just breathe. You're gonna be fine," Bucky soothes, keeping the cloth pressed for a few more moments and using his other hand to brush away my hair from my face. Oddly enough, the motion does calm me down.

"I don't have any painkillers left, so this is gonna hurt doll," He warns, moving his hand and the cloth away. I bite my lip and nod as much as I can.

"Okay, okay," I breathe, trying to prepare myself for what's about to come, "I trust you"

His hands freeze at my words and I'm guessing he's still not used to hearing them. But I mean them, I mean them more than I ever have in my life. 

Then I feel a pair of metal pliers go into my stomach.

I don't stay awake much longer after that, the excruciating pain much more than my mind can bear. I'm glad for the unconsciousness when it comes and I already feel my throat is raw from screaming.

|||

When I wake up, I'm in a car again. 

Night has fallen yet again, telling me an entire day has passed with me unconscious. I stir, sitting up slightly only for an intense ache in my stomach to make a groan rise from my lips. Bucky looks over at me, tearing his eyes away from the empty highway to me. When he does, I smile softly at him.

"Hi" I greet, watching as a small smile pulls onto his lips and he turns forward again.

"Hey," he responds, his metal hand on the wheel and his human one resting, "How are you feeling?"

I place a hand to my stomach and try again to sit up, this time successfully. I nod, running a hand through my wild hair.

"Pretty good, all things considered" I inform, my eyes taking in the scenery as we pull off the highway and move towards what I assume to be a rest stop.

Good, because I'm hungrier than I think I've ever been. 

"Alright, I'll get us some food. Stay in here and lock the doors" Bucky instructs as he pulls into the parking lot of the first gas station we see. I nod, not needing to be told twice to follow his orders. 

I lock the doors once he steps out, a red hoodie on and a baseball hat pulled low on his head. I feel my heart jump at the sight, seeing him as a normal guy bringing an oddly attractive edge to Barnes. I shake my head and look down at my lap, trying to ignore the inexplicable attraction and pull that I feel towards him. 

My mind flows over to Cody, and I can't help but be the slightest bit nervous. I hope beyond everything that my diversion was enough to let him get somewhere safe. I can only hope that he's still safe. Being this far away from him and not knowing whether or not he's okay makes anxiety sit in the center of my chest. 

My thoughts are interrupted by the rapping of knuckles against my window. I jump, but only slightly. It's probably Bucky back quicker than I expected. When I look up, though, my heart lurches into my throat. My eyes widen only slightly at the foreign man standing outside my door. He looks normal enough, but I've gotten into such a habit of looking over my shoulder that I know better than to trust him.

"Hey, can you help me with something really quick?" he calls to me through the glass. 

Not knowing how to respond, I simply shrug and pretend like I can't hear him. My heart is hammering in my chest as I point to my ear and shrug, watching as the man sighs and looks towards the store.

He's looking to see where Bucky is. 

Panic overtakes me and I immediately cast a quick look around the front of the car while the man is still looking at the store to see if I can't find anything to defend myself with should he smash my window. I look to the ignition to see Bucky took the keys, probably to keep anyone from smashing into his side and driving off without me. Then, just as I'm about to go into a full-blown panic, I catch the gleam of black metal underneath the driver's seat. 

Bucky must've put an extra gun there.

I quickly look away and back at the man outside just in time for him to look back at me. Underneath his feigned politeness, I can see agitation and desperation.

"I could really use your help with my car, miss. It won't start" he calls out again, this time louder since I told him I couldn't hear before. Knowing I have no excuse this time, I improvise to the best of my ability. 

"Okay!" I respond, smiling at him through my adrenaline and 'accidentally' drop my phone at the bottom of the driver's seat. I look down towards it and feign an embarrassed smile.

"One sec" I call back, to which he gives me the fakest smile and nod. 

He's growing impatient, I can sense it. He knows I know. I drop down as fast as I can and wrap my hand around the gun underneath the seat. The feeling is foreign to my hands, but I don't let it bother me. I swing it up, grabbing on with my right hand too just as my window smashes open. I gasp at the sight of the barrel of his own gun aiming for me. Thankfully, my gun is already raised and, with bile in my throat and trembling hands, I pull the trigger before he can shoot me. 

The recoil makes my teeth chatter and the noise booms across the empty parking lot in front of the gas station, making my ears ring. Something warm splatters all over me, and a distinctively crimson liquid sprays the shattered window of the car. In front of me, the man stumbles back, clutching his shoulder and letting his gun clatter to the ground. My eyes go wide, my mouth filling with bile.

I'm going to be sick.

I hold in my nausea as the man stumbles to his car and gets in, driving off as fast as he can. Just as his tires are screeching on the pavement to receive medical attention at a hospital, at least I hope, I see Bucky shove open the doors to the gas station, panic heavy on his features. His eyes catch on the car speeding away and I watch concern flooded with a touch of desperation and anger flood his face. Bucky snaps his gaze to the car and sprints toward it, skidding to a halt and trying to open his door only to find it locked. 

I'm in such a daze that I can't seem to remember to unlock it. My eyes are locked onto the blood that's splattered on my hands, some of the warm liquid on my face. The gun in my hands trembles, but I'm snapped out of my trance when I hear someone run around to my side of the car, the side with the smashed window. On instinct, I gasp and point the gun again only to find Bucky staring at me with wide eyes.

"It's me! It's me, you're safe!" he urges, reaching in through the now open window, making sure to avoid the shards of broken glass and unlocking the doors. Bucky swings open my door and bends in front of me, his eyes flying over my body and looking desperately for an injury.

"Are you hurt?" he asks, looking up at the blood that's on me. His blue eyes are heavy with concern, but my trembling hands and wide eyes can't seem to focus on anything but the gun in my bloody hands.

"It's not mine," I manage out, referring to the blood on my body. The gun shakes as my hands do, tears welling in my eyes that are locked on to it. A pair of hands, one warm and the other cold, grab onto my trembling ones and gently pull the gun away, casting it into the back of the car. 

"Caroline," Bucky mumbles, his voice sending shivers down my spine and his hand sparking warmth on my freezing skin when I feel it cup my cheek and turn it so I look at him. His eyes soften at the look upon my face.

"I shot someone," I whisper, my voice quivering as I do and my vision blurring with tears, "He smashed the window and pulled a gun on me and I shot him"

I know and so does Bucky that I did the right thing, but my stomach is still churning. I know the man will be okay, the wound didn't look too serious, but I still shot someone. His metal hand comes up to the other cheek, both hands now resting on my face soothingly. 

"It's okay, he was driving away, that means he's going to be okay. You did the right thing, Caroline" He assures, rubbing his thumb over the skin of my cheek.

I nod, knowing he's right and trying to force myself to snap out of it. 

"Alright, we have to go before someone comes looking for us again. We can stop at another exit" Bucky informs, taking his hands away and shutting my door only to jog around to his and get in. 

I can't help but feel cold and empty without his touch, whether it be metal or human. As the car starts and we pull out of the gas station and back onto the highway, I feel Bucky looking over at me periodically. My eyes are locked onto the highway, though, and not a single thought is bouncing through my mind. 

Before I know it, we've pulled off at another exit and into another gas station. When Bucky turns the car off and gets out, shutting his door behind him, I feel a bout of panic begin to set in. He's going to leave me again, He's going to leave me alone in-

My door opens and I look up to see Bucky standing outside of it with his hand outstretched to me. 

"This time, I think it's best if you came with me" he states, making my panic dissipate and relief flood in its place. I nod and gingerly put my hand in his, trying to ignore the way sparks immediately soar where our skin touches. Bucky helps me get out of the car, my stomach screaming in pain when I move. Eventually, I'm out and walking with Bucky towards the gas station.

He keeps my hand in his.

The bell above the door chimes when we walk in and Bucky immediately leads me to where the bathrooms are. He casts a quick glance around to make sure we're not being followed this time before leading me inside the men's room. He shuts and locks the door once he's in and checks to make sure no one else is inside, making a bit more of my panic release as we have the entire place alone. 

"Here, let's get you cleaned up" Bucky says softly, grabbing my waist gently and setting me as cautiously as he can on top of the counter so I'm just above eye level with him. 

For the most part, besides a light tremor in my hands, I've stopped shaking and calmed down. I didn't kill him, only hurt him. Still, though, I fear that moment will be burned into my brain for a while. 

Wordlessly, Bucky grabs a paper towel and wets it. Then, he grabs my right hand and gently begins to rub the man's blood off of it. I sit silently, watching him work. He moves on to the other hand, wiping it clean quickly. All the while, I feel my heart hammering in my chest, not because of fear or anxiety or nerves or even trauma.

Because of something else I can't explain.

When he lets go of my hand, his blue eyes turn up to my hazel ones and he leans forward, bringing the paper towel to my cheek. The material is rough against my skin, he moves it so gently that I hardly even notice it. His baseball hat is still on, keeping him from getting too close to me. 

In a way, I'm grateful and disappointed because of it.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the blood is gone. His fingers, though, linger for a moment longer on my cheek, making butterflies erupt in my stomach.

It's crazy to think how only two or three days ago, Bucky was hell-bent on killing me.

When his hand finally drops, he gives me a small, close-lipped smile.

"There, it's all gone" Bucky states, making me smile softly in return.

"Thanks" I respond, looking down at my now clean hands. Surprisingly, the sight does wonders to ease my mind and heart about what transpired tonight.

"Now, we can get some food and then head ou-" Bucky's words die out. 

I look up, my eyebrows furrowed in confusion. My confusion only intensifies when I see his eyes locked on my arm. Slowly, as if he's scared to touch me, he lifts the sleeve of my shirt and I take in a sharp breath.

There, on full display, are the cigarette marks left by my father.

I look over at Bucky, my eyes wide only to find his jaw clenched. He's hardly moving, hardly breathing, as his hand reaches up to gently trace one of the marks.

"Who did that to you?" Bucky nearly growls. I open my mouth to deflect, but choose not to. It would be harder to ignore it than just simply tell him the truth. I sigh and look away from his gaze and to my hands. I can't bear to look at him when I speak again.

"My dad really was the worst you could get," I offer, keeping my eyes on my hands as emotion rears into my tone, "It started when my mom died. Cody would call me and tell me that dad was getting physical, and I..."

I pause, trying to keep the tears from my eyes as I look back up and over Bucky's shoulder to the wall behind him. 

"I couldn't let him get hurt. I forced him to text me whenever dad would get angry and I'd come over and..." I let my words die out, not even wanting to say it aloud, "Like I said, I'd do anything to protect my brother"

Carefully, I bring my eyes over to Bucky's. My heart skips when I see the unreadable look sitting in them. He takes my hand in his, making my mind ease and my heart race.

"Just when I think you're done amazing me, doll" he breathes, making my stomach flutter. Our eyes stay locked for a moment more before he reaches out and helps me down from the counter, setting me carefully back to the floor.

"Just so you know," Bucky begins again, placing a burning hand at the small of my back and looking over at me as we walk to the door to the bathroom, "I can't promise I won't kill your father if I ever see him again"

I don't know why, but the statement makes a smile tug at my lips. I guess, for the first time, I feel truly protected and cared for. As we walk out of the bathroom together, I nudge him slightly.

"For his sake, let's hope you never meet"

|||

"I've thought of a place we can go"

Bucky's words pull me out of my thoughts of Cody. The empty food wrappers sit in the backseat, long eaten. The sun is beginning to rise, and with it is the hope that I'll survive to see the next sunrise. I look over at him, intrigue filtering my gaze.

"It's risky, especially since I'm still not fully remembering who I am, but it's our best shot" he states. Just by looking at the man beside me, I can tell he's scared to do whatever he has in mind.

"Bucky, whatever it is. I'll be right here" I assure, surprising myself with the words. I didn't realize it before now, but I'd much rather be with him than without him. He looks over at me and smiles before turning back to the road.

As he works up the courage to say his plan, I furrow my brows at the 'Welcome to New York' sign that we pass.

"The only people who can really protect us and even help us find your brother are the Avengers." 

My heart jumps and I can't help the excitement that floods into me. I look over at him, my eyes wide and bright. He smiles at the happy look on my face and continues speaking. That smile...

That smile of his undoes me.

"It gives me a chance to reconnect with Steve and see if I can't figure this out and they have the best resources to find your brother" Bucky informs, making the both of us happy.

"I think that's the best idea yet, I really hope you can figure everything out" I wish, smiling softly at Barnes. He looks over and smiles.

"Me too"

We drive along for a while, getting closer and closer to the location of the Avengers Tower. In the few bits of silence where we're not talking, I can't help but wonder what's going to happen when we get to the Tower and I get my brother back. Eventually, my assassin and I will have to part ways. I don't know why, but the thought of that leaves a hollow hole in my chest.

Maybe I do know why, but I'm too scared to admit it.

Before I know it, we're pulling up to the tower with a large A on the front. When we park, I look over at Bucky.

"You're probably about to freak some people way out" I warn, picking up his hat and setting it low on his head, "You might want to keep your head down until the moment's right"

He nods at me, offering me a small smile before looking over to the massive tower with a deep breath.

"You ready, doll?" 

I nod, biting my lip at the thought of finding Cody.

"Ready"

We step out of the car together and walk into the Avengers Tower, all the while receiving some pretty strange looks from people walking by. I gather up my courage and walk up to the front desk where a woman sits typing away at a computer. Bucky stands beside me, his head down.

"Hi, can I help you today?" the woman asks politely, looking up at me and Bucky. 

This is it.

I draw in a deep breath and nod, returning the woman's polite smile.

"Yes actually, we, uh, we need to see the Avengers" I inform, knowing full well how absolutely absurd that sounds. That's like walking up to the White House without an appointment and telling someone that you need to see the president. 

The lady gives me an odd look, one that she sends over to Bucky and then back to me. My heart is racing and I'm hoping beyond everything that she'll just let us in to see them. 

"I'm sorry, but you need an appointment for that" she informs, looking back down at her computer.

"I don't mean to be rude ma'am, but we really need to see them. It's urgent and I promise you it's not nothing" I continue, making the woman look up at me skeptically. She studies my face before sighing. 

"Alright, but you have to get cleared to go up. We don't allow outside, unauthorized weapons or sharp metals" she informs, waving over two guards with metal-detecting wands to check us.

My heart goes to my throat. This is not going to go very well. Bucky and I share the same nervous look as they approach, and beside us I can hear the lady making a call upstairs to let the Avengers know that they have people visiting.

We won't even make it to the elevators though.

"Hold out your arms, please" the guard who walks up to me asks. I do so, letting him scan his wand over me. Within a few seconds, I'm cleared. I look over to Bucky, who holds his arms out too and gives me a nervous look.

The second the wand goes near his arm, it begins to blare. The second guard's wand begins to beep at his hip, signaling a gun. The two guards jump back, both drawing their guns and pointing them at Bucky. 

"Woah, woah! Calm down!" I shout, jumping in front of Bucky and holding my hands out.

My heart is racing and I can tell Bucky is anything but happy that once again I've put myself between him and a gun. 

"Show us your weapon!" one guard yells, making a tense emotion flood the room. Off to the side, I can see the astonished clerk make another call and speak frantically with who's on the other side. 

"Just calm down, we don't want to hurt anyone" I try again, trying to keep the panic from my voice. 

Then, to my surprise, one of them shoots.

I gasp at the sound and immediately prepare to be shot again only for Bucky to step in front of me and use his arm to deflect the bullet. The sound of metal hitting metal resounds in the room and the silence following the gunshot leaves everyone in silence. I look up at Bucky in shock, his metal arm in front of me. He looks over his shoulder at me, his slightly concerned eyes searching mine to make sure I'm okay. I nod slowly, knowing full well that I should be shot right now. Once he sees that I'm unharmed, the glare in his gaze tells me I'm going to get a lecture later on not putting myself between him and bullets.

"Put your hands up or I swear I'll shoot again!" the guard shouts, making me jump. 

I grab onto Bucky's arm that's in front of my body out of instinct, and he keeps it assuredly in front of me, ready to deflect any more shots.

"Just listen-" Bucky begins, but the guard shouts again.

"I mean it, now!"

"Alright, would everyone just take a chill pill for a second?" the voice of Tony Stark announces, making hope flood through me. 

I look over to see Tony emerging from the elevator, his hands held out in front of him as to calm the situation. Behind him, I see Natasha Romonaff and Steve Rogers follow. When I see Steve, I can sense the shock that rolls off of Bucky. I look up to him to see his jaw clenched and his eyes on his best friend. His hat is lowered to hide his face.

"What's going on here?" Nat asks, looking over at us with curiosity in her eyes. 

"We just want to talk to you all, please" I inform, my eyes going between the three Avengers. 

They all look at each other before looking back at me. Steve steps up, his shield in hand.

"Who are you?" he asks, and I know now's the time. Bucky must too because he slowly lift his gaze so his face is on full display.

"You're Steve, right?" Bucky asks, his voice clouded with confusion. 

The shield drops from Steve's hands. I watch pure disbelief pull onto his features as he takes in his best friend that supposedly died all those years ago. 

"Bucky?" he breathes, almost afraid that this won't all be real.

"Hey man" Bucky responds, his hand lowering from in front of me as we both understand that our danger is over. Tony looks over at him incredulously.

"As in Bucky Barnes? Isn't he...you know, dead?" Tony asks, to which Nat elbows him sharply.

"Supposed to be, but that's not how things worked out" Bucky responds. That's when Steve steps forward, almost unsure of his movements.

"His mind is a little lost, he needs help figuring it out" I inform, making sure Steve is aware that Bucky's memory isn't fully there. Steve stops in his step and nods, not being able to stop the smile that grows on his face.

I watch Tony send a look towards Steve before stepping up to us.

"Of course we'll help, we've got some of the smartest people in the universe in here" he informs, making me laugh. Tony sends a look between Bucky and I.

"And you can bring...I'm sorry, what's your name?" Tony asks me. I smile.

"Caroline"

He nods and turns back to Bucky.

"You can bring Caroline along," He states, making more relief pump through me, "I don't think everything would go very well if you didn't"

And then, just like that, we're on our way up the tower.

|||

"So, he was hunting you because your father traded his life for you and your brother's?" 

I nod at Natasha, who sits with Steve and I just outside the lab where Bruce Banner and Tony are checking out Bucky. Sympathy is drawn across Nat and Steve's faces.

"He cornered us in a motel and I stalled enough to let my brother get away. I don't know how, but I managed to get through whatever mind manipulation they used on him to get him to help me." I continue, sighing and running a hand through my hair, "We've been on the run since then"

"Thank you," Steve suddenly says, making me lift my gaze to his, "For bringing Bucky back, he's the closest thing to a brother I have"

I smile softly and nod.

"Of course"

Nat and Steve share a look before Steve speaks again.

"And it's because I know what it feels like to lose a brother that I want to ask if you want us to help find your brother? I know it's scary, not knowing where he is or if he's safe" Steve says, making my entire face light up. 

"That would be so amazing, you have no idea" I rush out, bringing a smile to Nat and Steve's faces.

"Cody Bane, right? I'll get right on it" Nat says before standing and walking away. 

"I've been more a mother than a sister to him through all of this" I inform, looking down at my hands and back up at Steve who watches me intently, "He's a tough kid. He doesn't give up easy"

"Neither do you, I'll bet" Steve responds, looking at me knowingly. 

I look over at the lab, managing to see in through the glass and watch Bucky get blood drawn and tests done. As I do, my heart tugs. Once I get my brother back, I'll have to leave him. In the past few days we've been together, I've found a connection with Bucky that I've never had with anyone before. 

Now I have to leave him.

"Have you told him yet?"

At Steve's sudden and vague question, I look over at him with my brows furrowed. He smiles knowingly at me and casts a look towards his best friend.

"How you feel, have you told him how you feel?" Steve clarifies, making my heart jump into my throat and my eyes widen. I immediately begin to shake my head.

"Oh, no I don't-" I begin to ramble, but Steve cuts me off with a light laugh.

"Don't worry about it, Caroline. Out of every girl Bucky has ever been around, he's never looked at any of them the way he looks at you." Steve informs, making my lips part slightly in shock at the very thought that Bucky could feel the same pull that I do. I don't have time to respond when Nat jogs back in with a tablet in her hand.

"Got him, Cody Bane is alive and well, hiding out at a police station in NYC" Nat informs, setting the tablet down to show the camera feed, "Smart kid"

Relief like I've never felt it floods over me. I look at the screen to see my brother sitting and messing around with an officer's things in the middle of a police station. I laugh, tears of pure joy making it past my defenses and slipping down my cheeks.

"I contacted the department, they're gonna transfer him over in an armored vehicle and police escort. He'll be here within the hour" Nat informs. I nod, standing and throwing my arms around the woman's neck. She gasps in surprise.

"Thank you" I whisper.

She smiles and hugs me back. When we pull away, she nods to me.

"Anytime"

"What's the celebration?"

At the sound of Bucky's voice, I whirl around. He looks calmer than before and intrigue lights up his features when he sees the happiness on my face.

"Cody's alive. He'll be here soon" I inform, not being able to stop the smile on my face. I watch a smile pull on his lips as well.

"Yeah? That's great, Care!" he exclaims. Quickly after, though, I think it hits us both that within the hour, when my brother gets here, we're going to be splitting up. The other people in the room must notice it too.

"Let's give them a moment to talk" Bruce suggests, leading everyone out of the room. Once they're gone, I look back to Bucky with a sad, conflicted smile.

"I guess this is it" I announce, trying to keep the crushing sadness away from my heart, but it's impossible. Bucky lets out a sigh, his blue eyes locked onto my hazel ones.

"I'm gonna miss you, doll" he states, walking up and pulling me into a hug, "Thank you...for everything"

I let out a shaky breath as he does, wrapping my arms around his neck and letting his warmth relax me. This time, when a single tear escapes, it isn't for Cody. We pull away eventually and our eyes lock, my heart skipping when they do. 

"I hope you figure out everything" I say, to which he nods but has the most serious look on his face I've seen in days. Our faces are inches apart and I can hardly breathe. The pull that I have to him is so intense that I want nothing more than to close the gap between us.

I don't, though.

Being this near to him is too painful, so I step back and run a hand through my hair. I don't even say anything else, too scared that if I do my feelings will be blatantly clear in my tone. Instead, I just turn around and begin to walk away. I make it a few steps too until a metal arm closes around my arm and pulls me back. I stumble as I turn around, confusion in my face. 

