#sorry this is long and dialogue heavy i tried to draw what i could but tbh it was a lot

[miscellaneous--bones]

lorelei has the ability to feel/see someone's innermost self, their very being, sometimes even their thoughts and desires, through touch. this is mostly because their a mushroom, its part of their innate ability to create ''hive minds'' (like mother mushroom, kind of) and connect with other beings. they can do this with about any living thing, which is why they tend to wear very modest clothing. it does require a fair amount of focus but even a simple handshake can at least give them a sense of intention.

when they officially met fern it was in the middle of him trying to detach himself from finn, and define himself as fern. he didn't originally know about lorelei's power, as they tend to try and keep such a thing to themself, and otherwise are less publicly known then their older siblings. its at a party the mushroom kingdom threw celebrating the birth of the newest princess that they meet and spend a bit of the night together.

of course Fern is Strange. being half demon half pure hero is a very mixed message, along with all of the inner turmoil was.. an interesting (2nd?) impression.

i cant think of much of in between here. i know for a moment in the confusion, fern thinks this is another rejection- he'd just made a fool of himself in front of royalty- now they thing hes an idiot, yada yada yada. lorelei on the other hand is embarrassed they got caught up in the confusing little mess that is Fern the Human, completely without his permission or knowledge. big no no, y'kno?

within their powers, fern can see an opportunity to learn more about who he is, a way to get help piece together who he is now.

fern and lorelei agree to meet a couple days after the party, so that lorelei can work their magic and tell fern what they see.

"you can start by relaxing," Lorelei peaked an eye open, a comforting smile tugging on their cheeks. Fern relaxes his shoulders, releasing the tension in his jaw. he mutters an apology as the prince closes his eyes again and seems to focus more. their hands tighten their grip on his own. "You are... struggling to except yourself. Mourning a life you can't get back," they trailed off. their words are halting as they read more into who Fern is, trying to piece together the stranger's history. "There are two sides of you, struggling to work together. This feels like a demon." Lorelei opens their eyes. "-do you know anything of your parents? or- the circumstance of your creation?" Fern glances to the distance. he can't pick out if their gaze is accusatory, or just confused. The prince had been kind to him so far, and he came to them for answers. "its a long story. The grass wizard made me because of a pun, but I'm also from the Finn Sword... I don't really get it either." "So.. you come from both of them. There is a demon here, a curse. it is.. violent, parasitic in nature." Fern's grip tightened in the prince's hold. "But there is a force of good, too. the heart of a hero. loyal and true, pure. and.. angry. You want to be good. You want your life back. You are frustrated with what you've lost, and frustrated that you can't " the prince paused. "You tell the story of a very complicated creation, I hope you know."

as their friendship grows, Lorelei goes deeper into trying to figure out Fern's existence. they call it a personal project, and say it is good for Fern to know the nature of his creation and what it means for who he is. acknowledging and accepting the different parts of himself are the first steps to building his new identity, and building a life as himself. he struggles, with getting used to who he is, with dealing with his bouts of anger and other such amplified emotions, with the idea that he can never go back to the life he remembers. he mourns himself and his friends. Lorelei tries to find food he could eat (fertilizers, various soils, and other such plant food) but it never is the same as his memory. his relationship with his Grass Demon almost improves, but he struggles to find harmony within himself.

L: There's a duality to this. differing relationships between your mind and body. do you see yourself as only Finn, with the Grass Demon as a different entity, or are you a product of both? F: what does that mean? L: You see yourself as your memories, as Finn. This is default because you are human and you see yourself as your conscious. But that doesn't mean your mind is all you are. Finn makes up your head, but the Grass Demon makes up your body, so are you only your brain or do you see yourself as all of your parts in a culmination? F: I don't know, what do you see me as? L: Thats not up to me to decide. It's for you to figure out, to define who you are. To define Fern. L: I feel like most of the answer is in that vault of yours, and I encourage you to try and look through it. F: The vault is where all the stuff I can't handle goes. Looking through it would like, defeat the purpose of the vault. L: I guess I dont get it because I dont have a vault. if I really can't handle something i shove it in a closet... F: How do you get anything done that way? I'd have to board it up. L: keeps away the clutter. I don't know how you get anything done with everything in an inaccessible vault.

[fluorynn]

🥀— 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐧𝐨 𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : tsu’tey ✘ omaticaya!fem!reader

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 / 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 : ANGST, heavy angst, heavy dialogue (?) descriptions of blood, injuries, tsu’tey’s kuru is severed, tsu’tey’s death, stubbornness, crying, mild fluff —

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 3.4k+

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 : @iwannabeapinkaesthetic @bridgechazlyn @nana-muffin @avatarloverfrfr @talanyra @dvxsja @ikeyniofthetayrangi @bambithewriter @iaoisiwqk

𝐝𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐛𝐲 : @cafekitsune !!!

author’s note : I don’t know what to feel about this one LOL — Tsu’tey deserved the BETTER😭😭😭 I hope you like ! Sorry I’m advance as well — comments/reblogs are always appreciated <33

Right when it occurred, something did not feel right. There is an odd sensation stirring in the hollow of her stomach. It could not be the adrenaline that had taken its course within her body for she had anticipated it, nor could it be the minor, barely visible cuts created by the Sky Demons’ graze of foolish weaponry for while it burned only the slightest bit, it wasn’t extreme enough to draw pools of blood.

Grunts of an odd, internal wound left her yet she, with all her restraint, refused to acknowledge it right then and there and gently patted the side of her ikran for she too felt it, she too felt the distress, the slight yet sudden tear of something, of someone apart from her sole rider. Golden eyes waste no second in searching, mind voicing for her ikran to halt the strong, frenzied flaps of her wings.

She shuts out the sounds of the Sky demon’s flying equipment, the war cries the Na’vi created, and waits. Waits and observes, observes and listens, straining every one of her senses; frantic became her gaze as the feeling within her spiraled, harsh and swishing became Pandora’s winds as it surged through her limbs, aching swirled her heartbeat, lips whispering faint murmurs, longing for the presence, the call of him.

A pair of ears, belonging to the woman who had bound her life to him under the will of Eywa, hitched high and flickered at the agonized screech which sharply pierced through the air, coming from a specific aircraft until it soon began its descent down to Pandora’s ground. She wasted no second in trying to comprehend where, who the cry derived from, and the ears once chirped high faltered for a brief second as she picked it apart while panic, fear, the scorching pain corporeally and spiritually exceeded throughout her as she did.

Wretched. Agonizing. Appalling.

The cry which ripples from deep within Tsu'tey's lungs, clawing through the inward flesh until it reached the base of his throat and had been unleashed, is to be described as those precise words.

“Tsu’tey!”

Actions transpire before thoughts could be formed, her high chirp commanding her ikran to acutely glide down, right towards where the prolonged blue frame plummets down, the harsh ruffles of the branches due to her reckless speed being disregarded despite the gnashes they sliced across her striped flesh.

The churn spasms furthermore from the core of her being; burning, afflicting, and it is when she reaches him, the one bound to be her mate soon, her Tsu’tey lying on the grassed ground, that she is met with the dejected notion weighing upon her.

Despite the physical agony he is currently experiencing, he feels her — his serenity, the compliment to his being, the support and sustainment to his unbalanced character — close by. A palm clasps below his chest piece just to cover, to perhaps hide from her that he is hurt. His innards burn, gnaw, coil with each breath he tries taking. He coughs and despite the burn of it, he calls out to her.

“Y-yawnetu.” ( loved one )

“Ma Tsu’tey –”

Yet she is already rushing to him, descending onto her knees right beside him. She did not know where to begin. Act nearly transpired before thought once more, until she catches the way he holds himself. The pain submerged from not just him but her with each hurried step she had taken, each ragged breath she had taken, and so when her hand reached to touch just over his wounded chest, it became vivid, blistering.

A violent racketting envelops him entirely at the feel, a grunt spewing from his lips and it instantly makes her touch retract from him, hissing more so in distress at the notion of her mate being injured at the hands of them. Not even them, but guided by their coward minds and dastard hearts with what they called a gun.

Her mouth parches, her throat tightening as she tries to speak through her anger and pain. “T-tsap’alute si ( I apologize ). You are hurt, w-we have to get you to–”

His head created the smallest head shakes only for him to wince rather visibly, reaching for her hand. “Stay. T-touch –”

Hesitantly, she did as he said though she notices his discomfort and instead goes to cradle the upper curve of his head, but there’s slight space between for with the bit of strength he carries he uses to keep his head up.

The pressure of her palm rumbles a sound from his chest and she notices how his jaw narrows, how his ear winces. “Hurts?”

“T’s n-nothing. Fine, I’m fine.” He breathes in before his long fingers loosely wrap around her forearm, and his browline tugs down at the dry blood latching, the gnashes littering her skin. He, even in this situation, firmly states rather than questions: “You are hurt. T-they hurt you – did they–”

“I am fine, tiyawn. I am fine – my fault. I was rushing to come to you –”

His sharp eyes blaze and upper lip curls over his teeth as he hisses. “Must be more c-careful! Demons could have…have killed you. M-must think now more than ever —”

“ I will – but I am fine, I promise.” She assures and with her other hand she cradles his jaw, feeling it condense before trying to get him to calm down for she sees how agitated he became.

“Syeha si ( breathe ), Tsu’tey. Tsyeha si.” He exhales then tries to inhale only for the passage of his throat to obstruct with a gush of something; iron tang distastefully becoming one with his taste buds, the sudden swarm of liquid causing a choke-like sound to form at the back of his throat. Fearful, she wastes no time in moving the current hand on his head to the upper backside of his neck to slightly elevate him despite his strained protest.

“I— fine. I am fine–”

Her other hand leaves Tsu’tey’s cheek and goes to the base of her throat, right over the beaded necklace crafted by his very hands, the very blood stained hands that tear from his wound and reach for hers to stop her from acting. “ You are not fine! You are wounded, for Eywa’s sake! We must call for help—”

She watches how Tsu’tey tries to resist crumbling his features when her fingers brush up his neck, halting just right below the start of his kuru. He watches in anguish as the irises within her golden hues dilate, nearly becoming one with the other. She feels it undone, the braid, and with it undone, it is unprotected yet for whatever cause would it be? He feels the ghost of her touch over its bareness lurk down, and he grunts loudly as he shifts to stop her. “Ma yawnetu, please–”

But now the simple act of doing so becomes toilsome and painful, provoking an excruciating groan out of him and she’s haste in halting him from creating any more movement. “Ftang (stop).”

Tsu’tey is apprehensive, forming the weakest scowl as she gives him a pointed look. Perhaps it was because Tsu’tey was in her presence – the woman who succeeded to take his stoic mask off, to soothe the scowl constantly twisting his face. It was then that she found herself seeing him better then he saw himself – who he truly was, is, and bound to become. To her it was a must to be by his side, and to him it was an odd yet yearning-to-the-bone necessity to have her with him, to see her the way she sees him.

So with that, he releases a ragged breath but lets her and she resumes her act — not near enough to make contact with it, but near enough for him to feel it hovering. Enough for him to choke on a gasp and clutch onto her forearm when she reached the end which rested right by his side.

She too feels the sensation of it, of what he’s feeling in this second, of what he’s been feeling when he met the ground. She feels him, the one who's supposed to be her mate, experiencing the most indescribable pain there is for the Na’vi: the only true connection to the wonders within Pandora, to their Great Mother being torn off. To the one bound to be their mate for eternity.

The notion crashes down on her stronger, becoming sole with the ache stirring within. She says nothing for a long time and tries pushing through the muskiness enveloping her vision, wanting to take him in; colorants of yellow and ebony streaked boldly on the sides of his scalp, and she recalls being the one putting them there, she recalls how all the tension and worries seemed to have faded away from Tsu’tey when the lovely strokes of her paint-dipped fingertips specifically striped upon certain parts of his angular features as well, somewhat enhancing them and his azure tones – yet now the color scheme was assisted by blemishes and smudges of red, and the fierceness he once carried before this battle occurred vanished. This is an entirely different Tsu’tey that no other has ever witnessed, — and if it weren’t for one of the reasons being that he was too damaged, too hurt and strained, she would have smiled softly down at him and bathe him in all the love and happiness there was within her because of him — one even she hasn’t witnessed — the closest ever being was when Sylwanin passed.

“Let me take you to Tsahik. You are Olo’eyktan. I-important and must stay alive, let me call for help so we can take you back –”

“I am far too injured for Tsahik to fix this. There is a battle happening at this moment, woman. We cannot let this interfere. They all need to fight for our People. Our home.” he grunts , nose scrunching at the raise of his tone. “And a demon weapon striked me…sa’nok died from it. Even if we try, it will be too late—”

“Toruk Makto will know what to do.” she quickly interjects. “He was one of them, h-he will save us. Will save you, ma Tsu’tey. He will not leave the People without their Olo’eyktan. H-he —”

“Then he will be the one to lead the People.”

He can’t fight the subtle twitch of his lip at how her ears perch at this, and she frowns deeply, just like he expected her too. She didn’t dislike Jakesully while she was wary of him at the beginning. Yet he earned trust, a rightful place among the Omaticaya. Even so, that place was not, isn’t, what Tsu’tey is suggesting.

“But he…y-you are Olo’eyktan. Our guidance, our leader.” she takes in a sharp breath and blinks rapidly as he stares up at her. “You…you are to b-be my mate. And I yours, yes?”

Purple swelled beneath the ebony striped beneath Tsu’tey’s eyes, pronouncing the anguish and disappointment lodged within his pupils, weighing down upon him. His lower lip quivers when he grabs ruptured queue, and it takes everything in him to not yell.

He speaks through sputtered syllables. “I…I c-cannot ride again. Cannot be guided with the voice o-of Eywa. C-cannot lead the People and be strong Olo’eyktan because of this –”

The smallest whimper he made causes her to hold back her own, ears catching onto the way his breath hitched. He releases his hold on his queue and let’s it falls back to his chest in order to apply pressure to evict the constant drain of blood even though at this point it is inevitable. His other hand tries to grasp onto something, anything to sustain himself. She is quick to grab it, guiding it towards her, right above the part he painted over — fingers dipped in turquoise-colored paint at the beginning yet now taints with the boldness of crimson, the length of his fingers curling from the curve of her shoulder while his palm had pressed above the side of her chest right near her heartbeat, the closest thing he was to ever feeling.

He finds grounding, he finds the guidance of her heartbeat, of her touch but it isn’t nor will it ever be like how it’s supposed to. Inhaling through flared nostrils, as if preparing to say the words he wished so desperately to not be true, he utters the words that unfortunately confirmed her very thoughts:

“But overall…I-I will not be able to form tsaheylu with you, yawnetu. You will not have a true mate. A-and I will no be able to feel you…to truly have you under the will of our Great Mother.”

It was effortless to push away the wretched feeling ripping inside of her — but stubbornness is almost as if it is one with her. Something Tsu’tey both adored and despised at times – and in this case, he isn’t exactly certain which he feels right now.

A sob heaves from her chest, feeling so utterly pathetic when tears continue welling in her eyes. “K-kehe ( no ). You have always had me — no matter tsaheylu. You’ve felt, known and seen me, ma Tsu’tey. I feel, know and see you then and now. Please let me continue — let us go—”

“Oeru yawne ( my love )…” The expanse of his palm slides up to her neck, gently enveloping her drenched cheek and weakly frowns at how he’s grimming her beautiful face with his own blood. It is too much; the raw truth of it all, the rasped breath of his tender words, the quivers of his palm due to his pain, tears cascading from her eyes and coating her cheeks, him giving the mantle to someone else and accepting it, the sinking fact that the first and only thing she can and will ever solely, truly feel from Tsu’tey, the man who she’s chosen to be with for the rest of her life as he has chosen her with no hesitation, was him hurting, him processing it with the same pace as she is.

He says nothing for a second, simply letting himself scrutinize and adore her and gather his words. “It is worse to go through this life without purpose than to die. A-a feel without you, oeru yawne, has no purpose.”

“And a life without you has no purpose!” Her voice grows harsher, words broken. “Is that what you want to do to me, hm? Leave me with no purpose?”

“You will have the People—”

“It isn’t the same! A-and so will you if you choose to see the light of this—”

“Ma Y/N.” It isn’t firm, his tone when saying her name. But it is enough for her to stay quiet, ears flattening at the sides of her head.

“Me…just being me will not suffice for the People. And while I am more than happy to know that it is sufficient for you… it is not for me.” The octave of his voice is tremulous, barely audible to ears as he peers up at her. “Not when knowing I cannot satisfy those around me — it will not be enough from my part…for them. For you. Especially with everything you have given me.” He gives her one of his truest smiles despite the red that now streams out the corners, coughing afterwards.

The pad of her thumb swats the blood away, knowing what he was doing with his words. She badly wants to frown at him, to tell him it is not the time to be smiling but she can’t help the pure allure she has to his lovely expression. She can’t help herself from tilting her head and questioning, “What have I given to you?”

“Patience. Peace.” His eyes close a second as he sighs. “Even through grief, through loss and chaos, you chose me. It is as you say; you’ve felt and have known and seen me. While my mind was to be dutiful to the People…my heart was purposeful to you.”

Nuzzling into her touch, he breathes out, “and now I accept this — because I’m in the presence of you. It is…a bit more peaceful.”

“Y-you skxawng.” she chokes out for she doesn’t know what to say and instead lets her forehead shadow over his as he chuckles. But he feels it, feels what’s channeling from her mind, heart, soul, and it’s enough to bring him much more tranquil.

The bleeding from his chest does not stop, but at this point he doesn’t care anymore. Instead, he removes his hand from the spot and loosely curls around the hand that has not left its spot from his cheek. Fingers tenderly knead the flesh of her wrist while the other still cups her face, thumb stroking the apple of her cheek. Eyes taking her in, the sensations she now only faintly ignites within him, and he groans lowly at how those blazing, loving emotions clash with the shock that is coming together. The reality, the acceptance of not being the one to guide the People, of not giving her the future she truly deserves, the acceptance of it all.

She doesn’t want to accept it however. Not now, not yet. So all she can do is nod, swallowing through the lump within her throat and let’s herself softly touch him; the fading specks across his nose, the beautiful markings of his forehead, the sharpness of his cheeks, the quiver of his lip as he inhales curtly, eyes closing for a solid moment. It is ridiculously unbearable now, pain pulsating in sharp waves through his body.

“Hurts?” She tries evading her gaze from the red spiraling down his blue skin, from his severed kuru. He shakes his head and lets his hold press a bit more against her. “No more…fine. I’m fine.” he gently coaxes his lie with a subtle twitch of his mouth, wanting to reprieve her from feeling any more anguish for him.

“That — that is good.” she returns his expression, professing her own belief in his words to spare him his strength in trying to console her. But how he slightly hears it in the way her breathing becomes frantic when his own starts to falter. The extent of his wounds are as he said; too great and severe for Tsahik to cure, and the heart's wrenching notion that he’s near his end slowly starts to seep past her obstinacy.

Faint cries of what seemed to be cheers chime through the sky, and he can’t resist the sigh of relief that emerges. “That is a good sign. Very good.”

She nods but doesn’t tear her attention from him. She watches how his bright orbs shift beneath his shut eyelids. When they come to view again, there is slight agitation. More ache accompanied by sorrow, all of it spreading from the core of his being. “Yawnetu.”

Her tail lashes in fret. “I am here, Tsu’tey — what is wrong?”

“C-call to them…it is almost time.” His words stammer violently, grasping much more onto her when he gasps. Her coils furiously shake across her shoulders, nose scrunching, lower lip trembling when she sobs. “not yet…n-no not yet. I cannot lose you! P-please—”

“My stubborn girl,” he grunts quietly when his red stained mouth manage to smile. “You will never lose me. I…I am more than certain we will see one another again. But now the People, Toruk Makto must know he is to lead them. And I need you to help me let him know.”

She desperately nestles her cheek against his hand for a moment, sniffles and nods before craning her neck forward and placing a light kiss over his forehead. “W-whatever you wish, tiyawn.”

She does what she is told while he listens, the voice of Jakesully being heard, wasting no second in confirming he is on his way with the others.

Feathered kisses are met with his temple now and across his forehead, his eyelids, his nose, his cheeks — but lastly his lips. Not caring for the blood tainting them, only for the sensation they soothe her soul with, she gives him one last broken kiss.

She focuses entirely on Tsu’tey, respite emerging deep from within his lungs while desperately trying to give him one of her breaths as if it’ll spare him, tender fingertips grasping his face in an anguish manner as he too tries meeting her halfway.

The hand on her cheek goes back to her shoulder, gently pulling her closer. Her thumbs brush down his cheeks, outlining the structure of his jawline. “I feel you. I see you, oeru Tsu’tey.”

The tip of his nose nudges her when his forehead finds its place over hers. “I feel you. I…I see you, oeru Y/N.”

Those are the words he finds himself mouthing to her one last time, the only pair of brilliant, loving tearful eyes that he sees, the last swarm of peace that wavers with Toruk Makto’s shadow as it envelops his dying body.

[shinynewboots]

Staring at the Sun / Adam x Lute Chapter 3

Summary: After the battle, Lute attempts to flee with Adam. They find themselves unable to return to Heaven and must adjust to life in Hell.

AN: Welcome to chapter 3! Def one of my favorite chapters so far. I loved writing the dialogue for this! I hope you all enjoy!

Warnings: Violence, gore, 18+ eventually, Adam-typical misogyny eventually

Chapter 2

Chapter 4

Hell Princess allowed Lute to stay with Adam for the following days (though Lute did not give her much of a choice). She sat vigil by his bed in a chair that the Princess had given her so that she would no longer have to sit on the floor. The Princess had even had a cot moved into the corner of the room so Lute could get some sleep.

Sleep very rarely came for Lute, though. 

Exhaustion did not exist in heaven. Winners slept mostly due to the routine and comfort sleeping gave them from their previous lives. Heavenborn slept less frequently as it was not necessarily needed, but it did offer a boost in power. Lute would always sleep for days post-extermination.

But now? This overwhelming exhaustion was unlike anything she had experienced in her long life. She sat in the chair at Adam’s side and could feel her head droop and her eyes grow heavy. She fought against the grip of exhaustion only because if he woke up she wanted to be there at his side, giving all the support she could. 

The Princess would hand-deliver meals to Lute, with Vaggie always 2 steps behind. Lute normally did not eat the meals, but Charlie tried all the same. 

The day Charlie brought bandages to change out Adam’s dressing was a bad one. Lute had snatched the bandages from her hand.

“What the fuck,” Vaggie exclaimed, raising her spear. Lute sneered at the fallen angel and turned towards Adam. She could do this. She could change his bandages. She could keep him safe. 

“Lute,” Charlie said softly. “We can help.”

Lute didn’t turn but instead pulled down the blanket covering Adam and began to remove the soiled bandages. It was difficult to do with one arm and she wasn’t able to pull the bandages out from under his body. Her wounded arm strained up the pressure it was put under. Tears welled in her eyes but she would not dare turn to face them. She bit her lip hard enough to draw blood and the taste of iron filled her mouth.

A hand gently touched her good shoulder. Lute flinched.

“Let me help,” Charlie pleaded softly. Lute did not meet her eyes but instead shoved the bandages back in Charlie’s hand and backed away from the bed, her gaze never leaving Adam. She could feel her wings furl around her body in an attempt at comfort. 

She felt useless, more so than she ever had in her long life. 

She heard Vaggie sigh behind her. “You need your bandages changed too.”

Lute turned to glare at Vaggie. “I’ll do it myself.”