"What are you-"

My words are cut off when Bucky keeps his metal hand on my waist and brings his other one to my cheek and crashes his lips to mine. Instantly, I melt into him. My skin feels as though it's been set on fire and yet I can't seem to burn hot enough. His grip on me tightens as his lips work against mine with a desperation that steals my breath. This kiss alone is enough to make me realize that I'm falling fast and hard and it's going to hurt like hell to leave him.

When we finally pull apart, Bucky rests his forehead against mine, his hair tickling my face as he does.

"I know I'm not the man I was before, but-"

I cut him off this time, pulling away so he can see the sincerity in my gaze.

"I'm falling for the man you are now, not the man you were then." I whisper, my heart slamming in my chest as the words leave my mouth. His eyes widen slightly at my confession

"Caroline, you deserve so much better than me" he rasps. For just a moment, I think he's going to say goodbye, and my heart begins to tremble.

Bucky must see the crestfallen look in my eyes because he brings his metal hand up to cup the other side of my cheek so he holds my face. He stares down at me with such intensity that I feel my legs turn to jelly, and I have to tighten my hold on him to stay upright.

"Don't think for a single second that I don't want you," he whispers, making my heart jump, "Now, I'm not as good at the love thing as I was back then but-

"Love?" I interrupt, my eyebrows raising suddenly at his choice of words.

Bucky fumbles with his words for a solid minute before he finally gives up and decides to just press his lips gently to mine, taking my breath away yet again. When he pulls back, he rubs one of his thumbs across my cheek and says his next words with such conviction that my stomach explodes into a thousand butterflies.

"Stay," Bucky suddenly says, his eyes searching mine, "Stay here, we can protect you, I can protect you."

That's all I wanted him to say, that's all I wanted to hear. For someone, for him, to ask me to stay. I smile softly up at him and nod.

"You couldn't get rid of me if you tried"

Bucky smiles and places another quick kiss to my lips.

"Looks like I've still got it"

I laugh, leaning my head against his shoulder and letting the safety and warmth wrap around me.

It's crazy to think that only a few days ago, I was his target, his prey.

And here I am, falling in love with my hunter at a heartbreaking speed

[puzzledemigod]

Ok I did the whole Barbenheimer thing and let me tell you, Barbie wasn't revolutionary or anything, but it did come up ahead. It did what it was supposed to do and, since I managed my expectations before going in, did it in a fun silly way that still left a bunch of possible deeper readings, even if they were sadly left unexplored (and were maybe unintended). Oppenheimer on the other hand left me very angry and disappointed, even if I went there knowing it was an usamerican warfilm so I wasn't expecting much.

I think Barbie and Oppenheimer were equally superficial and obvious with their intended messages presentations, themes and characters, and equally inconsistent with their story threads. But Barbie was about Barbies, was intentionally silly, and had more going for it than the story itself... and Oppenheimer was about one of the real life creators of the atonic bomb, about the ones responsible for the Hiroshima and Nagasaki bombings, and about the subsequent cold war and the mess it left us today in regards to the existence and threat of atomic and H bombs.

I think I can safely say one had the responsibility to be a bit more nuanced and careful than the other, and that just did not happen. And no, i do not think there was any actual anti USA sentiment in Oppenheimer, as someone who lives in a Developing Country (TM)and is used to seeing usamerican propaganda all the time there was barely even a scratch of criticism buried in there; our knowledge of history and our own modern sensibilities and morality did all the heavy lifting in that front without the movie having to risk saying anything. Oh did he feel bad while the bombs were being dropped? Did they villanize a guy who went after him for uhh being better than him at public speaking? Did they say he was against the H bomb and was a pacifist now, actually (without showing it much but who cares, tell not show right)? He was still the hero. Not one Japanese person was shown. Not one civilian protest, not one appearance of the communists they were talking so much about after the scenes in the past, doing anything but talking the whole time. He still ended up with a "I love my country" tirade, there was still a haha nod to fucking Kennedy being the one to be on our hero's side. They still showed more scenes of women naked, drunk, cheating on their husbands and being negligent towards their kids than of them doing literally anything else.

The "nuance" and "anti-usa messages" was just a bunch of misplaced and inconsequential internal conflict that did not feel earned in any way, misogyny and random, boring and inconsistent jury scenes (sorry, "hearing" scenes or whatever they called so there wouldn't have to be consistent rules to follow). And the main character was so damn boring. And they didn't even represent the actual science parts well. And the editing was so weird and the flashing scenes didn't fit and were repetitive. And there was a happy ending for some reason?? It was a whole bunch of nothing with music building momentum that never went anywhere in the background of every scene for 3 hours and I wanted to leave the room for how angry it made me that this subject was treated that way and would probably get praised for it.

[ladyhindsight]

Hi! So I'm re-reading TMI these days and can't help but feel for you anytime I stumble upon something frustating or laugh when a limb is having a life of its own lol. I don't know much about editing or the quality of the writing in general because I'm not a native english speaker so reading in english kinda makes it better, if that makes sense (even tho I now notice things thanks to your blog, and let me tell you, I had the displeasure to read a small part of the translation in french and it is so much worse that I'm fine with not getting how shitty CC's writing truly is) but omg I want to facepalm so often… Particularly now that I'm almost done with CoFA and I can see so clearly the influence of TID in it. Like in one of the first three books, when Valentine killed the Silent Brothers to get the Soul Sword, everyone insist they were ALL dead (which was stupid) but now some Brothers were away at the time so no worry, Jem is well and alive! Or Luke and Magnus could always get into the NY institute, but Simon had to stay outside because he's a vampire but now there is a sanctuary they never thought about using before because it was "out of fashion" (sure Jane) and they suddenly remember it exists! Poor Simon, knowing they could have hang out with him there all along but wouldn't bother to just think about that big room standing in front of their eyes. I was also very frustrated with the fact that no one seems to care what Valentine was doing for the last seven years after giving Jace to the Lightwoods and before coming back in CoB (yes, we do kind of find out at some point that he was probably hiding in Hodge's cabin or farm or whatever but why no one ever WONDER at least to themselves where he was?). There is also, of course, all the BS with Malec in general plus the fact that it makes no sense anyway with The Red Scrolls of Magic, but this is too painful for me to even think about. Nothing makes sense, really, as if we all knew those books better than the person who wrote them, can you imagine? I could go on for hours but I won't, I just needed to rant for a second and I felt so sorry for you who go so much deeper into that hell hole for your wonderful blog that I love. So kudos, stay strong and I can't wait to read your next post! (and sorry if this makes no sense, as I said I'm french and we all know french people can't speak english).

Hi! Thank you for the love, it means a lot. 🥰😊 I am slowly working towards the next post.

When I go through Clare’s writing, more often than before I have to just stop and think whether some things in the text are worth pointing out, because at this point stuff just begins to repeat itself a lot. Like noted in the previous message, Clare’s writing has barely improved in the course of 15+ books. I’ve made a PDF file of City of Bones with bunch of footnotes that never really made it to the blog, but the content of those notes apply to the following installments as well because of that repetition of writing mistakes, weird or weak sentence structures, choice of words, story structure, plot etc. And sometimes my opinions are just made of weird noises and frustration that I can’t put into words. 😂

Clare adding these new elements to the Shadowhunter world really show how little thought went into it in the beginning of the series. I was originally so confused when I read CoFA for the first time ever because I truly thought Valentine had killed every Silent Brother there was previous to that, and why wouldn’t we think that? It is exactly how the writing presented the case. The first three books of The Mortal Instruments feel so disjointed from everything else that came afterwards, because the world started getting bigger after them but none of those new elements were present in them (obviously they couldn’t have been, but you know). Jem as a character did not exist before Tessa appeared at the end of City of Glass to herald a prequel series. Similarly how Jace probably wasn’t Herondale when City of Bones was written. His scar appeared first in CoA, and then it was relevant for Imogen to notice it. Not that it had been an essential part of his character before the plot demanded it.

Similarly this case with Simon and the Institute Sanctuaries. In the original TMI trilogy the vampires appeared through Projections. There wasn’t such facilities mentioned before that. Clare just added things as she went along. Similarly to this, the Shadow Markets and the Scholomance. Imagine how bigger the world had been if there was even a mention of these places in the first three books? Especially since everyone has been visiting the Shadow Markets, like, always if GotSM is anything to go by. But there is that absence because, again, none of these concept existed, and retroactively writing stories about how, for instance, Jace as a kid went to a Shadow Market does not bring that same magic to the original trilogy where such concept is unheard of.

In Born to Endless Night the Sanctuaries are rendered effectively useless when Magnus’ magic can give Lily an access to wander the halls of the Institute. Aside from other grievances with that story, Clary effectively broke the rules of her own world to make it easier for Lily to be present in the party instead of writing them having a party elsewhere where Lily as a vampire could safely attend, and without this rule-bending as a surplus.

Valentine’s whereabouts, like you said, well he just kept training Sebastian and that’s about it. Every character never really thought about it more or questioned why he waited seven more years to finally resurface. Most things were just taken by face value. The first three books especially were really half-cooked, if even that, when they were published.

[tehuti88-art]

6/30/23: r/SketchDaily theme, "Free Draw Friday." No character portrait today. Sorry for the literal stick figures; I lost my dad yesterday, and can't really summon up anything more detailed, but felt it'd be wrong to not draw anything at all. I just want to say, if your body is telling you something is wrong, please listen to it, please don't brush it off as nothing, because even something small can become serious, and you'll never know the hurt you may leave behind. If this gets through to just one person, I guess that's better than nothing. I couldn't get through to my dad. That'll wear on me forever.

When I was little, we didn't dance, but I'd put my feet on his and pretend to walk around with them. I can't explain the feeling, walking only it's someone else doing it for you, taking away all the effort. I always enjoyed that. I bet he didn't know I remembered that. I wish I could've taken the effort away from him this past week. I hope sometime toward the end, he thought of me. 😔

I'm still trying to work my way through it. I imagine it'll take a long time. Thank you for letting me share. I don't feel welcome posting in many places.

EDIT: Thank you to everyone who replied. I'm sorry not to reply to each individually, I have a fear of looking repetitive and insincere. I did read each comment though and greatly appreciate them all.

[One Last Walk With Dad [‎Friday, ‎June ‎30, ‎2023, ‏‎2:00:09 AM]]

[detective-gum-chew]

okay okay okay

i know this isnt an orginal idea by any means but roleswap!narumitsu is just so good

so youll have to indulge me because this lives in my head rent free and i want to write it down concretely somewhere (also this gets LONG so ill pop a cut in here)

alright so:

1. at least in my writing of it, this is also a no-dl6/gregory lives au. but as well at that, miles and phoenix didnt go to school together

2. this means that there was nobody to defend phoenix at the class trial (yes i know the money stolen was edgeworths but shhh lets pretend it was someone elses, kay?) this lead to phoenix becoming not only bitter, but somewhat obsessive over the idea of punishing people that do wrong

(if someone can find that quote where phoenix talks about how he could have become a prosecutor because of the trial i will give u a gentle kiss on the forehead) 

3. Edgeworth was raised by Gregory and ends up becoming a defense attorney

4. in this, Von Karma goes down and Franzy is adopted by Gregory, and she assists Miles in his cases. (she can still have a whip, as a treat.)

5. anyway with that set up, lets get into some cases

6. Larry gets accused of Cindys murder, Miles defends with Franzy

7. Lets say Mia was in the crowd of that trial and decided to contact miles, seeing as he appears to be another uncorrupt lawyer and asks him for his help in taking down Redd White

8. He agrees, and she sets a time for him to meet at her office so they can talk. Mia then calls her sister and updates her on how shes going to recruit another person (Redd White hears this)

9. Much like the original case, Mia gets murdered, but this time, Maya isnt here to be blamed. Instead, its Miles himself, as the name that White heard over the phone (so basically we’re speed running to the “defend yourself in court” part)

10. the prosecutor today is Phoenix Wright.

11. but before that lets go into some backstory actually. Phoenix had encountered Mia previously during the Terry Fawles case. He had respected her as a peer, if not for just her determination and deductive skills. (After all, he was young at the time and solely focused on punishing the wicked) After Diego’s poisoning, he had briefly reached out for condolences

12. but anyway, Phoenix had distantly respected Mia, and now that she was dead, he was going to be tough on whoever he thought murdered her.

13. Miles proves his innocence, although it takes some baiting to get Redd White out of his building and actually into court. 

14. Wright is... not pleased about this, but theres not much he can do. His displeasure for Mias murder has shifted, but theres a new displeasure for Miles, the man who could beat him in court. (”well well well, you managed to save your own skin. But you should hope you get as lucky as you did in your next case”)

15. Next case! We know Miles is a steel samurai fan, so even without Maya it takes very little convincing for him to take the case. (Fran is not as amused but trusts her brother... enough.. to follow his lead)

16. Case proceeds mostly as normal, with Phoenix requiring Dee to re-do her testimony (maybe something deep within him still itches to put the true bad guy away, even if its harder than the accused)

17. I dont think Phonix would deliver the unnecessary feelings line, although there definetely is that moment in the lobby where hes like “hm. maybe you arent a bad person, but that doesnt mean i have to like you.”

18. and now, now now now, we finally get to the part where i somehow managed to put the most thought into. (for context it is nearly 2 am when i am writing this)

19. sleep schedule aside, you couldnt have thought i would made this WITHOUT some good angst, so here we go. case four is similarly structured to the original, but with an extra side of Phoenix angst.

20. Miles wakes up to Franzy shaking him. She points to the television. the news is on, but the voices are drowned out by a distant ringing as he stares at the image on the screen.

Famed Prosecutor Phoenix Wright Arrested For Murder

21. it just doesnt make sense. So he gets out of bed and into the closest clothes he can find and out the door with his sister in tow. He sits in the cold detention room, thinking about the other side of the glass.

22. Phoenix Wright looks dull. He asks what they want. Miles says he wants an explanation. Wright sneers and asks why. For some reason, that pisses Miles off. He slams his badge to the glass and Wright looks surprised.

“Do you know what this is? It’s my attorneys badge.”

“the badge doesnt mean youre a good lawyer.”

“Well Mr Wright, its 2-0, so i dont think you have any right to say that.” Miles glares at him and Wright sits back in his seat. He watches Miles for a long time.

“If im going to defend you, you need to tell me what happened.“ Wrights eyebrows shoot up and Franziska squawks at his side

“What do you mean defend him!”

“What she said.”

Miles narrows his eyes at Wright as he ponders to himself the answer. Why is he doing it? the answer comes to him. 

“Because i dont believe you did it.”

For all his snark, Miles cant bring himself to believe that the man in front of him would kill someone. Theres something about him, either in his eyes or the way he carries himself that makes the idea itself preposterous. Wright looks at him for a long time after he says it.

“Very well.”

21. Miles doesnt seem him until court, but at least he testifies. The next person up, a red head by the name of Melissa Foster, gives a testimony that seems airtight.

22. that is, until he looks over at Phoenix, who is pale as he looks at the woman on the witness stand. Phoenix catches his eye, and very carefully, very slowly, mouths one name.

Dahlia Hawthorne

23. (I really wish i could continue with the more narrative parts of this but im honestly running out of steam and ill get to the point lol. Maybe ill finish it later.)

24. Terry Fawles dies on the stand. Diego Armando falls into a coma. Dahlia Hawthorne walks free. Even after what happened to Diego, Phoenix is convinced he can do better. He sets up a meeting with Dahlia.

25. Doug shows up, trying to persuade him away from it, saying he overheard Dahlia’s plan to kill Phoenix when she arrives. Phoenix is cocky, and the pair fight. Doug gets shoved into the powerline. Phoenix, thinking him dead, panics and runs.

26. Dahlia, having overheard, goes back and finishes him off, drops some poison into his mouth perhaps. With an accidental death with a cause so obvious, nobody bothers to run blood tests (until Miles)

27. Its years later, and Phoenix gets a note that tells him they know what really happened to Doug. Phoenix arrives to a meeting place to find a dead body. He picks up the vial of poison almost absently. 

28. After all, Dahlia had gotten rid of Diego and Mia was dead. Now all she had to do was get rid of Phoenix

29. It plays out similarly to case four, with Phoenix being absolved of the first murder, then confessing to the old one. Miles has gone through the work to save his life once, that he cant not do it again.

30. but happy endings (ish) for all, with Phoenix being freed, Dahlia imprisoned and Miles having a better understanding of both him and Phoenix.

31. maybe more happens but we’re at bullet point 31 so its time to stop for now lmao. uh but yeah! roleswap au..... brainrot really.

[donutbf]

ooh new blog, hi donut!! i love ur writing so far. having c!dream brain rot atm... maybe when dream breaks out of prison he visits reader and it’s just nice “i missed you” sex,,, headfull

also, 💌 anon perhaps ?

ahhhh, tysm! glad you enjoy it and its rlly nice than you decided to let me know what you think about my writing! <3

and like actually 80-90% of my simping is solely for c!dream so i gotta say, BIIIIIIG fucken same. the c!dream brain rot is deep and real. he’s godawful and i love him deeply. i watch him fuck things up im like <3 <3 <3 cute voice go brrrrrr

anyways there were a few different directions i could imagine for this scenario... 

like, either him roughly taking out all his pent-up frustrations on you, him being incredibly touchstarved all whiny and submissive - happy with anything you’ll give him, or it being uncharacteristically tender and loving.

you said ‘nice’ so i’m going w/ the third one. sorry if im barking up the wrong tree here!

edit: i wrote that intro before i wrote the piece itself and i meant for it to be tender and loving but its more like tender and angsty im-

oh! and psst- that emoji is so cute. great choice. you can indeed be 💌 anon! <3

(long NSFW elaboration under the cut. i uh. really went buck-fuckin-wild here. oh my god......)

sometimes people wonder whether or not there’s a person behind that smile.

that mask he’s never seen without. represented by a smile. a mockery of any true expression of joy.

he’s done so many awful things. he’s hurt people. badly. it’s what landed him in that godforsaken prison in the first place. everywhere he goes, he leaves behind an indelible scar.

they could call him a god, or a man with the makings of the devil - or a million other names that lie in between - but you know better.

you know him.

there is a living, breathing human behind that mask and you know him well. you know him with your hands and your lips and your tongue. you know his breath and you’d know him without sight.

you’d know him to the ends of the earth.

so when you find him on your doorstep in the middle of the night - hazy in the moonlight - a part of you distantly wonders if you’re still asleep. but the other part just knows. there’s no mistake. he’s here. 

your dream has come back to you, the way he always swore he would.

you’re not an idiot. you love him, but you could never believe blindly in him. you saw what he did. what he’s done. to agree with all of it... that’d make you naïve at best, a wild fanatic at worst.

even before all of… this, you had differing stances. your faith in him was always balanced. 

this is one thing you never doubted from this stubborn, broken fool before you. 

he’d always come back to you.

you reach out a hand towards him. you want to cradle his face, to make sure that he’s actually here in the flesh - because it doesn’t seem quite real yet - and he flinches reflexively. at this, your heart drops into the pit of your stomach. still, he lets you touch him.

ushering him inside, quickly, quickly, to the privacy of the house, you’re thankful for the isolation of your home and the solitude of the night. if anybody saw you right now, housing him… it just doesn’t bear thinking about.

“dream,” you murmur. you have so much you need to talk about, but right now, nothing else has to be said.

your thumb brushes against a new crack in the surface of his ever-smiling mask, almost split in two now.

he’s not smiling.

fingertips trace every bump and divot you know so well, before slowly taking it off and discarding it on the table behind you.

he looks like fucking hell. you’ve certainly known him to get into scrapes and fights, and even yelled at him for his carelessness before,,, but this? this is something else entirely.

it’s the result of weeks upon weeks of senseless beatings - underfed and unhealing - never given the time or space to regen.

you want to touch him all over, to hold him together in your hands like some fragile thing, but you’re so, so afraid that he might’ve already broken.

neither of you have even attempted to breach the silence yet.

you lead him by the hand to the bed. for rest, is what you think, but he stoops down to tuck his face into neck and inhales, deeply, his hands creeping lower down the front of your body. 

he breaks the silence first, deftly trading it for the quiet instead.

“please let me feel you...” his voice is barely a whisper, the sound a cracked, hoarse thing.

to touch another person kindly, after so long spent alone and in pain. to know that you’re still here, and that you haven’t left me. because i love you.

so many reasons and they all go unsaid.

still, you understand him.

clothes are peeled off and bodies are re-explored after so much time spent apart. his bare body’s on display in front of you, all long limbs and pale skin. what was previously smooth and soft now lays dry and cracked - marred with injury - before you.

his eyes won't meet yours. it's something he’s never done before in bed with you. another newly ingrained habit, like the flinch. 

you wonder if he’s ashamed right now; if he feels ugly before you, even. he wouldn’t care how he looks to anybody else, but it’s you. and that matters to him. (and the force of just how MUCH it matters terrifies him.)

malnourished and beaten half to death, you still couldn’t find him anything other than beautiful.

cupping his cheeks, you gently tilt his face up to yours, meeting his lips in a slow kiss. every movement of your lips against his is lazy but deliberate.

you touch him as gently as you can, trying to avoid brushing against the myriad of bruises peppering his skin, and cuts both old and new.

even with your efforts, at times you catch him slightly pained - when a touch makes him twitch and wince, sucking in a shallow breath behind gritted teeth.

though he tries his best to hide this - the same way he does in battle, to gain the upper hand - even he knows that he can't hide anything from you.

he preps you but you don't take as long as you maybe should. your movements may be slow and cautious, but you’re both desperate for each other, completely ravenous to feel each other. 

you sink down onto him and bite your lip at the feeling of him stuffing you full, stretching you open. god, its been so long.

and apparently, being inside you is what finally breaks the dam. he starts to cry, loudly. 

burning hot tears roll down his cheeks and his face goes ruddy with emotion as he starts to talk. his hips never stop pounding up into you.

the pace he sets is erratic, his thrusts stuttering much more than you’ve ever had with him before - the man you’ve always known to be so deliberate and ever in control - but it's all excusable. everything is so different now. what even is the new usual?