She glanced down at her bandaged arm and took in the cloth soiled with dried blood. The arm ached and throbbed, but she would never tell Vaggie that. 

Vaggied scoffed and rolled her eye. “Fine, get an infection. See if I care.”

The pair turned their attention to Charlie who had begun to hum very loudly as she changed the bandages. Lute could have sworn she heard Charlie sing the words It starts with sorry…

Vaggie pinched the bridge of her nose and took in a deep breath. “Don’t be an idiot and just let me change your bandages and then I promise we will stay out of each other’s general vicinities for the next few days.”

“Fine,” Lute replied, unfurling her wings from around her body. She sat in the chair at the bedside as Vaggie cleaned the bandages. Lute bit her lip at every touch to keep from crying out in pain. When Vaggie took off the bandages, Lute was able to assess the true damage to her arm. It was not a clean amputation (which, why would it be when she pulled it out from under the rubble). It had crude stitches placed on it haphazardly. The stitch sites themselves were surprisingly clean with no sign of purulent drainage. 

Vaggie cleaned the wound with a look of intense concentration on her features. Lute was immediately taken back into a ghost of a memory of Vaggie decades prior with that same look on her face. She couldn’t remember the setting or the event but that look sent an awkwardly uncomfortable feeling down Lute’s spine. She couldn’t help but stare at the “x” where Vaggie’s eye used to be.

She looked away from Vaggie and turned her attention back towards Adam. In the past few days, his skin had regained some of its color but his face still had a deathlike pallor. His mouth was set in a slight grimace and his eyebrows scrunched. 

“Done!” Charlie exclaimed, gathering her materials. “Would you like to come down to dinner and meet everyone?”

Lute sent Charlie a cold look. “I can assure you Princess, no one wants to meet me.”

Charlie wrung her hands awkwardly. “Well I mean, um, it's not like anyone is opposed to meeting you uh, I mean um, you should come join us. Everyone is really excited to meet you!”

“I doubt that,” Lute deadpanned. She turned her attention back towards Adam.  Lute heard Charlie take in a deep breath to further try and convince her to join. She heard Vaggie softly mouth “Let’s go”. Lute breathed a sigh of relief when the couple left the room. 

She moved from the chair to the edge of the bed. She ran her hand through his hair softly. His facial features relaxed as she did so. “I’ll get us out of here. I promise.”

Lute had at some point during the night returned to her post (i.e. sitting in her chair) and dozed off. She had switched out her previous weapon of choice (the lamp) for a fork that she held clutched in her right hand as she slept. 

“Fuck,” She heard the pained whispers of her beloved leader. Her eyes shot open to see Adam thrashing on the bed. His work of breathing had increased and quick pants were escaping his mouth. His eyes were still closed, though this time scrunched together in pain. She jumped up from the chair and stood at his side. 

“Fu-ck,” He breathed out again.

“Sir.” Lute whispered in an attempt not to scare him. He began thrashing around even harder. Realizing he would open his stitches, she placed a hand on his shoulder. She could feel all of her core muscles engage as she balanced over him to not fall on his wounded torso. 

“Adam,” She said again, this time louder and more forceful. His golden eyes opened and Lute was immediately reminded of a wounded animal looking for a place to hide. He did not focus on her at first, his eyes instead darting around the room. 

“Adam,” She said again softly. He turned and looked up at her; his breath beginning to settle into a normal rhythm. His thrashing ceased, though she did not change the pressure she held on his shoulder. 

“Lute,” He breathed out. “Fuck. What—what?”

“You were stabbed and fell unconscious. I sent the rest of the exorcists back to heaven and tried to take you back there with me. The portal closed before I could make it and we fell. Hell Princess had Lucifer save us. I’m so sorry I couldn’t save us.” Lute said slowly, a gnawing feeling of anxiety and despair finding a home in her stomach.

“Fucking, shit, you tried to take me back?” He whispered (as quietly as Adam could whisper) and attempted to sit up. He groaned and grabbed for his wounded torso. His face contorted into pain. She pushed down on his shoulder harder.

“Don’t try to move. You’ll open the stitches.”

“Why would you try to save me?” He breathed out. Lute felt an odd flutter in her chest at the way he looked up at her. Her eyes softened. 

“I couldn’t leave you.” She answered, as though it were the simplest thing in the world. And to her, it was. 

“You crazy bitch,” He whispered, his tone holding more affection and awe than the words themselves. She smirked, never having been more happy to hear Adam’s crass language. He reached his hand towards her bad arm. She flinched away and released his shoulder from her grip.

“What happened to your fucking arm?” He asked, eyes wide. Was that concern she saw? Anger?

“I-uh, was trapped under some rubble. It was the only I could escape.” She admitted, her cheeks growing red at the revelation. She knew she was weak. A disgrace. Admitting so to him made it all the worse. 

“Lute, that’s so fucking badass!” He exclaimed, jerking his body closer to hers. Of course, this led him straight into a coughing fit due to the sudden movement. “Fuck that hurts.”

“I said don’t move, dumbass.” She said before she could help herself. “Sir,” She added for good measure. 

Adam grinned up at her, his boyish features finally revealing themselves out from under the pain.

 “You fucking saved me,” He said, more to himself than her, and shook his head. “Where the fuck are we anyway?”

“The Hell Spawn’s Hotel.”

Adam frowned. “You mean that lame-ass hotel?”

Lute pinched the bridge of her nose with her hand and sighed. “I didn’t have a say in where we ended up.”

“I know,” Adam said, his tone more understanding than she had ever heard. “We’ll just have to get out of here and head to the embassy.”

He moved as though trying to sit up but Lute stopped him with a firm hand on his chest. “You’re not well enough to go anywhere. I don’t like the idea of staying with these freaks either, but there’s no way we would make it to the embassy in our current states. I’m useless without my arm and you can’t even sit up without popping a stitch.”

“Hey, don’t ever fucking say you’re useless ever again.” He replied, his eyes darkening. Acknowledging defeat, he laid back down on the bed and sighed. 

That weird flutter in Lute’s chest grew and all she could do was nod at his words. She pulled her hand from his chest and sat back down in the chair. 

“I thought I heard talking!” A voice at the door exclaimed. Speak of the Hell Spawn and she will appear (with her pathetic girlfriend in tow). “I'm so glad you’re finally awake! And like not dead! You did kill one of my friends though. Sir Pentious, was on track to be one of our first redeemed souls. But oh my satan you’re not dead!”

Adam eyed the hell-spawn warily, his eyebrows scrunched. Lute had jumped from her chair and grabbed her fork weapon, standing at his bedside. 

“You have to get the rambling from your fucking dad because Lilith didn’t run her mouth like that.”

Charlie sent him a strained smile. “What a weird thing to say to someone unprompted.”

“Especially someone who saved your life,” Vaggie added, her tone biting. Lute and Vaggie glared at each other.

“No no, someone who tried to kill me, almost succeeded, and then decided to save my life. Let’s get that shit straight.”

“I really don’t think you want to have the conversation about who tried to kill who right now,” Vaggie sneered. Adam smirked but conceded. 

“Positive thoughts, positive energy!” Charlie exclaimed, clapping her hands to try and regain control of the situation. “How are you feeling?”

“Like someone stabbed me in the fucking back.”

“Well, I,—I guess that's an appropriate feeling,” Charlie replied, her cheery facade slipping with every second she stayed in the room. 

“Did you two want something,” Lute asked, her voice low as she stared at Vaggie’s spear. 

“Uh, just checking since we heard voices. Um, dinner? How about I bring dinner. I can bring dinner, I can bring you both a great dinner. Um, and, uh cards! I can bring you two some cards to play with since you’re still recovering.” Charlie tripped over her words, her face turning red as she turned towards Vaggie. “Why don’t we just go and get that?”

Vaggie nodded at her girlfriend, though her gaze never left the two angels. The pair left the room, even going so far as to close the door due to Charlie’s embarrassment. Lute could hear them whisper out the door: 

“They’re so unfriendly and I feel like I keep saying the wrong thing. Were you this unfriendly as an angel?”

“Charlie, I’m unfriendly now.”

“Fair point.”

The voices outside the door got too far away for Lute to hear. She turned to Adam and lowered the fork in her hand. “Nice weapon, Danger tits.”

“I’m always resourceful.”

“Hell Spawn is literally the most awkward person I’ve ever met. That conversation alone almost makes me wish they had killed me.”

Lute frowned. 

“Lighten up, bitch. I said ‘almost’.”

Lute sent him a wry smile. “You should get some rest.”

“You’re not my mom,” He said though before he could keep a yawn from escaping. Lute raised an eyebrow. “Okay yeah, fine maybe I should. But not because you said so.”

“Of course.”

He settled back into the bed and yawned again. He sent her an odd look, some unknown glint in his golden eyes. “Lute, I really appreciate you. No one has ever done anything like that for me before.” 

She smiled softly. “Of course. Adam.”

[scorchieart]

Hi! For your grab bag event, could you do Licht/#10/Action/3rd pov? Thank you

Character: Licht Klein

POV: 3rd person Genre: Action

Prompt #10: “That's the thing about betrayal. It never comes from an enemy”

Wordcount: 2030

A/N: Thank you for the request, Anon! This was the one I was most excited to tackle from the lot. I had wanted to make the action the main focus of the story, but I got a little carried away with the preamble, so in case anyone isn't interested in the angst and dialogue I'm adding a second divider in between so you can skip to the good stuff ^^

Content Warning: Fighting, Mentions of death

In one fluid motion, Yves yanked Licht into the room and slammed the door shut behind them. The waning crescent moon shone as the only light source, reflecting dully against the gilded furnishings of Yves’s bedroom. Licht only had a moment to rub his eyes to adjust before a terse shove from behind propelled him toward the windows.

“Curtains,” exhaled Yves, and he disappeared into the closet. Licht snatched at the towering curtains surrounding the far wall, shooting anxious glances out the windows as he shut them. The grounds were crawling with guards. His stomach gave an involuntary lurch.

“I had meant to replace the stock for the month, but with so much going on…” 

Yves reappeared carrying a large rucksack, set it on the bed, and immediately began rifling through it. He pulled out several oddly-shaped wrapped packages, a folded bit of parchment, and a plain, drabby navy cloak. 

Making sure the final curtain was securely shut, Licht hurried over to the bed and picked up one of the packages. The moment he unwrapped it, a sickeningly sugary aroma hit his nostrils.

“Yves,” he began, covering his mouth to keep from gagging, “what are all these sweets for?”

“Don’t eat those! They’ll be long spoiled by now,” said Yves, snatching the package and tossing it across the bed. “Oh, what a waste. And what terrible timing…” he muttered to himself, closing the bag.

“Yves—” Licht tried again, but was silenced when Yves turned to him and draped the cloak over his shoulders. The fabric was heavy and durable, factors Yves would never skimp out on for his wardrobe, and yet so dull and colorless that Licht could not believe it was produced from Yves’s closet. 

“They’re not as savory, but the bread and dried fruit should last you some time,” Yves said, working on fastening the cloak around Licht’s neck with shaky fingers. “The guards are probably searching your room as we speak. I’ll head over there, but I don’t know how much time I can buy you. Take the servant’s door from the kitchens, it’s close to the stables. But don’t let anyone see you. And if someone does see you, don’t stop for them. And if they won’t let you pass—Ah! I’m sorry, Licht.”

Licht jerked his head back when he felt the metal fastener cut his chin. Even in the nonexistent light, he could see Yves’s face growing paler by the second, reaching over to him again.

“I’m fine, I’ll do it myself!” yelled Licht, securing the clasp. “Just tell me what’s going on!”

Yves’s lower lip trembled as he picked up the rucksack. “Oh, Licht, there simply isn’t time,” he croaked, handing over the piece of parchment. Licht unfolded it and, squinting heavily through the dark, made out a crude drawing of three figures hugging, the largest in the center surrounded by two smaller identical blobs. It looked like a child’s scribble, one many years old, and frustratingly familiar.

“I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry, but you mustn’t come back,” said Yves, now pushing the sack in his arms and gripping Licht’s shoulders like it was the only thing keeping him upright. “Promise me, no matter what, you will never ever set foot again—”

“That’s not for you to decide, Evie,” said a cold voice from behind them. 

Nokto stood in the doorway, sword at the ready, wearing the most mutinous look Licht had ever seen. “Licht’s not a kid anymore. He doesn’t need anyone to tell him what he can or can’t do. He should know right from wrong by now,” he said.

“You know he didn’t mean it,” said Yves, turning to face Nokto and spreading his arms wide like a barrier. “You know Licht would never betray his kingdom.”

“That’s the thing about betrayal. It never comes from an enemy.” Nokto stepped into the room, guided by the faint glimmer of his steady blade. Though he couldn’t see it, Licht could smell the sweat trickling down the back of Yves’s neck.

“Do you even hear yourself? How can you, of all people, say such a thing?” Yves cried.

“I, of all people, have the greatest right to,” said Nokto, pointing his sword toward Licht. “Once, an accident. Twice, deliberate. I will not let there be a third time. Stand aside, Yves. You don’t need to watch.”

Yves dropped his wall pose and hung his head, his shoulder shaking madly. To Licht, his brother had never looked so defeated. 

“Let’s get this over with, brother,” said Nokto, passing Yves’s spiritless form. “I’d rather not Leon or Chevalier steal the honor from me.” 

Licht froze on the spot, the parchment crumpled in his fist. Was this how it would end? Somehow, he always knew it would be this way, slain at the hand of his twin. But he wasn’t ready for it. Not yet. Not when he still didn’t know what even happened tonight.

Nokto raised his sword, a beacon of light in the shadow-filled room. Licht’s arms were glued to his chest, swallowed by the navy cloak and clutching the heavy rucksack. He had to move, to do something, at least talk to Nokto! But as Nokto’s arm came down, Licht could do nothing but stare and count the milliseconds as they passed, until the blow finally landed.

But it never landed. In the blink of an eye, Nokto was flung across the room, collapsing onto the stale sweets piled on the bed with a mighty groan. He lifted his head, tufts of powdered sugar and crumbs sticking to his hair as blankly stared back.

Yves stood beside Licht, breathing heavily but otherwise rock-steady, his own sword unsheathed.

“Run,” he hissed, and launched. Nokto leaped off the bed just before Yves’s sword impaled the crumpled heap of sheets he landed on. Yves swiftly extracted it and rammed the unbalanced Nokto into a dresser. Crystal goblets and glass containers from the top rocked and crashed on the ground, filling the room with a suffocating mixture of perfumes and sprays. Licht pressed an end of his cloak to his nose and he blinked through watery eyes, but the stinging made it impossible to follow where the two had ended up. All he could hear were clashing sounds and angry voices shouting across the room, and each second that passed by made it harder and harder to breathe. 

Feeling close to retching, Licht slung the rucksack over his shoulder, forced his eyes as far as they could open, and bolted out of the room. The sounds of the fight grew dimmer the farther he ran, but as he gulped in heaps of fresh air into his fiery lungs, he convinced himself to power forward.

This is what Yves sacrificed himself for. You will leave, like he wants. You will not let Nokto become a murderer. They’ll be alright once you’re gone.

“It’s Prince Licht!” a voice called overhead. He had just reached the stairs when he saw them. Half a dozen soldiers were racing down the steps toward him, their weapons held in front of them.

Don’t stop for them! Yves’s words echoed in Licht’s mind. He pulled the hood of his cloak low over his eyes and dashed down the steps, taking two at a time. More soldiers rushed to join the pursuit with every floor he passed, their thundering footsteps growing behind him like an avalanche. He was getting tired fast, and they weren’t slowing down.

Licht gripped the railing and jumped on, sliding down the banister like a chute. He tried not to think of how his sweaty palms made him slide faster, nor the fact that he and Nokto used to play this very game as children. The parchment with the drawing slipped from his grasp and fluttered away, engulfed in the stampede of incoming men. 

The distance between them grew. He kicked off at the base of the handrail and set off down the hall on foot. Yves said to head to the kitchens, that was his best hope.

“Licht!” a familiar voice boomed ahead of him. With torches lining the walls, Licht could make out Jin’s figure instantly, the lines of his distressed expression carrying through the deserted hallway as clearly as the crescent moon.

“Stop! Let’s figure this out,” he called, holding his hands out in front of him. Ready to capture.

Don’t stop for him! 

Licht yanked the rucksack off his back, wound his arm, and smacked it directly into Jin’s chest. The force of the blow coupled with the momentum from his run knocked Jin backwards, hitting the ground hard, but it also meant he had to relinquish his hold on the bag to keep from collapsing too. Swearing angrily, Licht flew down the rest of the hall into a side corridor and burst into the kitchen.

“Out of the way!” he yelled, barreling past terrified cooks and bakers and out into the dark grounds. The cold night air splashed at his face, whipping his hood off, as he ran toward the stables. He felt lighter without the rucksack, and there was no one pursuing him, yet his mind weighed down on his predicament. His sword rattled mockingly at his side, and Licht wanted to chuck it as far from him as possible before leaving. How many more people needed to get hurt because of him?

He tore through the stable entrance and made a beeline for his horse’s stall. Marron was still awake, tossing her head jerkily on his approach, as though she too knew what he didn’t. 

“Let’s go for a ride, girl,” said Licht, reaching to rub her muzzle. But before he could touch her, two large arms clamped around him from behind, and he was lifted into the air. Licht coughed as the breath in his lungs puffed out.

“Jin says you did something bad.” Luke’s voice was shaky as he squeezed harder, and for the third time that night Licht had to resist the urge not to vomit. 

“W-what… bad?” Licht choked. He couldn’t face Luke, and instead kept his eyes trained on Marron, who had begun bucking madly against the door of her stall in an attempt to save her rider.

“Everyone’s looking for you,” said Luke. “Chevie… Leon… all the guards are yelling ‘Bring Prince Licht back alive!’ They say you killed the king.”

Licht’s vision turned white. He heard Luke’s words, but couldn’t quite digest them. Probably due in part to the feeling that everything digested in his stomach was close to spouting back up.

“Nokto,” Luke continued. “He told me to wait here… He said you’d try to escape… Told me not to fail… Then he went to Yves’s room…”

At their names, Licht’s focus resurfaced. He was still trapped, his legs dangling in midair, one arm strapped tightly to his side, his sword forgotten. But Marron was just ahead, stomping even louder than the guards on the stairs, whipping her head, eyes locked on Luke.

Licht’s second arm was still free, the one he extended to pet Marron. The latch to her door was so close. He pushed against Luke’s chest, stretching his fingers as far as he could, the tips just grazing the top of the lock—

Wham!

A pounding headache erupted in his skull and Licht burst open his eyes. It was dark, but not the kind of outdoorsy dark he had just seen. This was a wrenching familiar darkness, one of his own design.

He sucked in a few cursory breaths before realizing his stomach wasn’t being squeezed anymore. He tried lifting his head (when had he fallen to the ground?), only to realize his upper half had fallen off his bed, the rest of him still nestled beneath his covers. His lower arm was outstretched, clutching the bottom hem of a curtain.

He climbed out of bed and hesitantly approached the window. Squinting at the bright sun bursting through as he parted the curtain, he caught a view of a picnic setup outside the rose garden. Seated on a cream-colored blanket were Yves, Nokto, Jin, and Luke, all smiling widely and inviting a girl in a red skirt to join them for breakfast.

*Tosses wordcount out the window* I promise, I'll redeem myself with a happy story for the twins one day.

Tagging:@atelieredux @queengiuliettafirstlady @violettduchess @venulus @thewitchofbooks @leonscape @rhodolitesrose @venti-tangents @dear-sciaphilia @ikesenwritings @myonlyjknight @ladyofcrowsx

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[anika-ann]

His Lucky Charm - Pt.3

Type: (mini)series, slight AU, ‘met in a café, but with a twist’

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader   Word count: 6100

Summary: Steve’s new (girl)friend is a little too obsessed with his good luck. He finds it sweet and utterly adorable. She’s like his personal lucky charm. And by god, does he feel lucky to have her.

A wise man once said: Three things cannot be long hidden: the sun, the moon, and the truth.

Warnings: mention of a near death experience, feels, angst & fluff, language

A/N: Dialogue heavy chapter. I am not sorry 😅 OH and a little SURPRISE in the end notes 😇

Story masterlist

Steve’s head felt painfully full as he drove home, his skull almost throbbing with the speed his thoughts and emotions twirled in his brain as he was trying to process what he saw today – and in the last nine months of knowing you.

He couldn’t get the image of you almost breaking down about him not carrying a drawing from his mind now that he understood that it was about much more than what the drawing represented.

A lucky charm. He could scoff had he had the energy to do anything but steer the bike and his crazy fast train of thought.

It wasn’t difficult to figure out the reason why you didn’t exactly scream whatever you were hiding from the rooftops; if one thing hadn’t changed since his younger years it was that people were afraid of different. People isolated themselves from different. It came as far that people hated different.

What baffled him was why you wouldn’t tell him. You must have known that he of all people – he, with a supersoldier serum in his veins, a serum that so fundamentally changed his body and emphasized his character – would understand, or at least tried his best. And he was trying even now, but--- you were together for nine months.

Nine months; surely you could have found an hour of your time to tell him and explain. He would have thought you cared as much.

But you didn’t, so in addition of being mad at you, he was deeply wounded by the fact you didn’t deem him worthy. That your bond wasn’t as profound as he believed it to be, that you didn’t view the relationship seriously enough to enlighten him into something as big as some sort of a bullet-stopping power.

It was too much. Anger, hurt, disappointment – but also endless curiosity. He couldn’t deny it, he was only human and you--- he had thought you were just extremely superstitious. But now he recalled how he had found you mouthing soundlessly with the drawing in your hand and how you always cursed using the best-known fabled magician.

He felt like an idiot for not realizing it and that didn’t help your case. It had done nothing for him to find an ounce of understanding for your position either. He hated when someone made an idiot of him – as all people did. The fact it was you just made it more painful; it was a betrayal coming from a place he’d least expect.

Steve thought he might burst with all the emotions and their intensity before he even got home.

Home. Was it?

The ride on his bike through the city was unbearably long and somehow too short at the same time, the search for a parking spot seemingly endless. He couldn’t handle another minute without getting an explanation. Without resolution.

Steve strode past the elevator on instinct. His brain was too busy to calculate whether it would be faster or slower than the stairs, but what he was certain of was that he needed to do something to occupy his body while his mind was racing almost too fast to keep track.

Pushing the keys to the lock was torture; every cell in his body was buzzing with the acute need to just kick the door open, because it would be faster and it would give him a sensation to focus on, rather than his frantic thoughts and rapidly changing feelings. He went through way too many of them at least three times in the past ten minutes; it was exhausting.

Lured by the jingle of his keys, you stalked to the small hall – the one with the sweet home decoration on the wall that should have told him, that practically screamed on him the obvious – clearly startled. He didn’t have to search for the cause: for one, he hadn’t let you know he was coming home and for two, he probably looked like he’d been through hell.

And yet; as soon as you saw him, seemingly unharmed, your eyes lit up, an unsure and somehow worried smile passing your lips… the word ‘home’ enveloped Steve like a comfort blanket despite everything.

“Steve! You’re--- what—are you okay?” you sputtered, rushing to him to close the door he had stupidly left open as he stood in the middle of the hall, dumbstruck by the new influx of emotions.

You fumbled around him, so close and yet as if you two were galaxies apart, your gaze roamed over him, studying him wide-eyed, long seconds passing. As you crouched and untied his boots (because he still wasn’t moving to do it on his own), his gaze yet again flew over the words on the sign you had insisted on hanging in your new apartment.

Smoke of air and fire of earth bless and cleanse this home and hearth drive away all harm and fear only good may enter here.

Steve couldn’t but wonder. Should he come here to harm you after his revelation, would he have been somehow stuck at the threshold, entry denied by some invisible barrier?  

He snapped from his musings when you stood to your full height and beckoned towards the inside of the apartment with your chin, walking backwards, your gaze never leaving his face, searching, concerned.

The words tumbled out before he could think of them twice.

“I almost died today.”

It was the most unlikely sentence, the thing that mattered the least at the moment, because he needed to know, he couldn’t wait to ask his question--- but then he saw you looking at him with so much care and the words just spilled.

Throughout his way home, his world collapsed, was rebuild, collapsed and rose from the ashes again, foundation shaky. He was overtaken by so many feelings, battling for dominance, alternating in claiming victory.

Betrayal, because you lied to him, or kept one hell of a secret.

Hurt, because you didn’t trust him enough to enlighten him.

Anger, because you lied to him, or kept one hell of a secret and maybe even played some sort of a charade half of the time while he had trusted you with his deepest secrets.

Doubt, because if you kept this from him… what else he didn’t know? How well did he really know you?

But as you halted in your steps, hand flying to your mouth, your eyes speaking of nothing but sheer fear and relief combined, so genuinely shaken, all these feelings flew out of the window.

Because there was still a part of you – perhaps the most important part – that remained uniquely you and nothing Steve would learn would change that.

“I almost died and all I saw was you and—” he rasped, stopping mid-sentence, because his head was full of you and he was saying all the things he didn’t mean to. He shook his head. “That doesn’t matter right now.”

But it did.

It was the only thing that mattered, because it was the only thing keeping him sane at the moment, the only thing that kept him from snapping even now after he had some time to make sense of all this nonsense. And he turned the facts in his head over and over and tried to understand, but the truth was he couldn’t. You were the one with the answers. And Steve truly craved those answers. Almost as much as he craved holding you and forgetting all about this.

But in all the mess surrounding you, a mess you were the cause of, somehow you were also the only constant.

“I’m here. Alive. And I’m pretty sure it’s because of this.” He pulled out the small evidence bag from the inside pocket of his leather jacket, gently unfolding the paper upon taking it out. He didn’t have to however; one glance and you knew what it was. And what more, you understood what it meant – it was written all over you face. “Is there something you’d like to tell me?”

The hand you had clamped over your mouth balled up into a fist, your eyes turning glassy, expression shifting drastically. Steve thought he had seen you scared before, but right now, you seemed absolutely terrified – and devastated.

He was watching your face for two full seconds before the visceral need to take his question back and wrap you in his arms to comfort you nearly overrode the carnal desire to learn the truth, maybe while backing you into a corner until you spitted it all out. It was a close call.

Whatever the secret you had been keeping from him, whatever actions you took or did not take… in its essence, you had done nothing but protected him. He didn’t want you to be scared. As unwise as it perhaps was of him, the one thing about you that hadn’t changed was that he still loved you. Deeply, unshakingly and with every ounce of his whole being.

That he was certain of; but the rest was frighteningly hazy. It would be so easy to take the question back, but forgetting all about it was not an option.

You nodded to yourself once, dropping your hand to the other, the signature fumble of your fingers returning. Your voice sounded so small that even if Steve barely heard it, it felt like a punch to his gut.

“Yeah. Of course… uhm, are you hungry? Thirsty? Do you want some water? Tea? Coffee? I brought orange juice from the store-”

“Not now.”

Frankly, he could use some water; his mouth was dry as Sahara Desert, but he didn’t think he could last another second without knowing as much of the truth as he could. And should he watch you so silent, curled into yourself to be as small as possible for a few more moments, he’d break.

Especially as his brain only now registered that you were wearing his hoodie, a habit you picked up on whenever he left for a mission. He wondered if there was more behind it besides you missing him. A good luck charm of your own.

You just nodded again, appearing to resign, accepting that nothing would prolong the inevitable. You had to talk about something you clearly didn’t want to. Something you had done, something Steve couldn’t begin to fathom just yet, but that had saved his life today.

“Can I just- can I just say I’m sorry? I’m sorry that I---” You kept averting his gaze as you mumbled and swallowed heavily. “I understand if you’re here to… to arrest me or-“

Steve’s train of thought came to a screeching halt for the second time that day, wind knocked out of him.

Say what?

“Or… I don’t know, neutralize the threat or-“

His stomach made a wild somersault, his knees feeling as if made of jello. Neutralize the threat??

“What?” he asked breathlessly, as you brought your hands up, fingers interlocked, teeth grazing your thumbs anxiously. You turned your gaze to the ceiling, blinking away tears, not answering. “What on Earth are you-“

“I know I practically lied to you and I kept a secret from you and that doesn’t even begin to cover it and… I know that’s awful and just want you to know that I’m sorry. And--- that I understand. You’re a good man, Steve. You do what you have to do.”

Your voice was barely a whisper, painful smile and wet cheeks on display as you dropped your hands to your sides, clutching at the thin fabric of your leggings, an image of a nervous wreck and Steve finally, finally had a revelation.

I’m sorry. My fear and insecurities got the best of me.

He thought he had got it right the second time when he thought it was about you overthinking the possibility of a relationship with him because you understood it came with maybes and missed dates. But no. He had still got it cardinally wrong when you admitted why you didn’t say yes to him right away, over nine months ago. Or he had got it at least partly wrong.

When you said no, it wasn’t about the mantle he carried, about his job, about the complicated life he led and would inevitably impact your relationship if it ever developed – it was about you. He could tear his hair out for not figuring it out as soon as he found out about the drawing.

You had a secret and you were scared of his reaction, even in the beginning.

You were scared of what Steve Rogers would think; you were terrified of what Captain America would do if he realized you had some sort of powers. The fact you were terrified even now was nothing short of heart-breaking.

If Steve wasn’t concerned about scaring you further at the moment, he would have bounce at you to snuggle you and tell you were being a complete idiot. A smart one and a cautious one, but a complete idiot.

You thought he came here under the pretence of a talk about the drawing to arrest you. You wondered if he was here to kill you even.

Jesus God Almighty.

Even if his anger had been at the wheel, Steve would never touch a single hair on your head; as stupid as it was of him, he wouldn’t; maybe not even if you were the one holding him at gunpoint.

But you seemed genuinely oblivious to that fact that he would never do anything to purposely hurt you.

“I’m here to talk,” he whispered, willing himself to talk gentle but firm, because this was truly important. Jesus Christ, did you really think---

Yes. Your expressive eyes said it all: yes, you did.

Steve didn’t think the word ‘offended’ sufficiently summed up how he felt about you making such assumption.

“I lived through something very strange today. I was shot in the chest and didn’t get as much as a graze. And when I tried to shoot at the suit without one important object in it later, the same bullet, from the same gun, tore the suit apart. I want to know why. I want to know how. I want to talk,” he repeated, realizing that it was the ultimate truth.

Because yes, you lied, you kept a secret, but you surely had your reasons. And Steve wanted to hear them. He didn’t want to assume anymore.

“It’s as simple as that.”

That seemed to give you some courage as you, still teary eyed, stuck your chin out.

“I regret keeping it from you. I regret doing something like that without your consent. But I’d do it again in a heartbeat,” you said fiercely, and the amount of conviction in your voice left no doubt.

No doubt that you loved him. No doubt that, as absurd as it sounded, you hadn’t changed since he had left in early morning. You were still you: beautiful and sweet and mischievous and protective of his luck. Of him. It warmed him inside out, peace settling in his heart.

Now he had to work on calming his mind.

Steve slowly crossed the distance between you, eyes boring into yours and you reciprocated, emotions shifting in your face as he drew closer, lips parted as you released a shaky breath when he stopped a single step from you. Reluctantly, unsure of your reaction, he placed his free hand over your arm, lifting the drawing to your field of vision. Your eyes flickered to the offending object and back to his face.

He gave you an encouraging smile as you gazed up at him from under your damp eyelashes, and god, no matter how much Steve hated seeing you miserable, he couldn’t deny your fresh tears somehow made your eyes shine brighter.

“I’m sure you would. Tell me about it. Tell me about you.”

The two of you still stood halfway between the couch and the door, but you revealed the truth anyway, even if it was something both of you should probably at least sit down for.

“Well. It’s as simple as this,” you echoed his earlier words quietly, gulping, but still holding his gaze. “I’m a witch--- less than a quarter witch I suppose, but… a witch.”

Yeah. Steve needed to sit down. And maybe get that water.

Or a sip of the Asgardian mead.

Steve’s head was still swimming with all he was learning, but the shift of the atmosphere was almost palpable. There was no rush anymore, the tension easing. The way you sat next to him, your whole body facing his even if not touching, your feet on the couch, one propped up as you leaned onto the backrest – it all spoke of sense of comfort. It put your fuzzy socks on display, the last touch to cosiness; you weren’t completely relaxed, but you were both getting there. The now dimly lit room only added to the atmosphere, an air of mystery – but undeniably soft.

Steve was grateful and relieved, to be honest, that you were able to let go of some of the restlessness. Clearly, you no longer believed he was here – at his home, at your home – to hurt you, as absurd as it sounded. He could, to a point, follow the train of thought that had led to such assumption, but it still baffled him.

Then again, he still knew nothing about your experience with people reacting to your magic. Trauma was an ugly monster that often lurked under the surface and poked its head out in the least convenient moments – and in the least convenient ways.

For his part, Steve thought that whatever you had done was rather wonderful: he couldn’t deny you saved his life and the mere notion of you doing what you could to protect him made his heart sing.

Yet, he couldn’t but wonder if his ‘luck’ meant someone else’s misfortune. Nothing big – he knew you wouldn’t hurt anyone, not truly – but perhaps someone received a few more papercuts than usual, kept tumbling over his own feet, bumping hips onto tables.

Maybe that someone was you. Maybe you working magic in order to keep him safe meant you were breaking some kind of a magic rule – how was he supposed to know? The mere idea made him shudder.

“The spell you casted…” he started off hesitantly after a short silence. You were letting him process often, endlessly patient and he was grateful for that. “Is it, uhm… dark magic?”

You tilted your head, kind smile adorning your lips. It only now occurred to him that in his efforts not to sound blunt or accusing, he did exactly that; asking you if you performed some crazy dark ritual. But you didn’t seem offended.

“There’s no such thing as dark or black magic – or white magic for that matter. Magic is… magic. It’s… it’s a tool, a force of nature,” you said, shrugging lightly, licking your lips as you thought of the best way to explain. Your face lit up subtly as you figured something out. “Like the serum you were injected with. It’s an inseparable part of you, but you choose how much you use it. Well, to a point.”

To a point? So you couldn’t control it entirely? He wondered how that worked… was it that you sometimes forgot yourself like he did? Using too much force? He couldn’t imagine it, not with how expertly you had been hiding it from him. He added anther question on his seemingly endless list.

“And you choose whether you use it to do harm, to destroy. Or to help,” your smile grew even more tender. “To protect.”

Another beat of silence followed, allowing him to gather his thoughts.

“My powers aren’t… how to say this. The strength of the magic diminishes with each generation. With me barely using the powers in the first place… it means that my magic is weak-“

That made Steve’s eyebrows jump, heart skipping an outraged beat.

“It stopped a bullet that tore kevlar like it was cotton candy,” he questioned your statement, instantly regretting it.

You averted his gaze, gulping, body visibly shuddering at the image his choice of words must have painted in your head. Apology was already at the tip of his tongue, but you seemed to quickly shake the dark thoughts away, eyes finding his again, brief challenge flashing in them.

“And my ancestors could protect cities if they chose to. They could tie the protection to a family, to a specific person, whatever they wanted. Me… I can’t do that.”

Ancestors. You rarely talked about your family and Steve respected that, because it was more than clear it was a touchy subject; you barely spoke to your mother, not even introducing him yet, and apparently you had a falling out with your sister quite a long time ago. Fundamentally different view of the world you had told him; now, Steve couldn’t but wonder if it had anything to do with this. With magic.

And Steve might not understand magic, but one thing he did understand.

“The drawing.”

That was why you used it: because you couldn’t protect him directly for some reason. That was why you clung to it so stubbornly.

Remembering how he had actually caught you casting the spell, he felt like a complete foul again. He should have known, he should have figured it out, he should have seen signs… just like he saw the signs of anxiety taking a hold of you again, withdrawing yourself from him just a few inches as if you anticipated a fiery reaction to something you were about to say.

“Yes. I couldn’t--- it was on my mind for a while, casting that spell,” you admitted quietly, averting his gaze as if you were confessing to something as wicked as plotting a murder. “And when I saw that drawing… I saw an out, a perfect excuse how to get away with it.”

“So… the spell is within the drawing.  If I give the drawing to someone else…?”

You shook your head rapidly, looking rather apologetic.

“It’s not that simple. Yes, the magic is tied to the drawing, protects whoever has it to a point, but… my magic is always reaching out to--- to you.” Oh. “I suppose you are protected even without the drawing, but significantly less so, so please, if you could keep wearing it—if, if you want, of course, I understand-” you stuttered, unsure all over again, regret, shame-

Steve wouldn’t have that. Not now. Especially since he thought he was beginning to understand what you were saying, it was at his fingertips, but he needed a last push, last clue.

“I will. I do want to keep wearing it. But… what do you mean by reaching out to me?”

You shifted uncomfortably, sighing. Whatever you were about to say, Steve promised himself he would control his reaction, because you seemed like the idea of telling him was about to give you an ulcer.

Reaching out despite the distance you had put between you, he gently cupped your elbow, hand sliding down to your wrist, fingertips caressing your palm before he took your hand to his.

“Hey. You can tell me.”

“It’s emotion-based magic,” you muttered under your breath, inaudible for anyone but a supersoldier.

Steve felt his brows draw together. The simple sentence was both perfectly clear and yet ridiculously vague. One look at his face told must have told you he didn’t quite understand yet, so you reluctantly elaborated. He squeezed your hand encouragingly, even if it was his heart beating rapidly in anticipation.

“Emotion-based magic means… well, the protective spell is--- uhm, let’s say that the stronger the urge to protect, the stronger the feeling the wielder of magic has for the one enchanted… the stronger the spell is. Does that… does that make sense?”

Hell yes it made sense. Steve would have smacked himself for not getting it right away if he knew how to control his body, but his mind was buzzing with the revelation, static noise filling his ears.

Urge to protect. Stronger the feeling. Emotion-based magic.

It was about love. The more you loved the one protected, the more protected they were. Steve thought his heart might burst with how full it felt all of sudden, how quickly it was hammering in his chest. You were able to protect him from a bullet like that – and maybe from a grenade when he thought of it, because the heat he had felt after kicking it away was a little too searing not to leave a mark – because you loved him.

Steve had a literal, physical prove of how deep your feelings for him ran, because he was lucky enough to sit here with you, unharmed. He had no idea why you were so reluctant to admit that, because it only demonstrated the fact you loved him just as much as he loved you.

It was mind-blowing. More so when he realized you were not only afraid to admit this, but your powers to begin with. You did all that, while fearing his reaction. You risked your relationship with him, you risked you’d lose his affection, in order to protect him.

How unselfish could love be?

He stared at you with wonder, the warmest of feelings rushing through his veins, the world bright as never before. He wanted to laugh. He wanted to cackle his way through eternity just so he wouldn’t burst with the nearly suffocating happiness.

And you were watching him, anxious of his reaction, the hand which wasn’t enveloped in his restlessly fumbling with the hem of the hoodie you wore.

“That’s amazing,” he whispered the first thing that came to his mind, unable to find a word that would fully express that he felt like he just found the eighth wonder of the world.

“Huh?”

This time Steve did chuckle at the small baffled sound, words spilling from his lips as they came.

“You are amazing. You—you went so far to protect me, thinking that maybe--- maybe if, or more like when, I figured it out… everything could change. And you still did it. For me. I---I can’t even- that’s incredible. You are incredible.”

Yet again, you seemed taken aback, nothing but a shocked “oh” leaving your lips.

You were so adorably flustered and surprised at once, so irresistible, that Steve couldn’t hold back anymore.

His body was moving before he realized it, right hand curling around your nape, left pulling your body to flush to his, lips swallowing the startled noise you let out at the sudden movement.

You submitted to his advances willingly, letting him pull you on top of him with a content sigh as he sucked on your lower lip, mouth parting for him obediently when he wordlessly asked for more. He hoped to pour all of his feelings into the kiss, fingers in your hair tender, reverent, because here you were, his his his to love, to protect, to cherish, just like he was yours and he wanted you to understanding it in your very soul, no doubt left that if part witch or not, you were everything, his little slice of heaven on Earth.

Even if he still needed air to breathe. He forced himself to tear apart from you for a moment, forehead resting against yours, eyes fluttering open only find yours still closed. A tear slipped down your cheek and Steve would have thought it was a happy one, but with each passing second, he grew aware of how despite letting him take and returning the kiss with fervour, there was tension in your spine, your fingers clutching his shoulders a little too tightly.

He would have thought this would be an absolution. Him, telling you he found your confession the best damn thing, kissing the living daylights of you – but here you were, something still on your mind. Alarm bells sounded in his head, but he tried to put out the rising panic. Whatever bothered you couldn’t be terrible, he refused to believe that.

“What is it?” whispered, barely withdrawing an inch.

Your lips trembled, eyes finding his, wide and glassy, something resembling guilt reflecting in them.

“There’s… there’s a question you’re not asking,” you rasped, fighting a lump in your throat, confusing Steve even more. “An important one. I think you now think I’m this perfectly selfless person who--- who just loves you so much-“ That would be correct. “-and I do, but I--- there is this one question and I know it must have crossed your mind, because you’re too smart not to think about it.”

Trust you to turn whatever was bothering you to compliment him. Steve sighed, mind racing as he watched you avert his gaze. It wasn’t hard to figure out what question you had in mind, not with his heart brimming with affection for you, now more than ever.

It was a logical question he supposed, it had crossed his mind, but he saw no point in asking it.

Why ask a question to which one didn’t need an answer?

“Do you want me to ask?” he said softly, brushing away the tear that was about to roll down your cheek.

You tried to climb off of him, but Steve refused. His arm locked around you, fingertips still laid on your cheek. A brief look of panic crossed your face, but you didn’t fight him, resigning.  

“Don’t you want to know?”

Steve sighed. Frankly, no, not really. But it seemed important to you and it did seem appropriate to get it out of the way. If not for himself, then for you. Because apparently, you might not believe you were in danger anymore, but still thought your relationship might.

Steve pulled you yet an inch closer to his chest and slid his fingers under your chin, a gentle reminder to look him in the eye.

“Can your magic help someone fall in love with you?”

He couldn’t even force himself to say make someone fall in love, because he simply didn’t think you were capable of such level of manipulation; not you as a person, not as a descendant of witches.

More tears escaped your eyes as you nodded, warm droplets landing on Steve’s face, silent “yes” falling from your trembling lips.

Steve couldn’t but smile despite hating seeing you cry over this on visceral level. He was… satisfied with your answer, perhaps more than he should. It was certainly good to know that you could do that.

And it was an interesting piece of information, an interesting piece of a puzzle, sure, but one he needed less that you seemed to believe.

“Okay.”

He leaned in to kiss your forehead, lingering as the skin felt as if it was on fire under his lips. His poor enchantress, stressing over nothing.

When he retreated, he found you staring at him, utterly confused by his reaction. He had to hold back laugh at your baffled expression as this was clearly not the response you expected. By gods, he adored you.

“B-but-“

“I don’t need to ask the follow-up question,” he said simply, voice unwavering unlike yours.

“I- I don’t--- why?“

He reached to caress your hair, the smile still playing in the corner of his lips as he toyed with the ends. “I did feel enchanted. I still do. But it has nothing to do with the magic coursing through your veins.”

“How would you know?”

That would be a fair question, he supposed. But it wasn’t enough to make him question his feelings for longer than a millisecond despite your hardened gaze.

“Because I know you. And right now, you could have tricked me into asking, because you knew it was an obvious question, one you’d want to get out of the way if the answer was yes. And you could have simply said no, get me off your back. But you said yes.”

“Could be my plan all along, tricking you into thinking this.”

He raised an eyebrow, wordlessly telling you that he could see that your painfully overthinking brain kicked in. But he could also tell that his words had taken effect; you were only protesting half-heartedly now. Still, he humoured you. He needed to put all cards on the table if he wanted to move on.

“Could be, I suppose,” he mused. “But sweetheart, have a little faith in my ability to read people – to read you. Because I know with absolute certainty that the answer to did you make me fall in love with you by using magic would be no and it would be the truth. Because you’re a good and honest person. You’re the woman I fell for all on my own. You’re the woman I love. You’re the woman I’d like to marry one day.”

Your breath hitched and Steve would have cursed himself for the slip, but the expression of utter awe on your face gave him enough satisfaction to make up for it. It wasn’t like he was ashamed of it. He was more taken aback by the realization that at some point, his hands acted on their own volition, now cradling your face, holding it gently but firmly so he could look you in the eye and get his point across.

“And today… today has been a lot, but it hasn’t changed a thing about how I feel. Maybe I love you a little bit more, knowing you went through the trouble for my sake. But… that’s it. Tell me you understand?” he pleaded lowly.

Tell me you understand I love you. Tell me you understand that despite our flaws and despite what happened, I love you still. Because I know nothing else. Because there is no other way. Because I can’t imagine losing you.

His stomach made an unpleasant somersault at the last thought and at the profound truth in it. He hoped you could read all the unspoken words in his expression, in his touch.

Your eyes were wider than ever, gazing at him with sheer wonder, attentively roaming his face, no doubt searching for any sign of a lie, of doubt, of fear even – but finding none.

“I—I love you too,” you whispered and despite hearing it so many times, Steve could feel the true undeniable weight of the words more than ever. But you didn’t say yes. He watched you just as intently, waiting for your confirmation. “Oh. A-and I understand.”

The widest of smiles spread on his lips and you mirrored his expression reluctantly until a chuckle spilled from your lips and you wrestled your hands around him so you could hug him close, face hidden in the crook of his neck, shoulders shaking with laughter and sobs at once.

Steve’s heart raced in his chest but he embraced you with the same fervour, fingers twisting in your hair to hold you to him protectively, wishing to shield you from the onslaught of emotion that made you shiver so violently. He felt tears prickle in his own eyes as more of yours sunk into the sensitive skin of his throat, but from how your lips pressed to his pulse point, tender and loving, he knew this time they weren’t tears of fear or sorrow.

He pressed a kiss to the crown of your head, feeling your fingers flex, a choked noise bubbling up your throat and the shushing noise left his lips on its own, arms carefully rocking you in his embrace.

“I was so scared I was gonna lose you,” you whispered hastily and Steve squeezed his eyes shut as he felt his heart clench painfully, hating whatever or whoever made you fearing the confrontation so much. Even if it was just anxiety – he couldn’t know and wasn’t ready to investigate yet – he wanted to punch it dead.  

“You didn’t. And you won’t. I’m right here. I love you, sweetheart. I love you, I love you…”

Each declaration was followed by a kiss to whenever his lips could reach, until the pitiful noises of your sobs and cackles turned into silence, occasionally interrupted by a soft watery giggle. Steve was proud to be able to comfort you like that, honoured that he was the one who could do it.

He let you process just as you had let him earlier, his own mind wandering, but present enough to be aware of any minute movement, any alternation in breathing, any new noise you made.