“god, i missed you so much. i sat in that cell and- and all i could think about was you. i felt like i was going insane, maybe i have- i thought you’d move on, that you’d leave me. fuck. fuck! i’m so fucked, i’m a mess, i’m bad, i don’t deserve you, i- i...” 

and he keeps going. he sounds like raw, jagged edges torn in two, his breaths hitching and his voice cracking open on almost every syllable. 

eventually the open sobs devolve into silent tears and the mindless, shaky repetition of your name. 

he holds your name in his mouth like its a precious thing, a word he doesn't deserve to say but chooses to say anyway.

he says it twenty times, thirty times, until it doesn't even sound like a word anymore. your name is on his lips when he cums.

physically sated and emotionally drained, you both sink into the bed together. all you can do is hold each other tight and try not to think about the magnitude of what you’ve done, and what tomorrow could possibly bring.

whatever happens - heaven or hell - at least you’ve had tonight. 

that will have to be enough.

[kanmom51]

JM JK timeline - my observations how they grew over the years

JM JK timeline.- my observations how they grew over the years

 Disclaimer: these are my own opinions and conclusions.  Feel free to disagree, but hate or aggression will be unacceptable.

This is coming out so much longer than I anticipated, so please accept my apology in advance, I will have to post this in several parts (not sure yet how many).

Part 1

I have been wanting to tackle this for a while now.  

I have read many post on this matter.  Many believe their relationship started during the 2017 trip to Tokyo - that they ‘decided to become boyfriends’ during that trip.  I may be the unpopular vote here, but I tend to disagree on the matter.

While the 2017 trip did cement the relationship and strengthen it (I mean they finally got to have a few days of total privacy, being themselves alone with each other, with no outside interference), in my opinion, it most definitely was not the start of the romantic relationship between them. It was not a catalyst that brought them to the decision to have a full blown relationship.  

I find it  hard to make analogies to dating stages when it comes to JK and JM, because I believe we actually can’t in this case.  It’s so different.  These are two young men that spent their formative years together.  For JK Jimin was there throughout his defining teenage years, both of them becoming young adults living under the same roof, being together almost 24/7, going through all the hardships in the early years together.  Sharing all the highs and lows together.  You can’t compare that to someone that meets and starts dating, gets to know each other and so forth.  There is no comparison what so ever.  

Another misconception, in my opinion, is that JK didn’t like JM at the start, some even going so far as to say he hated him.  I don’t want to come out rude, but bollox.  JK was very young when he joined BTS, just at the start of his defining puberty years.  He was the youngest in the group and he struggled with finding his place, struggled with defining who he was, what he actually wanted to do, what he wanted for himself.  He found an older brother in Jin.  He found someone to look up to in RM.  He found someone to fool around with in Tae.  He looked up to Hobi and Suga, and they also tried to help him and guide him through his struggles. Fans saw these connections.  The fans also saw Jimin being super friendly, maybe over friendly, with JK, constantly saying how cute he is and how much he likes JK.  They saw what they perceived as a tug of war with Jimin, when Jimin is pushing onto JK and JK looks like he is pushing him back, like he wasn’t interested what so ever.  But this was mainly due to tendentiously edited clips.

Before writing these lines I made sure to go over chronological footage.  Starting with pre debut.  Seeing all this raw, unedited footage, and reading members interviews they gave just reinforced my disagreement with the ‘JK hated Jimin’ concept. It can’t be further than the truth. 

Jimin to JK was sort of a fresh breath of air from home.  Both of them from the same hometown.  JK having an older brother and JM missing his younger brother.  They both loved dancing.  They both worked their butts off.  It was an instant connection.  From the get go Jimin was a rock for JK, someone JK could talk to, rely on, practice with, someone that had a great influence on JK.  

JK was a shy introvert teenager, he didn’t know how to show vulnerability, he didn’t know how to show affection, and also I think Jimin’s level of openness and true affection towards him may have overwhelmed him.  In a later interview JK tells how he used to feel he had to wear a mask, not being able to be himself.  Not knowing how to behave in social environments, what was expected of him as ‘a man’ (when writing this the ‘men shouldn’t check their selfies’ conversation with Jimin comes to mind) .  So, he may have pushed back on occasions. Jimin’s affection and openness overwhelmed him.  But Jimin was the one to comfort him when he missed his parents, and cried at night.  Jimin was the one he spoke to when he was questioning his career decisions .  

It was hard for him to say or show Jimin that he liked him, that he needed his attention and friendship, but he did.  The most telling was when JM on Rookie King Ep. 4 (starting 23.07min) got up and sounded his frustration with the way JK was treating him.  I think he was actually caught off guard when JK, being honest, replied to Jimin tirade that he behaves the way he does because he likes him too much. That was certainly an eye opener. 

The episode was aired in May 2014!!! I keep saying over and over again: Listen to what they are saying!!!

Establishing the fact that JK and JM were close from the get go, I will move on to another conclusion I made that is a base for my timeline, another reason why I feel some of the timelines out there are incorrect.   

JK and JM’s love story is not one of “love at first sight” or physical attraction that leads to dating, getting to know one another and finally love.  It is my belief that JM and JK loved each other before they started exploring their physical attraction.  The closest analogy I can make is a romantic relationship that buds out of a great friendship.  When someone is your best friend, when you love them for who they are, when you know them in and out for all they are, including their faults, before you realise that you are physically attracted to them, that’s when love is so strong that there is almost nothing that can break it.  I believe that is the nature of JK and JM’s love, and that is why my timeline doesn’t fit other timelines out there.  There wasn’t a flirting period, a dating period, a relationship period etc.  Their relationship doesn’t fit those moulds. Yes there was flirting.  Yes there was hesitance moving forward once they realised they actually liked each other on a different level.  But it wasn’t within those ‘relationship moulds’ that are referred to in different posts.

Also, we need to remember that they weren’t going through all of this in a vacuum.  Both boys were in a boy band of 7 members.  All seven members very close to each other and love each other in their own ways.  Anything JM and JK did, any step they made towards each other could have a rippling effect on their friends, on their band, on their careers.  Add to that the fact that it was a ‘forbidden’ relationship, that not only is it a gay relationship frowned upon in SK society (frowned upon is putting it very lightly.  Being in a gay relationship could be so risky for them both.  Risky not only to their careers but also for their physical safety), but also, as idols, romantic relationships were a big no no. And what about their families? How would they take it? Will they accept them? They were young men that had to deal with all these issues, all while finding their way to each other.

 So, where do I stand when it comes to defining this love story’s timeline?

It’s hard to tell.  

That was a truly shitty answer, I know. LOL

We will never really know the accurate timeline, not unless JM and JK decide to share it with us one day.

But I’m not going to chicken out, not now.

I am going to tell you what I believe is more or less the timeline of progression in the relationship.

Saying that, I’m not going to get into too many details because that’s just wrong.  It feels too voyeur to me.

And here we go:

From re-watching old content,  I see a shift in JK towards the end of 2014 (maybe even mid 2014 during American Hustle Life).  He becomes ‘nicer’, in a way, towards Jimin, doesn’t stop teasing him though (sometimes as a guise to seek Jimin’s attention though, rather than laugh at him). He also becomes clingier.  Almost every shot taken he is by JM’s side, behind him or in his close vicinity.  He is seeking out JM’s attention.

20 Nov 2014 there is another ‘Looks ranking’ (during the Pops in Seoul War of hormone interview (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y4JO1GxTKXI starting from 2.39min).  I find this one interesting.  Once again, JK ranks Jimin last, while ranking himself 6th. Jimin is evidently hurt by the ranking. You can see it on his face.  It felt like he was truly disappointed and hurt by what JK did.  I tried to find remorse on JK’s part, but couldn’t.  He finds it funny, or so it seems.  Did he rank JM last because he was the easiest to appease later? Did he do it to hide his growing attraction? We will never know.  I don’t think that he wants to hurt Jimin, I don’t even think he is aware just how badly he did hurt him. What is evident to me, in any case, is that at this point he still lacks the empathy and sensitivity towards Jimin and his feelings.  This is something that will develop later on in JK’s behaviour towards him.

This leads into the beginning of 2015.  Remember JM’s Bangtan bomb from January 2015, seeking out JK for an interview (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e2JphzsaTIE )? How Jimin is adamant he is seeking out JK, who is avoiding him, and Tae’s teasing repetitively: “avoids?”.  Tae repeats this laughingly 4 times.  After a couple of times Jimin says it’s a joke, but after the fourth he actually turns sharply towards Tae, as if to wack him, saying again it’s a joke, making Tae giggle and say “sorry, sorry”.  From their interaction it’s totally clear that JK far from avoids Jimin.  The teasing way Tae repeats it 4 times shows us quite the contrary.  Not only doesn’t JK avoid JM, he seeks him out.  And what we can see from the clips around that time just strengthen that conclusion.  JK is constantly around Jimin.  He is the one that is seeking out JM’s closeness.  

Something else I noticed from this clip is how JK doesn’t flinch at the end when Jimin asks for a kiss and goes in for the kill.  I think Jimin was expecting JK to push back immediately, but that doesn’t happen.  After a couple of seconds JK does flinch, but not at the beginning.  It could be because he was surprised by JM’s move, but JM did say he wanted a kiss, and it wasn’t the first time he pulled a stunt like that.  JK also laughs at the end, after pushing back, unlike previous reactions, when he just seemed annoyed.  JK’s reaction just seemed different to me. This is only a nuance, and I might be wrong.

Next jump is towards mid 2015.  During this period between the start and mid of 2015 JK’s attraction to JM really shows. He just can’t keep his eyes or hands off him. He is most obviously attracted to him. Has he come to terms with it? I think he is still in turmoil at this point.  Not clear with himself what this is he is feeling, is it ok to feel this, and are his feelings going to be reciprocated.  Thinking about the situation he is in, how isolated he probably thought he was, is heartbreaking. It’s not that he had any one he could confide in within the group (not about that). He had to work it all out by himself. The person that he usually confided in, the one that he allowed to see him in his weaknesses was the person he had these feelings for.

  Some examples:  BTS Bomb after KBS music bank 1st place 9 May 2015 (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UV3vIYdTNIU from 4.36min) – moody JK when he’s eyeing Jimin interacting with Hobi and Jin, also the way JK averts his eyes when Jimin looks his way. He’s not happy. Mood changes when Jimin pays him attention pulling him by his shirt.  

BTS Yeoeuido Fansign 4th July -  2015.  https://twitter.com/i/status/775127718409150464   Very well known clip.  JK outright getting pissed off when RM puts his arm around Jimin and pulls him closer. Jimin calls out to JK several times, and JK ignores him, until Jimin asks the fans if they want to see JK send them a heart.  JK, with straight face, not a hint of a smile on his face, does the heart.  RM’s reaction also quite peculiar, removing his hand from Jimin after seeing JK’s reaction.  I recommend to watch the whole clip.  JK’s facial expression changes immediately after turning and watching Hobi, but then becomes solemn again when turning back looking at RM and JM, staring at JM as he gets up.

I bring up this example again, because I feel like this is a transition stage, when JK is finding it hard to come to terms with what he is feeling, but it is effecting his surroundings, that are becoming aware there might be something going on with him.  I don’t think that at this point JM is fully understands what is going on with JK, why he is acting all hot and cold.  I mean, like the other members, he might suspect that something is  going on, but feelings have not been made clear yet.

Somewhere between then and 29 Aug 2015 I think something changes.  I know the theory is that JK was shocked by Jimin fainting during their Osaka fan meeting on the 20th August 2015 and decided to make his move, referencing to the 20th Aug fanmeeting, JK stopping by Jimin’s side singing the lyrics of the song to him.  Jimin does seem pleased by it, but still I can’t say if that is actually the case.

Saying that, I do see a shift during the HK concert on 29th Aug 2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lPta9bGWmG8 .  During the performance of ‘Pretty woman’ (from 0.34min) there is a pretty intense, even sultry, staring moment that just feels is different.  The way they are looking at each other is just telling.  Following we can see Jimin checking out JK a couple of times, so much so that Tae notices it at some point.  That is the moment that I saw that something has changed.

To be continued...

[kelieah]

was it worth it? (peter parker x reader)

request (summary) @annamckayla : Hello, ur amazing! I wanted to request an Imagine where the reader and Peter are married with a bby, and after every mission she could be like "was it worth it" (in a kind playful way) and each time he would say yes, but one day the reader is somehow muddled up in this dangerous mission along side a few other ppl, he saves everyone but her, and he doesnt know if it was worth it

word count: 3.1k

warnings: lil bit of fluff, LOTS of angst so buckle up

edited: this is one of my longest fics so far, i put a lot of effort into this one kdsjnsdkfn

a/n: hehe ily anna but this request not cool dawg (jk ily but writing this hurt like a buttcheek on a stick)

masterlist | teaser

-

You look out the window, holding the beautiful baby boy you and Peter made in your arms and rock him back and forth. Your eyes scan over the city buildings, knowing your husband’s somewhere out there stopping crimes and saving lives.

“Did you know Ben, that your daddy is out there kicking butt? Saving lives, almost every day?” you look down at your sleepy baby.

He glances up at you with half-lidded eyes and coos, reaching out to you. You smile warmly and let him grab your finger.

“Yup, that’s right, daddy’s Spider-Man. I almost fainted when he first told me during our Senior year of high school,” you shake your head and chuckle at the memory.

You continue to sway him in your arms until he falls asleep. You hum quiet lullabies and walk over to the bedroom, placing him in his crib that was next to you and Peter’s bed.

Your head snaps up once you hear the bedroom window sliding up slowly. You chuckle quietly and place your hands on your hips, already knowing who it is.

Peter crawls in and onto the ceiling, closing the window with his foot. “Peter Benjamin Parker, you better not jump down. Ben’s asleep,” you warn in a hushed tone.

He looks over at you and takes off his mask, flashing you a sheepish smile. God, you could never get tired of watching him take off his mask like that.

He crawls down the side of the wall and quietly lands, walking over to you. He holds your waist and you wrap your arms around his neck, pressing your forehead against his, “You seem really beat, Mr. Parker,” you mutter softly.

“I sure am, Mrs. Parker,” he pecks your lips, glancing down into your eyes.

You sigh longingly, curling your fingers in his hair, “Was it worth it?” you tease quietly.

He sighs softly, “Are you going to ask that every single time I go out on a patrol?” he murmurs against your lips.

“Mhm, because you’re not just coming home to your lovely wife. You’re coming home to your lovely wife and baby boy,” you whisper.

“In my eyes sweetheart, it’s worth it to save another one’s life, stop crime and come home to my whole world, you two,” he cups your face, pressing kisses all over.

“But what if you don’t come home one day?” you whisper, feeling your eyes begin to gloss at the thought.

Peter tilts your head up towards him and kisses you deeply, bringing you closer, “You know I don’t know the answer to that. You shouldn’t constantly worry about the future baby, you should try-”

You sigh against his lips and pull away, “I know, Pete. I know,” you mumble.

“I love you, and Ben, so much. Don’t ever forget that okay?” he holds your cheek gently, caressing it.

You place your hand on top of his nodding, “We love you more.”

Some nights he came back without a scratch but most nights he came back with much more than just a scratch.

Ben’s next to the couch sprawled out on a soft blanket, playing with some of his toys.

You’re fixing up some dinner until all of a sudden you hear a thud from your bedroom. You frown and quickly look up, turning off the stove in an instant.

You glance over at Ben making sure he’s fine. He looks up at you with curious eyes, his mouth all over a teething toy. You smile softly then quickly walk over to your bedroom, “Pete?” you peek your head in.

You gasp at the sight of Peter flat on the floor by the window, holding the side of his torso in pain. You rush over and slide next to him, lifting his head up gently to rest him on your lap.

“What happened?” you whisper, placing a hand on his cheek.

He smiles timidly and looks up at you, “I-I’m fine I swear baby, just a little whoopsie,” he breathes out.

Your eyebrows furrow in concern, and slowly lift up his hand. You frown at the deep cut above his hip, “Can you get up? I need to patch you up Peter,” you whisper.

He nods and carefully begins to sit up. You help him stand up and walk him over to the bathroom. You watch him lift himself up on the counter, letting out a sharp grunt.

You sigh, grabbing some cloth from the bottom drawer and handing it to him. “Apply pressure okay? I’m going to check on Ben,” you walk off.

You see Ben begin to doze off and walk up to him, scooping him up in your arms. You hold him gently and head back to the bedroom, placing him in his crib.

You walk back to Peter and get out the medical kit you have nearby at all times. Peter watches you with tired eyes, holding the cloth you gave him to his wound.

You look up at him and press a kiss against his forehead, “I think you need stitches bub,” you hold his cheek. He nods against your touch.

“Okay Mrs. Parker,” his raspy voice making your heart clench.

After stitching him up, you help him clean himself up. You stand in between his legs and wrap your arms loosely around his neck. You give him a concerned look that makes him pout.

“I know what you’re about to say.”

“Was it worth it?”

“Baby,” he groans quietly and pulls your waist close, “Yes, yes it was.”

You hum quietly, threading your hands through his hair, “Why?”

He nuzzles his nose against yours, letting out a quiet sigh, “You know why.”

You exhale and press your lips against his for a moment. He kisses back and holds you closer. You pull away and cup his cheek in your hand, “I guess so,” you whisper.

You never stopped asking him that question every time you came home. Deep down, you dread the day you won’t be able to ask him due to him never returning.

Though you knew it was repetitive and annoying to ask, you couldn’t help but ask. There was this one night where Peter wasn’t having it and the two of you broke out in a fight that thankfully ended in an agreement.

Peter tiredly crawled through the bedroom window, freezing as his enhanced hearing picked out the soft snores that came out of Ben’s mouth.

He smiled softly and closed the window, jumping down quietly. He walks over and adjusts Ben’s small blanket. Peter shuffles over to the kitchen to grab some food.

“Hello to you too,” you piped up from the couch, leaning on the palm of your hand.

“Sorry babe, hi,” he came up to you, bending down to kiss your forehead.

“You okay? Rough night?” you sat up, looking up at him worriedly.

“Don’t worry, I’m fine,” he waves his hand and goes over to the fridge, grabbing some food.

You sighed and followed, leaning against the counter. He heated up his food in the microwave and glanced over at you, “What?” he yawned.

“Was it worth it?” you teased, poking at his side.

Your smile faltered as you noticed he didn’t react. He let out a weak chuckle, “Mhm.”

“Peter, I’ve known you for what? Six years now? You can talk to me bub,” you murmured.

“Do you always have to fucking ask that question? Every single fucking time I come back from risking my life for others, “was it worth it” bullshit? Do you!?” he snapped his voice loud yet low enough to be heard by you but not by Ben. He dragged his hands down his face and looked over at you with the most exhausted expression, waiting for a response.

Your heart raced and you felt your throat begin to swell, never expecting Peter to burst out like that, “I-I never meant for it to upset you P-Pete,” you whispered, “I j-just-”

“You just what huh? Y/n, love, I don’t think you understand what I do out there,” he grits through his teeth, turning off the microwave that went off. “Of course it’s fucking worth it, I’m an Avenger. A hero. It’s what we do! That’s all we fucking do,” he fumed, pacing back and forth.

You inhaled sharply, quickly wiping away your tears that fell from your cheeks before Peter saw but you failed to do so. He stopped in his tracks, his heavy breathing calming down, “S-shit baby, I-I’m so sorry-” he took a step towards you.

You took a step back, “N-no, it’s okay. I get it, it was inconsiderate of me to ask, constantly. I-I just thought it was kind of like an inside joke y-you know? But there’s no excuse for it,” you whimpered, “A-actually a part of me, h-has been wanting to bring up y-your career Peter.”

He nodded, walking over and cupped your face, wiping away your tears, “Talk to me sunshine, I-I’m not mad. I’m not mad at you at all, dammit it’s just been a long day and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you just now. I-I’m calm, just talk to me. I’m here, I got you,” he pressed a kiss against your forehead, his words starting to take an affect on you.

You let out a shaky breath and nodded, “Peter, a-are you ever going to consider r-retiring? I-I know you’re young and I know it’s s-selfish of me to say, but you could do so many other great things. L-less risky careers, because we,” you choke slightly on your words, Peter instantly placing a hand on your back to soothe you. “B-because we have a family now Peter, and if you,” you sobbed, “If you died, god I don’t know what’d I do.”

Peter’s heart shattered at your words and he pulled you into a tight hug, bringing your head to his chest. “I know, I know,” he whispered painfully. “Y-you have to trust me, and what I do. I-I love you both, with all my heart. With all my entirety. But I-I just can’t give up what I do.”

You sighed deeply and nuzzled your head into his chest, “I get it Pete,” you sniffled, beginning to calm down. “I really do. But remember what you told me that night when I found out your identity?”

“Wanna check out the other web shooter?” he muttered, playing with your hair.

You stifle a quiet laugh, “Besides that. You told me you kept your secret for the longest time because you didn’t want to put my life in danger. Nor May’s, nor Ned’s. Or anyone close to you,” you sighed. “D-does that not concern you now?”

Peter tensed at your question, “W-well when you put it like that. I feel like shit now,” he grumbled making you chuckle. “Look, I’ll talk to Tony okay? I’d never want to put you in danger, let alone our own son. I-I’ve just been so wrapped up in being this superhero that everyone looks up to that I- I didn’t realize I have everything I could ever need in front of me. You and Ben,” he squeezed you tightly in his arms. You smiled in content, tearing up and held him close.

Even after that argument you had with Peter, you still managed to ask him the question. Luckily without pissing him off. He eventually came up with different creative and adorable responses each time which you absolutely adored.

“Peter, I’m going to run to the store real quick m’kay? Watch Ben,” you walk over to where he’s sitting, wrapping your arms around him.

He looks up at you and you peck his lips causing him to grin, “Okay mama.”

You smile happily, ruffling Ben who’s sitting in his dad’s lap and grab your keys, walking off. Ben pouts slightly and reaches out for you as you leave the apartment.

“Don’t worry buddy, mommy will be back,” Peter ruffles his head gently making him giggle. “Now look,” he props him up to face the TV, “That cool guy right there, that is Luke Skywalker.”

Soon after about two Star Wars movies later, Peter began to get worried. He places Ben who fell asleep back in his crib.

He walks over to his phone and leaves you another message. He paces around for a couple minutes and quickly glances at his phone repeatedly.

His heart jumps out of his heart when he hears your ringtone and immediately picks up, “Y/n? Are you okay? It’s been almost two-”

“Peter Parker,” a low raspy voice answers, “I hope you didn’t forget about me Spider-Man,” he chuckles darkly.