When you melted into him completely – into his still battle battered body, rather filthy if he was honest with himself – he allowed himself to close his eyes, nose buried in your hair, pushing all worries about consequences of his behaviour at the Tower and all implications of your confession away for the time being.

Right now, he was here, with you; and not one thing changed about the fact that he was the luckiest guy in this universe to have that.

Part 4 (I couldn’t squish more into this already long chapter)

S.R. masterlist

Thank you for reading this far 💕

Confession: I cannot let these two go just yet. I just can’t. I have a little something planned for them, but also for you.

I have a little challenge for you. That is, if you’re interested. I am awful at drabbles AND requests, but I will try my best to write a His Lucky Charm drabble for the first three of you who will contact me (in a comment, via an ask or a message, in a reblog) with a very specific observation - see below.

From the very first chapter, I was dropping hints about magic, because obviously, I didn’t want the drawing thing to happen entirely out of blue. We already know that there was the Merlin’s beard swearing, her inclination to believe in superstitions, the sign in her apartment, Steve actually catching her working her magic (even if he didn’t know at the time), the actual word magic or even a magic wand in the text…

BUT. If you find one particular hint that has been there since the first posting, a very much NOT subtle one that appeared REPEATEDLY, let me know. Oh, and know that to find it, you don’t have to be a particularly attentive reader🤭  thinking outside the box allowed and encouraged 😅

If you’re amongst the first three correct answers (if I even get so many answers), I’ll try to scribble something for you 😘 - remember, it will be limited to a drabble related to this fic.

Much love, 

Anika

[marvels-writings]

Used To

Natasha Romanoff Masterlist

Sequel: World Turned Upside Down

Requested by @trikruismybitch​ : NatxReader, 12,18,19,22,29 <-said by R, angst questions. Nat cheats on R with R’s Bestfriend (Steve or Bucky) Nat saying 44, 23<- angst questions, 26, 49 angst dialogue. Just really angsty maybe include a little confrontation with Nat, R, Steve/Bucky with the avengers witnessing it? I’m in the mood for heartbreak (:</p>

12: “Can’t you see how fucked up this is?”

18: “When did you stop loving me?”

19: “Don’t you think you’ve done enough?”

22: “Which part of me wasn’t enough?”

23: “How do I make you love me again?”

44: “How do we fix this?”

26: “Will you ever forgive me?”

49: “Will I ever see you again?”

Word Count: 6.2k (heartbreakingly good)

A/N: I loved writing this, as tiring and angsty as it was. I think this is one of the drabbles i’ve cried while apologizing and writing it. It’s really good in my opinion, please do me the honor of reading it.

Moonlight blurred with string lights, bringing you into a gradient of golden and white colors. The balcony was set up, the fairy lights adorning the open-air gazebo above you. The light shone through the glass of red wine you held, the blood-like light splattering on your hands as you played with your food.

Natasha’s voice flowed around the small balcony, bringing to light her most recent mission. Her voice the only sound throughout the entire date. It wasn’t like her to ignore your silence, yet here you were. She had spent hours decorating the roof for your date night, even longer learning to make your favorite food and serving it to you, you were almost guilty for not trying to enjoy it.

How could you when your emotions cloud your judgment? The emotions brought from weeks of observing your girlfriend and your best friend. You thought you knew Natasha would never hurt you, you almost wished she wouldn’t.

But everything seemed to be changing around you. Bucky was spending more time with Natasha than before. You could’ve sworn you saw him leave her room just before you came back from a mission. You could’ve sworn you saw the same lovesick smile she wore around you, around him.

You were just being paranoid, you almost hoped you were being paranoid, to the point where you were ignoring the signs she didn’t cover. Today, you couldn’t ignore it anymore.

Your girlfriend was wearing an off-shoulder sweatshirt, revealing a hickey on the skin there. You had been on a mission for almost a week, today was the first day you came back. The dark mark was covered heavily in foundation, it showed through the heavy attempt to cover it up.

You couldn’t take your eyes off of it for almost half an hour. Every time you tried to look away or even distract yourself for it, for a few seconds. Your eyes always came back to it.

“What’s wrong?” Natasha asked, a coy smile playing on her lips. “You’ve been quiet lately.”

You tilted your head to the side, considering lying to her, even though it might not work. Taking your eyes off her shoulder to look at her eyes, you set down your fork. The green orbs shone in the soft candlelight, almost distracting you from your turmoil. Almost.

“What?” Nat chuckled, leaning back in her seat, squirming slightly. “I know my cooking isn’t the best, but-”

“When did you stop loving me?” You cut her off, licking your lips nervously.

Your heart hammered against your chest, terrified of her response. What if you were wrong? What if nothing was going on?

Some part of you hoped you were wrong and this would just be another fight. A small voice told you that you were right, you tried desperately to ignore it. You couldn’t, especially when you saw Natasha try to cover up the hickey on her shoulder. It only resulted in smudging the makeup, revealing it more as the cloth slid back.

“I didn’t,” Natasha stated, her brows furrowing in confusion as she leaned forwards into her chair. Her eyes bored into yours, almost asking you why you were upset.

“Then what is this?” You asked, leaning forwards, fingers reaching towards the mark on her shoulder.

 Your hand had barely moved forwards when your girlfriend pulled away. Natasha glanced to the mark before turning towards you. Her face wove itself into a mask, hiding anything she was feeling.

“I, this isn’t.” Natasha stuttered, falling silent when she saw the expression on your face. 

It wasn’t an expression she had seen before. Your lips were pursed tightly, the bags under your eyes seeming more prominent than ever. But your eyes, she wasn’t sure she had ever seen then so despondent.

“How long?” You asked quietly, clearing your throat as your voice trembled. You didn’t want to show how upset you were, not yet. She was barely showing any emotion, you wanted to try to do the same.

“What?” Natasha asked, unsure if she heard you correctly. Her hand inched towards yours on the table, almost flinching when you drew away suddenly.

“How long have you and Bucky been…” You trailed off, you couldn’t say it.

Maybe if you said it, it would become more clear than it is now. Even now, Natasha could deny everything, keeping reality away from you. You weren’t sure if you could handle this reality, starting to prefer if you hadn’t noticed anything.

“Not that long.”

Her mouth opened to speak again, maybe try to make excuses or try to get you to forgive her. You didn’t care, cutting off her lies before she could speak again.

“Don’t lie to me.” You hissed, face morphing into anger as you stared her down. The redhead flinched at your harsh tone, unfamiliar to having it used on her.

Natasha licked her lips, her fingers inching towards the mark to try to cover it up again. It would still be too late, she couldn’t hide the signs once they had been noticed, she couldn’t fix what she broke.

You waited for her to say anything, to tell the truth, to explain why she did this. Nothing, she didn’t speak at all. Her eyes bored into yours as if she was trying to beg you to forgive her with her eyes. You barely noticed when her hand inched towards yours again, her fingers touching yours.

You almost let yourself back into her again.

“I’m sorry, y/n,” Natasha whispered, her thumb drawing patterns on the back of your hand before you quickly drew away. Your thumb rubbed the back of your hand, trying to wipe away the feeling of her touch.

“Sorry?” You scoffed, gesturing vaguely around you. “You think you can just say you’re sorry and that would fix this?”

Natasha hesitated, emotions beginning to leak through her meticulously kept mask. The regret flooding off of her in waves. But underneath it all, you thought you could see a thread of fear. Fear of losing you.

“How do we fix this?” The redhead asked, leaning forwards in her seat. Wincing when she spoke the wrong word. Your eyebrow raised in anger.

“We?” You asked, eyebrow still raised as your arms crossed above your chest. 

Your jaw clenched tightly, muscles tensing as you tried desperately to form some sort of mask. It got harder as you spoke, your voice trembling as tears began to gather in your eyes.

“Natasha, I don’t think you can fix this.” You muttered, hoping you were wrong. 

But there was nothing she could do. The mistake had been made. You had to live with it, even though you wanted to leave it behind.

“You broke everything we had.” You muttered, a tear slipping down your cheek. It looked like liquid gold because of the lighting.

You inhaled sharply when you saw the redhead reach forwards to wipe away your tear. Leaning backward, you almost fell out of your chair when you stood up abruptly. Footsteps neared the door as you tried to leave this mess.

You heard Natasha’s chair clatter to the floor when she stood up to chase after you. Her footsteps barely behind you as she followed you out. More tears began to stream down your face, dropping on the ground below you.

The door slammed shut behind you, leaving Natasha outside. It wasn’t locked, she could follow you if you wanted to. Though, you doubted she would.

You leaned your back against the door, breathing heavily as tears soaked your cheeks. You didn’t know what you were supposed to do. Should you leave? Wait for her in your room? But you couldn’t go back to the same bed where she had forgotten you.

A heavy sigh left your lips as you went in search of someone you could trust.

————

The loud bang of the balcony door was accompanied by rapid footsteps nearing your door. Wanda looked up from her bed, frowning in concern. Pictures were spread out on her bed as she tried to sort through them, wanting to make a photo album.

She expected to hear the sound of your bedroom door slamming shut. It was usually what happened after you fought with Natasha. This time, it didn’t happen.

Waves of anger and despair hit her as the footsteps neared your door. The slam still didn’t sound, she decided you might be waiting for someone. She bit her lip, nervously walking towards her closed door to open it.

The door handle twisted slowly before revealing you. 

You stood in front of her door, your hand raised as if you were just about to knock. Tears stained your face, your eyes still glistening with them. Your hair was messy as if you’d been running your hands through it. Your hand dropped as she opened the door, your fingers wringing together as you glanced down.

“Y/n, what happened?” Wanda asked, opening the door a little wider. Her brows furrowed in concern as you avoided eye contact with her. Your entire body seemed to be shivering despite the warmth inside.

“Can I, can I come in?” You stuttered, shivering a little more. The witch nodded and let go of the door. But you didn’t seem to notice the gesture, your eyes vacant as you watched her.

“Of course.” She stated, stepping back to give you room to step in. The witch glanced around outside, incase Natasha was behind you. She spotted her red hair, glancing towards your girlfriend as she began to close the door.

Green eyes stared at the witch as she closed the door. It shut with a soft click, Wanda licked her lips nervously. Guilt rolled off Natasha in waves, the witch could almost hear her thoughts through the door. 

Shutting her off, she sighed and turned towards you.

You stood near her bed uncomfortably, glancing towards the pictures. Your eyes seemed to linger on the pictures of you with Natasha, more tears beginning to form in your eyes. Your lip slid in between your teeth, watching the images before turning back around to face Wanda.

“What’s wrong?” She asked, gesturing to the bed for you to sit.

Hesitantly, you sat down, not before moving away the pictures laying there. One of the pictures were when you had celebrate your second anniversary with Natasha, Wanda was posing behind both of you as you took a picture.

 Your fingers ran over your happy smiles with an air of nostalgia.

“It’s Nat, she,” You bit your lip harder, willing the tears to stop flowing.

 They spilled forth anyway, a drop of blood staining your lip from where you were biting it so hard. Letting your lip loose, more tears spilled forth. A sob wrenched its way from your throat as you hunched over, eyes stinging.

Wanda sat down in front of you, one of her hands resting on your knee. She tried to look at you, looking up at you to see your face. Your hands covered your face in a hasty attempt to hide your mess. Your back shook sporadically as you shivered, your body wracked with sobs.

Red wisps caught your eye, you glanced towards it before turning to look up at Wanda. Her hand gestured towards your head. She looked at you innocently, hoping you would let her see what had happened.

It wasn’t the first time Wanda had asked. 

You had come to her many times with nightmares or something that left you broken. She helped you with her powers, using them to help you instead of harming others. You trusted her completely, more than Natasha.

You nodded weakly, trying to bring the argument to the front of your mind. The images began to play through, the hickey on her shoulder, Bucky leaving the room once you came back from a mission, the looks they shared. All of it came to the front of your mind.

Wanda looked slightly confused, unsure of what was happening as she probed further. You tried to conjure an image of them in the act. But you couldn’t, more tears began to fall from your eyes as you tried to clear your mind.

But one image kept showing, no matter what. The same smile Natasha always wore when she told you she loved you. Her lies kept coming back to you.

Wanda’s eyes widened as red wisps stopped flowing between her fingers. Her eyes bored into yours, emotions running through her. The main one being shock.

“She, oh my god,” Wanda stuttered, unable to believe it.

Your relationship with Natasha was the strongest she had seen. You had plans for the future, promises to get through everything together. All of it made you what you were. For Natasha to tear that all down for a few nights of sex, she couldn’t wrap her mind around it.

By the looks of it, neither could you.

“y/n, I’m so sorry.” She whispered though a part of her knew it wouldn’t help. Her hand rested on top of yours comfortingly, trying to provide whatever support she could.

You nodded staring down at her hand nervously. Tears fell from your eyes, streaming down to your shirt and soaking it. Your lips pursed together before you drew your hand away from Wanda’s.

The witch let the silence settle over you, waiting for you to speak. There was nothing she could do, nothing she could say to make this go away. She stayed silent, hoping you would speak eventually. Though, a part of her hoped you wouldn’t say anything, instead seeking comfort in the silence.

“Why?” You asked, voice cracking as you spoke. You bit your lip tightly, trying to steady yourself. Taking in a deep breath, you turned to face Wanda.

Her heart broke a little seeing you like this. Your eyes were turning red and puffy, tears still falling from them. You looked at her with so much pain in your eyes, like you’d watched something die.

In a way you had.

“Why the fuck did she do this?” You asked again, your voice steadier than last time. It still broke slightly as you leaned back against the headboard. Your jaw clenched as you waited for the witch to answer.

You didn’t know what you expected her to answer. Maybe she would tell you it was a mistake, or this was just a bad dream you needed to wake up from. 

Part of you hoped for that last reason, almost clinging onto it like a lifeline.

“I don’t know,” Wanda whispered, shattering the last of your hopes.

You licked your lips, tasting the salt from your tears, remembering how Natasha used to wipe them away. You could feel the ghost of her touch her thumbs running over your cheeks as you cried. 

Her comfort after you had a nightmare. 

Her lips on your skin as she drew you out of your mind’s hell.

You wiped your face angrily, trying to wipe away the ghost of her touch. The last thing you wanted was to be seeking comfort from the same woman who broke you. Turning to Wanda, you saw the gears turning in her head as she tried to come up with a solution.

“Maybe you can still work this out?” Wanda suggested timidly, cowering slightly.

You huffed, running one hand through your hair as you stood up. Voice caught in your throat, you coughed before speaking. The witch moved away from you, knowing she had said what you didn’t want to hear.

“Wanda, I don’t think…” You trailed off, palms digging into your eyes to stop the tears from flowing. 

A broken groan escaped you, the pain worsening. Your chest tightening as your arms fell to your sides. You gave up, a sigh leaving your lips as you stared down at her.

“Can’t you see how fucked up this is?” You asked, eyebrows furrowing. It was as if you were begging her to see your point of view. 

Wanda winced as she shook her head, waiting for you to explain. You almost didn’t want to, scared of narrating your worst nightmare.

“I wasn’t enough for the only person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.” You muttered, jaw clenching shut tightly.

Memories came back to you, memories of talking to Natasha about your dreams. Everything you wanted to do later, from the small cabin on the lakeside, to what you wanted to name your children. 

All of your plans, even to the small outdoor wedding you had planned. 

All of the things you wanted to do with her, gone.

“And Bucky, of all people,” You sighed, running one hand through your hair, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. Deflating, you sighed as your anger began to leave you. An empty feeling taking it’s place as tears continued to stream once more.

“even if it was a stranger it wouldn’t be that bad.” You said, another heavy sigh leaving your lips as you set your hands onto your lap. You leaned backward, laying down on the bed, fidgeting with your fingers as the witch watched you.

Bucky is, no, was your best friend. He had helped you through your hardest of places, you’d helped him once he came back from HYDRA. He was the person you wanted to go to after a long day to rant about, the person you trusted most.

 It was almost ironic that he did this.

“When, when you and Vision broke up, how did you cope?” You asked, turning to face Wanda. 

Her lips were pursed, she wanted to keep the answer to herself. You had been there when the breakup had happened, you had seen how miserable she was. But she pilled through it in a matter of months.

“Y/n…” Wanda trailed off, not wanting to answer. She wasn’t sure if you were going to break up with Natasha, she almost hoped you wouldn’t.

“Please?” You asked again, watching her carefully. Wanda caved with a heavy sigh, avoiding eye contact with you as she spoke.

“I had a few one night stands.” She confessed, glancing up at your. “Then I left for a month, to take a break from everything.”

You huffed in frustration, her answer wasn’t something you had hoped for. If it was something you wanted to do, you would’ve gone for it. But one night stands, it didn’t make sense. 

Leaving everything, that seemed a better option, even though it shouldn’t.

Wanda watched you carefully, seeing what you were going to do. She could see you weren’t going to do what she did. But you might leave, she couldn’t blame you if you did.

“You’re not the kind of person for one night stands,” Wanda stated, her jaw clenching as she noticed your posture stiffen. You relaxed slightly as you spoke, your words more of a quiet confession than an answer.

“No,”

“But you want to hurt her the same way she hurt you.” She continued, hoping she was wrong. 

The look you gave her confirmed she was right.

Your pain was morphing into anger, wanting Natasha to feel some of the pain she was causing you. The last thing you had wanted to cause her was pain, after this, you weren’t sure what you wanted anymore.

“You didn’t need to read my mind to figure that out.” You scoffed, turning away from her towards the window. The stars shone in the sky, the clouds nearing the slowly to cover the light that remained.

“I didn’t,” Wanda whispered, almost too quietly for you to hear.

Silence filled the room again as you considered what to do next. What options were there, you could stay and try to work things out or break up with Natasha. Or you could leave, away from this giant mess she had created. You had the right to.

“Do you think I should leave? Take a break?” You asked, turning towards the witch. She shrugged, not knowing what to answer. Her knees were curled up to her chest, her chin resting comfortably on top as she watched you.

“I think you should do what’s best for yourself,” Wanda answered, truly thinking so for the first time. 

She didn’t want you to leave, but it was probably what was best for you.

You chuckled sadly, wiping away the tear stains on your face. A hand-wound itself in your hair as you smiled again. Your eyes glazed over as memories continued to filter through your head.

“You know, I used to think that Natasha was the best thing that happened to me, the best thing for me.” You turned to face Wadna, silent tears streaming down your face. 

They rolled off your cheek and into the blanket below you, creating small stains. Your words stung you, a crushing feeling in your chest as you continued speaking.

“That being with her was all I would ever need.” You continued, feeling the air leave your lungs as you remembered the feeling. The feeling of looking at her and thinking, almost knowing that this was all you needed for the rest of your life.

Natasha was all you had needed.

“I used to think she felt the same.” You muttered, turning to face the ceiling. Your arms felt heavier than they should be, too heavy to wipe your face. You let them remain there, licking your lips again. Aware of the pitiful green eyes watching you.

Wanda stayed silent, unsure if you were finished. Even if you were, there wasn’t much she could say. 

You opened your mouth again, closing it as you chose your words carefully. A broken chuckle left your lips as you turned on your side, propping your head on your arm.

“How foolish, I used to think she loved me.”

Your words resounded in the room, circling back to you as you spoke them. They were so tired like you’d already given up on Natasha. You’d given up on everything you had, even your plans.

Wanda watched you turn away from her to sleep. The crying had worn you out, you found some comfort in thinking your mind couldn’t come up with a nightmare worse than your reality.

There wasn’t anything she could do to comfort you. If she tried to reassure you, maybe tell you that Natasha loved you, she would be lying. 

You had already been through enough lies.

She sighed, pulling up her knees and taking a book from the nightstand. Sleep wasn’t something that would come easily to her. Your thoughts were still too loud, she did her best to try to comfort you using her powers.

Eventually, you fell into a dreamless sleep. 

One devoid of lies and Natasha, one almost better than the reality you were in.

————

Noise from the bathroom filled the room as you lay on the bed. Sunlight streamed through the open blinds into your eyes. Wanda was in the bathroom, you were alone in the small bedroom. The pictures which were there last night had been moved.

Treasuring the small moments of the morning, you avoided the events of yesterday as you hoisted yourself of the bed. 

Honestly, you weren’t sure what you were going to do. Natasha was still in the compound, waiting to talk to you. She wasn’t one to run away after fights, you were.

Rapid knocking sounded on the door. Your head snapped to the doorway, waiting for a voice to sound.

“Y/n?” Natasha called, the door muffling her concerned voice. “Please, I know you’re in there.”

You froze at hearing her voice, convincing yourself she would go away if you didn’t do anything. Soft footsteps sounded near the bathroom. Wanda stood in the doorway, hair wet from her shower as she watched you.

It was up to you to let her in. If you talked to her, what good could come out of it? Maybe the apology, maybe a plea, but nothing enough to make you stay. If you didn’t want to talk to her, you knew you could ask Wanda.

 But it wouldn’t make this go away. It would only delay the inevitable.

Licking your lips dryly, you shook your head, deciding not to talk to her. Wanda nodded to you, heading towards the door to tell her off. The lock sounded as the doorknob rattled, along with the sound of a lock being picked.

Your eyes widened slightly as the door opened. Natasha stood behind the half-open doorway. You looked away from her as she came in, jumping to your feet.

“Y/n-” Natasha began, not getting in another word as you whirled to face her.

“NO!” You shouted, finally looking at her. Her eyes were red and swollen, hair messy but she still looked like the same woman who had lied to you. You couldn’t do this, not now.

“Natasha, I don’t want to talk to you.” You stated, keeping your voice level to not scream at her. Wanda glanced at both of you, unsure what to do. You stared her down, waiting for her response.

“Please? Just let me apologize.” Natasha pleaded, wincing under your gaze. Her eyes bore into yours, looking for any sort of response. But you’d shut yourself down, adamant to not give her any reaction. though, you doubted that would last.

“Let me try to fix this.” She asked, hoping to get a response from you, hoping you would let her explain.

But you didn’t, you scoffed and raised an eyebrow. Your arms crossed over your chest confrontationally as you looked at her. Heart hammering in your chest, you tried to stop feeling. Stop feeling everything, the nostalgia of what you were, the pain of this, everything.

“Don’t you think you’ve done enough?” You asked, voice cracking as you spoke.

Natasha paused, the answer clear in itself. She had done enough, there was nothing she could do to fix this. Explaining it could only make it worse. What could she explain anyway? 

Explain why you weren’t enough for her?

You didn’t want to stay near her. It was strange, how her mistake managed to turn everything upside down. You used to think of her as your home, the only place you felt safe and protected. Now, you’d give anything to be away from her.

Shoving past her, you headed out the door. Natasha didn’t hesitate to follow you, arm reaching out when she stopped herself.

You didn’t know where you were going, storming into the common room where the rest of the team was. They glanced up at you coming in, Natasha and Wanda at your heels.

“Y/n, please stay, just-” Natasha began, reaching out for you again. You turned around at her words, close to shoving her away from you before she stepped away.

Bucky looked up at both of you guiltily while the rest of the Avengers observed. None of them knew about your fight yesterday. Natasha had kept it under wraps, hoping she could fix this before they found out.

“Why the fuck should I stay, Natasha?” You asked, voice cracking as tears began to form in your eyes.

 The whirlwind of emotions you were avoiding caught up with you. A sob choked in your throat as you glanced away from her.

“Why should I stay when everything I gave you still wasn’t enough for you?” You demanded, stepping closer to her to look her in the eye.

Natasha avoided looking at you, trying her hardest to mask her emotions. Every question you asked cracked her mask more until it began to break. The weight of her mistake was bearing down on her, nearing like a wrecking ball. She was scared it was too late to fix the wreckage.

“Why should I stay when everything we were,” You said, wiping your face hastily to clear the tears. “everything we could have been didn’t matter to you?”

You clenched your jaw tightly, unexpectant towards answers to your questions. You watched her, thinking she would lie to you again. But she didn’t, she stared down at the ground as her eyes grew watery.

Her mask finally broke.

Tears slipped down her face, dripping onto the floor, landing with the soft patter of raindrops. Showing emotion wasn’t common to her, crying was out of the question. She had rarely let you see her breakdown, let alone the rest of the team.

Silence shrouded the room in an ugly cloud. Natasha’s sobs the only sound in the room. No one dared to move, watching both of you intently. The redhead opened her mouth, closing it after as she weighed her words.

“You should stay because I love you,” Natasha whispered, her voice barely loud enough for you to hear.

You licked your lips slowly, eyes tracing the tears falling down her cheeks. A small part of you wanted to wipe them away, to never hurt her again. It was what you’d promised her after all, to never hurt her or lie to her.

It never occurred to you that she would be the one hurting you. That she would be the one who should have made that promise.

“I don’t love you anymore.” You stated, keeping your voice as flat as you could.

Natasha looked up to you, searching your face for your tell. She couldn’t see it, staring at you, desperately hoping you were lying. It was like she was searching for you, but instead of looking for the truth, she was looking for the lie.

There wasn’t one. 

You were telling her the truth.

“Not after this,” You muttered, facade breaking as you let out a sigh. Your eyes slipped to Bucky, who looked up at you. Shutting your eyes tightly, you looked away from him, unable to look him in the eye.

There wasn’t anything you could say. Your heart thudded dully in your chest, the nervousness of seeing Natasha wearing down. Now, you were just upset and angry. All you wanted was to leave.

But there was a question you needed to ask her.

“How do I make you love me again?” Natasha asked, speaking before you could. 

You sighed again, a despondent sound as you looked back up at her. Your eyes were vacant, sad like you’d given up on her.

“I don’t think you can Nat.” You whispered. A sad smile graced your lips, twisting the corners of your mouth into a broken look.

You turned around, about to leave when you remembered the question you’d been asking yourself the moment all of this began. You didn’t want to ask her, scared of the answer. But you wanted to know.

“Just tell me one thing.” You began, turning back around to face her. Natasha looked up at you hopefully, but your expression was serious, crushing her hopes easily.

“Which part of me wasn’t enough for you?”

Natasha opened her mouth but closed it after. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. She should have answered something. Maybe lie to you, tell you that nothing was wrong with you. But she didn’t admit it, staying silent.

“No, I genuinely don’t understand.” You ran one hand through your hair, stepping backward. Your eyes glanced around the room.

Wanda was watching the interaction, looking at you worriedly. Steve’s face showed nothing, but his eyebrows were furrowed in anger as he looked at Natasha. You didn’t look at Bucky, you still couldn’t. He sat in your peripheral, looking from you to Natasha guiltily.

“I don’t understand how I wasn’t enough for you.” You spoke, voice wavering as tears began to form in your eyes. “I don’t understand how you slept in the same bed as me, knowing you had broken us.”

Natasha didn’t say anything.

She slept in the same bed as you, made plans with you about your future, told you she loved you. All in the same day she had cheated on you. All in the same day she decided you weren’t enough for her.

“How, how did you even sleep at night?.” You spoke, stepping forward to look into her eyes.

“In the same bed, we talked about spending the rest of our lives together, you broke us.” 

Natasha opened her mouth to speak, a strangled sound coming out. Her eyes glanced down, staring at the floor instead of you. She had never seen you this hurt. Even after missions, when you were scared and crying after a nightmare.

She hurt you more than anyone before, even though you had given her what no one had.

“Y/n, please, it was a mistake,” Natasha begged you, pleading you with her eyes. You stepped away, betrayal shining in your face as you did so. Her eyes slipped to Bucky who looked almost as guilty as she did.

“Please just,” She reached forwards to take your hand, watching you pull away quickly. 

Her eyes shut tightly in a desperate effort to stop crying. It only irritated her eyes as more tears slipped away. She looked up at you again, staring at your blank face.

“Will, you ever forgive me?” She asked, watching your facade crash into anger.

Forgiveness. After everything, after throwing away everything, she dared to ask for your forgiveness. It was almost funny how naive this situation had made her. Anger shrouded you as you looked at her.

“You don’t deserve to be forgiven.” You stated harshly, clenching your jaw tightly.

The redhead winced at your word, a broken chuckle leaving her lips as she looked up at you. She remembered when you had told her otherwise. When you had told her she deserved to be forgiven for her mistakes. 

What she had ruined would come to haunt her.

“You convinced me I deserved to be forgiven, that I deserved love,” Natasha whispered, fondly remembering your promises to her.

You remembered your reassurances as clearly as she did, maybe even clearer. Her nightmares were always more shattering than the reality. But you were always there for her, convincing her that she deserved your love.

“And you had me convinced that you loved me.” You breathed, watching the fondness fade from her face into heartbreak.

You knew she still loved you. She had told you too many times, making it a tradition more than important words. The first time she said them, it was more difficult than you had thought. After, it was almost like the words were meaningless to her.

“I believed you, I used to think you loved me.” You spoke, heartbreak resonating in your tone as you turned away.

Everyone was still watching you intently. Your entire family was watching you, the rest of the team was in the living room now. Funny, the only time you thought they would be watching you and Natasha talk like this would be at your wedding, the day you promised each other your lives. 

Now, they were watching as you broke apart.

She opened her mouth to speak. You winced, waving her off.

“Don’t, don’t say anything.” You stuttered, stepping back slightly. You didn’t want to hear her speak, her lies, or her truth. Not that you could tell the difference anymore. She closed her mouth in surprise.

“I can’t tell the difference between your lies and your truth.” You said, licking your lips nervously.

To your surprise, she didn’t say anything. Maybe she had given up on trying to fix this. You had already given up.

Looking down, you decided to leave. If you stayed, all you would get was apologies from your family and Natasha. If you stayed, nothing could come out of it. Wanda was right to take a break after her breakup. She came back stronger after it.

Maybe you would come back stronger after. You didn’t know if you ever planned to come back.

“I’m leaving, away from this mess.” You told her, looking around the rest of the room.

They were shocked, but Wanda looked like she expected it. She gave you a small nod, leaving the room quickly. The rest of them looked up at you in shock, almost stepping up to argue with you when they caught sight of a tear making its way down your cheek.

They couldn’t stop you from leaving. Not even if they wanted to.

Your eyes fell to Bucky. He looked up at you apologetically as you finally looked him in the eye. Everything was gone from your eyes, the affection you used to greet him with. He was sure his mistake would haunt him for the rest of his life. 

This was one of his biggest regrets.

“Will I, will I ever see you again?” Natasha asked timidly, hope underlining her tone. She couldn’t stop you from leaving her with her mistakes. All she could do was hope for your return. Upon seeing your expression, that seemed unlikely.

“If the entire world turns upside down, you might.” You said a halfhearted joke as you turned towards the door.

Leaving your things behind, leaving your entire family behind. There wasn’t anything here for you anymore. Her mistake had taken that away too.

Maybe in a few years, you would come back, turn this into a story to tell your friends. Tell them the story about how Natasha Romanoff loved you. The story about how you used to love her.

World Turned Upside Down

A/N: I actually wove all of them together. And everyone who made it down to here, please tell me how it is, I put a lot of time and effort into it. Comment and reblog!!!

Tag List: @capcarolsdanver​​, @versdan​, @lesbian-girls-wayhaught​, @lovebotlarson​, @dhengkt​, @hstoria​, @natasha-danvers​, @veryfunnyal​, @xxxtwilightaxelxxx​ , @ophelias-heart​  , @never-didbefore​ , @justarandomhumanhere​, @the-most-unicorn-of-them-all , @thatssocamryn​ , @lesbian-x-blackwidow​ , @marvelbbyx​ , @wlw-imaginesss​ , @hcartbyheart​​ , @summergeezburr​​ , @imnotasuperhero​  , @a-stressedstudent​ , @aaron-despair​ , @rooskaya-yelena​ , @dynnealberto , @thewitchandtheassassin​ , @wannabe-fic-reader​ , @izalesbean​, @higherfurther-romanova​  , @natalia-quinzel​    let me know if you’d like to be in any of my tag lists!

[wizkiddx]

unusable faces

i have exams hence why i needed to write something exceptionally cringe :)

PSA: this is completely inspired from one of my fave writers own blurb @blissfulparker​ --> completely recommend u go read hers its much better than anything i could ever write!!!! (and just her whole account) = link

Summary: pure exhaustion and mutual pining, Tom Holland x actress!reader

^(just thought this was cute, doesn't really fit aha but full credit to op!!)

A scheduling nightmare would be putting it lightly. Perhaps almost unavoidable but that didn’t make it any less of a hellish form a torture. Harry had very helpfully said it actually was a form of torture, that is sleep deprivation. Y/n loved her job - it was all she’d ever really wanted - yet that thought was quickly becoming not enough to get her through the day. Not when it felt like an interrogation tactic used by the CIA. 

To give a quick timeline of the past few days may give a little context:

Thursday - filming the fight scene all day plus an evening-turned-half-the-night-shoot due to some technically difficulties delaying the process.

Friday - flying to New York while doing read throughs of scenes for the next few days; followed immediately by getting glammed and filming the tonight show with Fallon; then a dash across town to the late late show with James Corden; then straight back on a flight to Atlanta that landed at stupid o’clock in the morning

Saturday - a full day of shooting in a mock grand central station set

The press trip to NY had been unplanned… to say the least. But the star of their studios other new release had taken ill - meaning they had slots booked on some of the biggest talk shows in America that would just be abandoned (angering the shows bookers too). It was a waste of perfectly good promo time and since the studio had their two other stars together doing a block of reshoots - it wasn’t a conversation. Much more a call demanding the two of them to be on the plane.

Normally this wouldn’t be such an unmanageable ask either, except the reshoot block was really rather time pressured. You see, the promo tour wasn’t far from beginning meaning they really needed the final film in the can. So really it was a bit of a mess. Just to free up that single day the two were in New York the whole schedule had had to be rejigged - in doing so they’d lost a rare day off too. It was just typical.  

The joys of success hey?

Well, that’s at least what Y/n was making herself think whilst her incredibly talented SFX artist was in the process of crafting a deep wound onto her upper arm. The reason why she would be ‘dripping with blood’ whilst at a train station was beyond Y/n to be honest - she hadn’t been allowed to read a lot of the script so even now as filming was drawing to a close, the story arc of the movie she was headlining was still a little ‘fuzzy’.

“So I watched your ‘spill your guts’ thing on YouTube” Ellie giggled whilst reaching over for more prosthetic putty- a technical term apparently

“I’m glad one of us enjoyed the experience” Y/n replied with a sigh, rolling her eyes at the mischievous smirk on her face - no doubt Ellie took great joy out of seeing her suffer through eating a thousand year old egg. Which Y/n swore the taste of was still in her mouth… and it seemed as though it’d never leave. 

“Oh don’t worry darling I did too” Nelli called over from the next chair along, where she was doing Tom’s makeup for the day of shoots. “Between that and the animals on Fallon, you made a hell of a lot of people laugh last night” Tom’s artist was referencing the fact one of Jimmys other guests was a zookeeper, so at the end of the interview he had you and Tom join in trying not to scream at the snakes and spiders.

“You mean laugh at us?” 

“Well of course darling!” Nelli exclaimed back in an overdramatic bronx accent making all three of the women burst out laughing, Ellie’s unceremonious snorts echoing through the trailer only egged them all on more.

Tom in response, who had otherwise been absent from conversation for the majority of the morning, exclaimed a curse and jumped up in his chair. While you and Ellie collected yourself, Nelli apologised to him.

“Oh sorry love, I’m interrupting your snooze with my uncontrollable comedic gift” She spoke sweetly, even if still taking the moment to flaunt to the other women, as she squeezed his shoulder compassionately.

“No no” Tom waved off her apology, attempting to rub his eye before Nelli swatted his arm away - a stern look for the risk of ruining all her hard work she’d put into making his face look half presentable. 

“I’m impressed you can sleep while they poke you with all these er instruments” Y/n added in, having only just realised Tom had been in a light sleep for god knows how long they’d been in that chair. It did seem a bit unlikely, being able to fall asleep as you were dabbed, prodded and brushed. 

“Maybe you should try though Y/n… your purple eye bags are proving a struggle even for me” Ellie quipped back, now it was Y/n’s turn to give the stern look. Tom took the explain though, shutting her off from whatever kindly meant insult she was about to throw back at her friend. 

“No normally never, I just….” He was cut off by an ear splitting yawn, appearing almost powerful enough to crack his jaw - which would be a disaster, for no one should ruin such a beautiful and sharp jaw line. “…uh-sorry. I just think I ended up taking my NyQuil and DayQuil the wrong way round in the madness of yesterday.” Only Tom, the poor kid often seemed to lacking in any form of common sense - even if those closest to him knew just how intellectual and passionate he could be about the right topic. Affectionately, Nelli scalded his idiocy by jokingly swatting his head with a little tut.

“I can’t believe your still standing then! I’m barely alive and I don’t have any sedatives in my system.” It was true, Y/n was at that stage where every part of her body felt ridiculously heavy… eyes included … eyes especially. 

“But I did sleep on the jet back while your stupid self was studying the script!” Tom replied with a pretty inarguable point - at the time he knew her actions were stupid;  when their flight took off at 11 PM he was certain that the most valuable asset to his ability to act in the reshoots today would be sleep - rather than character development. And he’d tried to convince Y/n that briefly, but gave up. She was bloody stubborn when she wanted to be. 

“Stop competing about who has it worse cos I think it’s me and Nell”Ellie announced - making Nelli agree empathically with her coworker, nodding her head as she looked first to Y/n in her chair then back at Tom.

“Yeh because we have to deal with your unusable faces!!”

After much sarcasm thrown back and fourth, the trailer slowly ebbed it’s way back into serenity and peace as both artists focused on their work. Once Nelli was done she excused herself, Tom staying in the chair in favour of studying (more like staring blankly) at the dialogue for this mornings scenes. His pretence didn’t last long though and while Ellie was busy adding the final touches of fake blood to the now almost completely believable gash that she’d crafted on Y/n’s arm - Y/n had her attention focused the opposite way.

At poor little Tom. He looked so childlike, his slightly puffy eyes looked as if they had weights tied to them - they way he was having fight against gravity to flutter his eyes open, before loosing the next second only for the process to repeat as they dragged downwards. The broad muscles of his neck occasionally seemed to occasionally let up a little, letting his head tilt slowly at first until it gathered enough momentum to throw him off balance. The then sudden movement of his head unconsciously pulling itself back in line caused his eyes to bolt open prior to the whole cycle repeating again. All Y/n wanted to do was let him lay down someone, her heart feeling a tug in her chest just seeing him like that. 

Ellie proclaimed her completion of the wound, leaning back to admire her work before looking to get an affirming nod from Y/n. Yet instead, she was too preoccupied gazing at the boy slouched across from them. “Someone seems a little distracted.” Ellie smirked, finally garnering Y/n’s attention, only feeling more and more smug watching a light tint appear on the actors cheeks. 

“I-well-no… we need to go.” Y/n ignored her words as though nothing had happened, instead rushing off the chair to get Tom out the chair and onto the awaiting set. They had places to be.

|||||||||||||||||||||||||||| (bcos im lazy)

Honestly when the director, Ed, called for lunch break, it was pretty apparent to be purely as a compassionate gesture to Y/n and Tom. Both of them had tried so hard this morning to fully commit, even so they’d both been almost completely useless. Y/n kept missing cues whilst all Tom’s actions and lines where slow, dragged out and at times completely prompted from someone behind the cameras. 

So when the lunch break was called there was only one thing on Y/n’s mind and what sandwich was available in the mess tent was not it. Still standing on the set next to her fake holdall bag she looked toward Tom, who was pulling himself up to standing from the train station bench - the pace of his movement making him look more like an old man. 

“You good?” His answer was predictable. 

“I’m so fucking shattered”

Tom swore he’d never heard anything sweeter come out of Y/n’s pink lips than her next statement.

“C’mon I know somewhere we can lie down.”

Without any sort of thought Tom blindly agreed, nodding as he took her outstretched hand in his. The gesture in itself brought a fresh wave of comfort to his aching limbs and as his feet stumbled to catchup with her slight head start he leant the majority of his weight into their connected hands. 

Neither would admit it but they were ‘a thing’… whatever the hell that meant. It was clear as day to everyone and anyone that worked closely to the two but neither of them had ever broached the topic with each other. They’d worked on a few films together over the years; each time they got closer and closer to the point any job without the other simply wasn’t as good. It was scary though, especially for two actors in the prime of their careers. If they weren’t working the same film they’d likely be the opposite side of the world to each other most of the time - quality time together would be few and far between, Really their jobs didn’t suit dating at all, yet it would be perhaps easier if one half of it worked a ‘normal’ job. Something with consistency, a regular structure. A level of dependability that neither Y/n nor Tom could offer to the other. 

So it was terrifying, acknowledging the growth in their magnetic attraction to each other. Both were acutely aware that doing that, confronting their feelings, would most likely signal the beginning of the end. 

Although none of this stoped Y/n from returning the gesture, tilting her shoulder into Tom’s left side as they took slow steps through and then out the set building. She steered the two past the hair and makeup trailer and round into a store and extra equipment trailer. Tom tilted his head as she climbed the stairs whilst beckoning for him to follow - it didn’t seem like the most obvious choice. Rolling her eyes, Y/n explained.

“It’s where all the blankets and coats and kept for the raining scenes plusssss no one will disturb us in here.” Again Tom was not in a position to disagree, eyes drooping as his shoulders sagged to the floor. Right now he’d take anything. 

So he climbed up the stairs and shut the door behind him, just as Y/n flipped the light on. She was right, it was well equipped and with an almost mountainous supply of red blankets that normally the crew and extra would all be wrapped up in after the freezing rain scenes with all the ‘waterfall machines’ as Y/n called them. However it was also um…. It was cosy. “Oh I don’t think I realised how small it was” She chuckled lightly, since now the door was closed her back was pressed up against the far wall of cabinets and still her front was mere millimetres from Tom.

“I…I don’t mind… if-if you don’t?”

“I’m too tired to care” She giggled in response, and Tom , now with her seal of approval, immediately started ransacking the piled shelves for all their worth creating a floor carpeted in the pale red of the blankets, in an attempt to make it more cosy. Joining in, it was almost remarkable how quickly their bodies suddenly agreed to move, with the new promise of rest mere moments away. 

Once the trailer was fully drowned, Tom kicked off his costume shoes and threw his jacket off - it haphazardly landing by the doorway. Y/n copied him, leaving her stood up whilst he had the advantaged of already settling down on the floor, her standing and looking down at him.

The space between the two opposing shelving units was not close spacious enough for two people to lie down whilst keeping a respectable level of personal space. Suddenly feeling a wave of awkwardness, Y/n stayed standing, wringing her hands slightly - whilst fairly certain Tom could hear her heart running at 100 mph. 

“You er… gonna stay there or?” Tom, contrary to popular belief, wasn’t a complete idiot - he could see she was suddenly self conscious. He got it too - they’d never crossed this boundary of choosing to cuddle into each other. It had happened once of twice accidentally over there 2 years of knowing each other. Both of those times it was completely accidental, falling asleep watching a movie with a safe distance of space b between the two, only to find hours later their bodies almost completely intwined. Tom would be lying if he said that his heart didnt skip a beat when he had awoken to Y/n’s soft and gently breath fanning into his neck. He’d loved it, but understood that was unconsciously breaking down part of the wall they’d both been the constructors of.

For fear of getting hurt. 

So now, as Y/n awkwardly bent down and lay on her side, he thought it was imperative to make her feel comfortable. Naturally then, his arm slid round her shoulders and pulled her down toward his chest, releasing a little breath as he felt her relax, her legs slowly wrapping round one of his. 

“This okay?” He murmured, now into the crown of her head as she lay half on her side half on his chest. In reply she nodded into him and Tom couldn’t help but grin- unbeknownst to him but Y/n was doing the exact same thing. 

The peace lasted all of 3 seconds until she groaned again.

“What?” Tom enquired as she wriggled out his hold and stood up. Instead of replying though she just leant over and flicked the one harsh light bulb off making Tom chuckle as she fumbled her way back onto the padded floor in the darkness, earning a few grunts from both as she accidentally kicked Tom’s thighs or banged her head on one of the now empty shelves. Fumbling her way back into a comfortable position, occasionally cursing when she stubbed her toe- or Tom did when she accidentally elbowed him in the ribs. 

“Comfy?” Tom asked a little sarkily as he squeezed her a little more into his side.

“Mhmmmm… I’m gonna sleep for 100 years”

“Yeh me… me too”

And with that they both almost instantly and in complete unison sagged into each other and the blankets - the pent up stress and tension of the past few days ebbing away.

What the pair had neglected to remember was that sleeping for 100 years wasn’t really an option. The whole crew of 50 people, who wanted to restart filming after 45 minutes, had not been told about Y/n’s little hiding place. The pair were so completely safe in their own little cocoon of comfort they were completely oblivious to their teams calling there names more and more frantically. Completely oblivious to the game of hide and seek the situation had descended into, completely oblivious to Harrys natural annoyance as the director asked him for the whereabouts of the two stars - as though Harry was childminder to the pair of them.

It was Nelli who found them first. She’d and Ellie and Tom’s manager had all been recruited by Harry as part of the man hunt. Both girls, having seen first hand the state of the two this morning, were fairly certain they’d both crashed out somewhere. So Nelli, already with a sneaking suspicion, opened the door gently, her figure blocking the majority of the light from seeping through to the dimly lit inside. The sight she was met with had her actually pouting at the cuteness - and yes its a cringey word but also the only one appropriate.

Between bedding down and barely an hour later the two had managed to become impossibly tighter pressed to each other. Y/n’s face was pressed into the crook of Tom’s neck and his arms seemed to have pulled her on-top of him almost completely. Her left leg was hooked under his right, which was then sandwiched by his left too. They both looked so pure and innocent and god did Nelli know they both needed any extra time they could get.

Nelli cared a lot about Tom, she’d been working with him from the beginning, from the child star days to now. She cared about him like her very annoying surrogate son and she wanted to see him looked after. She also so completely wanted the two stars to stop pining after each other. Because frankly it was getting a little frustrating for everyone else. 

So she chose to tactically forget about her discovery, sneaking a photo on the sly before silently pulling the door closed and leaving them to their sleep. 

[wrenhyperfixates]

Perfect

Pairing: Loki x reader Summary: After much research and seeking out advice from Tony, Loki asks you on a date. Warnings: dialogue heavy and an adorably awkward Loki A/N: Thank you for requesting @akhansen2800! I hope you enjoy :) 

Disclaimer: Gif not mine

The common room was a mess, thanks to the trickster god. There was paper and books littered all over the floor. Not to mention bits and pieces from the computer he may or may not have smashed against the ground. It really was hardly his fault, though; it was the insipid machine that dared defy him.

“Woah, Reindeer Games,” Tony said, walking in, sidestepping the junk on the ground. “Did a tornado hit or something?”

“Oh, very funny, Stark. If you ask me, it is an improvement over this drab decor you have picked,” Loki quipped, eyes never leaving the page he was reading.