Peter’s eyes widen, panic beginning to rush throughout his body, “Where is she?” he spits.

“She isn’t the only one in danger Parker,” he holds your phone up, a bunch of other voices crying out for help.

“P-Peter!” he hears Aunt May wail out.

“You fucking monster,” Peter snarls, clenching his fist.

“Wilmington Fifth Street, the warehouse on the right. Can’t miss it. If you call backup, all your loved ones will be dead,” the anonymous enemy retorts and ends the call.

Peter quickly calls Tony, “Kid what? It’s like 9-”

“Mr. Stark please s-send someone over to my apartment to watch Ben. I-I have to take care of something please,” Peter explains, putting on his suit.

“On it,” Tony recognizes the panic in his voice, “Do you want me to send backup?” he asks but doesn’t receive a reply as Peter hangs up.

Peter paces around, running his hands through his hair. Within a couple of minutes he hears someone walk up to the front of the door and swings it open before they could knock, “Oh thank god, Happy. Please, watch Ben. I have to go,” he rushes back to the living room.

“O-oh okay, yeah of course. Peter what’s-” Happy asks closing the door behind him.

Peter jumps out the window and swings off to the address that clouded his mind. “God please, please,” he whimpers to himself and eventually lands in front of their warehouse.

He couldn’t just burst through the front door, that’d bring too much attention. Peter looks around and quickly swings up to the roof, finding an entrance from a lifted up window.

He scans the room quickly to see Aunt May, Ned and MJ all tied together. “Karen, is there anyone else is the building?” he mutters lowly.

“Yes. But if you act now, you can save those three,” she states.

“On it,” he grunts and swings down quietly. They all look up at Peter with fearful and tear-filled eyes, shaking their heads.

He quickly takes off the tape on their mouths and unties them, “Peter no he has her-” May sobs.

“I-It’s okay, everything’s going to be okay. All of you need to get out of here now. Police are on their way, they’ll be around the corner,” they all nod in response, too shaken up to say anything. He leads them towards a backdoor entrance. “Where’s Y/n?” he asks, before letting them go.

“She’s in the back, w-with the Vulture,” Ned looks over at Peter.

“He came back?” Peter’s breath hitches. “N-no time, okay go,” he pushes them out and quickly swings back inside.

“Karen, where are they?” Peter whimpers under his breath. She instantaneously shows the whole warehouse mapped out and where she detected two life forms.

Peter rushes over to the back and slams the door open. You sat there tied up in a chair and unconscious.

“Y-Y/n,” he sobs, stumbling over towards you.

“I wouldn’t,” a voice rings from behind you. Peter snaps his head up and shoots a web towards the voice.

The Vulture’s new and improved wings cut his web as it came towards him, “You know Parker, all those years ago. When you were a little fucking Freshman, you took everything from me. Everything.”

“You’re supposed to be in jail,” Peter snaps, walking over to him swinging a fist to his masked face. The Vulture’s wings are too fast and slashes his arm before Peter could make contact. 

Peter lets out a strained yelp and gets kicked down by him. “Now, I’m going to take everything away from you, starting off with your wife,” he spits, placing his weighted foot down on Peter’s head.

Peter yells in frustration and shoves him off, attacking him with all the power and rage he mustered up. The Vulture easily blocks his attacks and slams him against the wall, “Tsk tsk. You never learn,” he steps on him roughly and repeatedly. Kicking him down with his weaponized and sharp boots. Peter weakly attempts to block his blows but fails. The Vulture chuckles darkly and walks over to you, shaking the blood off his boot.

“N-no, Y-Y/n, please n-no,” he gets up slowly, his ears beginning to ring and his sight becoming blurry. The Vulture circles you, cutting off your restraints and kicks you to the floor, your body falling to the ground with a thud.

You wake up to a sharp pain impaling your stomach, the Vulture’s point of his wing shoved into your torso. You let out a blood-curdling scream, bright red seeping out from your clothes. You feel something warm and thick begin to spill from your mouth.

“Y/n!” Peter shouts, tears streaming down his face. He limps over to you and falls by your side, screaming out in agony.

Suddenly the walls shake and Tony appears with the rest of the Avengers that were nearby to help. “Fuck,” the Vulture mutters and makes a run for it, about to fly off.

Tony blasts him down and flies down, managing to fight him off. Steve helps him out and they capture him, getting his weapons off him as they cuff him up.

You look around beginning to see white. Your ears fill with ringing and faint voices, until a familiar weak voice snaps you back into reality for a moment.

“M-my pretty girl, h-hey. Hey,” Peter whispers, brings your head onto his lap.

“P-pete?” you barely whisper, weakly raising your hand to his cheek.

“Y-yup that’s me. Your husband, the father to our child,” he shakily holds your hand against his cheek.

“B-Ben? Baby B-Benjamin?” you ask, eyes fluttering as you stare into Peter’s glossy eyes.

He nods in response, tears dripping down from his face onto yours.

You go silent for a while, trying to process everything that just happened. Peter chokes on his sobs, and brings you close to his bruised body.

“P-Peter?” you rasp.

“Y-yes my love?” he sniffles, brushing a hair out of your face.

“W-was it worth it?” you ask tiredly, lips quivering as a slow tear rolls down your cheek.

He lets out a loud strained sob, shaking his head furiously, “N-no. No it wasn’t. It wasn’t,” he wipes away your single tear with his thumb.

You barely curl your lips in an attempt to smile and close your eyes, going limp in his arms. Peter bursts out in a fit of sobs and hugs you close to his body, his body trembling against yours.

Tony and the rest of the team stand around nearby, pain filling their hearts and tears welling up in their eyes as Peter cries out in misery.

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[fa-by]

Hi babies and dear Anons 👋🏼🤗 Back with a new 'Q&A' post. Enjoy 🙃

Hello to you too, dear Anon 👋🏼😄 and yes, I did. You can find it here, dear: https://fa-by.tumblr.com/post/648192029691691008/camren-timeline-tittle-edited.

Yes, I heard about that rumor, dear Anon, and veeery false.

I knoooow 😍😍😍 Let's cry in joy and queerness 🥺😭🌈🏳‍🌈

Yep, dear Anon. And unfortunately for us, they will continue to do so for a veeeery long time 😒🙄😔

No, dear Anon, I highly doubt it's another duet. They'd be really, but really stupid if they do 🤦🏻‍♀‍

No, dear Anon, these are just people who want attention. People who have problems in their lives and talk shit about others to feel better. This is just the work of those people who believe in black magic and want to involve as many people as possible to think like them, and if they fail, they attack you because you didn't agree with them and you didn't go to their side. They can get so desperate they even get to the point of, oh I don't know, since you've blocked them, sending an anonymous ask to your girlfriend with a death wish for you:

The funny thing for me besides thinking that maybe this person believes they're a witch and imagining them with a voodoo doll with a needle in my stomach, is that I was kind to them the first time 🤷🏻‍♀‍ I tried to make them reason, I really tried to meet them halfway, but sometimes that's not enough with people like that.

But anyway. My point is that no, management has nothing to do with it. Thank you for your ask, dear 🤗

It's okay, dear Anon, don't worry 😄 In last time’s ask you wanted my opinion on the song, right? Well, Not Killin' It Today simply talks about how not every day is a good day. It can happen to all of us not to feel 100%, and Mila says just that. For us girls it can happen even more during or just before the red sea period, if you know what I mean, and indeed, she herself sings “I'm PMSing” = PMS: premenstrual syndrome. If that's why, I think she wrote this song precisely around that period 🤣

Hello to you too, dear Anon 👋🏼😄 Don't worry, dear, I can understand you, and if I hadn't, we would have found a way to do it. English is not my first language either.

1) Yes, I do think that.

2) (I knew all this) I know she did; she's been doing it for years if that's why because Taylor is one of Camila's mentors. Taylor is what can be defined as the celebrity master with PRs. She’s always done what she was asked to do and she’s always fulfilled her PRs duties of her contracts, and indeed, look where she is now, as well as being a great songwriter. So yeah, who better than her?

Hope you're great too, dear 🤗

Hello to you too, dear Anon 👋🏼😄 I'm sorry I'm bad with general questions like this 😅 I'm so much better when I'm asked a more specific question, and usually, when I have something in mind, I write it and create a post with my opinion about it. I'm not kidding about how bad I am at this, believe me. It’s the same thing as when I get the typical “tell me something about yourself” phrase. It's like my brain suddenly switches off 😅🤣 Can you take a look at all my posts from my archive to see which ones I’ve already responded to and maybe come back with a question? I'm really sorry, dear 😖🥺

I'm sorry but Camila can't stop anything, dear Anon. Not Camila, not Roger, and not even Shoo. I understand your frustration, believe me, I do, but you, and anyone else to which this is still not clear, need to understand that it's a contract. A contract called a relationship contract, and it's a legally binding document. I know it's hard, but the advice I can give you is to ignore the 12-year-old SS and their fantasies, and wait for it to finish without wasting your energy on the bullshit they say. Don't let them get to you and unleash your anger. You make them win this way. Rather, have a laugh at their ignorance.

Hey dear Anon, I'm good, thanks, and I hope you're doing well too 😊 They broke up for a little while, for about a month before, so more than a breakup I would call it a little break. And to answer the rest of your questions, dear, I'll sum it all up by telling you that when they're not together, or they're on a break, they have a different way of acting than when they're together. And I speak in general. It shows in the way they behave in general. Now it's much harder to see since they're no longer in the group and you could clearly see when it happened, and it’s also hard since the pandemic, but there are patterns. I’ve spent so much time analyzing them that they're quite predictable in my eyes 🤣 Forgive me if I'm not going into details, but these are personal observations that not everyone can agree on, you know? Maybe I'll do it in the future, who knows 🤷🏻‍♀‍ We'll see 😉 Have a good day/night too 😄

Hello to you too, dear Anon 👋🏼 and thank you very much 😄 and yes, of course. To answer the rest of your questions, I'll summarize everything by telling you that you have to take into account that I entered the fandom at the Work from Home's time, so they were all just rumors to me initially. Camren themselves were just a rumor to me. I had to search, analyze, and find the proofs on my own to prove to myself which ones were true or not. The first example that comes to mind and that I can give you is the kiss in the van in London that I recently explained in my ‘Inauguration’ post.

I'm sorry you think this way, dear Anon. I honestly think she doesn't even know. She has said many times that she tries to stay away from social media, and I really believe that. She did it before already, but I'm convinced that she does that even more since she was going through that bad time and she was about to give it all up. Besides, it's known that she doesn't manage her accounts, just as it's known that she doesn't even control how they’re used I would say 90% of the time. I don't know if she'll find out and eventually will say something about it. We don't even know if she has the freedom to do so. So, I'm really sorry you're making a decision based on something she didn't do.

Hey to you too, dear Anon 😄 Yeah, it's nothing new. I'd already debunked the whole Laucy story with my very first post (https://fa-by.tumblr.com/post/648191757219250176/there-is-a-light-at-the-end-of-the-tunnel), so as far as I'm concerned, she can say what she wants in future podcasts/interviews as well, but she'll never be able to convince me that she's not actually talking about Camila. This was simply a much more chill, fun, with no tears, and no mention of Camila repetition. The first podcast served to plant the seed. We know that Lucy is her main narrative and we know that she will continue to use her for a very long time. I mean, it’s convenient for her. It's the perfect cover for our Mila. But if people want to keep believing they (Laucy) were real, that's honestly their problem 🤣 Let them be convinced of their beliefs, dear, and have a laugh 😉

Hello to you too, dear Anon 👋🏼😄 Here's the thing……… Yes, to everything you said 🤣 but let me explain why.

1&2) Yes, Laur is like ‘part’ of their contract but for simple narrative, as you yourself said too. If that's why, so are 5H and all the rest of the people who are or have been involved with them. I'll give you an example. You know the bullshit they said about the Austin Mahone tour? That Sunsilk was always isolated in his bus playing guitar? That no one spoke to him outside of Camila when there are actually plenty of videos showing him spending time with the rest of 5H and the other people on the tour too? Certainly none of those people can call him out on that bullshit today and say it wasn't true. They'd blow his cover. They'd make him not credible in the general public's eyes. So everyone needs to be quiet for what they know (that's how it works in that world for every damn thing), and that's Lauren's involvement in their PR. Be quiet. Be quiet and go along with the game. Just as Camila had to during hers with Tymbal.

3) They have to, dear, or all the farces told so far would go to shit for the GP too. 4) 100%, dear Anon, 100% 😏😉 but it must also be said that they'll remain connected forever anyway because of the group.

Hello to you too, dear Anon 👋🏼😄 Welcome and thank you very much 🤗

1) Everything she's been doing lately leads us to think that the first single for the EP will arrive shortly. I think and hope it will arrive for the summer, but as far as the actual EP is concerned, it will depend on the release of the single. So if the single is out this summer, it's very likely that the EP will follow its course by arriving towards the beginning of autumn. We'll see, dear, we'll see 🤞🏼 🤞🏼 🤞🏼

2) I know that many people get upset and that they're disappointed, and while I too would like her to interact with us more, I also know and understand that it's not just up to her. Although she's much but much freer than before, she still has contracts, people, and patterns to follow.

Take it from someone who's waiting for Rihanna's new album for 5 years 😅🤣 It takes patience, and I have a lot of patience, dear. I fall into the category of those who don't mind waiting simply because I'll always support Lauren.

People forget this: we have to consider ourselves lucky that after what she went through, she decided to pursue with music.

If you love her, if you stan her, then be patient. Stay metaphorically speaking by her side no matter what. That’s what I think, dear Anon.

Do you mean the first breakup they had that lasted from late November 2014 to late December/very first days of January 2015, or do you mean the bad one that took place in October 2015? But in any case, both of your questions rejoin only one event, dear Anon: the real breakup of the group that happened in mid-October 2015. But answering you more specifically:

1) You can see with your own eyes the videos of the interviews of that period by starting with this one https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9WqOb9qBQ_M&t=11s.

2) Camila’s unofficial departure from the group at the time was the icing on the cake, but you have to consider a lot of things, dear. The fact that they were young. The fact that they were in the spotlight and were being monitored by both fans and management. The fact that they had those same people controlling them and telling them what to do all the time. The fact that they were constantly under pressure. The fact that they couldn't be together freely as a couple. The fact that they were forced to pretend they didn't love each other. The fact that they were forced to do PRs, despite being much lighter than now. I could go on with the list, dear Anon, but I think you get the point. It's a lot of stress and a lot to digest, especially considering how young they were and the environment around them.

Have a nice day too, dear 😄

Of course I can answer you, dear Anon 😊 So, in my opinion, and always keep in mind that I could be wrong, she told every person in her clique at different times. I think Mila knew about her attraction to girls back in school, but she didn't say anything to anyone because she didn't have a reason to. In the sense that she hasn't had the opportunity to approach another girl and therefore have a reason to tell someone about her queerness. After her first kiss with Lauren on New Year's Eve, I'm willing to bet that the first person she came out to was her mom. Camila's number one best friend is and always has been Sinu, so I can feel it in my bones that she was the first one to know. Oh and, we're in early 2013 here, so Mila was still 15.

After Sinu, there were the girls (DNA) who obviously lived their story with them step by step and therefore I don't think it was a real coming out with them, and her best friends back at home, Sandra and Marielle Guzman (and maybe also Mariana Luna since she was the other one with whom she was very close immediately after the two sisters, but I'm not very convinced of it), and Jenny Runza, who despite being a little younger than Sinu, Mila has always regarded as one of her best friends.

In 2014, when Camren were official, there were more confirmations that led to her automatic coming out with the rest of her clique's friends since the word Camren had already spread around like wildfire for almost two years by then.

At the beginning of 2015, it was the moment when Laur came out to her family, so I strongly believe that that was also Alejandro's moment, although I'm convinced that like the Jaureguis, Ale knew about his daughter all along and that he was even more convinced at X-Factor. Sofi was last on the list simply for a matter of age and I'm talking about 2017. I can't tell you when she told her grandpas. I don't even know if she could have told Norberto because I don't know the kind of relationship she has with him, but Mercedes? Well, abuelita certainly knew this before 2018 because I laugh when I think about the way she looked and talked with Mattress during their PR.

It's not that simple, dear Anon. You're not considering the fact that they didn't communicate during that time. You're dwelling on only one thing and are not looking at the big picture of their relationship at the time. Okay. Let's do something. Picture a scenario that has nothing to do with Camren.

Picture a couple living together. A couple who often quarrel over even the most trivial things or who don't talk at all because they almost avoid each other. Their relationship is very unstable and they're basically at the end of it. Now picture a conversation between this couple in which the only exchanges spoken in a normal way are by then just daily information such as: “I'll be at work from 8 to 4” - “Okay. Will you come home right after?” - “Yeah, I think so” - and then that person comes home at 6 pm despite the worried calls and messages received.

They're so distant that the person who came home late didn't feel compelled to pick up the phone and tell them about the delay. Probably that person didn't even feel compelled to give an explanation and justify the delay once they got home because they're convinced that their partner doesn't really care and that they're just looking for yet another excuse to argue. That person will have felt even more trapped and suffocated by their partner who was really worried instead, but neither of them tells the other the truth because they're too busy arguing and blaming each other instead of meeting each other halfway and really talking about what they feel and makes them vulnerable. They will surely end up in bed with their backs to each other without saying a word to each other after the fight.

Now look at these phrases from the song itself and put Camren's faces in place of the couple in the example: “With no confrontation, I really wish we could talk about it instead” – “All I need from your side is for you to communicate”. Is it easier for you to understand the dynamic now, dear?

Hello to you too @camilalauren0327 👋🏼😄 [why can't I ever tag you in posts?]

No, no, no, dear. None of this happens. So. I'd like to start by saying that OCD begins when people misunderstand their own thoughts. We've all had unwelcome and intrusive thoughts at least once in our lives, right? Well, the importance of those thoughts becomes much more intense or sometimes even extreme for people with obsessive-compulsive disorder. Like, I'll give you a stupid example, okay?

Most of the time I park, I lock the car, and after I’ve taken a couple of steps, I ask myself: “Ma ho chiuso la macchina?” / “Did I lock the car?”. So, I turn around and lock it again with the keys' remote control even though I've already done it, but I do that anyway to be sure and because maybe I really didn't do it because it happened for real. Now. What would a person with OCD do? Most likely they would do like me, and after getting halfway, they would go back again to close it AGAIN. They would do it a couple of times, and most likely, they would do it a third time after they got home. They would leave the house to go lock the car they've already locked five times.

OCD can begin in adolescence, early adulthood, or even childhood. The onset of obsessive-compulsive disorder is typically gradual, but in some cases, it can begin suddenly. Symptoms vary in severity from time to time and this variation may be related to the occurrence of stressful events. Now. Doesn't all this rings a bell for you? No? Okay, let me explain. I'll copy a piece of my ‘Camren Timeline (Tittle edited)’ post for you: “Camila suffers from one of the variants of OCD since she was 8, and despite seeing a therapist since 2013, her OCD was diagnosed at the end of 2015. C also suffers from anxiety, panic attacks, mood disorders, and depression (all linked to her OCD).”

Why did she start suffering from it at the age of 8? Because little Mila moved back and forth between Havana and Mexico City until she was 5, almost 6, right? After that, she moved to Miami with her mom by leaving behind her family, her friends, basically everything she knew, and her dad. Her dad finally managed to rejoin them almost two years later when she was almost 8 years old. Although she had her family with her again, her little mind didn't relax. It didn’t bring peace to her. In fact, that sprang her first OCD symptoms, which gradually worsened and then fully erupted years later in the group.

What triggers OCD? Stressful life events.

Got it now? Were you able to put the pieces together, dear? I've also answered other questions on the same topic here if it may interest you: https://fa-by.tumblr.com/post/648194918161989633/%C9%9F.

Hello to you too, dear Anon 👋🏼😄 Don't worry, nobody’s asked me to do it yet.

So, as I think we all know, The Boy was originally titled Care About Me. Ed Sheeran wrote it and gave it to Mila for her self-titled album Camila. Mila almost completely rewrote it (Ed said 90% of it) and lastly discarded it because it didn't fit well with the rest of the songs on the album, and I totally understand that.

Intro:

“Yeah, he's messed up a couple times

But he's my glass of cherry wine

And I drink and I drink 'til I'm drunk off of him

I'm in love

(Ash:) He just hit me up to come over

He said what?”

So. The song begins with Mila trying to justify the boy by saying that even though he made mistakes, she's so into him to get past it. I know she used terms like drunk off of him and in love, but she doesn't mean that she's actually in love with him in this case. Just very into him. She's jokingly explaining the situation because she's talking to Ashlee, her friend, and I don't know about you, but my friends and I often use the term in love to make people laugh and to indicate interest in someone.

Like if we see someone for the first time and they're really hot, or if one of the celebrities we like posts like a selfie, we say “I'm in love”. Or, like, another kind of example: one of my best friends has been dating this guy for a few months, and last week he surprised her with some flowers (which he paid very much by the way) and with dinner just because. Hearing her happiness since she has always had only assholes so far, when she finished telling me everything, I made fun of her by laughing and saying: “Lost in love, huh?”. Not because she's actually in love with him, but because it was such a nice thing and she's into him.

So Mila used those phrases to indicate how much she liked him and not because she was actually in love. Also because if she had really been in love with him, she wouldn't have said she didn't care about him for the rest of the song.

Then ‘Ash’ receives the text, and this leads us to understand that the boy is a player and a cheater.

Verse 1:

“Momma said, ‘Always be kind, girl’ (Girl, what's on your mind?)

But I got something I should say (Say it, girl), uh

Boy, I'm sick and done and tired (There's something on my mind)

I'm not yours to manipulate, uh-huh (Tell him girl, tell hi)”

It explains itself quite well. She can't take it anymore.

Pre-Chorus:

“Oh boy, hold your tongue, I don't want no 'pology

‘Cause we both know you're thinking wit' was under your jeans”

Mila tells him not to waste his breath on justifications derived from his member because she doesn't need them. Tsk, Tsk. Typical male behavior. 80% of their thoughts are formulated based on how and where to put their tool in 🙄

“Sent your friends over to tell them you're missing me”

He even sends his friends to her to try to change her mind, but:

“But I don't care, so tell that boy that I am fine”

But she doesn't care. She doesn't care because she's fine this way. In fact, she's better off without him.

Chorus:

“I don't care about the day he decided to leave

I won't be there when he tells another lie so”

This makes us understand how many times she's had to forgive his bullshit.

“I'm gon' use all of my words for weapons”

We know how lethal words can be.

“'Cause the boy don't care about me, lemme say it again, now, babe

I don't care about the way he thinks it's so sweet (Ah)

All that sugar cone gon' be bad for me tomorrow (Ah)”

He can try to kiss her ass as much as he wants, but she won't change her mind. Talking sweet to try to win her back doesn't work because she doesn't want to deal with a player who lies to her and messes up every time.

“I'm gon' use all of my words for weapons

'Cause the boy don't care about me”

He doesn't really care about her, so it's even useless to her that he tries to fix it.

Verse 2:

“All my girls inside the place now (Say we don't need no man)

No wonder we switch sides sometimes (We got this)”

Camilita, Camilita, Camilita 😏 No wonder many girls prefer other girls, huh?

Switching sides can mean switching sides in the true sense of the word, that is for example going from one side of a room to the other. It can mean changing your mind about something or someone. And, most interesting of all in this case, it can mean switching sides in sexual orientation.

I've said many times that she's a fucking genius, and we know how sneaky she is with her songs. She was really smart at using this hidden meaning because a lot of people took it for granted that she meant the meaning of changing her mind since we girls have this nomination about often changing our minds about something.

“Wipe that good look off your face (Say we got better plans)

Ooh, you better not act surprised (For real)”

Exactly. What would be the point? A lot of guys do that 🙄

Bridge:

“Oh, oh, don't care about me

That's fine with me, babe

You don't care about me

And that's fine with me

Fine with me, fine with me (Don't care about)

It is what I need, oh (That's fine with)

Don't care about, care about

Care about, care about me, oh”

She's fine with it simply because she doesn't care about him either.

Outro:

(Ash:) “Girl, that's old, we're done with that”

Yep. She's definitely done with that/him.

And this is my interpretation, dear Anon 😄 In my opinion, if this song really ended up on the self-titled, it would've been used to give yet another proof of her light, old PR with Michael. People were supposed to remember her last, sure, Jan, flame before meeting the love guru Matrix. It was supposed to be like: “Hey, hey, guys, I'm straight, look! I was with a boy and now with another grandpa one!”.

It's just a different version of the Cinderella song for me: she doesn't need a guy in her life. Don't wrap your head around it too much, dear Anon. There's no deep meaning behind it at all. After all, this song was given to her by her idol, and she certainly couldn't refuse. She changed it in a sassy and fun way, she saw that she couldn't fit it with the others because it wouldn't have made sense, and she then discarded it. The end. She was like: it was funny, but I actually have a story to tell. Bye-bye.

Have a good day too, dear ❤️

Hello to you too, dear Anon 👋🏼😄 and yes of course I can do both, but for what purpose am I supposed to do All Again? I mean, I can give you my interpretation of that song without any problem, but it wasn't written by them. By none of them five. That's why I'm asking you for what purpose am I supposed to do that. And that should answer your second question as well. Like No Way and many other songs, the girls may have related to them, but they didn't write them. The only songs they wrote, and not alone but with other songwriters, are:

- Me & My Girls, Don't Wanna Dance Alone, and Who Are You for Better Together,

- All in My Head (Flex) for 7/27,

- and for the self-titled album we have Sauced Up: Arlen (+ other songwriters), Make You Mad: Normally (+ other songwriters), Lonely Night: Norminah (+ other songwriters), Messy: Normally (+ other songwriters), and Bridget: Alren (+ other songwriters).

It's like you ask me to give you my interpretation on for example Who Are You. I could do it without a problem, but that song was written by 8 different heads. With the exception of the bridge that we know Lauren wrote, I can't tell you who among Camila, Dinah, Normani, Ally, Julian Bunetta, PJ Bianco, and Nasri Atweh wrote which part. Analyzing a song sung by a single artist/songwriter is completely different because the idea and concept and feelings are based on a single person. The songwriters who co-write the song together with the artist adapt to them, or maybe the idea comes to one of them, but they modify the concept together with the artist based on their personal experience, as happened for example with Consequences.

Now that you know all this, do you still want me to analyze All Again? Let me know 😄

Let's move on to More Than That.

Lauren wrote four songs in 2016, two of them were meant to be for someone else, but one of them, as we all know well, she kept it to herself. She decided to keep More Than That to herself once she modified the original lyrics along with Prince Charlez and SoundzFire, aka Hue Wayne Strother.

Intro:

“M-M-M-Murda”

This small part of the initial effect intro we hear, is simply a shoutout to Murda Beatz, one of the two producers of the song.

Verse 1:

“I see you watching so I walked into your stare

'Cause I ain't in the position to be walking over there”

She's not in the position to go there simply because she's taken, but she likes to be watched. She likes the attention she's receiving, so she puts herself in plain sight so that this person can keep looking at her.

“I got a situation, I can tell you wanna know”

This guy must have wondered: ‘Why if she's looking back at me, then she won't approach me? Is she someone who likes playing hard to get? Is she a teasing sort? Is she waiting for me to go to her? Or maybe she's in a relationship?’ Typical questions you ask yourself in that situation, and Laur summarized them all in one simple sentence.

“How you can take an honest girl and turn her to a …

If I'ma take a gamble, then you better come correct

I need more than them diamonds that you got around your neck

Shit, anybody can flex, my baby do it best

If you come with somethin' better, then we might just take it there”

The stare, the fact that this guy has the money (diamond necklace), the physical appearance, are not enough for her to push her to cheat. Because if she has to take the risk of cheating, these are certainly not the things that would drive her to do it, but she could if he had something better to offer her. [And with that, please keep in mind that Lauren is a very loyal person and that she wouldn't have done it even if this guy had gone with something better]

Pre-Chrous:

“I know I ain't right for tempting you

But I just wanna see what you would do

If I gave you a taste of what I do

Just remember that I don't belong to you”

The fact that she returned his gaze, that she spoke to him and gave him just a little taste, doesn't mean that she’s no longer taken. As I said before, she likes the attention, and although she knows that it's wrong to instigate him, she does it anyway because she's playing with him. “It's kind of more like clowning him” as she said herself.

Chrous:

“You gon' have to come stronger than this liquor

Wanna take me home, better be more convincing

It'll take more than that to get to me

More than that to get your way

Boy, you better come stronger than this liquor

Wanna take me home, better be more convincing

It'll take more than that to get to me

More than that to get your way

I'm stronger than this liquor”

During the approach in which the guy tried to ‘take her home’ for the night, Lauren easily manages to reject him despite being drunk, because her loyalty is stronger than the attraction she may have felt for him and certainly stronger than what she was drinking.

Verse 2:

“If my man notice, there’ll be some issues”

🤣 🤣 🤣 🤣 🤣 🤣 🤣

I'm sorry but every time I listen to this part I can literally picture Camila turning into the Incredible Hulk as we've seen many times. And shit, despite her being tiny, Mila can be scary when she's pissed off.

“But take my number down, I just might hit you

No, I'm just playing, I'm so deep in love

But the way you talkin' might just have me actin' up”

Drunken thoughts mixed with attraction/arousal blocked by common sense and loyalty.

“The way you looking at me, boy, I know what's up

I can feel how you feel without even a touch”

Let's not fool ourselves, guys. You too will have felt when a person is ready to jump your bones. To feel it in the air. To perceive it from the way they look at you, talk to you, and yes, even using excuses to innocently touch for example your arm even if the intentions are far from innocent. These kinds of things, whether you're in a relationship or not, whether you're loyal or not, and especially if you're attracted to the person in question, make you feel appreciated. They make you feel good. But:

“But don't think that's gon' make me give it up

Boy, your time is up”

But that doesn't mean, however, that you take action on it. It doesn't mean you give in to temptation. It was nice, but no thanks. Bye-bye.

Outro:

“It'll take more”

It takes more than good looks, money, and fake, shiny people from L.A.

And that's it, dear Anon 🙃 This is just a funny song about a situation that happened in a club, in which Lauren shows her flirtatious side but also her loyal side. It wasn't that good for her image, but I have an explanation for that as well.

Remember how I initially said that Lauren wrote this song to give it to someone else and then decided to keep it for herself after modifying the original lyrics? Well, in my opinion, she ‘decided to keep it’ and was even chosen as a single, simply for the narrative. It was chosen to go along with the fake love square cheating bullshit [Lauren and Ty who cheated on Lucy and Alycia to be together]. People should have believed even more that Lauren was a person capable of cheating, and this song served the purpose.

🤸🏻‍♀‍🤸🏻‍♀‍🤸🏻‍♀‍

Aaand I'm done 😜 I hope I was helpful in this case too 😄 Thank you all for your asks and as usual, know that I'm available for those who have questions, so feel free to ask 😊

Always remember to be kind, to others and to yourselves. Be a good example. Be patient. Be safe and take care of yourselves. Don't let our ship sink. Keep shipping them, but please respectfully 🙏🏼 Sending you virtual love and hugs 🤗🤗🤗 I love you, babies. Always with love, F ❤️

[monstersandmaw]

Non-binary lich x reader (nsfw)

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

This has been up on Patreon for a week now on early release. New stories for Tumblr go up on Wednesdays at the moment and are available there for a whole week before they hit Tumblr, so if you want to have access to the next one (it just went up), make sure you’re on the $5 tier. I’d love to have you as the newest member of the Patreon supporters!

Anyway, contents: It's 7688 words long, features a non-binary, skeletal lich, is set in a fantasy setting, and I don't think it comes with any warnings. Looking forward to your reaction!! 

“So, you’re the new librarian…”

The softly rasping voice behind you startled the life out of you, and you dropped the three-volume stack onto the thick, oak table with an undignified squawk. The boom rang out through the castle library and one or two scholars shot glares at you over the top of their research. Turning, you found yourself face to face with a moving skeleton and your eyes widened even further.

Wearing a long, unadorned, shapeless, black robe with the hood pulled right up over the bare ivory of the skull, the figure had a glowing green light in their eye sockets and one of their teeth had been replaced at some point by a silver prosthetic. More than that, you couldn’t say, but it was apparent that their entire body was just a humanoid skeleton beneath the billowing robes.

And then the penny dropped. “Oh!” you gasped, straightening a little. “You’re… You’re Avery… the court mage…” How many liches could one royal castle have after all?

They dipped their head in a curt bow. “Indeed.”

“I’m sorry, I just… wasn’t expecting…”

Another little bow. “It’s quite alright. I realise that meeting a someone like me for the first time can be somewhat… unnerving.”

You opened your mouth to counter them, but realised it was actually true, and just nodded. “How can I help you anyway?” you asked instead.

They seemed to appreciate the segue into safer waters, and told you the name of the tome they were looking for. “It’s essentially a compendium of plants and fungi that grow only on the fringes of Silver Perch Lake in Aragantia,” they added. “A somewhat… specialised catalogue, I’m aware.”

With a nod, you headed to the vast catalogue system and in almost no time at all, especially given how new you were to the post, you and the court mage were walking silently through the shelves of the royal library in search of the book’s location. Avery made no attempt to talk to you, and you assumed they preferred it that way. After all, you supposed, what could a humble librarian have to say to a necromancer and a mage as powerful as them anyway? In your relatively limited experience of mages, they tended to look down on anyone not powerful or supposedly intelligent enough to wield magic.

As you proceeded further and further into the dark stacks, the light dwindled to almost nothing, and in that moment you cursed the innate flammability of paper and parchment, longing for a lamp of sorts.

Slowing, and trying not to fumble, you squinted and ran your fingertips along the shelves to keep a straight course. During your interview for the position, you’d been told about the glowing crystals that the team of three librarians had access to, but apparently you were still too junior to warrant their secrets yet. It had not been expected, it seemed, that someone as important as Avery would require your assistance. Re-shelving returns in the main library was all you’d done so far in your short tenure after all.

“Here,” the lich said from behind you, the word spoken aloud making you jump all over again, and a moment later, a flickering ball of blue light wafted past you to float a pace or two in front of you. It moved when you did, bobbing slowly.

“Handy,” you grinned back at them over your shoulder. “Thanks.”

In the eerie pulsing light, the dark sockets of their skull and the smooth bone looked almost frightening, but you reminded yourself that this was not an old haunted castle from a horror story, and was in fact the hub of a great trading network whose machinations were aided by the work of the court mage, who also just happened to be a lich and, by extension, a necromancer.

With no expression at all to offer you comfort or reassurance, Avery just lowered their gaze and waited for you to move on again.

The book was right where it should have been - thank all the library gods - and once their skeletal hands had taken it reverently from you, little bones clicking softly as they shifted, Avery turned and left you in the stacks with a short ‘thank you’, the light light for company, and a thousand questions buzzing around your head.

Naturally, the first place you went after that was the section on liches and phylacteries, and there you lost yourself for well over an hour.

After that, the court mage found their way back to the library almost every time you were on duty. To your surprise, they were actually quite chatty, answering your tentative questions about their research with long and interesting answers, leafing through the book they’d just taken out to show you a diagram or ritual, constellation, or phase of the moon, and relaying its relevance to their work at the time without reserve.

“I’d always thought mages were secretive about their work,” you ventured one afternoon as sunlight flooded into the open study room at the back of the library where Avery had set up camp for the afternoon.

At your words, they looked up, an oddly tense and intrigued set to their head and you got the impression that, had they had the body to go with the bones, they might have been smiling curiously. “Why do you say that?”

“Well,” you began, feeling a little warm under the collar. Their close scrutiny made you shuffle and turn a little away from them to lessen it. “At the university, your lot always kept to themselves, you know? And no one else was allowed in their section of the library without a mage escort and a note of recommendation from about fifteen different tutors… I got it eventually, of course —”

“— of course,” they interrupted with a wry smile in their voice.

Their tone may have been light and joking, but it carried the weight of enormous respect too, and you choked for a moment before babbling on again. “I’m not suggesting that anyone should just go in and help themselves to dangerous magical texts, don’t get me wrong… It was just… frustrating to be treated like that, that’s all.”

You turned to find them still regarding you with that birdlike curiosity and for a moment you forgot that they were little more than an immense reserve of magic holding together a stack of humanoid bones and wearing a dark robe. It might have been comical to see them that way, but honestly, in that moment, their blazing intelligence and slightly off-the-wall humour endeared you towards them even more. It wouldn’t have been a secret to suggest you had the beginnings of an almighty crush forming. If you didn’t beat it back soon, it would become unwieldy and unmanageable, and it wouldn’t end well for either of you. A member of the castle staff you might have been, but the court mage was one of the most powerful figures in the entire kingdom, and not meant for the likes of you.

And anyway, who was to say that there was anything about you to interest them anyway? The whole point of becoming a lich was to strip away all earthly connections save for the absolute fundamentals - the skeleton - and become an entity largely made of magic, the better to channel it. There were, you had to admit, one or two cases of liches binding themselves to living lovers, and accounts detailing the fierceness and loyalty of those rare unions had left you breathless as you’d scoured the volumes on liches all those weeks ago, but you couldn’t assume that Avery would be such a person after all.

If they had given a reply, you didn’t hear it behind the buzzing, rushing disappointment in your ears at that thought. Closing yourself off a little, you excused yourself politely and returned to your duties in the library beyond, leaving them alone in the study room. After all, Avery still had to figure out a way to harness the power of the sea itself in order to reduce the risk to life of those currently engaged in preparations to dredge and deepen the large trading harbour along the coast. Such complex calculations were hardly in the realm of a librarian.

About a week later, as you sat in the servant’s parlour one afternoon, where most of the castle staff gathered during their time off, a bookish young satyr, with curly, ash blond hair and contrastingly dark brown skin and horns, the stoop of a scholar, and a pair of round, gold-rimmed glasses sliding down his nose, approached and asked for you by name in a warm, stutter-laced tenor.

“Yeah, that’s me…” you said, turning from your conversation with one of the naga guards. “What’s up?”

“Y-Y-You’re the llll… the lllll…” the words just died on his tongue or stuck there like treacle, refusing to leave one syllable and move onto the next, but he took a breath and on the exhale said, “Librarian…?”

“I am,” you said. “If you need something from the stacks though, I think Timothy is on duty today.”

He nodded. “I… I know. Avery… sss-sssent me to… to llll… to lllllook for you. They’d llllike you to… to… to…” At the repetition, his cheeks flushed a bit, but you waited him out and he rallied. “To attend them in their t-t-t-tower to c-c-consult on something.”

“Oh. Really? What… now?” you asked and the satyr nodded. He had a flighty, twitchy energy to him, but his features were kind and open and you decided immediately that you liked him. You turned back to the naga with whom you’d been sharing tea and easy conversation, and shrugged. “Guess I’ve been summoned. See you later.”

She nodded and hissed, “Good luck…” at you and you followed the young scholar out of the parlour. His large hooves clopped conspicuously on the stone of the passageways and he set quite the pace for you to keep up with.

“Are you… like… Avery’s… assistant or something? I’m sorry, I don’t know the technical names…”

He nodded. “Name’s D-Devon,” he said as he ducked left through a doorway and held it open for you to follow. “Apprentice m-mmage and runec-c-caster.”

“Sweet,” you said, impressed. “I studied some very basic runes for another project a long time ago, but I’m not really magical in any way, so… I didn’t pursue it. Is it as complicated as I remember?”

He smiled sweetly and shrugged. “Varies…”

You smirked and said, “That sounds like you’re being modest and generous, but I’ll let it slide. What does Avery need from me anyway?”

With a soft chuckle, Devon pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose and shrugged, beginning to climb a tight, spiral staircase. “Nnnot sure. They’ve been di-di-distracted all morning.”

“Guess I’ll just have to find out. I’ve never been up to the mage’s tower.”

The staircase went on and on forever and you actually had to stop for breath twice, rather embarrassingly. Devon was fitter than his scholar’s physique suggested, but he didn’t comment. You supposed doing this every day would build up anyone’s cardiovascular system in no time. “The view had better be worth it,” you grunted as you started up the last stretch of spiral staircase, and Devon nodded.

“Oh, it is.”

“Thank all the gods,” you hissed.

The door to Avery’s study was open, letting light flood in from the room beyond. For some reason, you’d imagined it would be dark and intimidating, and possibly full of bats and spiderwebs and creepy cursed objects in display cabinets, but theirs was a chamber full of bright light and warm colours. Taking half a moment to catch your breath again, you paused on the threshold while Devon headed on inside with evident and easy familiarity to inform Avery that he’d found you.

“Ah wonderful,” came that papery voice from inside. As you heard it, you wondered how a skeleton - with no vocal cords - could produce sound, deciding to chalk it up to magic and move on. “Thank you, Devon. Would you mind running over the plans for the layline ritual one more time while we have a quick chat?”

“Nnnnot at all,” Devon smiled, and disappeared into another room out of sight.

The delicate tread of footsteps on the bare floorboards announced Avery’s approach, and you stepped inside, not wanting to be seen to be lurking nervously. “Hi,” you breathed, still a tiny bit winded, as they moved into view around the huge trestle table that occupied the centre of the room. It was littered with books and pieces of velum, scrolls, and ancient clay tablets, all stacked at frankly alarming and precarious angles.

“Hello,” Avery said with a real warmth in their voice. You could hear the smile, even if they had no lips to form the gesture. “I apologise for making you come all the way up here. I realise it’s a long way from your usual quarters and duties.”

It was true - the library was in an entirely different wing of the rambling old citadel, and your sleeping quarters were again on the far side of that from the tower.

You shrugged. “It’s nice to see a new bit of the castle, I suppose.”

They tilted their head, the movement almost birdlike. “You haven’t seen all of it?” they asked.

You shook your head. “Only the bits I need to. Besides, I’ve only been here a couple of months now.” And in that time, you’d seen Avery almost every day at your library desk. “What did you need me for?” you asked with no small degree of incredulity in your voice.

With a little chuckle that honestly sounded a little nervous, Avery turned to a small writing desk that was tucked up against the stone wall beside a window with a spectacular view. They picked up a scroll and undid the ribbon that held it together, and you found your eyes fascinated by the tiny finger bones of their hands. You wondered what they’d feel like against your skin and flushed hot again, unable to look Avery in the face.  

“This is a copy of an inscription that was found in a tomb just north west of here, and while I am familiar with the writing system used, I cannot crack the meaning of it. I’m sure it’s right there, but… I wondered, since you mentioned you’d studied the Early Peoples, if you might take a look at it for me?”

You blinked. “You can’t read it?”

“I can read it,” they said, “But I don’t understand the words. I know the symbols upon which the language is based, but not the language itself.”

“I thought there was nothing you didn’t know,” you murmured fondly as you stepped over and took the parchment from their extraordinarily delicate looking hand. The urge to touch grew once more almost overwhelming.

A soft snort of laughter almost in your ear sent shivers down your whole right side, the skin prickling into goosebumps. “Please,” they scoffed good-naturedly. “Besides, if I knew everything already, I wouldn’t need to make such frequent trips to the library, would I?”

“And here I thought you were coming all the way down there just to visit me,” you quipped self-effacingly, turning your attention to the inscription and missing they way they went completely still before shaking their head ever so slightly.

It took longer than your pride might have liked for you to figure it all out, and you sent Avery scuttling about their office for three different dictionaries and half a dozen grammar tables before you were happy that you’d got it right. Devon had long ago excused himself for the evening, but you’d barely even noticed him leaving, though the murmur of their soft conversation had drifted around you for quite some time while you teased out a bit of odd grammar.

When you looked up at last, you found Avery standing alone by the window, bathed in the rosy light of sunset. The rich, warm rays made the black of their robes seem dull and almost drab - humble beyond what you’d have expected of a court mage with the coffers of the castle at their fingertips - and the angle of the light blazing into their face almost eclipsed the green, misty glow in their eye sockets. For just a moment, they almost looked like nothing more than an ordinary skeleton in an anatomy lab. When they felt your gaze on them, however, they turned - every bone animated and shifting fluidly, bone scraping with a soft, familiar whisper over bone.

They cocked their head again and you smiled. “All done, I think,” you said, standing from where you’d been hunched over the small, cluttered writing desk, and cracking the tension out of your neck with a grunt.

“Thank you,” they murmured. “I am indebted to you yet again, it would seem.”