“No, how could you! My heart, it can’t take this,” Tony overdramatically gasped, flopping on top of the papers strewn on the couch. “Goodbye, cruel world.”

“Your theatrics never cease to amaze me,” Loki sighed, finally looking up at the man he’d come to call friend. “And that says a lot, coming from me.”

“You’re right, it’s high praise.” Tony picked up one of the papers he’d crinkled from laying on top of. “What is all this, anyway?”

Just because Loki considered Tony a friend, didn’t mean he necessarily wanted to say what he was doing. He was still a rather closed off person and, in all honesty, preferred to avoid any and all talks about his emotions. Which, of course, brings him right back to why he’s sitting in the middle of this mess, anyway. His emotions, which, despite his best efforts, he did still have.

Loki stood up and stretched his muscles, achy from being hunched over his reading material for so long.  He snatched away the page Tony was perusing, only for him to grab another one to skim. Realizing any effort to keep confiscating the papers one at a time would be fruitless, Loki moved it all to his room with a snap of his fingers. Then he sat next to his companion and began wringing his hands in that awful nervous tic of his. Truth be told, he could use some advice, but that only brought him back to square one of having to talk about his feelings. Tony leaned back on the couch while patiently awaiting Loki’s answer.

“I was doing some research,” Loki finally admitted. “On some Midgardian things.”

“That’s cute, Reindeer, but you could just ask me. Or maybe Peter if it's a pop culture thing.”

“It is not.” Loki wondered how much he could beat around the bush before he either had to give up on the conversation or genuinely say what was wrong. “It is just something I am not entirely sure how to go about.”

“I’m great at giving advice.”

“No, you are not,” Loki rolled his eyes.

“Sure I am!” Tony exclaimed, feigning hurt. “How would you know, anyway? You’ve never actually asked me for any.”

“Maybe not, but I have seen the way you live your own life, Stark.”

“That’s entirely different,” he said with a wave of his hand. “Come on, give me a chance. Fire away, I’m ready.”

Loki merely rolled his eyes again, though he was actually considering it. He hated to admit it—he really hated to admit it—but Tony had become somewhat of a father figure to him. That was absolutely ridiculous, of course, considering how Loki was a thousand years older than the man. But after his childhood, he’d be silly to reject that kind of relationship. Loki supposed that if he had to go to anyone with this problem, Tony wasn’t a terrible option. Besides, he should probably let himself be emotionally vulnerable very once in a while, right? That was supposed to be good or something, he thought. So, he steeled himself, and told Tony his issue.

“There is this Midgardian that I know. They are very sweet and kind and perfect... I mean, they are as bearable as a Midgardian can be,” Loki covered up, blushing slightly from how much he had just revealed. “I would like to ask them to spend some time with me, but I am not sure how.”

“Awww, you have a crush,” Tony cooed. “How sweet. You want to ask them out.”

“No,” Loki protested, stubborn as ever. Tony just raised his eyebrows at him. “Ok, fine! Yes, I would like to take them on a date, but I am dreadfully lacking in knowledge on Midgardian dating etiquette.”

“You’ve come to the right place,” Tony grinned. “Oh and take notes.”

And so, Loki spent the next two and a half hours listening to Tony ramble on. Most of it was just him going on rather useless tangents about his own endeavors in love. The God of Mischief rolled his eyes so many times, he began to fear they might roll out of his head. His notes, at least, were pretty amusing. Ok, to call them notes may be a little generous. They were mainly silly doodles of Tony monologuing, with the few helpful things he said jotted in the margins. He got so invested in one of his little caricatures that he didn’t even notice Tony stopped speaking.

“Hey, that’s not what I look like,” Tony pouted, peering at the drawing.

“Well nothing you were saying was helping, Stark.” Loki put the note pad in one of his dimensional pockets. “I am not like you. I am not a flashy person when it comes to matters of the heart.”

“Oh, so you want to go the be yourself way. You know, the sappy speeches and flowers and chocolates direction.”

Loki perked up a bit. “Yes. Yes, that sounds splendid.”

Tony sighed and gave Loki a list of movies to watch. And told him to speak from the heart. That troubled Loki; no one ever really cared to listen to him speak before. But, he dutifully watched all the assigned movies, supplemented by some of the books he was still combing through.

After a week of preparation and many, many drafts of a speech to say to you, Loki was finally ready to ask you out. Donning his best Midgardian suit, he walked out of his room, greeted by a bright flash of light. Tony was standing there, camera in hand.

“Look, at my little boy,” he fake cried. “All grown up.”

“Stark, will your antics ever stop?” Loki looked at the camera out of the corner of his eye. “And delete that photo, I was not ready.”

“Nope. It’s payback for all those unflattering doodles. Now, go get ‘em, Reindeer. Remember: Just be yourself.”

Easier said than done, Loki thought as he called upon his seiðr, teleporting to your street. You were an employee at Stark Tower; that’s how the two of you met. Loki had been looking for his brother, his search taking him into the cafeteria, one of his least favorite places in the whole building. It was always too loud and populated for someone who liked his silence and solitude. The sheer number of people in the room was overwhelming to the god that day, but he needed to speak with Thor, and he’d searched just about every other place his brother could be. He could not spot him in the crowd, but his eyes landed on you, off near a corner at a table alone and reading a book. He cast one last nervous look around the room before heading towards where you were, his social anxiety kicking in.

“Hello,” he said after clearing his throat.

You looked up at him with a dreamy sort of gleam in your eye that revealed how enchanted you’d been with your book. It gave Loki a little boost of confidence to know that that happened to you, too. That you could get so lost in a story that the world around you disappeared. It calmed his racing heart a little.

“Oh uh, hi,” you greeted with a chipper smile. Then more nervously, added, “It’s Loki, right?”

“Yes, that is correct. Loki of Asgard, pleased to make your acquaintance,” he said, sweeping into a small bow. “And you are?”

You told him his name, extending your hand for a shake. “How can I help you?”

“I am looking for my brother, but I cannot find him. You have not seen him around, have you?”

“I actually did see him earlier, though I’m not sure- Wait!” you suddenly exclaimed, and Loki followed your gaze. “He’s over there.”

Loki gulped. Of course his brother was at the table in the center of the room, surrounded by people. He really needed to talk to him about a mission, but the thought of going over there was making his stomach feel queasy. He tried to take a step forward, but his feet were apparently glued to the floor.

“Hey, if you’re nervous about going over there, I get it. Crowds can be scary,” you said, picking up on his subtle fidgeting. “The room usually clears out significantly in about ten minutes from now. I, um, was going to that little cafe over in the corner and get some tea or coffee, if you want to come.” Loki stared at you for a moment, unused to being invited places, especially by mortals he did not know. You seemed to mistake his silence, though, and rushed to assure him he didn’t have to. “Sorry, that was probably stupid. You’re under no obligation to say yes, of course. I understand.”

“No! I mean, yes.” He sighed and mentally smacked himself. Ever since moving to Midgard, his silver tongue was not what it used to be around strangers. “I mean, no that is not stupid, and yes, I would like to go to that cafe with you.”

And go to that cafe you did, launching into an animated conversation about reading. Loki even made you laugh, which felt like a huge accomplishment to him. The both of you sat back down at your table with your warm drinks, still chatting. There were very few people Loki ever felt so relaxed with, especially so soon after meeting them. You didn’t talk about anything groundbreaking, but he enjoyed talking to a kindred spirit. Somehow you even got a smile tugging at his lips, getting wider by the minute.

True to what you’d said, the room noticeably emptied nearly ten minutes later. With only a few people left and after such an amazing conversation, Loki was sure he could go grab his brother out of the room. But that was the problem; the conversation was too amazing, and he didn’t want it to end. And it seemed you didn’t either.

“Hey, um, maybe this is weird, but do you maybe want to talk again sometime? Like if you ever need a friend or are bored or anything?” you ventured.

“I would love that,” he genuinely replied.

You quickly wrote down your number and, after double and triple checking it, handed it to him. He tucked it safely away in one of his inner pockets before getting up and you bidding you goodbye. Then, in a better mood than he’d been in in a long time, Loki waltzed over to Thor’s table and successfully extracted him from the few people still clinging to his every word. He glanced back at you one last time before exiting, and you gave him a small, somewhat shy wave. He returned it along with a smile.

Loki kept that all in his heart as he walked up to your door, finger hovering by the bell for a minute. Maybe this was silly. No, this was definitely ridiculous. But, if he stood here any longer, your neighbors would probably think he was some crazy person.

Really, he shouldn’t be so nervous. You talked all the time since that day of your first meeting, and you’d never seemed bothered by him before. Not even when he started bringing surprise morning coffees to your desk. Or when he started leaving you books he thought you might like. Or when he started giving you little hugs when you seemed down. In fact, you seemed touched by all that. But this was all so new to him, so different from anything he’d known before. What if he was reading it all wrong? Before he could talk himself out if it, he rang the bell.

He heard you shout that you were coming in response. He quickly adjusted his tie and then stood with the flowers hidden behind his back. He made sure to get a bouquet of your favorites. You opened the door and your mouth made an adorable little “o” of surprise before your lips formed a sweet smile.

“Loki!” you greeted, smoothing down your sweatshirt. “I wasn’t expecting you. Don’t get me wrong, though. It’s great to see you. Um, do you want to come in? The place is kind of a mess right now, but-”

Loki whipped out the flowers from behind him, making you cut out in surprise. He stared at his feet and nervously mumbled, “These are for you.”

“Loki, these are so beautiful. This is so sweet. Thank you.” You gave him one of those shy smiles that he loved so much. “I feel bad, I don’t have anything for you.”

“That is quite alright. I have come here to ask you something.”

“Oh! Ok. I’m all ears.”

Loki smiled at the Midgardian expression, calming him a little. “We have been friends for some time now, and I have thoroughly enjoyed every minute—nay, every second—I have spent with you. You are the most kindhearted being I have ever met, beautiful both inside and out. And thus, I find myself wanting something more than friendship, if you will allow it. My dear, sweet, darling little mortal, will you do me the honor of going on a date with me?”

“Oh, Loki,” you breathed. “That was beautiful. I would absolutely love to go on a date with you.”

He cheered on the inside, and you hugged him close. After you pulled away, the two of you stood there for a minute, smiling like dorks. It seemed to Loki that no matter how badly he wanted to say something else, the only thought occupying his brain was that you said yes. He could hardly believe you said yes.

“So, uh, what are we going to do on our date?” you sheepishly asked.

Loki’s face dropped. He couldn’t believe how foolish he was. “I do not know yet. I knew there was something I was forgetting. I am sorry, darling.”

“That’s ok, Loki,” you kindheartedly laughed. “Tell you what, there’s a bookstore with the most adorable little cafe in it, just a couple blocks from here. Why don’t we go there?”

“That sounds perfect,” he replied, his smile returning already. “How does tomorrow sound? I can come pick you up around noon?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

You stared at each for another minute, those same goofy grins that gave away how happy you were plastered on your faces. When Loki began to overthink how awkward he probably looked, he found it in himself to tear his eyes away from your beauty.

“So I shall see you tomorrow then,” he nervously said.

“Yup! See you then,” you replied, your nerves equaling his own.

After a quick hug and waving goodbye to each other, you parted ways. Soon, Loki was back home in the Tower, happily sprawled on the sofa, book in hand.

“Hey Reindeer Games,” Tony greeted. “So, how’d it go? Was I right, or was I right?”

“As much as it pains me to admit it, Stark, you were right.” Loki smiled to himself, already daydreaming about your date. “It was perfect.”

Loki found that after so much anxiety and uncertainness, there was finally one thing he knew; tomorrow was going to be perfect, too.

[sorry-i-ship-drarry]

In another life, in another time

Dialogue prompt- 27. what happened to us ? Part - 25 | part 31 coming soon |

TW- HEAVY ANGST | Amnesia | Sorry In advance..

Perhaps in another life, In another time, We'd be together.

The beats thumped louder, the footsteps dissolved somewhere in the big building. Harsh breaths leaving Harry's lips could be hear by anyone sitting besides him, he was grieving perhaps or breathing as a task to stay alive for a mere few seconds, even if he wasn't dying, a part of him was slowly approaching senescence, at least that's what he felt.

And finally he saw the healer's coming out talking to each other, whispering in low tone. He could sense the bad news by the way their faces expressed but he held onto a little hope. Just a little.

" Mr. Potter ?" One of the Healer approached harry as the other one's left offering him a sympathetic smile.

"H-he's fine, he is, right?" His voice came out in tremble with trying to control his trembling hands by his sides.

" he's fine " the healer pressed his lip in a thin line before adding " but -"

" no please. No Buts-"

" I'm sorry Mr. Potter. He- draco have suffered some rare oblivation spell. I'm sorry harry, draco have amnesia, anterograde or retrograde, we're not sure of it as of now "

__________________________________

" I'm very glad we were Able to summon you mr. Potter " the healer offered harry a little smile as he pointed the chair in front of the desk to be attempted.

Harry hummed as he sat down on the chair, Shaking.

" I'm going to ask this as a friend harry, when was the last time you slept ?" He huffed.

Harry leaned back over the chair uncomfortably, gulping " I don't know " he grunted

" harry- y- you have to understand what I'm trying to tell you, alright ?" The healer asked. Harry nodded in soft lazy motions, yawning.

After supposedly half an hour, he walked out, every corner of his mind filled with unblinking thoughts. Draco didn't remember harry, he only remembered parts of harry that seemed much like a dream to him and there seemed little hope that he would but the Healer had suggested harry to try again, after unsuccessful attempts and practically forcing draco to remember him. This time harry was to need to a strategy to help draco remember thing's and the only way to it was by storing away his memories.

He passed by draco's ward watching him look outside the window, sitting on the edge of the bed, all alone. Harry wanted to go inside, try once again but he was sure by his previous Attempts he had scared off draco and harry was probably the last person he wanted to see as of now.

Heavy hearted harry walked home drenching himself in rain unknowningly, thoughts of draco brimming his mind to care about anything else.

" you'll have to try but you have to remember harry, he doesn't remember any part of your relationship and he might not even remember you forgiving him. You'll have to start from scratch. If you want him back harry you need do "

He opened the door to his apartment, memories of theirs of cooking on the kitchen, cuddling in the couch, laughing and throwing at pillows at each other, smiling at each other from across the hall, making out against the wall, all of it lingered in the background as a television show not ready to stop but harry didn't raise an eye as he walked into the shower and sat down with clothes on and remained there, numbness invading his senses until Ron had came to visit harry and had forced him out of the shower, helping him get dried up.

" I know it's hard harry, but he doesn't remember you "

" but we've been together for 5 years, he must remember something, anything ?"

" I'm not sure how but during the time of attack draco might've been trying to conceal his memories of you but instead of locking them away, he might've exposed them. In attempts to conceal them, he gave the attacker entrance to it and he possibly have forgotten everything about the relationship "

" how long were you in the shower for ?" Harry suddenly was broken out of numbness, finding Ron putting food over table.

" when did you came here ?" Harry only asked.

Ron looked at in little shock at harry before he sighed, letting it pass " I got you out of the cold shower "

Harry nodded, watching the food presented before him.

" from the looks of it, you met the healer today, didn't you ?" Ron asked. Harry looked up but didn't answer. He didn't know how to. He wasn't sure he could answer even.

" harry, It's been days. If you can't forget him, don't let him. His entire memory isn't blocked. You can try-"

" I've tried Ron but I gave the love of my life an almost panic attack in Trying to make him remember me " harry yelled

Ron startled and saw harry break down in front of him over the kitchen table, " I miss him, ron, he's here but I miss him "

" you have to try this time more patiently harry. If you want him back, you have to " Ron rubbed Harry's back as he hugged him.

" I- I don't know how to ron. It's hard " harry sobbed

"something is better than nothing. Try harry. Trying Is the only hope you've gotten "

_____________________________

Harry shook his hands by his side violently, trying to shake off his anxiety and practiced deep breaths beforehand he knocked on the door.

" come in " he heard.. harry let out a deep breath before he plastered a smile and finally walked through the door.

" hi " harry waved awkwardly

" you " draco raised an eyebrow at harry. Harry closed his eyes, remembering why he is doing this.

" I was wondering if we could talk about the other day ?" Harry asked not moving a step forward

" haven't you done enough " draco rolled his eyes.

Harry swallowed " I- I just wanted to apologise "

" for which part exactly ? The yelling at me like a baboon or basically causing me a panic attack "

" both " harry sighed " listen, I don't think you understand how hard this is for me-"

" hard for you ? I'm the one who doesn't remember people, I've lost chunk of memories and it's hard for you" draco narrowed his eyes at harry

" I- I understand but you see- well it's not as same as you- but-" but harry couldn't go on. He couldn't and draco only waited for him to go on. He didn't.

" you know what it doesn't matter. Let me reintroduce myself, Hi I'm harry potter, I'm your used to be arch nemesis and i- we- well I'd like to be friends with you "

" friends with me? Like my days have became that had that I'd be friends with you potter!? " Draco Airily laughed " no thanks I'm fine "

If only draco knew what he had done, if he only knew. Harry couldn't stand it. He thought he could but he couldn't. He ran out into the washroom and let his burying feelings evade, breaking into heavy sobs. He couldn't do it. Not when he knew Draco didn't remember anything, that he didn't remember harry.

________________________________

" where did you ran to yesterday ?" Draco asked as harry fetched him water today

" I- I had Somewhere to be " harry cleared his throat as he gave him the glass of water.

" it was weird. You asked me to be your friend, then you ran and yet here you are again. There's something weird about you Potter-"

" harry, please " it hurt even to think of how draco didn't know what he was doing by calling him potter.

" it's weird. I've always called you potter, It'd be weird to call you by your first name. Besides I don't think we are on first name basis " draco shrugged his shoulders as he watched harry leaned against the wall, fumbling with the zip of his jacket.

" right, I forgot "

" weird, you're not the one who have amnesia.. you are acting strange you know that. Pretty weird " draco frowned

" it- well we used to be to- friends. We were friends so it's just weird how now you call me potter when I'm used to being harry for you "

"still weird. I mean I at least remember being with people, but you, no recollections as if we were never even friends. Hope you're not lying potter " draco casually said.

Harry exhaled deeply, tears forming at the brim of his eyes " it's alright. You can call me potter until we become friend's "

" why are you so persistent on being friends with me ? I thought you hated me ?" Draco curiously asked.

" because " harry couldn't go on. He couldn't.

" you need to start finishing your sentences potter " draco raised his eyebrows at harry mockingly.

Harry hummed and just stood there watching draco flip pages of a magazine until Draco asked him to leave. Harry did. He had no other option.

__________________________________

" you didn't come yesterday ?" Draco asked one day, watching harry knit a sweater for him..

" I- I had something " he lied. He was lying in bed haunted by draco visiting his dreams, sitting on an empty date table at their 6th anniversary, day they were supposed to move in together, eating draco's favourite dish, all by himself.

" not very nice of you skip a night if you're trying to be friends " draco teased. Harry looked up at Draco with a small smile before he went back to knitting.

Draco observed harry as if he was a blank canvas waiting to be drawed upon, his glance curious. Draco would be lying to himself if he said that he wasn't curious about why harry was the only one so persistent about being friends, as if there were greater reasons but no matter how hard he tried to remember, he only remembered him apologizing to him after war, and nothing else.

" do you not sleep at all or those dark circles are just fashion ?" Draco asked

"I- have trouble sleeping " harry replied, pressing his lips in a thin line.

" you can sleep around here if you want to you know.. It'll be a secret" he cared. Draco cared and it only offered false hope to harry, one he should've been very much aware of not to fall into trap to.

" I'll keep that in mind " for the first time harry offered draco a warming smile before he began knitting again and draco absent-mindedly flipped pages of magazine again.

________________________________

" wow- such a grand celebration " draco laughed as he saw his friends come in with cakes and balloons

" since you couldn't celebrate your half birthday as you always do, we thought we'd bring it to you " pansy chimed.

Draco laughed and started singing along with them as they sang the birthday song, making draco happier than he had felt in days. And in even so everything, he couldn't stop thinking about harry standing in the background, then walking out in the Middle. Hermione followed him outside and from what draco saw, it seemed like she was hugging him, trying to probably comfort him, but before he Could've stared any longer, pansy forced him to cut the cake.

Something felt missing, there was and it Haunted draco to think of what it was. There was no one more hurt by the fact that he couldn't remember even when he tried so hard. He knew there was something missing, he could feel it, he just didn't know what and for whatever reason, it felt it was related to harry.

" y- that necklace " draco had pointed out at Harry's neck when he was helping draco with adjusting his pillows.

" that-"

" it's yours " harry smiled lightly, helping Draco lean backwards.

" how? How do you have it ?"he asked curiously.

" you gifted it to me, don't you remem- " harry stopped himself.

" you gifted it to me. You can have it back if you want " harry offered as he hesitantly reached his neck to unlock it but draco stopped him.

" it's fine. Keep it. Feels like it holds much meaning to you than to me " draco replied.

Harry gazed at draco softly before he pressed a small kiss on his forehead " it does " harry whispered and left, like a dying wind.

Draco played with the ring on his finger for a larger part of the night, haunted by the fact again that harry had different motives. He Could sense it but the more he tried to think, the more he felt as though he was stepping away, more he was forgetting and it ached draco. He knew it, he felt it but he was too Afraid. He was afraid of hurting even if he didn't know what he'd even do.

________________________________

" harry, stop this " one day draco abruptly said while harry was helping With last of draco's bandages

" what? What do you mean ?" Harry asked puzzled

Draco breathed in deeply, gulping, preparing himself to drop the bomb " stop taking care of me, stop trying to do whatever it is you're trying to do, can't you see it already, it's not- it's not what you want "

Harry looked at Draco as the pained expression found his face and he softly whispered " you don't know what this means, do you ?"

Draco shook his head painfully denying.

Harry gave him a sad smile as he sat down on the chair next to draco's bed, his head dropping, a single tear dripping down his eye.

" to you it's just me trying to be friends with you but it's so much more than that. It's more than about just being friends for me " harry whispered.

" it Always have been so much more than that. Yet I've been holding onto the hope all along but -"

" I don't remember " draco finished his sentence somehow knowing harry was about to say that.

" stop doing it to yourself harry " draco sympathetically said

" I- can't. I -"

" you have to " draco raised his voice

" can't you see it, I can't. Do you even realise how much it pains me to see you everyday on the bed, holding onto one single ray of hope that you'll remember. But you, remember nothing. 6 years of memories , gone just like that. You don't get to say any of it draco, you're living it painfully, I walk in everyday to an Empty apartment, crying myself to sleep in just one hope that you'll remember-"

" but that's the thing, I will not harry. i can't and i won't " draco interjected loudly.

" I will not remember harry. Stop hurting yourself " draco whimpered.

Harry looked only once at Draco " I know " before his whispers Turned into sobs and harry was shaking with the pain.

Draco tried to comfort harry, rubbing his back, trying to tell him it's alright but he knew it provided no solace. It didn't mend his broken heart when he was the one causing his heart to break in little fragile fractions of glasses until it was scattered across everywhere.

" I pretended it didn't hurt, but it does. It does so much that I can't even sleep at night" harry whimpered as he hugged draco. Draco rested his chin on top of Harry's head, rubbing circles over his back, providing any comfort he could offer.

They remained like that for several moments until Harry's breathing came to normal and draco finally broke the silence with a painful statment " what happened to us?"

It wasn't a question, it was a statement, a grief to offer, a way to express sorrow, to visit pain. It was to offer solace that draco too regretted and harry knew he did. It was a way of saying that when they expected cherish and Making more memories, living together, waking up next to each other, instead they were fighting through, waking up in hospital bed, grieving on lost memories. Where life landed them.