You shrugged. “What’s it for anyway?” you asked. “I mean… I don’t really see how knowing that the sun will hit the back of the tomb on the winter solstice is of much use to anyone…”

They gave another little movement of their head that seemed like a pout to you, though you had only the bare skull to go from. “Honestly, I wasn’t sure. The tomb contained artefacts that thrummed with energy, so it would indicate that the Early Peoples had access to - and some degree of control over - magic too. Perhaps that date was of significance to them too. I will have to return to the site on the solstice to find out. Then we’ll know if it was of any ‘use’ as you say, or if it’s just interesting.”

“I see,” you said and your stomach chose that moment to growl at you like a spoiled house cat.

“Would… Would you like to stay here for some supper? I can have food brought up here to my chambers if you’ve missed out…” they said awkwardly, turning away from the window and back towards the central trestle table. As they moved the line of gilded sunlight slid from their delicate brow bones and plunged their skull into shadow again behind the hood. You’d never seen them without it raised. “It’s… later than I realised…”

“I’d have thought you could just magic some food up for me,” you grinned, honestly hoping it would disguise the fluttering nerves you felt at the thought of sharing a meal up here. Plus, their tone had gone inexplicably sad somehow.

They looked down at the table and said, “I could do that, of course, but transmuted food tastes awful, or… so I’ve been told. I don’t eat any more for… obvious reasons.”

“Do you miss it?” you blurted.

They stilled and trailed a bony fingertip across the wood. “Yes and no. I miss the pleasure that eating my favourite things brought me.”

“You still remember the taste…?”

Fixing you with a steady, if sidelong, look, they said, “I’m not that old, you know?”

“I…” you said and then stopped when they started laughing. “What?”

“I have to admit that I find it immensely entertaining any time someone assumes I’m a thousand years old. I’m not. I’m only thirty.”

“Thirty?” you gawped. “That’s… That’s so young to —” again, you cut yourself off before you said something truly insensitive, but Avery didn’t seem to mind.

“I’m used to it. And it is indeed young to have your physical form completely stripped bare in exchange for unfathomable magical power. It’s not a choice made lightly, and it’s not a choice that everyone would be prepared to make. It’s rare these days for someone to undergo it willingly.”

Horrified, you blinked at them. “Willingly? You mean it’s inflicted on people?”

They shrugged. “Rarely. It’s hard to control a person’s soul like that, but with the right runes on the phylactery, it can be done. Mercifully, that wasn’t the case with me though, and if you’re caught, the punishment is severe.”

“So… how does someone so young get the position of court mage?”

With another rasping laugh like dry autumn leaves, Avery said, “As opposed to someone so old and experienced, you mean?”

You shrugged, still kind of mute with surprise at the new revelation, and they laughed again. “Sorry.”

“I went to university with the princess. We became friends, and she saw what I could do. I was still an elf then though.”

“You’re… You’re an elf?”

“I’m a lich,” they corrected, “But yes, I was an elf when I was officially alive. Did my short stature and particularly fine wrist bones not give it away?” they joked self-deprecatingly, proffering their pale wrist towards you to examine.

When you actually reached out and touched them, however, a spark like static jumped between you and you both gasped.

“Excuse me,” they gasped, withdrawing their hand immediately. “I… That hasn’t happened in a long time.”

“What was it?” you asked, rubbing your fingertips and thumb together where the skin tingled. It hadn’t hurt, and it left your entire body tingling all over beneath the skin, and heat was rapidly pooling between your legs.

“My magic,” they said. “It’s usually not as forward and ill-mannered as that. I apologise if it startled you.”

“Forward? Ill-mannered?” you asked, amused and intrigued. “You say that like magic has a personality…”

“It does,” the lich sighed, the bones of their ribs creaking softly.

While, academically speaking, you knew what any elven skeleton looked like, you still ached to know the exact shape of Avery beneath the black robes that draped shapelessly over them; the exact way their bones fitted together; the exact colour; any breaks they’d sustained, leaving the evidence in their skeleton… “Alright, but why… ‘forward’?”

“And here I thought I was being terribly obvious,” they muttered.

“Obvious?”

A tilt of their head in your direction served perfectly as a rueful glance, the ardour behind it striking you in the chest with an alarmingly painful pang, and exactly as it occurred to you that you’d learned to read Avery pretty well by now, you also realised precisely what they’d been insinuating. “Oh…” you said, imbuing the sound with significance.

“Oh indeed,” they said bitterly. “Never mind. I quite understand that the attentions of a lich are not… not what everyone would aspire to after all… I apologise if… if I made you uncomfortable. I will not persist.”

“Wait, slow down,” you said, stepping forward suddenly and trying to catch their gaze with your eyes. It was hard to tell where they were really looking, given that all you had to go on was the rough direction of their head and the soft glow in their otherwise empty eye sockets, but when you got the impression that they were looking directly at you, you spoke up. “I’m sorry,” you began.

“Don’t be sorry,” they hissed, trying to turn away.

“No, wait, that’s not… that’s not what I meant!” Finding you had no choice, you reached out and latched onto their wrist. The bones beneath the long fabric of the sleeves felt so achingly fragile that you almost recoiled for fear of hurting them, but you made your fingers loosen just a fraction and stayed put. You needn’t have worried anyway; Avery was tethered and still at your touch in a heartbeat. “I mean, I am sorry, but I’m sorry for being dense, not that you… you know…”

“That I’ve been so poorly attempting to flirt with you for the last month?” they finished dryly.

“Now that I know, why don’t we start over…?” you said, releasing them and smiling hopefully.

Adopting a truly sarcastic pose and tone, they held out their skeletal hand and said nastily, “I’m Avery, I’m a lich, and I’m apparently an appallingly poor flirt.” The ugliness in their voice was not directed at you, however. Avery had turned it back on themselves and it galled you to hear someone so brilliant sound so defeated.

Unflinchingly, you took their hand and stared fiercely back at the lich who had become your friend in these first months at the castle, and perhaps something more. “I didn’t mean to start over that far back, but I’ll play your game.” You added your own name and profession, that you were human, and finished by saying, “And I’m very much open to being flirted with by you, however poorly you think you do it.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” Avery said, their thumb playing back and forth over your skin before promptly changing the subject. “You never did answer me about dinner though. Would you like to stay here and eat? Or would my not partaking make you uncomfortable?”

Sensing that they needed a moment’s diversion, you allowed them to skirt around the issue of being interested in you, and shook your head. “Dinner here with you sounds lovely. Plus the view is spectacular.”

“I knew it. You want me for my advantageous chambers,” they moaned, still deflecting defensively.

“I meant that there’s something to keep you occupied while you wait for me to finish, that’s all,” you huffed in response to their teasing. “But if the view bores you by now, I’m sure you could always read to me from some dusty old volume you’ve nicked from the library and neglected to return…”

“You wound me!” they said, placing both hands over their heart, or at least, where their heart would have been if they weren’t just a skeleton anymore. “Is there anything you don’t eat? Would you like wine?”

You shook your head. “No, I’m good with most things, as far as I know, and…” you bit your lip and then reluctantly admitted that actually a glass of wine might be really nice. Your salary was not so meagre that you couldn’t afford a drink or two in the local taverns, but you suspected a wine from the castle cellars might be a little more special.

Instead of ringing for a servant, Avery picked up a quill and a small piece of paper, and dictated their message aloud after a quick flick of their wrist had brought the quill to life. It skimmed across the page like a breeze-blown willow branch trailing through a pond, and as you watched, you wondered if that was what Avery’s handwriting looked like, or whether the script was a result of magic, or the quill itself. Either way, it was beautiful, and you suddenly thought of the rather romantic notion of having love letters penned to you in that hand…

Their voice turned more confident as they dictated the note to the quill. “I am entertaining a guest in my tower tonight. Please have a fine supper for one brought up to the mage’s tower at your earliest convenience, with a bottle of Aktissian red too, if you please.”

“Avery!” you gasped, recognising the quality of the wine purely from it’s location.

They shrugged and finished off the note with another brief gesture, and you watched as it disappeared with a little pop. “I like to dictate my messages in case the person on the other end cannot read. Not all of the castle staff have been blessed with our educations, after all. In such a case, it will read itself aloud.”

“That’s thoughtful of you,” you commented.

They shrugged. “It saves me sending Devon, or going myself and terrifying the wits out of the kitchen staff, or ringing for someone to trudge all the way up here, only to have to go back and return later…” It seemed odd to you now that Avery could be frightening to anyone, but you recalled your own unease at your first encounter, and merely smiled at them again.

Wherever the note had gone, it must have reached the right ears, because twenty minutes later, a knock sounded at Avery’s door and a castle servant entered with a large tray.

“Thank you so much,” Avery said as the half-orc set the meal down on the table.

“Anything else you need, mage?”

“No, that’s all, thank you.”

You chimed in with your own thanks and the servant left.

Avery waved a hand at the table where they’d cleared a space amid the chaos of stationary and books, and you sat yourself down. They lifted the lid of the silver cloche and revealed a beautiful supper that looked fit for the princess’ high table. Eyeing Avery, you caught a little glint in their glowing eye sockets, and you assumed that they were pleased too.

In fact, Avery did not read to you while you ate, but they did watch you rather intently. “You’re going to make me all self-conscious,” you muttered. “This is delicious though.”

“Would you rather I not watch you?”

“No,” you said honestly. “I’m just not used to such… intense attention…”

“You’re gorgeous,” they murmured awkwardly, voice rich and husky, as though their magic was crackling uncontrollably beneath the surface.

After a pause, during which you encouraged your heart to beat normally, and the poor organ took absolutely no heed of your pleas whatsoever, you said, “So are you…”

If Avery could have rolled their eyes, you were sure they would have. Instead, they just pressed their hands to the table and leaned back in their chair. “I’m just a pile of bones and magic now… I’m honestly surprised you permitted me the indulgence of courting you.”

“It’s not an indulgence, Avery. Well, maybe it is, but it’s an indulgence for me. Each visit you’ve paid to the library has left me in quite a state, I’ll have you know.”

The lich went still at that and then very slowly tilted their head to one side. “Oh?” they asked, voice dipping lower with obvious intrigue. “Care to explain that?”

With a half smile, you set down your cutlery on your empty plate and pushed back a little way from the table to make yourself more comfortable. Crossing your legs, you said archly, “Any time you come close to me, you leave me tingling all over. I don’t know if it’s your magic, or you, or what, but… When you were leaning over my shoulder back there —” you nodded over at the writing desk, memories of their right hand pressed to the wood as they peered over your shoulder at your progress, the heady scent of incense and ozone swirling around their robes, the particular timbre of their voice as they hummed in thoughtful understanding at your translation…

“Yes?” they prompted, voice cracking.

Heat coiled between your legs and in your lower body, slowly filling you with a warm, glowing sensation that shot up your spine and made your head spin. “I could hardly think,” you whispered. “It’s a miracle I finished the translation.”

The light in their eyes guttered and flickered before returning with a new, brighter intensity. Where before it had been a pale, pastel green, it now burned with a searingly hot blue.

“Avery?”

The lich sat there and stared at you before twitching their head and shoulders a little. “Forgive me. We… We probably shouldn’t move that quickly…”

You raised your eyebrows. “How quickly?”

“Quickly,” they said. “You deserve to be courted properly.”

“And what if I’m as impatient as you are?” you asked, heart pounding. Gods, you wanted whatever they had to give you and you wanted it now. You ached, inside and out. “It wouldn’t stop you from still ‘courting’ me if you wanted…”

Avery stood and then stalled. “I…” They growled softly in frustration and started again. “I am… I haven’t… not since…”

“Avery… I know what you are. I know what you must look like under that robe, and I still want you,” you said fiercely.

“Gods,” they hissed, turning to face you, eyes blazing blue.

“Your eyes?” you asked. “They’ve changed colour. Is that your magic?”

They nodded. “What… What would you like from me?”

“Touch me,” you said honestly.

“I can conjure… uh… a variety of physical… um… shapes…” they faltered awkwardly and your brain supplied the rest, but they raised one hand and you found that where the bones had been before, they now supported a ghostly hand. They turned it over to show you their palm and then flipped it over again. You could still see the bones through the spectral hand that moved like translucent, living glass.

You shook your head, “Come here,” you said, and they did.

You stood up and ignored their new spectral hand in favour of running one fingertip around the orbital bones of their skull. Avery shuddered, joints rattling audibly beneath the robes as it shivered down their whole skeleton.

“Can I kiss you?” you asked. “Could you create… a tongue for me?”

With a mute nod, looking stunned, Avery opened their jaw and you saw a glowing, green tongue inside, translucent and glistening.

Pressing your lips to their teeth felt odd at first, especially when the cool of that single silver tooth caught your lips, but when the tongue immediately lapped at your lips, begging entry, you forgot the strangeness of it. You came alive again beneath that kiss as Avery’s hands found their way to your waist and then up to the back of your head where they let their bony fingers snake through your hair before gripping you tightly and tugging until you pulled back with a gasp. Panting and dizzy you let Avery nip at your exposed neck, tongue occasionally laving at your skin, shockingly cool and leaving it tingling.

One of Avery’s hands palmed your groin questioningly and your knees nearly went out from beneath you. “Yes,” you gasped. “Oh gods, please… I want… touch me… please…”

Your chest heaved and you let them steer you back into your chair behind you. When you landed, they tenderly began to undo your waistband, and you lifted your hips to slide a little way free of your clothes. Avery’s eyes blazed as they stared at you, your arousal evident with your clothes around your ankles. “May I use this…?” they asked, opening their mouth to reveal that long, thick, prehensile tongue.

“Gods yes,” you blurted, lifting your hips weakly again. “Please… Avery… I need you…”

The lich knelt before you and hesitantly placed their skeletal hands on your thighs. Looking down at them, nestled between your legs, you felt like you could come just from that sight alone.

“I’m not going to last long,” you warned them, practically shivering with arousal. “Gods… Avery, you’re…” Whatever Avery was to you in that moment, you never got the chance to tell them.

The instant their tongue touched you, lapping teasingly at you to start with, magic and sensation roared through you, ripping along your nerves and wiping your mind blank of all but intense pleasure. The slickness of their conjured tongue, supple and almost like a tentacle as it pleasured you, and the coolness of the mouth behind, set against the firm, unyielding pressure of their bare bones digging into the muscle of your thighs hard enough that it would bruise, drove you to the quivering edge in minutes.

Your hands scrabbled helplessly at the arms of the chair, your hips bucked unbidden up into the sensations Avery was offering you, fire danced along your nerves, and your blood sang in your ears. “Avery!” you screamed in warning, and then, with one final flick and press of their tongue against your most sensitive spot, you shattered.

With your mind blank, vision dark, Avery tore your release from you and prolonged it, either with their magic or just by their presence, until you whimpered and slumped in the chair, limp and spent and ironically boneless.

Finally, after lingering just a little longer, Avery sat back on their heels and stared up at you, one hand still on your quivering thigh. “Beautiful,” they rasped. “Gods above and below, but you come so beautifully.”

“I’ve never… come like that,” you croaked, throat raw. Had you come so hard you’d made yourself hoarse?

Avery summoned a goblet of water from the table to their hand and stood. “Here,” they said.

You drank, and as you set the goblet shakily back on the table, you glanced at them and saw a glistening droplet slide down their exposed ankle bone and drip onto the floor. Seeing where your gaze had gone, they chuckled. “Am I expected to remain unaffected by what you just gave me?” they said archly as you did your own clothes up again, just enough not to be completely exposed any more.

“How…? What…?” You began, but then shook your head and leaned forwards. Tentatively, you reached out a hand for the front of their cross-over robes and unbuttoned them at the waist. Drawing the fabric slowly aside, you felt them tense, but you kept going and they permitted it.

As the final fitting came loose, the robes hung open like a coat and revealed their skeleton beneath. To your surprise, they were not merely an empty ribcage and spine, hollow pelvis and slender leg bones. Constantly swirling inside them like a mixture of phosphorescence and ink, was a kind of magical core. Like an entity all of its own, it pulsed and coiled, writhing with tendrils of light and darkness that played along their ribs and teased up their spine like ivy. “Gods, Avery, you’re stunning,” you murmured and looked up to find their face tilted downwards, regarding you carefully.

Your eyes roved down their body to their pelvis, where the phosphorescent light seemed to have coalesced, spiralling around their hip bone like swirling liquid in a glass and… dripping tangibly down their leg.

“Can I… touch it?” you asked and they nodded. There was a long drip of it running down their femur almost to the knee, so you brought your fingertip up and trailed it cautiously through the strange, glowing wetness. “Is it magic?” you asked as your finger went numb and then began to tingle rather enticingly. Gods, what would that feel like against your body… even… inside you? Now there was an unexpected thought.

“It’s… akin to… oh gods,” they hissed suddenly, their hand flying to your shoulder as you traced a circle through it on the very edge of their curving hipbone.

“Mmm?” you asked, not relenting but not moving anywhere else.

Struggling to form words, Avery tried again. “Akin to when a ghost becomes corporeal.”

“Your magic is coalescing like ectoplasm?”

“In a way, oh… oh… ohhhh,” they moaned, staggering as you moved further up the wide scoop of their hip bone towards their spine and back again. “I can’t… I can’t keep upright… if you do that again… I’ll fall… I…”

“You want to move somewhere else?” you asked and they nodded.

Turning and leading you unsteadily without a word towards a closed door that led off from the study, Avery showed you to their bedroom and then hesitated, as though unsure as to quite what you wanted with them now that you had then naked.

“Bed?” you asked and they nodded, encouraged.

The fact that they seemed to be waiting for you to balk and run stung, but it made you more determined than ever to show them pleasure. Especially since they’d apparently not been with anyone since becoming a lich.

“Tell me what you like best,” you said.

“Your touch,” they blurted immediately.

“Alright,” you said with a tiny laugh. That was a start. “Lie back then.”

They lay down on the dark green blankets of the neatly made bed, their robes pooling behind them like ink, and stared up at you as you followed and sank down beside them.

Watching that swirling magical core for a moment, you reached out and traced their wrist first, working up to their shoulder, and then to that ever-present smile on their bare skull. The light in their eyes now burned a softer blue, occasionally flaring to the intense cobalt you’d seen before when you skimmed a particularly sensitive spot, and their jaw worked as if they were panting and gasping but couldn’t summon the magic to make the sounds.

The storm of essence in their ribcage swirled and crackled, tiny forks of lightning dancing through the clouds where their heart would have been, and you watched their spine flex and arch. The bones of their hands clenched the sheets into balls and as you moved lower and lower down their enchanted body, you watched the phosphorescent light begin to condense again as it hit their bones, running down in thick, slow rivulets to pool in the fabric of their robes, leaving only glittering, darker patches behind.

“Where’s most intense?” you asked, assuming you knew already. The point where the two halves of their pelvis met at the centre proved to be extremely sensitive, and as you ran your finger around it, they lurched wildly, the magic in their chest flaring and sparking again. “There?”

“Yes,” they gasped.

The magic began to grow, solidify, and as you circled the cool bone of their lower pelvis, a long, thick tentacle of magic coiled out of it and wrapped around your hand. It was real and tangible, corporeal, and slick as sin. “Avery,” you moaned as it clenched tightly around your wrist like an octopus’ limb.

“Want you,” they said. In the next moment, the tentacle released you and coiled back on itself, creating a soft passage inside them. Taking advantage of this, you slid two fingers into the channel and crooked them against the solid wall of pulsing magic.

Avery yelled with pleasure, spine arching again like a bow at full draw, magic expanding out through their ribs like a storm cloud, unable to be contained. Pressing hard against their walls, you rubbed intense and tiny circles while the magic flared and reached for your hand in return.

Flowing back and forth like waves of the ocean, Avery’s pleasure enveloped you and you felt it in your own mind as suddenly and as keenly as if it were your own. Their magic was reaching out for you and you allowed the connection without hesitation.

“I’m so close,” Avery whimpered, body taut and thrumming.

“I can feel it,” you whispered.

At that, Avery chanted, “I’m… Oh gods, there, like that… I’m… I’m going to… I can’t hold back any more… I…”

“Come for me, Avery,” you begged, and they broke.

Tendrils of black shadow shot out from their body like vines, filling the corner of the room and staying there like webs, while the core of their magic pulsed and throbbed, blazing with blue light. Liquid magic rolled over your hand as they came and came, body undulating and heaving, jaw open wide in a rictus of pleasure. The sight of it was almost enough to make you come too, but instead you simply stared at the magic you’d brought out and the pleasure you’d wrought in them.

Eventually, the black tendrils evaporated into a fine mist and vanished altogether, and the cloud of roiling magic settled down again and retreated back within Avery’s ribcage. The phosphorescent magic lingered on your skin, however, and as you moved to lie down beside them, you slid your hand down the waistband of your clothes and touched yourself with it still on your skin.

Avery was barely able to turn their head to watch as you brought yourself to another blinding orgasm, but their fingertips brushed against your free wrist just as you neared your second peak and you tumbled over the edge with a grunt and their name on your lips.

In the aftermath, you both lay there for a long time before either of you moved. Swallowing, you turned to look at them and found that the light in their eyes had gone back to green again, though this time it was dark and almost imperceptible. “Avery? You alright?” you asked.

They hummed softly in response. “Tired,” they admitted. “That… That was a lot of magic. I didn’t expect…” they huffed a laugh.

“Did I hurt you?” you asked, horrified.

“No,” they smiled, gripping your fingers in theirs for a moment before they lost the strength and went limp. “Quite the contrary. But I’m spent, in more ways than one.”

“Sorry…?” you ventured and they laughed. “Can I stay?” you added.

“Of course,” they replied. “I’m right in the middle of the bed, aren’t I? Do you have enough room?”

“I could use a little more, but if I lie on my side, I can manage alright.”

“I can’t even lift a finger at the moment,” they admitted. “I’m sorry. If you need me to move, you’ll have to lift me yourself.”

The vulnerability they were offering you struck you deeply. “Alright,” you said. “You sure you don’t mind?”

The tiniest shake of their head was all they could muster.

Sliding your arm beneath their neck and your other behind their knees, you tentatively raised them and nearly gasped at how light they were.

As if sensing your surprise, Avery managed a dry chuckle. “Elf, remember? Bones of a bird…”

You set them back down on the further pillow and nestled in beside them. “Can I put my head on your shoulder?” you asked.

“It won’t be comfortable. Bring a cushion over…” they whispered, nodding at the other side of the room where a modest chaise longue, upholstered in what looked like silk, sat against the wall, adorned with a couple of dainty pillows. The sight made you smile for some reason, and you took the opportunity to clean up a little at a washstand in the corner of the room. When you returned with a cushion, you found that the light was completely extinguished from their skull.

The magic still swirled away inside their chest, and as you laid the pillow down on their shoulder and watched their core shifting lazily - contentedly - you found yourself following them into a blank and blissful sleep.

___

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[quickspinner]

The Truth Hurts

(I’m sorry I know that title is super unoriginal but it fits so well)

Spoilers for S4E1 Truth

Also not especially a fix it fic, more of an aftermath fic, so prepare for pain. 

I’m late but this is for the LBSC Sprint Challenge prompt  2. “So, if you are too tired to speak, sit next to me because I, too, am fluent in silence.” I actually only spent two sprints on this and then I thought I was done enough, but I did add quite a bit more trying to bring it to a satisfactory close. I think I still fit pretty closely to the time restraints plus editing though. Except I’m already a day late so the editing was not very heavy on this one. Hopefully I didn’t miss too many errors or word repetitions. 

Luka pain (sorry) and Couffaine sibling solidarity. Special apologies to @airi-p4 because I didn’t fix anything, I just made it worse.  😅

Warnings for Dad Pain and abandonment issues. 

He woke up numb. Which wasn’t a bad option, all things considered. 

Then he rolled over. And there was the face. Staring from his wall, like it had been for, what...seven years? 

The face of his father.

He wasn’t so numb anymore. Luka shoved the covers off of himself and sat up, staring at that face. 

For a few minutes last night, heartbroken and sick at everything that had happened, Luka had known what it was like to have a father. One who cared. Jagged had hugged him. Ankara’s hugs were tight and hard, but she still had a woman’s body, soft and curved, a little plump with age and childbearing. All Luka could think of as his father embraced him was how bony he was. The metal clink of Jagged’s jewelry was nothing like the quiet click of Anarka’s beaded bracelets, and his arms were thin, his body broad-shouldered but thin, without any of Anarka’s cushioning. Luka had never really spent time imagining what a father’s hug felt like, but it was different from a mother’s, and that was good enough for him at the moment.

It wasn’t as if he hadn’t needed a hug just then. Badly, in fact. 

It all felt like such a dream; something from a movie plot. His father, his idol, suddenly one person, and promising to write a song with Luka, it...it was overwhelming. It was like every little-boy daydream come true. 

But it wasn’t a dream, and Luka wasn’t a little boy anymore. So he wasn’t al that surprised when Jagged left.

Because he had a party to go to. 

Because he’d left his family long ago for a rich and famous rock star life, and he had never once looked back. 

I know how to turn feelings into an awesome song . 

Luka lunged up out of bed, turning over the pile of stuff at the end of his bed until he found his laptop. With it in hand, he turned and reached to snatch the earbuds off his nightstand amp, and then paused with them tangled in his fist, thinking. 

“Luka?” Juleka mumbled, sitting up in her bed. 

Luka ignored her. As much as he loved her, he couldn’t take care of her right now. He couldn’t. He threw his earbuds down on his bed and went upstairs instead, jaw set, shoving crap out of his way carelessly until he unearthed the wiring for the sound system. 

He hooked up his laptop with shaking hands and blurring vision. He could barely breathe as he queued up his entire Jagged Stone collection, chronologically, from memory, because he was officially Jagged Stone’s number one fan and it wasn’t even hard. 

Luka cranked up the sound system, and pressed play. Jagged Stone’s very first album blared from the speakers above him. Luka skipped the first song hurriedly. He wasn’t ready to face that memory just yet.

“What in the seven seas—” he heard behind him, and he turned, fixing his eyes on his mother. He wasn’t even sure what kind of face he was making, but she stopped in her tracks.

She knew, all this time . She knew that these songs were about her, were about them . 

You are the donut of my life, Jagged’s voice howled from the speakers. The donut. Sweet, but heavy. Bad for you. Not something you ate every day. Not something that nourished you or made you better. 

God, how it must have hurt Anarka all these years, hearing those songs over and over and knowing.

It was hurting her now, he could see. 

Luka could have stayed below. He could have used the earbuds. He could have spared her. He could have suffered privately.

He wasn’t sorry he hadn’t. Not this time. 

Anarka sighed through her nose, and then turned and walked away, fists clenched. 

He’d feel bad about it later. It wasn’t like he didn’t have enough to be sorry for after yesterday. Might as well lump it all in together. Luka turned back to his computer, and pulled his legs up, wrapping his arms around them and setting his chin on his knees as he closed his eyes to listen to the blaring music. To the truth .

Even thinking the word twisted his stomach and made him feel sick. But that’s what this was, wasn’t it. The truth about his father’s feelings. Luka almost wanted to laugh. It explained so much, now. The sentimentality of Jagged’s early work. And here, around his third album, here was where he moved on . Where he got over them. 

I abandoned everything, but not my dreams .

Here was where he began to take on the persona of the true rock ‘n roll artist. Where he convinced himself it was all for the best because now he could make pure art, now that no one—now that Anarka and Luka nad Juleka weren’t holding him back .

My guitar is my only family.

Goddamnit, Luka loved that song. He buried his face in his knees and gripped his hair with both fists. 

He felt hands on his back. Two hands, flat against him, rubbing slightly. Soothing. His mind flew, irrationally, to Marinette, but when he raised his face enough to look over his shoulder, it was Juleka sitting there behind him, her hands resting on his back, her shoulders curled inward as she peered at him through her hair. Of course. Because Marinette had no reason to be here anymore, and he’d chased his mother out. Of course it was Juleka, who had never wanted to know the truth, who had preferred not knowing to being disappointed.

Luka was starting to see her point. 

And now he had forced this, all this on her. The truth she had never wanted to hear screaming out in stereo sound. 

God, he was such an ass. He might be angry at his mother but none of this was Jules’ fault. 

Juleka moved her hands hesitantly to his shoulders, and leaned against his back, resting her cheek against him. Luka lifted one hand to cover hers, and put his head down on his knees again, pulled a little bit out of his own selfish pain by her presence. He appreciated her silent forgiveness. 

Soon he would have to get up. The world wasn’t going to stop for his shattered heart, and Luka would have to get up, and put on his brave face, and deal with things like Luka Couffaine did. Honestly, head on, by telling the truth as he saw it. He owed it to Juleka to help her work through it too, since he was the one that forced the knowledge on her. Silently he vowed not to let her be overlooked. Jagged owed it to her to at least look at her and acknowledge her. If she didn’t want anything to do with him after that, then that was her choice. 

Juleka’s head nudged his back, and he sighed. She moved her hands again, this time putting her thin arms around him and hugging him tight. Luka took another long breath, and leaned back into her a bit, as Jagged’s Most Rockin’ Hits Vol 1 began to play.

Under the moon, deep within the woods...

Luka closed his eyes and swallowed hard. “I broke up with Marinette,” he said quietly. “Or maybe...we broke up with each other. I don’t know.” He sighed shakily. “I guess we just...weren’t meant to be. Right now.” He swallowed again against the lump in his throat. “It’s probably for the best. I’ve...got a lot to deal with right now anyway.” 

Juleka had tensed when he said it, with surprise, he thought. But she listened, and hummed a wordless acknowledgement, and hugged him tighter. 

If his tears dripped on her arms, she didn’t complain. The back of his shirt was feeling a bit damp, anyway. 

The truth hurt. He’d always known that, but he also believed in the healing it brought. Better to face the pain head on, where you know it’s coming, than let it fester and burst on you when you weren’t prepared for it. Luka had enough experience with denial to know that running away only left your back bared to the knife. 

Juleka’s face pressed a little harder between his shoulder blades. 

Luka sighed, and reached out to turn the music off. He turned towards Juleka so that she leaned against his side, and he put his arm around her, and they leaned on each other in the suddenly deafening silence. 

[parkeraul]

Pleaseeee a quick write about reader sitting on Toms face and getting eaten out while also fingered

ann’s note — i’m assuming you requested this during the mob!tom week i suggested. if you didn’t, i’m sorry but i made it slightly mobster–styled. it’s filth so i hope you enjoy though.

pairing: tom holland x reader

warnings: dirty talk, swearing, smut (fingering, oral — female receiving) & mobster–related stuff.

masterlist ┊add yourself to my taglists ┊give me feedbacks.

→ IT’S A MOB!TOM WEEK.

The wind is chilly and she feels the temperature of the house contrasting with the warmth of her body, trying to get used to the feeling of not being under the comfy blankets anymore. 

Her middle is still snug under the cotton baby–pink blouse she’s wearing, but her legs are mostly bare, her long socks covering all the way up from her feet to the beginning of her knees being the only thing hiding her lower half — besides her black underwear hidden by the hem of the blouse.

When she reaches the slightly–open door of Tom’s office, she can feel a hotter atmosphere due to the heater that must have been on ever since the day has begun. The sight in front of her eyes is his meeting table, excellently cleaned and empty; to the right, she can catch the view of him editing worksheets with one hand and taking packets of money from an enormous plastic bag to put on a black briefcase beside the laptop with the other hand. His hair is brushed back impeccably, suit open and tie resting around his shoulders as his jaw clenches and relaxes.

She steps inside, as silent as possible not to disturb him but Tom doesn’t need to look back to know his baby is there. Her scent is stuck in his memories in a way he recognises her just by the way she smells, the unmistakable fragrance of her shampoo combined with her favourite hot drink she drinks every morning invading his nostrils, making him drop his tensed shoulders immediately and chill unconsciously.

“You up, pretty girl?” He asks, eyes still glued on the screen as she tiptoes to stand behind him, arms embracing his chest and bringing his body closer to hers. Tom cocks his cheek to the side, knowing that her next action is to leave a sweet kiss on his skin — and so she does, bringing them both to smile simultaneously. “Did I wake ya?”

After the kiss, she gives him a warm and quick head–rub as she speaks, “No, baby. I just wanted to see you before you go downtown.”

Tom softens, quitting his current responsibility to give her some attention back. He takes his hands off the stuff to turn around in his chair and move his slender fingers to hold the sides of her thighs, meeting the cold flesh and studying the way her body lacks clothes in such a breezy day. 

“Your thighs are clenching like this because you’re cold?” Knowing the answer, Tom asks keeping back his smirk. Then he looks her in the eyes, finding in those pleading irises the neediest request for relief. He swears his heart grows three sizes while she blushes and tucks the front strands of her hair back behind her ears, legs rubbing together harder as his hands start to knead her skin provocatively. 

She shakes her head in denial, chewing on her bottom lip and lowering to straddle him, “Mm-mm.”

Tom stops her, travelling his palms to grab handfuls of her ass and slide his fingers under the fabric of her tight underwear, feeling all the extension of her icy flesh starting to burn because of his slow touch and the eventual scratch of his small nails. One of his hands comes to the front and slides her blouse further up, lips wetly kissing her stomach and taking his sweet time to work her up — tongue licking his lips before each smooch, mouth dragging along the skin exposed and the very edge of his tongue leaving soaking and tempting trails wherever he goes. She gulps, closing her eyes and resting her hands on top of his head, his gelled hair being the only cold thing matching the temperature of her hands.

While Tom keeps planting wonderful kisses along her body and giving all the possible sensations to her skin (grabbing, scratching, caressing up and down, pulling towards him), she closes her eyes and feels her clit throbbing, her core clenching around nothing and craving everything.

“No, baby?” He whispers in a raspy tone against her silhouette, looking up as his mouth goes down and his fingers start to wander along her inner thighs. The tip of his index finger traces her clothed slit, noticing how the wet spot down below her entrance was increasing rapidly by the way it soaked all the way up to her clit. “You looked out for me because you want me to play with you a little bit, hm? Want me to fix this little mess you’ve made in here, don’t you?” 

He looks down to see the black fabric turning even darker because of her wetness, feeling his mouth watering to look up at her then, and watch her tortured expression nodding affirmatively like she would die if he denied such thing to her.

Tom stands up from his chair, discarding his tie and taking her gently by the legs, making her tiptoe and then wrap her legs around his body as he ends lifting her frame up.

Tom walks to the white and giant sofa of his office and sits down, having her hands cupping his face and kissing him deeply, grinding on him as his tongue slides against hers lazily. Their lips lock and unlock, making the kiss wetter and louder, needier. Tom grips her ass mightly, dragging her sensitive core against his growing bulge and landing a sharp slap onto her cheek, making her jump lightly and groan against his mouth. His index pulls the elastic band of her panties and releases it, making the material spring back as he breaks the kiss with a bite on her lower lip, “Up on your feet. Take this off.”

She instantly complies, taking her panties off and holding it in her hand while she straddles him back again. Tom helps her get down on him once more and his fingers search for her bare pussy as they map her spine, going to the small of her back, ass and then her slit, playing with her from behind, “Bloody hell, darlin’, you’re drenched.”

Of course she squirms and moans into Tom’s mouth when he adds pressure to his movements. His two fingers go up and down deliberately, stimulating her aching clit down to her entrance and then back up again in a loop. When on her clit, his skilled fingers draw circles right in the middle of her bundle of nerves to make her pant desperately, looking him in the eyes while his jaw falls shortly — it’s priceless to watch her unraveling under his control, the perfect way to please her that only he knows best; when on her entrance, he threatens to insert his digits after circling the region temptly, causing her to cry lowly with her lips pressed together and forehead dropped onto his. 

He grabs one of her cheeks to make some space and finally thrust two fingers inside, “Shh... Take it, little thing, take it. Nice and slow.”She plants both palms on his chest and moans, closing her eyes and trying to take like a good girl the indescribable feeling of Tom pumping his long fingers inside her pussy, turning her on impossibly harder. Her legs go numb and she drives her hips against his movements — and Tom helps her, still moving his fingers in and out and pulling her down onto his digits by the firm grasp he still has on her ass, guiding her. As he starts to pump faster with short thrusts, she gradually becomes a whining mess. Tom loves every single second of it, watching her face contorting due to the amount of pleasure she’s receiving. The coil in her stomach is growing and making her nerves sparkle, attempting to savour the multiple sensations travelling all around her sweetest spots. “Eyes on me, babygirl, hey,” He calls out, making her look at him once more with her lips parted and swollen, so close to his and blowing gracefully the filthiest sounds into his mouth. “Eyes on me. Look at who’s fucking you this good, princess... That’s a good girl.” 

Her walls clench around him as he hits her g–spot and the first wet sound echoes throughout his office loudly, “It’s here, right?” 

“Yes,” She breathes out faintly, gasping and clutching onto his dress shirt for life. “Yes, yes, yes...”

Tom then begins to massage her spot quickly, hand bouncing up and down as her soaked pussy turns into a squelching mess. She would have screamed for the entire mansion to listen if Tom hadn’t glued his mouth on hers, muffling her now broken groans and sobs as his fingers bring her to a state of bliss. She can’t stop moaning and that’s how he knows she’s close — when she’s a noisy and dripping mess, gulping repetitively so she won’t drool all over herself as the soaked sound of his digits rubbing all of her sensible spots and grinding up and down becomes too much.He waits until she suddenly goes quiet, knowing that this is how she does when she’s about to cum to remove his fingers gently. She displays a confused face, cheeks flushed and hairline wet while Tom manages to lay down with her on top of him.

“On my face now, doll,” He says as she climbs further up, still unsure. “Want your taste on my tongue, c’mon,” While she reaches his mouth, Tom holds her by the waist with sight switching from her wet pussy to her teary eyes. “Just drop down real slow, I got you.”

She complies and lowers her hips, Tom kissing every possible inch of her inner thigh before his lips are busy on her clit, “Like this, baby. Just relax, come down a little bit more. You won’t hurt me, you’re okay.” 

Before she can notice, his tongue slides along her slit and rubs her nub, lips enveloping it in a gentle suction. She sighs almost deafeningly, trembling on top of him while he pulls her down, mouth totally immersed on her pussy. Her pleasure multiplies infinitely from the good minutes being worked up, her whole body giving into the delicious way that Tom’s tongue laps up her juices and traps her pulsating clit for a mind–spinning time, suckling and licking devotedly. All of a sudden, his hand makes the same way it did before along her back and his digits find her entrance once again, breaking into her pussy and finding her spot again, rubbing it mercilessly as he sucks her clit repeatedly. Smack sounds from his wet action fly around the office along with her desperate cries, the quick pace of it all becoming too much for her to handle.

“I’m gonna c—”

She can’t even finish the sentence, shivering in a way she’s never done before while her orgasm bursts out and gives her chills. Her clit now throbs in the most delicious way against his tender and wet tongue, flat under her nub and moving in circles. Her entrance pulsates, feeling her high taking a longer time than usual to bring her back down to Earth and she swears that her blurry sight makes the dizziness grow more. Down in there, Tom is watching her with a boyish glance, upper lip perfectly molding the beginning of her lower lips and the tip of his crooked nose bumping into her soft skin. He closes his chocolate eyes to focus on the taste she’s left on his tongue, using it to lick a last long trail on her pussy and finish it with slow and breathtaking suctions. That’s the way he reminds her that a good girl gets whatever she wants if she asks nicely.

TAGLIST: @outlandishnerd — @jilanaholland — @space-holland​ — @hollandraul — @tomhollandseverything — @mcuspidey — @iam-thevillain-of-thisstory — @peterspideysense — @fanficscuziranout — @parkernerd.

TAGGING MUTUALS AND BLOGS: @madmadmilk​ — @angelic-holland​ — @fallinharry — @keepingupwiththeparkers​.

[sugasugawarau]

Synopsis: You knew that Kageyama Tobio was not your soulmate - and that was why you could not help but succumb to the waves that lulled you away from the shores of fate + semi inspired by Eyes Blue like the Atlantic by sistaprod ft. Subvrbs. Also part of @yacoka‘s collab <3 (2.4k words)

Warnings/notes: Some angst near the end, soulmate red string au, gender neutral reader. No beta we die like Rex Lapis so if I ever feel like it this may be edited at some point asdahdhj idk LMAO

— Prologue

There are as many reasons to fall in love with Kageyama Tobio as there are fractals made by the ocean’s breath as the world inhales and exhales, flourishes and wilts, conquers and surrenders. It would not even be a hyperbole to say that in number, they remain unrivalled to the plethora of stars that stain the waves with their reflection and run deeper than the scars of lightyears that paint lines from Cassiopeia to Aquila.

After all, he is the darkest hue of navy blue.

Determination that moves in an orchestra of thundering waves, brandishing on its crest an admirable recklessness, heeding not for the need to call upon courage or confidence; polished instinct that endued one with the same awestruck feeling when facing the beautifully suffocating obscurity of their life in this world, a mixture of raw fear and the need to impart a piece of their soul in everything they do despite how fragile the skin shielding their heart is.

But the best part of loving Kageyama was that you were not - or will ever become - destined to be.

— Shoreline

Red.

It was a word that was always thrown about in conversations, the fuel to the catastrophes that were high school gossip chains, and the colour that held the mangled passion of the string of fate. Garishly predestined and easily tangled by unnecessary complications of jealousy and confusion, it is needless to say that you hated red with more passion than the love it emptily promises with a title as shallow as soulmates.

That was not to say you despised love. There was nothing wrong with love itself, a fact which you had decided firmly since the spry age of four years old. What was wrong was its combination with soulmates: a rigid formula, nothing like the walks with your grandmother on the bright summer roads littered with flowers as her calloused palm gently guided you, or the laughter you shared with your friends after a long run in the rain, hugging each other goodbye at the end of the day despite the muddy battle scars covering your arms and legs from falling countless times.

Your mind could have kept you engaged in your internal debate for longer if you were left to your own devices, but an awkward cough and the sound of a desk shifting towards your right brought you out of your reverie, bringing your drifting thoughts back to the classroom surrounding you.

Perhaps your look of confusion came off as hostile, for the dark-haired boy now sitting next to you looked at you with a slight glare that felt forced, an automatic effort to defend himself.

His tone of voice only confirmed your unconsciously off-putting expression as he gruffly stated, “Group project.” to explain his sudden presence.

“Oh. What’s the topic on?”

An awkward silence had ensued while you tried to calmly collect yourself by gathering a handful of pens from your pencil case after being caught in your heinous crime of not paying attention to your English teacher.

“You don’t know?” Came his reply, causing you to occupy yourself by finding extreme interest in a lime green highlighter you did not have any recollection of ever buying.

“Well, I clearly wasn’t paying attention.”

“You… weren’t?” The slight intonation in his tone was a stark contrast to your initial impression of him and caused you to look up at him, almost letting out an amused snort at his befuddled frown to which he furrowed his brows and shot a challenging “What?” in return. Realizing that he was genuine in believing that you were deep in thought over the lesson, a burst of laughter blossomed past your lips, attracting a few odd looks from your nearby peers and an abashed glare from him.

You paused to take a breath, a repetition of sorries stumbling their way out to appease the onslaught of nagging you thought would follow shortly. Instead, all the boy muttered was a simple, “You’re weird.”

“Sure, but that’s beside the point - were you paying any attention?”

“No.”

Seeing your face contorted to stop yet another bout of laughter to roam its way into the world as a result of his bluntness, he shot out of his seat and announced that he would go ask the teacher, unable to hide his puzzlement as he walked away. He would come to regret this decision when the teacher began to lecture him, earning more heads to turn his way as she scolded him before sending him off dismissively with a sticky note that you assumed had your now long-awaited topic.

Before you could thank him for enduring what could only be one of the worst things to experience as a high school student, he wordlessly handed the piece of paper to you and sat down.

“Kageyama, right? With this project, you’ll have me to thank for the A we’ll get,” you promised confidently, to which he responded with a halfhearted “Good luck.”

If he had been a close friend, you would have taken the small textbook on his desk and gently hit his head at his evident lack of belief in his capabilities, but settled for a clipped sigh instead. After all, you did not want to further contribute to the premature wrinkles Kageyama was making himself prone to with all of the brow-furrowing he did.

This is going to be one long month.

— Largo

Like how the ocean reluctantly caresses the sleeping shore as it wakes from its slumber during low tide, your lives slowly flowed together.

During the first week of your group project with him, he would greet you curtly, and on a few occasions, you would have short conversations about the outline of your book review.

And this singular week was enough to show that there was some (okay, maybe a lot) of backing behind the teacher’s warning about Kageyama’s dismal grade.