" I have got to go " harry finally said, Breaking from the little hug.

Draco looked at harry only for a moment before he kissed harry in pity of being unable to give everything to harry he had once promised him and that left him in tears again.

Harry broke free crying, desperately trying to conceal his whines.

" I'm sorry harry, I really am " draco's eyes prickled with tears as the moon danced over them in the late night..

Harry stood there in silence for several moments, packing away the memories,. storing away draco somewhere he'd only visit in dreams until it was time to finally leave and he reluctantly walked towards the door..

" I'd like if we can be friends harry.. " draco offered.

Harry turned around, giving draco a small smile " I'd rather not have you at all than only for a few, draco "

" perhaps in another life, I'm another time we'd be together and neither of us would forget "

And harry walked away, coldness settling in as draco long stared at the doorframe.

I swear I'm sorry. ( Thanks to Tom Odell for putting me in feels )

300 followers appreciation Dialogue Prompt requests open

[piteouspeculiarity]

Defining Home: Extended Author's Note

Warning: This might contain spoilers for the series

(For clarity, when I say 'Tommy' etc in this post, I'm talking about the characters from my fics, not the content creators themselves.)

So it's done, huh? This note will include the sappy shit, the fun facts, then some of the more serious stuff, because I just didn't want to add an essay to the end of that chapter.

First of all, thank you all for the support along the way. Defining Home is easily my most popular series of fics I’ve ever written and I’ve been writing fanfic for years now. The comments and the kudos and the bookmarks were so very validating when I was new to the fandom, and still are. Hell, people have gifted me fics and written related fics to Defining Home, which blows my tiny mind. I haven’t gotten the chance to read a lot of them yet (procrastination I know thy name), but when I do, I’ll be leaving my best comments in thanks <3

I'll be honest, when I posted the first chapter of Enough, I never expected it to turn into what it did.

That first chapter was written in my phone notes at 3am, hours before an exam. I hadn't interacted with the fandom at all at that point, didn't even have a Tumblr for it, but boy oh boy did I get a warm welcome.

The point is, that first chapter was a very spur in the moment thing, mainly consisting of one scene I couldn't get out of my head (Tommy on a train to Wilbur's). I've gotten a few people telling me since then that they wished that they could write as well as I can, which is a huge compliment, but every person can write a fic like Enough. There are things that we all struggle with when it comes to writing: dialogue, prose, starting scenes - I have my own things I struggle with, things you might have noticed, things you might have not. You don't have to be a perfect writer to tell a story, especially in fandoms, where betas are easy to come across.

Write your story, even if its just for yourself. Posting that chapter gave me the chance to make new friends and I'll never stop being grateful for that.

One of those friends is Kat, who I've mentioned a couple times in the author's notes, but who honestly, I owe a lot to. Kat has encouraged me and been one of the main motivators to write this fic when I felt like it would never be finished, or that I'd never live up to other people's expectations. Sometimes, that meant motivating in some weird ass ways, but hey, it worked.

People who know me in discord servers might know that I'm a simp for Kat and it's damn true. Kat, I love you, you've improved my life more than you know in the last couple months and you deserve so, so much happiness.

In fear of love reciprocation from Kat, we'll move swiftly on to the more fun side of things.

Anyone feel like fun facts? You might already know some of these because I tend to overshare in author's notes, but I'm pretty sure some of them are new to all of you.

Barney the dog? Named after my own late labrador, who I love very much and loved to jump in lakes and need rescuing, time and time again.

I had no plans in moving Tommy in with Techno, hell, I had no plans in Techno moving to England at all. It was as much of a surprise to me as it was to everyone else when he told Tommy the news, but I latched onto the idea and ran with it. I think it worked out okay, in the end.

Techno has a draw in his bedroom full of parenting books, most of which were stolen from Phil.

After Tommy asked for help about what to do with Dream, Wilbur sent Dream a dm telling him he better not fuck anything up and if he did, Wilbur would not hesitate to humiliate him in front of millions of people. It was unnecessary, of course, but Dream was definitely a bit more cautious about what he said when he listened to Tommy’s explanation.

Some of my favourite things about writing Defining Home:

The Tesco v Asda discourse. Look, some of you just need to accept that Asda is the superior shop and get off your Tesco stanning bullshit. /j

The offers I would get for new chapters, some honourable mentions being newborns, siblings, diamonds and kidneys.

Now, I know that as much as I tried to, I won't have managed to include everything that everyone wanted from Defining Home, whether that's certain confrontations or scenes, I am sorry if I haven't included.

I don't imagine myself writing any more in the series, not because I think there isn't more I could write about, but because as a whole it feels complete to me, and any added oneshots I write would disturb that.

Right now Defining Home feels well rounded in a way that I'm proud of. The minute I realised that Enough was going to turn into a series I planned out how I wanted it to work. Maybe its just the maths part of my brain, but I like how there's three fics, with three chapters in each and how Tommy heals as you progress throughout the series.

My aim for the series was for the tone to get lighter as you went through, because yes, things kept happening (confrontation with dad, beach incident etc) but the point was that Tommy dealt with those things in different ways that he would have earlier on in the series. I have lots of thoughts and lots of emotions about how he felt safe enough with his family to experience nightmares and such. I made an effort in The Truth Behind Family to include more fluff, especially in the last two chapters, because I think it’s important to show that yeah, his parents’ abuse effected him, but it didn’t dictate how he lived his life. 

Like yes, I could write about their first Christmas together, for example, and add it onto the series, but I don’t think that I’d be able to do the rest of the series justice in that. Defining Home is largely about what the title implies, Tommy discovering what words like ‘home’ and ‘family’ mean beyond what he’s been told he’s stuck with and I believe that by the end of the series, he’s been successful in that. 

I'm so proud of the characters I wrote, Tommy in particular, for how far they've come in Defining Home, but I think that in a way, it’s time for me to let them go.

That’s not to say I’m done with writing for sbi! Hell no! 

I have a couple long fics in the works and a one shot I’m working on. The main fic I’m excited to focus on now Defining Home is finished is heavy heart, heavy head, heavy hero which, to put it simply, is an sbi royalty au, where unfortunate circumstances mean Tommy is forced to become King. It’s going to be a little more plot focused than Defining Home was and I am so very pumped to give it my full attention instead of leaving that lonely one chapter on AO3 like I have been doing.

I was 🤏close to making a Discord server, but ultimately decided I’m much more suited to causing chaos on other people’s servers than running my own. I think at this point the karma would be too great to even consider making my own server, so if you’d like to talk to me on Discord, keep an eye for me on other people’s servers - I mainly lurk, but I’m pretty active on one or two :D

On a more serious note, Defining Home deals with some heavy topics and I’ve had comments tell me that they relate to Tommy’s situation and wish that they had their own found family to run to. 

This Tumblr post has a list of phone numbers and places you can contact if you need help or want someone to talk to. Saying that, I recognise that a list as long as that can be daunting, so feel free to shoot me a message and I can either help you find the right one for you, or keep you company for a bit if you need it. 

Not all of us are lucky enough to have our own found family, but that doesn’t mean that you won’t forever, or that you’re alone. My dms and ask box are always open if you want someone to talk to.

Keep yourselves safe <3

- Lee 

[wreckofawriter]

Attention

Pairing: Cedric Diggory x reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: Swearing, sexual jokes

Request: @souhmhey Hello! I really like your blaise au and was wondering if you could do a hogwarts ver of 97 with bill weasley/cedric diggory since your requests is open. The reader is a slytherin btw. Thank you and take care!

#97: You are famous and we keep bumping into eachother so the media thinks we're dating

A/n: sorry for inactivity, I have no concept of time. This is a tiny bit off the prompt but oh well. (There is so much dialogue in this fic, I'm sorry.)

You hated attention. You had hated it since the second you had been birthed into the world. The world which robbed you of your privacy. The world which had dug its grimy hands into your life and tugged and pulled until it looked pretty enough to be on display. A world which everyone claimed to wish for, to envy. 

It made you sick. 

You had no right to complain. You knew that you were privileged, your parents had more money than they could spend even if they tried, you had grown up in a mansion which simply could not be called a house. You had the tutors, the vacations, the clothes. You had it all, well all except privacy. 

Your birth was on the front page of a dozen magazines, your face tacked onto newspapers before you could even read. You were so used to the flash of lights that you stopped registering them as strange. 

When you left for some faraway school in the hills of Scottland you had assumed that all of that would go away. That you wouldn’t have to fake smiles anymore or refrain from making the smallest mistake for fear of ruining your parent’s reputation. 

Your father’s status as a quidditch player kept you form that unattainable dream. Whenever he spoke of the sport he told it like some fantasy, something he had done so he could soar into the sky not bring it down onto his daughter. 

You snapped your eyes shut the bright flash of light only worsening your headache. As the faint burn you were all too used to faded you gathered the image of the young boy in front of you.  His mouth was dropped displaying two rows of crooked teeth, his brown eyes wide with amazement. 

Your jaw tightened, “Do you need something?” the tone you used was clearly threatening, hoping to break him from the trance you had unintentionally put him under. The conformity of the boy’s features lead you to believe he was either deaf or stupid. 

“Well?!” You snapped and it seemed to do the trick. 

He blinked a few times, his open mouth giving way for a dopey grin, “You’re y/n y/l/n.” 

You scoffed considering shoving the large camera he was holding down his throat, “I don’t know who you are talking about.” 

“But-”

“Move before I move you myself.” You snarled and before the kid could answer you shoved him aside and continued for your class which you were now surly to be late for. Vector wouldn’t be happy. 

You entered the room already spewing apologies you should have to give. 

The teacher cut you off with a pointed look and you snapped your mouth shut. There were a couple snickers from the class and your head hammered on the front of your skull. 

“You have been late almost every day this week Ms. y/l/n. Is this going to continue all year or should I cut you from my class now?” Her glare was stiff. 

You tried to swallow your mouth suddenly feeling too dry, “I’m very sorry professor it’s just I have to come all the way from potions, and getting through the halls can be difficult.”

Her eyebrows raised, “I don’t see any of my other students struggling to get here on time.” 

“Well, I-” 

“Or do you simply believe the rules of this school don’t apply to you?”  She sneered and giggles erupted around you.

Your cheeks burned and you hung your head, “That’s not what I was saying professor.” you mumbled know your words fell onto emptiness. 

“Ten points from Slytherin. Go take a seat next to Diggory.” 

You let your mouth fall shut nodding obediently as your blood boiled beneath your skin. Eyes followed you to your seat and didn’t leave until the lesson began. Your cheeks hurt, you pushed your hands upon them attempting to cool the burn of embarrassment. You didn’t even spare a glance to the boy seated next o you, his presence barely registering as you tried to convince the earth to swallow you whole. 

You really hated attention. 

Cedric Diggory didn’t quite understand why so many looked his way as he passed in the halls. He was good at making friends, his words always seemed to flow so seamlessly from his mouth, he never stumbled over syllables or tripped on his tongue. He was good with people, they liked him, he never gave them a reason to do otherwise. 

Students envied him, he knew that. He wasn’t oblivious to the fact that girls and boys found him attractive, he wasn’t stupid. People often treated him like he was anyway, as if his popularity had drained his common sense. It was aggravating to try and prove that his worth went past his reputation again and again. 

He always paid mind to you. He was aware of your fame, well your parent’s fame. His eyes like may others had frequently wandered towards you, he had a feeling you hated when they did. Your own were always narrowed into a glare as you did everything in your power to avoid the popularity you had been gifted. 

As you sat beside him, your head buried in your hands, teacher continuing with a lesson he should be listening to he felt sorry for you. Sorry that you were so often painted as a self-entitled brat, sorry for the prying eyes and the whispers behind hands. 

“I could walk you from potions if you wanted.” The words had spilled from his mouth like an overflowing sink.

Your head snapped towards him, eyes hard as steel as you bored into him. “What?” 

Cedric suddenly felt like a fool, something that didn’t happen all that often. He stuttered for a sentence, “I, uhh..” What had he just said to you? It was like his thoughts had been replaced with cotton.”I have the same potions as you, and um you said that you were having a hard time getting through the halls. I could walk with you.” 

“Whatever.” you ignored the part of you that thought it might be a half-decent idea and scoffed, “You would only draw more attention.” 

The Hufflepuff chuckled, “I suppose you’re not wrong.” 

You didn’t answer, eyes now zoned to the front of the room. He let the conversation drop. 

If there was one thing that you hated more than attention it was exercise. You disliked exhausting yourself, the grime, and sweat making you feel incredibly dirty as you jogged the edge of the grounds. Your breaths were labored and you felt awkward as your thighs bummed together. Despite all of the discomfort, your head felt clear. Thoughts weren’t plagued but crisp as you listened to the chirp of birds and your own pants. Finally, you gave out, your legs groaning as you halted bending over. Lacing your hands on your knees, you tried to calm your racing heart. 

“Oh, hey y/n!” 

And your peace was ruined. 

You stood up, stuffing your hands in your pockets and trying not to look as fatigued as you felt. 

Cedric looked so good it hurt. The sweat on his brow giving him the polished look of a deity. His hair was untamed yet adorable, cheeks stained apple red from the exertion. The sun which was peeking above the horizon framed him, making the boys edge hazy and warm. He smiled down at you, his breaths steady as ever. 

You cussed at him not even bothering to lower your voice. You watched his face falter with confusion. “Fuck you.” You repeated, “How do you look so good after running?” 

His grin jumped back, “I just stared, I’m only two miles in.”

You were tempted to slap him, “Only.” you cursed him again for good measure.

“Are you heading back towards the school? I could go with you.” 

You considered his offer for a brief moment, “Whatever you monster.” 

Apparently he took that as a yes because the second you began to jog again he was beside you his pace obviously slowed to fit yours. 

“I was actually happy to run into you.” He hummed.

You frowned, “Why?” it was more of a pant than a question.

He shrugged, “You seem nice.”

There were a lot of things you ‘seemed’ nice was not one of them. The side glance you gave him was question enough and you heard him chuckle a bit.

“I know you think you’re all scary and everything but you’re not that bad.” 

You scowled, “You don’t. Know. Me.” heavy breaths broke what was supposed to be an intimidating sentence. 

He nodded, “I think I’d like to.” 

You didn’t respond and instead tried to focus back into your safe world of exhaustion and exhilaration. You managed to reach the front of the school and practically collapsed.

“Are you okay?” Cedric asked his hand landing lightly on your shoulder. 

Shoving it off you nodded, “I’m going to get water before I pass out.” you heaved, “Feel free to continue your workout, Diggory.”

“Alright, I’ll see you-” the door shut in his face, “-later.”

Your exhaustion kept you from ripping off the heads a group of first-years who wanted your father’s autograph on your way to class. It faded as you made your way through transfiguration and potions. When dismissed you scrambled from the classroom at a quick pace, the last thing you wanted was to be late to Arithmancy again. Being publicly ridiculed once this week was plenty for you. 

You didn’t stop as your name was called behind you, shouldering through a group of students who shot you glares. You heard it again the same voice, closer now and you picked up the pace. 

Your shoulder was grabbed and you spun around with such force your bag fell from your shoulder. Quills and ink crashed to the ground and you swore loudly dropping to your knees to pick up the scattered supplies.

Cedric descended beside you helping gather your things. You snatched them from his hands before he offered and continuted down the hall without even a glance in his direction. His long strides brought him to your side. 

“You don’t have to worry about being late you know.” He offered you stayed unresponsive. “You’ve still got 6 minutes till class.”

You let out a bothered sigh, “Well if I’m stopped then those minutes go fast.” 

Cedric frowned, “Stopped?”

“Yep. It’s always like this at the beginning of the year. The first-years slowly find out who my parents are and want autographs or pictures as if it’s somehow my responsibility to serve them.” Your voice slowly filled with annoyance like a balloon expanding with air, “It’s irritating.”

The boy beside you furrowed his brows, “I can imagine.”

As if on queue a young girl trotted up to you stopping you in your tracks.

“You’re y/n y/l/n right?” Before you could answer she continued, “I was wondering if I could have an autograph from your mother, I saw her in a movie when I was six and I-”

“I’m really sorry but we have to get to class,” Cedric spoke, cutting off the bob child. 

Her eyes widened a bit, “Oh sorry, um bye then.” 

You gave a half-hearted wave before glancing at the boy beside you, “Thanks.”

He grinned, “It’s no problem.” 

Neither of you noticed the eyes which followed you down the hall. 

The Weasley twins had a special talent when it came to being bothersome. And they were sure to use it to their full potential, making a point to leave no one out of their troubles. You included. You didn’t know them all too well but after their offer to buy autographs from you and them sell them for a profit they had always stuck in your head. 

“Ah, but if it isn’t my favorite celebrity.” Fred grinned his arm draping around your shoulder before being quickly shoved off. 

“Well if it isn’t my least favorite red-head.” You respond attempting to return to the open textbook in front of you. 

“It’s only natural that you like me more than him.” George grinned sitting beside you.

“Nah, you’re tied for last.” You mumbled scribbling down notes on a messy roll of parchment. 

The younger twin frowned, “Are you sure I’m not beating him?” 

You looked up at him amusement etched into your features, “Positive.”

Fred popped some of the jelly slugs sitting beside you into his mouth, chewing obnoxiously loud. “So you and Diggory huh?”

You stiffened, glancing up at him. 

“I didn’t think he was your type.” George grinned catching one of the candies in his mouth as his twin tossed it over your head. 

You scrunched your nose, “What?” 

“Oh come on y/l/n, don’t be coy.” 

“No reason to be shy, we all know you and the Hufflepuff prince are boning.” the younger giggled. 

Your mouth went dry, “What did you just say?” 

Fred hummed, “Wow you’re better at acting than I thought, I guess you take after your mother.”

“I haven’t the slightest clue what you’re talking about.” You sputtered.

“Wait really?” 

You nodded.

“So you and Cedric aren’t dating?” 

You scoffed, “God no, where in hell did you get that idea?”

The reflections shot glances at each other. 

“The whole school thinks you are,” George stated plainly.

You slammed your textbook shut in a vicious snap, eyes from around the library drawing towards you. “That fucker.” You hissed and in a second you were on your feet.

You didn’t have to look very long to find the brunette. He was only a few corridors form the library a small group of people huddled with him. 

“Diggory!” Your voice cut the pleasant atmosphere in two.

“Oh hey y/n, I was just looking fo-” Before his sentence could be finished you had snatched him by the tie and began dragging him behind you. 

A series of whistles and calls followed you around the corner where you slammed open a door and shoved him into a small closet. 

“Y/n whats are you doing?” He asked loosening his tie which you had unintentionally sinched around his neck. 

Your hands met his shoulders pushing him back as hard as you could manage. Cedric stumbled, his back hitting the door with a thunk.

“You asshole!” You spat leaning over him, “How dare you?”

Cedric was bewildered, the anger clear on your face in the dull lighting. Your breaths were heavy, the sharp scent of mint hitting him, “I’m sorry what?”

You sneered, “Don’t you dare lie to me Diggory. I know what you did.” You had grabbed his tie again, forcing him to lower his head to meet your eyes. 

“What did I do?” He asked, his cheeks feeling unbearably hot from the close proximity. 

You scoffed, “I don’t know, how about telling the entire school we’re fucking dating?” 

Cedric frowned, “I didn’t tell anyone we were dating.” 

Now it was your turn to look baffled, “Then who did?” 

Before your question could be answered you were falling forward, the door opening the two of you tumbling out into the sudden overwhelming brightness. You screwed your eyes shut in response, your ears catching the sound of laughter and whistles. You were brought your senses abruptly, the crowd gathered around you giggling behind their hands. 

“Damn Cedric, I thought you were classier than a quickie in a closet.” Someone snickered.

You lept off the boy you had been straddling moments before your cheeks burning from embarrassment. Cedric sat up, his own face tinged red as he glared at the Hufflepuff which had spoken. 

You shoved your way through the crowd wishing the earth would open up and let you fall into its core. Or at least those gathered around you. 

“Wait y/n!” 

You didn’t turn instead holding your middle finger in the air, making sure the entirety of the group could see it before you disappeared from sight. By the time Cedric was able to push his way through the crowd to where you had turned you were gone. He cussed letting his head fall into his hands. 

Cedric didn’t see you the entirety of the weekend. You weren’t in the hall for meals or out in the cooling September air where many students were finding refuge. Your absence was annoying, the thoughts of your breath fanning over the bridge of his nose, chest pressed into his only worsening the harbored feelings he had buried. Rumors of your relationship continuted to circulate, the scene caused a few days before morphing into lewd stories which made his cheeks bloom with roses. He felt partially responsible for the trouble caused for you, his friends were some of the most active in the gossip. 

Cedric knew it was only a matter of time before you would be forced to converse with him. You would never skip a class.

You appeared in potions Monday and managed to convince Snape to let you leave five minutes earlier than the rest of the class. There was no escaping assigned seats in Arithmancy. Or so Cedric thought. You had used your extra time to swap seats with another student now all he could do was bore holes into the back of your styled hair from four seats back. You didn’t even give him a chance during meals, eating quickly or simply never appearing, a girl you were with frequently taking a plate with her as she left instead. 

It was aggravating. He knew that both of you barley qualified as acquaintances but having the small amount of progress he had made in your relationship ripped from him less than a week in was cruel. 

Cedric was more persistent than you intended him to be. You didn’t quite understand why, you hardly knew each other. Yet he tried to corner you in hallways and stop you in classes. You supposed he probably felt guilty. You almost felt bad for avoiding him. 

When he wasn’t present in potions you assumed him sick or skipping. So you didn’t find the need to leave early or rush from the room. You should have known it was a trick. The second you left the room you were trapped, Cedric stood directly in front of you his gaze almost daring you to run. 

You sighed rolling your eyes, “Ok fine. You got me.”

“Can we talk?” He asked his hands stuffed into his robe pockets.

“Aren’t we all ready?” You challenged.

He shook his head softly, “Please?”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” You huffed. 

“It will take thirty seconds.” 

Your eyes narrowed, you knew it would take longer but your curiosity was killing you, what could he possibly have to say? Your money was on some useless apology.

“Fine.” 

You were lead deeper into the dungeons beginning to suspect he was going to murder you where your screams couldn’t be heard until he came to a stop in some far away corridor. 

You crossed your arms tapping your foot impatiently, “Well?”

Cedric felt that unfamiliar twist in his stomach as he looked down at you, his hand scratching at the back of his neck, “Well I wanted to say sorry.” 

You sneered at this, “Are you serious? If this what you dragged me here for then you can just tell your friends that they are dumbasses with no life of their own so they have to stick their nose in other peoples to stay entertained and leave.” 

The Hufflepuff was taken aback, “Oh no that’s not it, umm, you, I mean I have-”

“Spit it out Diggory,” you demanded. 

He nodded, “Right, uh I like you y/n.”

Your eyes shot wide.

“And I was just wondering if you would let me take you out.” He finished feeling better now that the words had been spoken. The moment was ruined quickly. 

“No.” Your answer was plain.

“Oh.” Cedric wasn’t sure what he expected, but it certainly wasn’t that. 

You sighed, the boy’s face now deflated like a sad puppy. The odd feeling of guilt settled in your stomach, “It’s not because of you.” You assured him, “I mean your talented and hot and nice and everything, it’s just I don’t want to deal with all the shit.” 

His cheeks flushed at the complaint but his lips twitched into a frown, “What shit?”