While you flipped through A Midsummer Night’s Dream, you would catch the all-too-familiar confusion on his face - it was written on his features so blatantly that it was almost comical, as if taken straight out of a shonen manga.

“You know if you’re stuck you can ask me for help.”

A slight scowl greeted you over the hedge of pages he had been burying himself in, followed by a biting, “Who said I need help?”

You could only roll your eyes in return.

“Please drop the prideful act. You've been glazing over the same page for about twenty minutes now."

After a few seconds of grumbling did he finally comply, and with your explanations, his bookmark was now comfortably sandwiched between the double-digit page numbers right as the bell rang. You hummed in satisfaction before returning your desk to your original spot, expecting him to rush out along with everyone else - so to turn around and see him still standing there was a bit of a surprise.

“Did you still need help with the last few lines?” You settled on asking, not really wanting to plague your break with work but offering nonetheless. Thankfully, he shot a look of disdain at the play as he stuffed it away haphazardly in his bag.

“No, I just wanted to,” he trailed off a bit, the tinge of red on his ears an out-of-character detail you decided not to comment on, “to say thanks, I guess.”

You smiled softly at the unexpected gesture of appreciation before giving him a teasing nudge which he stiffened slightly at.

“Well, I can’t have you bringing down my mark now can I?”

“Nevermind, I take it back.”

“Too bad, I have those words of gratitude stored nicely in my hippocampus already.”

From there, tutoring sessions with Kageyama became the norm, with you sometimes asking about his volleyball team after he had let slip that you were a better teacher than Tsukishima (something you would be sure to smugly share if you ever met the infamous middle blocker).

By the end of the month, all of the hard work - and a couple of all-nighters due to procrastination - brought forth an A as you had promised.

Even your relentless teasing, varying between “I told you so!” to “You owe me at least three meat buns now” which were all met with an annoyed “Shut up”was not enough to dim the smile he tried to hide.

— High tide

With the force of nature, the tide rose without warning; from goodnight texts to confessing to the first “I love you” uttered shyly between shameless souls, neither of you was sure where things began, but found comfort in such liberating chaos.

In times where he needed to be held, you were there, and the insecurities you would hide, he would turn beautiful. And today happened to be a day for both as you stared absentmindedly at his bedroom ceiling.

“Hey Tobio, what’s your take on soulmates?”

“We’ve been together for almost a year now, what do you think?” he put his phone down and turned towards you, “I could care less about soulmates or whatever else is worrying you enough to make your overthinking go into overdrive.”

“Rude, have some respect, it’s my profession after all,” you shoved him playfully as he snorted in reply, “It’s just... If your string ever appeared, wouldn't you rather-”

“Listen Y/n, did you know that I’m scared of dying but I’m even more terrified of the thought of living without you? I could never and don’t ever want to replace you. People can talk all they want, if I could find a love like ours without something as stupid as a piece of string then I don’t need a soulmate.”

“Really?”

With a flick to your forehead, he huffed in fake exasperation. “Really.”

“Huh, who knew you could be so romantic.”

“It's not romantic, I'm just being honest, idiot.”

“You sure could make do with some more lessons on manners and social tact. It's too bad you can't pick up on those as well as volleyball drills.”

Before he could retaliate, you enveloped him in a familiar embrace, burrowing your face into the large hoodie he donned.

It was effortless, his company.

— Ebbing away

But it wasn’t all romantic.

You fiddled with your phone as you waited for any sign that Kageyama had seen your messages, the pack of meat buns you had bought on a whim no longer letting off their fragrant steam. You knew he had an important match coming up against Seijoh, that he had to prove himself, that he lives hungrily and foolishly like no other. But his missing presence went beyond volleyball practice, keeping his distance from you even when he was right by your side.

Why am I stuck reminiscing about the past when we still have each other?

Why does every step I take towards him feel as if I’m only drawing myself farther away from him?

A carousel of rhetorical questions spun around your head as you stopped your slow pace towards Karasuno. You were not blind; you knew the rumours and dirty looks from your classmates were not something anyone could be immune to, that he tried his best to spend less time around you at school. The only conclusion you could reach was that he was ashamed: either of you, or the fact that he had begun to see his red string and could not bring himself to face you.

Ignoring the urge to let yourself cry, you glanced down at your phone once more, 8:30PM flashed across your eyes, followed by your empty notifications. There was no way he’d still be practicing at the school now and even if he was, you doubted he would be happy to see you. Maybe - no, definitely - it would be better to head home, and maybe stop by the convenience store you had bought the now misshapen meat buns from to get some tea and call it a night.

If only fate did not reciprocate your hatred towards it.

Stepping into the small store, the first person you are greeted with is none other than Kageyama Tobio. The whole situation was like a fever dream, and you would do anything to be able to let out a laugh and have him call you weird all over again. But all you could bring yourself to do was blearily stare at him.

He turned around quickly, as if not wanting to be caught before ushering you outside. “Y/n? Why are you here?” he hissed, a stiffness that he had recently adopted to his body language that you were now all too familiar with.

“What? Am I not allowed to go into any and all convenience stores I please?” You challenged, a part of you waiting for him to care enough to see how tired you were, to actually look you in the eyes for the first time in weeks.

He did not, opting to turn his head towards the door again.

“It’s not that, it’s just-”

“Just what? Tobio, what is up with you lately?” A pause ensued, broken by a small hiccup as your eyes dampened - God, how much more pathetic could you get than crying in front of some dingy convenience store - “Do you even love me anymore?”

How odd. You thought that by finally uttering the final question that had been dancing around your mind free to the world, you would feel better. That he would reassure you, as he always had.

Not that he would at last meet your gaze, grabbing your hand to look at the red string wrapped around your ring finger.

The taste of tears and Kageyama’s eyes as blue as the Atlantic all felt miles away from you as an orange-haired boy stepped out of the store, his mouth dropping into an o-shape when he saw that his string led to you, a disheveled mess arguing with his teammate.

“Kageyama…You knew? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I didn’t want to face the reality of it all. Because I was afraid of losing you.”

“But I wouldn’t leave you-”

“I know you wouldn’t but you should!” Kageyama’s furrowed brows, once a quirk of his that you were fond of, now elicited a sick turmoil in your stomach, “You have to. Please.”

You wanted to yell at him, let the blood pour out of any and all raw words of anger and hurt.

Who was he to decide what was good for you, to throw you at some boy you never met before, to give up?

Then again, you could never say you would not have done the same for him if you knew he had found his soulmate despite the sweet words he had told you so long ago.

So you let yourself go. For his sake.

[apocalypticwafflekitten]

Bells Will Be Ringin’

Darth Maul x Reader, but this time it’s Christmas (Life Day) A/N: Hey! I’m back with another story for Maul! I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to get another story out! I have a couple requests that I’m working on, but since it’s Christmas Break for me, I should be able to get them out pretty quickly! Requests are open by the way! Feel free to send them in!   

Also, I may come back in and do some editing on this piece in the next few days. I want to get it out now so I have time to work on other requests during break!

Original Idea/Summary Thingy: Christmas Blues^TM, but there’s a happy ending, so it’s okay! 

Warnings: None unless you count a sad and mildly bitter Maul. 

Word Count: 3356

(P.S. I listened to “Please Come Home For Christmas” covered by The Eagles while writing this, so feel free to feel that vibe if you wish. I also absolutely stole the title from the first lyrics and then found a way to work it into the story.)

The snow fell in fleets of faint flakes. And he felt his heart fall with them.

It wasn’t that the snow wasn’t beautiful. Rather, it was what lay beyond the flurry that made his heart sore. He felt the icy breath of loneliness drop beneath his collar as he rested his chin on his hand and peered out the window. 

You were there. Just beyond the pane of glass. He had to swallow his heart at the sight. You looked beautiful, reaching up to catch a flake on your fingertips. He couldn’t keep his gaze from lingering on your lips. Your bright smile warmed his chest, and he wished for nothing more than to be out there with you.

But something gold caught his eyes. And his heart clenched. His brother walked beside you, and you smiled even brighter when he showed you the flake that had landed on his fingertip. A sorrowful sigh slipped from Maul’s lips as he watched you walk with his brother.

Savage had been the one to meet you. You had bumped into him while chasing after your rouge scarf that the wind had carried away, and Savage had kindly snatched it out of the air for you. He’d see you in passing afterwards and invite you into the palace for tea. That’s how Maul met you. You were having tea with Savage, and he had walked in on the two of you.

From the moment he saw you, he was enamoured; enraptured.

Savage properly introduced the two of you and you started spending a great deal of your time with them.  

And Maul fell hard.  

Everytime Maul hung out with you and Savage, he could feel himself growing weaker and weaker for you. 

Eventually you would get invitations to the palace from Maul himself. It was usually on weeks where Savage was off dealing with the syndicate, but there were occasions when you would come to see him on your own regardless of whether Savage was gone or not.

You’d talk about everything with him, and more often than not, he’d open up about himself in return. But rather than focusing on his plans or other bigger things in life, you learned that he loved a sweet chamomile tea, or a rich mulled wine in the cooler months. He had grown an interest in Mandalore’s classic literature, and there was something inexplicable about the city’s architecture that put a glint in his eyes. It was wonderful to see him talk about the things he liked. It seemed like he didn’t get to do that often, and the way he lit up when he got going about his passions made you smile big and bright. 

Upon the cool stone of his throne, Maul drowned himself in memories of you. The bit of bitterness that sprouted when his brother wrapped a hand around your shoulder melted away when he thought of the times you would laugh at something he had said and use his shoulder to keep yourself up.   

Your touch always left a soft tingle on his skin, even when you only touched his shirt. Your hand was soft and the way you held this hand when you comforted him had such a gentle strength to it. Your fingers were featherlight on his skin, but he had never felt as though stronger hands had held him. Not that he had had much experience in the area. Still, your touch was enough to send his heart reeling for hours. 

“If only her lips could grace my skin.” 

“She’d never do that and you know it. Besides, she loves another doesn’t she?” 

Your ringing laughter sent a jolt through Maul’s heart as you entered the palace,  “Savage! Put me down!” You giggled as Savage passed through the glass doors.  

“But Miss (Y/L/N), You’re tired! You said so yourself! A tired lady shouldn’t have to walk herself home!” Savage laughed along with you. 

“Yes, but a Lady also shouldn’t be slung onto your back and carried around like a rag doll!” 

You both burst into fits of laughter and Maul only watched and silently yearned from his seat. He wanted that; to cause you happiness in that way. But he was left to the seat of Mandalore’s throne; governing and making deals while you enjoyed the snow flurrying outside.   

“Maker how I wish I could leave for a day. Just to be with her. No deadlines, no time limit. Just her, a warm fire, and the snow outside. Is that so much to ask? Savage is gone next week, perhaps-”   “Hey Maul!”  you greeted with cheer, once again jolting him back into reality. 

“Hello Miss (Y/L/N),” Maul returned, “It’s lovely to see you today. Enjoying the snow?”  

“Yes! It’s beautiful outside! Albeit a little cold, but Savage and I are going to sit by the fireplace in the south sitting room to warm up if you’d like to join us.�� You offered. 

“I’d love to, but I’m afraid I can’t today. I still have some meetings to attend, and there’s some paperwork that I have to get through after that.” He answered with remorse, and a look that seemed to say ‘I’m sorry’.

“Oh,” For a second Maul thought your face fell and a pang of guilt shot right through his heart, but you began to speak again with an optimistic lilt to your voice, “Well, if you happen to have the free time, you’re welcome to join us!” Your lips meet in a smile, and Maul’s chest floods with reassuring warmth. Gosh was he thankful for the dark hue of his skin. 

“I just may if I can.” Maul smiled back and waved as you walked off with Savage, once again laughing at something he said. 

“And now begins the fun part.” Maul muttered to himself sarcastically as he stood to leave for his next meeting. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  

As soon as his last meeting was over, Maul whisked himself down the hall, headed for the one place he wanted to be: The south sitting room.  

“The paperwork can wait. She’s more important.”

His hearts thrummed in his chest at the mere thought of cozying up with you next to a fire; getting to feel your warmed skin against his. It was a dream he couldn’t hope for more.

“A little to the left.”   

“Oh. Yep....right......there” You breathed out as Savage worked a knot out of your shoulder. 

Maul’s hearts dropped.

He heard your voice from behind the door to the sitting room. You sounded so happy, so pleased. He would have been happy to hear you this way were it his crimson hands soothing the stiff muscles beneath your skin.   

But the hands kneading your back weren’t crimson, nor were the tattoos the same. They were gold, and soft, and gentle; so very much unlike his own.  

Maul cursed himself at the sight of you sitting on the floor between Savage’s legs, reveling in the released tension and relaxation f a nice massage.

“That feel good?” Savage asked sweetly, “Not too hard?” 

“Absolutely not. It feels amazing.” You close your eyes and lose yourself in the warm feeling of his hands working a little below the base of your neck.  

“Good” Was Savage’s rumbled reply.   

Maul took a step back before leaning against the opposite wall. 

“That’s right. She’s someone else’s. Maker, how could I have been so foolish? Of course she loves Savage over me, I mean, who wouldn’t? Why would she ever-” 

No. He had to stop for his own sake. 

So Maul stood straight and turned towards his office. At least he had paperwork to do. That could keep his mind occupied instead of wallowing in regret for the night. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

The paperwork did nothing to quell his thoughts of you. He couldn’t stop thinking of how happy you sounded in Savage’s hands. How pleased you had to have felt. Why couldn’t he do that? Why couldn’t you love him?

“Would you like some tea?”   

Maul looked up from the hundreds of pages of contracts and negotiations on his desk to see you standing in the doorway to his office with two mugs of steaming hot tea.  

“I’d love little else more right now.” He replied, letting out a long sigh, and stretching his aching back.  

You handed him a mug, and sat across from him, looking out at the snow behind the glass of the large window beside you.  

“How’s the paperwork going?” You glanced over to the thousands of sheets of paper littering his desk, feeling sorry that he had to go through all of that. 

“It’s uneventful. For the most part, it’s to do with the syndicate and their insatiable requests. It’s very repetitive.” He paused for a moment before quietly speaking up, “It’s nice to have your company.”  

You gave him a warm smile while a blush creeped it’s way up your cheeks. 

“I’m happy to hear that. I like spending time with you.” You admitted, looking to your mug in the slightly tense silence. 

There was a long moment of silence following where Maul’s pen scribbled against the paper, and you looked from the place where the pen and paper met, to his hand, to the curve of his cheek and the red of his skin. Your eyes dared to look at and linger on his lips. He muttered something through a sigh and you couldn’t help the way your heart clenched.

But then he moved. He looked up and you darted your eyes to a random building on the skyline and the snow that was starting to spill over the edge of the roof.  

“Look at her.” 

“Even when she’s not trying she’s beautiful.”  

Maul watched as you looked out the window. He could sense a tenseness in your muscles, but he was distracted by the way the silver light glinting off the snow lined your face, and the way you gently lifted your mug of tea to your lips, letting the steam billow to the ceiling as you sipped the drink. 

“Hell, she’s just looking at the snow and I can’t look away.” 

“Maker, those lips....” 

“If only...” 

“I’m so excited for Savage to see what I got him for Life Day.” You smiled out the window, trying to play off your nerves, hoping he hadn’t noticed you staring.  

“What?” He asked, quickly looking back to his paper as you leaned on his desk.  

“I said that I was excited for Savage to see what I got him. I worked pretty hard on it, and I want to know if he likes it.” 

That snapped Maul from his state of admiration. A sprout of something bitter burned in his chest. He remembered what he had seen through the doorway this afternoon, and clenched his fist with a quiet growl. 

“I’m sure he’ll like it. Your lover is appreciative of anything you would make for him.” Maul barely tried to hide the bitter envy in his tone, and yet, you didn’t seem offended. 

But you did look up at him with a quirked brow. 

“My lover? Maul, what do you mean?”  

And for the smallest second, in the teeniest of amounts, a little pang of hope surged through Maul, but he took it with an air of caution.

“I mean my brother. He’s your lover is he not?” He dared to ask, hearts beginning to race, beating against his chest. 

There was a moment of silence before you burst into giggles that grew to full blown laughter.

No matter what Maul could have expected, he was not prepared for you to laugh at him. Still, as confused as he was, he was silently hopeful of your response.

“Oh of course not!” You couldn’t breathe you were laughing so hard, “I mean, sure, he’s handsome, but he’s just a close friend,” You paused for a beat, looking to Maul before looking down to your mug, “Besides, I’ve got my heart set on someone else.” 

Maul’s eyes flew up to your face. His heart was in his throat and his grip on his pen tightened. 

“So, you’re...you’re not in love with my brother?” Maul swallowed thickly. He needed to know if he heard you right.

“No, I uh..I-”   

This was his chance.

“I love you.” Maul rushed out without a second thought, “I love you so much. I know you probably don’t feel the same, and whoever you hold affections for is the luckiest man in the galaxy, but I can’t hide it any longer. Maker, I’ve loved you since the moment I saw you, and-” 

He cut off when he saw the huge smile on your face. 

Before he could move or try to explain himself, you rushed around his desk and threw yourself around him, hugging him tighter than you ever had before. 

He stood stalk straight for a minute, tensing at the feeling of your arms around his neck.

“Did I just....? I just told her? Like that?.....And now she’s.....she’s....” 

He felt your arms squeeze him tighter, and as if on instinct, his arms wrapped around your waist and held you pressed against him, his nose burying into your shoulder.  

“I love you too.” You whispered into his ear, hugging him even tighter, and pressing your cheek to his.  

You felt Maul pull away from you, and he looked deep into your eyes. He took a moment to watch the wide-eyed, curious look on your face. He could see the billions of questions racing through your mind, and he felt his heart beating just as fast. And then his eyes looked to your lips. He couldn’t help it. You were so beautiful, and your lips were so tempting. He felt a dragging pull in the Force, and he could barely hold himself back. 

“Please let me kiss you.” Maul all but begged.  

You smiled up at him, a surge of happiness flooding your signature, as your eyes brightened, and a blush warmed your cheeks.

“I’ve never wanted anything more.”   

Maul’s face fell, brows scrunched in confusion.

“I....I said that out loud?”  

Your smile grew even larger if possible as you snorted a laugh from behind your hand. 

Peeking up at him once you’d composed yourself for the most part, you let our a little chuckle with your response.

“You did.” 

Your wide smile and, admittedly adorable, laughter only fueled his embarrassed panic.

“Oh, I-I-I’m so-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to...I’ll just...” 

Your gaze softened as you reached out and took Maul’s hand in yours. You held it there in front of you for a moment, gaging his response before lifting it further. He silenced as he watched you lift his hand slowly to your lips. His breath hitched at the first sting. Your lips kissed the tip of each finger, sending ticklish tingles shooting up through his hand into his wrist. You were slow and caring, and that gentleness he had come to love about you, it was there too. 

His chest heaved with labored breath, but when you looked up at him he swore his hearts stopped. Your wide, bright eyes looking at him like that...a shiver darted down his spine, and he had to swallow his heart for the second time that day.

“Please kiss me Maul.” You whispered to him, voice full of want. 

Before he had time to think, or rationalize, he slammed his lips to yours, reveling in the soft, plush feeling of your lips on his. He held you close to him, pressing your body to his as your lips moved together.  

He was on fire. His body was warm and every new kiss was the smallest sting to your lips. Even his fingertips burned a little. But it felt good.

When you pulled away, his lungs jolted for breath, begging for him to breathe for even a second despite how breathtaking your soft, gentle lips where.  

He looked to you with wide eyes and you did the same. 

You stood there for a few seconds, looking at his eyes at first, then looking to his lips.   

They were so soft. So...fiery. 

“Maul...” Your voice cracked out of a whisper, eyes still trained on his lips.

“Y-yes dear?” His voice was breathy and curious. 

You broke fro your daze and looked away from him.

“I...I know I said that I love you too, but I want you to know that I...I fell for you the first time I met you. You were so handsome and beautiful. I..I don’t know what it was but I couldn’t take my eyes off of you.” You huffed a laugh, looking down to where you held his hands, “I used to worry that you would find me creepy because I stared so much. But you were so beautiful. And I remember the first time I heard your voice. It was so soothing, and I swear I melted right then and there.”  

You paused for a moment, remembering back to those days. You smiled and looked anywhere but his face, eventually landing on the fire crackling in the fireplace across the office and the warm orange glow that lit up the room now that the sun was set.

“And then I got to know you. It took some time, but I loved getting to know the little things about you. Even the smallest idiosyncrasies, like the the way you crack your knuckles before you get to work, or the way you purr quietly when you drink a good cup of tea. It all added up to a person who was more than their scary reputation. You weren’t the ruler of Mandalore to me. You weren’t a feared Sith Lord. You were just like another person. You were my friend, and in time, I wanted more than that. I fell in love with you, and I...I just feel...right when I’m with you. I want to be with you.”

You huffed a nervous laugh and looked back to his hands. You took a moment to admire the crimson hue of his skin and the black tattoos that adorned them as you tried to hide the burning blush that was growing across your cheeks. 

Maul was hesitant, but he hooked one of his fingers under your chin to lift your face to his.  

You were met with wide, teary eyes, and a huge smile. 

Maul didn’t have any words to describe how his hearts ached with astonishment. To think that someone loved him that way; that you saw him that way, without fear or worry. You wanted him. You really wanted him. After all this time. It was him. Not another Mandalorian, not his brother. Him. He couldn’t help the toothy grin that spread across his face, and the pure love that bloomed in his chest. He wanted you to know what that meant to him, but he didn’t know how to say it, so instead he pressed his lips to yours once again, hoping that you would feel the strength of his adoration and love for you.  

You held the sides of his face as your lips locked together once more. In that moment, when his soft, fiery lips took yours again, everything in the galaxy seemed to shift, and you felt at peace with his arms wrapped tight around your waist. 

You pulled away from him to rest your forehead against his.  

“I know you know, but I love you. To the stars and back.” 

“I love you too my dear. To the stars and back.” 

The two of you sat in this embrace for minutes which grew to feel like hours. 

But amidst the firelit darkness and your sweet embrace, silver chimes rung through the city. Beautiful bells sang out the twelfth hour, announcing the beginning of a new day to all who were awake to hear.

Maul looked down to you with a content smile. 

“Happy Life Day my darling.”  

You smiled joyously into his neck. “Happy Life Day Maul.”  

And with one more kiss, the two of you started the happiest holiday of your lives. 

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