“Ya know.” You spoke gesturing around you, “Your friends and the rumors and everything. I’ve already got enough on my plate, I don’t need anymore.”

Cedric nodded, understanding, “Then give me a chance.” 

You hummed a question.

“The astronomy tower tomorrow night, meet me there after curfew and let me prove I’m worth it,” he explained.

You blinked owlishly at him, head tilted slightly to the side, “Seriously?” 

“Yeah. One date, no commitment, if you don’t like it can go back to ignoring me and no one will know.” 

His offer was tempting. The way his eyes glimmered with hope only making it more enticing. So you gave in, “Alright.” 

A smile stretched his lips, “Really?” 

You shrugged, “Why not?” 

“You won’t regret it.” 

Part of you already knew that. 

Taglist:

@accio-rogers

@roslea

@k3nz-doodl3

@theseuscmander

@sleepingalaska

@chloe-geoghegan1

Masterlist

[hanjizung]

Sweet as honey.

Han Jisung x Reader.

Word count:  2.9K

♡ Warnings ♡: loving Jisung too much, and also smut!!! soft smut, oral (f), fingering, creampie, aftercare, saying ‘i love you’ too much, praising.

Another request [93) “It’s okay, honey, you can pull my hair as hard as you want while I’m between your legs.”]  from the 100 dialogue prompts. I loved writing this one im sorry if its too soft jankda i love jisung so much:(((

Everything you could feel was stress. Stress from having to deal with rude people, from having to re organize all the documents left on your desk without even being told what they were, stress from having to sacrifice your break time so you could get out of there earlier…

You could feel your headache getting worse as time passed, it definitely didn't help your bad mood, opting to stay quiet than answer rudely to your fellow co-workers who were almost as busy and stressed as you were.

There was nothing else you desired more than to get home, have a nice relaxed dinner and maybe take a bath with Jisung, your fiance.

Sighing, you took a moment to think of him. You loved him so much, loved how he always tried his best to cheer you up or tried to make you laugh if you were feeling down. He was the sun that always shone behind the gray clouds. You were so whipped for him, that even remembering his big smile and his beautiful face made you smile like a silly teenage girl in love. But you couldn't help it, he made you feel that way by the mere thought of him, his presence in your life lighted up your world. His existence was a blessing for you, you had nothing but love for Jisung.

Shaking your head, you came back to reality letting out a long, tired sigh. It was almost the time for you to go home, almost the time for you to finally be in Jisung's arms and kiss him for as long as you (needed) wanted.

Yeah, that was the moment you always looked for the most, when you came home and Jisung called your name as a greeting in a singing tone as soon as he heard the front door open, immediately leaving the studio to hug you properly and ask how your day went, then proceeding to stay with you for the rest of the night cuddling or watching movies, just doing whatever either of you wanted to do.

It was the same routine everyday, sometimes he surprised you and picked you up from work, driving you to a nice restaurant or to the movies for a surprise date every once and then to do something different so your days weren't monotonously boring.

That night when you opened the front door of your department a nice smell of food got your attention. You followed the trace of the mouth watering fragrance all the way to the kitchen where Jisung was taking something out of the oven. You stared at his back silently, he was singing a song and dancing slightly, making you smile with great fondness in your chest; he truly was such a pure soul. You adored him with your whole being.

"Hey, Sungie. Care to tell me what you're doing, handsome?" you said, walking towards him and hugging him from behind, standing on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek as a greeting.

"Hi, baby! I was just baking this apple pie for you, I remember you said something about a pie not so long ago and I wanted to surprise you" he removed your hold on him to turn around and hug you back properly, embracing your form and squeezing you playfully, making you giggle more.

"Then I can't wait to try it! I'm sure it'll taste amazing, just like everything you make" you said, sighing in relief that you were finally home with the man you loved, but still feeling a little preoccupied that the next day you would have to deal with more things at the office.

Of course Jisung noticed, knowing you well enough to tell what that sight meant.

He pulled away from you, placing his hands on your shoulders and looking at you with a worried expression, brows furrowed and gentle eyes, "tough day, huh? Is there anything I can do for you?" he asked.

You pouted. You had something in your mind, but felt ashamed to say it out loud so you shook your head and stared at your hands, observing how you were playing with your hands, intertwining your fingers and tapping each other rhythmically.

"Sunshine, if you want anything just tell me, if I can give it to you I will" he hugged you, kissing your temples and resting his head on the crook of your neck.

You mumbled your wish, closing your eyes when you felt how hot your face had gotten.

"I need you to repeat yourself, love, what was that?"

"I want to spend the night in bed with you. Listen to what you did today… I just wanna be with you" you sighed again, hugging him tighter against you. Jisung understood not to ask again and fulfill your wish; you were his girl, the girl of his life. He'd do anything to make you happy, and luckily for you he knew a way to help you de-stress, something he loved doing, but that could wait after dinner.

"Let's eat first, baby. We don't want the food to get cold, do we?" he separated from you, his hands sliding down to hold your own smaller ones between his while offering you a kind, warm smile. A smile that always felt like home to you.

You nodded and let him guide you to the living room. You caught on that he was planning on eating there, while watching TV to help you distract your mind and stop thinking about how your day was before arriving home.

He put on the first movie, knowing that you wouldn't be putting much attention to it. He was paying more attention to you than to whatever it was that the movie was about, Jisung's only worry was you, you and only you.

He took your empty plate as soon as you finished eating, placing it on the sink along with his to wash later and when he came back to the couch he saw you coming back from your room, one of his shirts on and your bare legs exposed. He smiled, extending his arm to you and when you took it, Jisung pulled you to sit on his lap, kissing you so sweetly that you inevitably smiled in the middle of the kiss, pressing your forehead against his.

"I love you so much," he told you when he removed his lips from yours. His lips didn't rest after being apart from you, Jisung showered your face with kisses, making you smile while you placed your hands on his shoulders, shifting so your front could be against his chest and you could kiss him with a more passionate kiss, a kiss that could reflect how much you loved him with your whole being; a kiss that could show him how needy you were for his touch on you, to demonstrate him how much you had missed him.

Straddling his lap, you took his face and kissed him like you meant to. Jisung's hands traveled to your waist, resting there gently while you kissed him. He opened his mouth to let your tongue find his and let the passionate kiss become a messier one.

Until you couldn't breathe anymore, and pulled away from him with a heavy pant. His hands pulled you towards him, this time he held you against his chest so his lips could kiss the exposed skin of your neck and leave a few mark where he knew you liked, drawing a moan out of you that had your fingers digging on his shoulders, the filthy sound coming from you making him excited as well, the poking of his cock under you made you smile knowingly.

Your hands left him, traveling to tug the end of the oversized shirt –Jisung's property– you had put on previously, taking it off and throwing it somewhere on the floor, your boobs were presented for him to play with, right in front of his face. But he didn't pay much attention to them.

Contrary to what you thought he would do to you due to the position that you were in, he hugged you and gently handled you so you were laying on your back, him on top of you but still being careful enough to not let his weight fall on you completely.

He trapped you under him, reaching to kiss your lips messily again before he started going down on your body, licking and biting here and there, squeezing and caressing your breasts until he got to your tummy.

You grabbed a pillow and placed it under your head so you could keep watching him with your lips parted. He stopped almost completely when his face was in your stomach, his eyes looked up at you and smiled sweetly, kissing the soft skin of your tummy when one of your hands went to caress his hair. You let your fingers get tangled with his locks, your other hand was above your head tugging the pillow.

He got to your last piece of clothing, one of your favorite underwear. His teeth played with the hem of it but not for long before his hands were finally removing the item from you, he moved away to do it slowly, glancing at your sex with lust filled eyes.

"Look at how wet you are, baby, fuck…" he whispered, acomodating himself in front of you, his face in front of your pussy and his hands placed firmly in your thighs.

He licked his lips, eyes connected with your before he kissed the inside of your thigh, one, two, three times, slowly going closer to where you wanted him the most.

"Jisung, please…" you whispered, looking at him with hooded eyes. He looked at you after he was done biting the sensitive skin there. He knew how much you liked to see the marks he gave you when he went down on you, but this time you were incredibly needy for him, not caring much if he marked you or not.

Licking his way to your aching clit, his dominant hand spread your wet folds for him to lick you deliciously.

You saw him bite his lip, eyes focused on you as he had a first taste as you, making you shiver from the teasing try of his tongue on you.

"Oh baby, you're as sweet as honey" he murmured, directing his eyes to yours as he said that, managing to make you blush and bite your own lip while he smiled before turning his attention to your needy pussy once again.

A choked moan came out of you when his experienced tongue came in contact with you the second time, your hand rested on his head and pushed him towards you as much as you could, your eyes were closed as you allowed yourself to enjoy this moment of sweet euphoria he was provoking you.

His other hand made contact with your entrance, the tip of his fingers teasing you briefly before he inserted one of his digits inside you.

Everything felt so good, you were squirming and rocking your hips up to his mouth to feel how he continued lapping where he was, your hand pressing him still against you and tugging his hair roughly.

"A-ah, Jisung! Yes!" you cried out, head thrown back on the pillow "you feel so a-ah! So amazing… Fuck…" you babbled, too immersed on the pleasure he was providing you to pay attention to your cries of extasis.

You felt your climax approaching, tugging his hair with your fingers more desperately as your body shook and moved, your thighs closing around his neck, your wetness getting to your thighs as a result from how Jisung was fingering you agonizingly slowly.

You whined a little at the loss of his talented tongue against your clit, but his fingers increased their speed to make it up for it while Jisung took a breath and muttered with his sexy, raspy voice:

“It’s okay, honey, you can pull my hair as hard as you want while I’m between your legs" he returned to making you feel good, his dirty words and permission making you lose it and you came without any warming, your loving fiance continuing his attack on you, your moans and cries becoming music to his ears while you were recovering from the strong impact of your orgasm, your whole sensitive body relaxing finally when he slowed down and looking at you with dark eyes from the position between your legs.

He separated from you with a final lick through your slit, collecting your juices in his tongue and moving to a sitting position to let you recover better, your breathing making your chest go up and down rapidly from the intensity of your sweet release.

Jisung sat down, a little away from you and he asked "how do you feel, baby?" with that gentle tone he used when he tried to calm you down.

"I need you" you replied, moving slowly to straddle his lap again and grind your wet pussy against the hard cock hidden behind his pants. You wrapped your arms around him, pressing your lips together in a messy, needy kiss. You could taste your essence on his tongue, that made you grind against him again until he placed his hands behind your knees and stood up, carrying you. He had to break the kiss to pay attention to where he was taking you, and minutes later you landed on your shared bed.

"I love you so much" you muttered, looking at him through your lashes, your hands playing with your boobs while he undressed himself before crawling to the bed with you, trapping you under him again.

With one hand, he pressed the angry looking tip of his member against your still sensitive clit, a surprised squeal coming from you when he rubbed it and teased your entrance before stretching you out completely when he pushed inside you, both of you groaning once you and him were connected.

His hand helped him stabilize himself above you, hips starting to move against you in a slow pace and his lips looking for yours to join you in a sweet kiss before he had to moan when you squeezed him with your velvety walls.

"God… you're so tight, my love" Jisung whispered to your face, getting closer to you "You're amazing" he pressed a kiss to your cheek "you're so great for me" a kiss in your forehead "I love you, baby" and a final peck to your lips that made you smile sweetly.

Slowly, the speed started to increase and your breathing started to get more and more erratic, your chest going up and down, your hands traveling Jisung's back under the shirt he didn't bother to take off and sweat forming in your forehead. Above you, Jisung was just the same as you; unsteady breathing, eyes half closed and his whole body moving from how he was thrusting into you.

"A-ah, Jisung!" you moaned his name, a particular moan he was very familiar with. He opened his eyes and smiled at you knowingly.

"Cum for me, baby" he said. Your body responded to his comment and you pulled him from the back of his neck to kiss you passionately as your walls clenched around him and you came once again, this time around his throbbing member inside you.

Your lips separated from his inevitably, but Jisung felt like he had just arrived in heaven when he heard you calling his name in a long, lustful moan that triggered Jisung's own climax, the warm fluid inside you felt so good to you, you couldn't help but push him deeper into you with your legs wrapped around his waist and he groaned, closing his eyes and letting his forehead rest on your shoulder.

You stayed in that position, him inside you and your legs around him while you two waited for your breaths to go back to normal again, none of you daring to say a word in fear of disturbing the comfy silence.

But you couldn't stay like that forever, and much to your agony, Jisung pulled out from you, laying next to you and wrapping his arm around you to pull you closer to him so he could kiss your forehead.

You smiled, hugging him back. His cum started to drip, but you couldn't care less about that. All that was in your mind was how much you loved Jisung and how lucky you were to have found him.

"I love you" you told him, pressing your body against his half clothed one.

"I love you more, baby. So much more" he said, squeezing you against him playfully before sitting in the bed, taking off his shirt and leaving it next to you just in case you wanted to put it on.

He made his way to the bathroom, turning on the water to fill the tub from what you could hear on your spot in the bed. You were falling asleep when moments later Jisung took your naked form in his strong arms, carrying you to the bathroom. You could hear relaxing music playing from somewhere in there, another detail you wouldn't let go unnoticed.

"Here baby, let's get you cleaned up, okay?" he lowered your legs and you stood there, staring at the tub and then at him.

"Aren't you going to bathe with me, Sungie?" you pouted, making him laugh, but he did what you wanted and sat in the warm water, extending his arms for you to take place in them. You did it happily, a smile on your face as you climbed there.

"You're the best, Jisung" you sighed happily.

"You deserve only the best in life, baby"

[dovveling]

Lucio/Iolas - Wedding Proposal

(I really liked my long ass answer to the love ask about their proposal so i wanted to make it it’s own post that way y’all can ready it easier--)

The sun hung low in the sky as Lucio makes his way to the palace gardens. He has asked Iolas to meet him out by their favorite spot in the garden maze. the blonde smiles remembering how the two of them had found the hidden spot while goofing around and shoving each other into the hedges. It wasn't until one hard push sent Lucio through the hedge that he had found it. He fully expected to land on his ass but instead he found himself on the other side of a portal with Iolas calling for him from the other side.

Quickly Lucio ushered the other man through the portal and the two looked over a hidden meadow that seemed to be somewhere close to the center of the maze. Lucio could picture it perfectly; the stark white gazebo in the center, the perfect sun rays that sprinkled the fluffy grass and the willow tree with its small leaves that dripped and trickled. He fondly reminisced when the wind would blow and the tendrils of the willow would tickle up the wooden beams of the gazebo and scare Iolas into laughter every time the leaves would brush against his lover.

As Lucio draws closer to the portal he stops right before he enters and stares at the ring he had spent hours picking out. He had never fussed so much over a gift for someone. It was a first for him to worry about gift-giving, because anything he picked out was glamorous and simply perfect. This however wasn't just a gift.

It was a question.

Which meant it had to be perfect. Every time he would think he was close to choosing a ring he would look and see a flaw. A flaw that Iolas had the potential see. Which if he did meant the possibility of Lucio never getting to hear the answer he so desperately wants to the question He’s so nervous to ask.

So many times Lucio doubled back on himself about the proposal. Is this just too much? His mind would race. Could he see himself getting married again when his last marriage was such a failure? Then he would hear it. Iolas' laugh. Followed by the heart warming memories of the sunlight hitting the coffee skin of his lover. Afterwards every reservation burned away and was replaced with a deep desire to make this person his and only his.

Clinging to his new found confidence Lucio steels himself as he pockets the ring, almost dropping the bottle of champagne he forgets he was holding. As he pushes through the portal the blonde's heart skips a little at the sight of his lover resting on the side of the white gazebo. He’s wearing a white robe that Lucio had gotten commissioned to match his iconic white suit. The sight of it sets his heart running, he now knows the other dressed up just for him. As Lucio walks closer he can tell his lover seems to be lost in thought. He watched the other man’s crimson eyes gaze over the tree line, transfixed on something invisible as their thoughts dictate their face. It isn’t until Lucio steps closer and knocks on the wood with a playful tune that his lover acknowledges that the count has walked into the meadow. Lucio’s wolfish smile triggers a similar grin on his lover’s face.

"Hi, my Darling--" Iolas starts before pulling Lucio over by his collar to meet their lips together. With a giggle Iolas watches Lucio hop over the median of the gazebo instead of using the very close opening that's just a little be over to the side of them. Lucio tries to steady his face, but he can’t help that he’s excited. He doesn't want to come off too eager or nervous, but Lucio can tell his poker face failed as Iolas gives him a curious look. "What are you planning? I know that look."

Lucio however holds his hands up in defense after he places the bottle of champagne down on the railing in front of them. "Why do I always have to be up to something huh? Can't a man just meet his lover in a secret hole in the woods for some late-night drinking and maybe a little late-night macking?" the blonde throws the magician a wink, which is met with a playful smack that Lucio is all too found of.

"Did you bring glasses, Oh Count of Macking?" Iolas teases with a click of his tongue and to that Lucio's face freezes for a second. The easily distracted count did not think about the glass part of drinking, but his shock lasts for a split second before he nudges his lover with an elbow and a cheeky grin. "Can't you just magic something up for us--" Before Lucio can even finish Iolas throws his head back, his whole body shakes with a genuine laugh. One that Lucio only sees when Iolas reacts to his particular stupidity. "Absolutely not. I cannot manifest glassware, but fret not Lulu I prepared for this." The silver-haired man stands on the railing of the gazebo and reaches up behind one of the posts and brings down two champagne glasses. Lucio amused at this helps the shorter man down before taking both glasses and leaning down to give his lover a short kiss on the head.

Snickering to himself Lucio places the glasses down and pops open the champagne. "See? Who needs magic when you have a lover who has the spirit of a squirrel. Why are those even up there?" Iolas can't seem to hold back his laugher and starts into a long dialogue about how the last party they hosted he was tasked with disposing of all the drinks Lucio downed after getting into a drinking match with Julian. At some point he got too fed up hauling all the empty glass wear to and fro so he eventually gave up and used the portal which was much closer than the garbage. Soon as he finishes that story Lucio makes note that not only does he not remember this drinking contest at all, but he also notices that the whole upper layer of the Gazebo is littered with small drinking glasses of all shapes and sizes.

After the two of them laugh at the absurdity of the situation the couple dive into a comfortable speed of talking. Slowly they unravel the days events to each other, to which Lucio adds more flavor by introducing the drinks. The sun finally settles and the garden lights flicker on and thanks to all the glass wear in the gazebo small reflected lights scattered within their own space. Slowly the stories of their day dwindle and eventually, they huddle close to each other so they can look under the top of their gazebo and point out stars. Lucio watches the small warm lights bounce off his lover's face and his heart races. He can't chicken out now.

"Iolas." Lucio stops the silver-haired man mid-sentence as the other was going on about his zodiac sign and how it will be visible in the sky soon until he hears his name.

Iolas pauses fully, not use to hearing his full name exit his lover's lips unless it was during a more intimate and scandalous situation. So he hides his hesitation with a smile and he answers the blonde with the same tone he just used but exaggerated with a deeper tone to lighten the mood. "Lucio." The count starts to fidget but just laughs when Iolas mocks his serious tone. "No really, uh... Listen for a second." Iolas' face now turns from curious to worried. " Uh oh. that's a real serious tone. What did you do?" Lucio brushes him off, biting his lip and rubs the back of his neck. He feels so lame doing this, but that's the point.

Lucio stands up straight taking Iolas' hands, looking directly into those red eyes. For a second Lucio’s mind feels erased. It was as if looking into his lovers eyes reset every word he had planned out, but the ring sits heavy in his pocket. So he tried and opens his mouth only to close it so he can bring Iolas' cold fingers to his lips, unable to find his words just yet.

Iolas' however is completely taken aback. His lover has been romantic before but he was much more used to their back a forth of one-upping each other and superficial compliments they would glob onto each other. Their usual dynamic coupled with nightly flings where he ended up in the blonde's bed, made the sudden tenderness unsettling.

The magician could feel that dark feeling creep to his shoulders. The one that would say he shouldn't get his hopes up, that he's happy filling the count's time till he finds a real suitor. Even if Lucio was a temporary General at the palace he was still a completely different status then Iolas and Royals don't have court magician as suitors. So his hopes remained low but he was happy to bide his time with Lucio. However little it would be. Iolas had to admit even with the teasing and snarky remarks that sometimes get out of hand he loved and even craved the other man's company. Sadly, love doesn't change status. Love doesn't guarantee a happy ending. His a master when it comes to disappointment and had learned his lesson the hard way.

So It was the last thing Iolas' expected when the taller man pulls out the biggest ring the magician has ever seen and gets down on one knee. Iolas' first thought is to pinch himself so he can wake up. Then when air fills his lungs he realizes he’s awake and this is happening. More than happening, he's been silent for far too long. All he can hear is the stinging sound of his building anxiety attack banging around in his head. The buzz is deafening and He can see that Lucio is speaking but he can't hear him.

You will just disappoint him. Iolas' thoughts curse. Better yet he'll disappoint you. A shaky breath leaves him and all he can do is blink and look at Lucio with watery eyes. "I-- I'm sorry please can you say that again." Iolas stops and closes his eyes just so he doesn't have to look at the ring that's almost blinding with its meaning.

Lucio's normal wolfish grin falters but only returns once he hears Iolas speak. "I said. We should get hitched, ya know?" Lucio sputters, shit. "Look. Like I was saying we're surrounded by losers, Pet. Who else am I gonna get to match me other than you huh? come on, look at me—“ he gestures to his hair and outfit before continuing “Then look at you! we're perfect for each other.. ya know?" Lucio now looks nervous as he speaks. Unable to keep eye contact. “..and.. I love your laugh."

This seems to pull Iolas' from his anxiety a little even enough to get him to let out a weak laugh. "What? what does that have to do with anything?" Lucio pouts and glares at his lover just a tiny bit. "I love your laugh! and I don't want anyone else to have it. I deserve it, I get you to do it most and I think you owe me. So like.." Lucio ushers Iolas' to the ring, his legs are starting to buckle. "I wouldn't admit this to anyone else but my knees aren't what they use to be so can we--" Iolas stops him with a curt turn, his shoulders shaking.

The blonde stands at his lovers reaction his whole body rigid. This was it. The rejection he warned himself about. He's ruined everything, his heart screams to take it all back. Iolas is probably laughing at the proposal and Lucio's tacky way of offering himself. It isn't until the sound of a stuffy nose echo through the silent night that Lucio realizes his lover is crying and instantly he steps forward a different kind of fear gripping his heart. " W-wait-- wait, why are you crying? You never cry--" He falters and fidgets his hands around his lover unsure if he wants to be held or not.

Iolas turns finally, his red puffy eyes are turned down in a grimace as they glisten in the dim light. "Yeah, you idiot I never cry and look at what you made me do." His tone is harsh but it's followed by a sad shake that ruins any intention of anger. "Lucio I... I don't know how to do this." Lucio's heart slows but he's thrown for a loop and Iolas can sense his confusion and clears his throat as he wipes his leaking eyes. "No one has ever, wanted me like this before. I don't know if I can-- How do you know you want this? What if I disappoint you? What if you get tired of me and regret ever meeting me? At least if we keep things like before you can just get rid of me if I'm too much and I won't have to--" Lucio stops Iolas this time as he brings his lover close by pulling on his crossed arms.

"You won't have to worry about falling in love?" The blonde answers with his own sense of sadness, his eyes looking down at their feet before meeting with Iolas' who only nods in response. Lucio is a bit thankful that his lover didn't outright say no and is at least contemplating the idea of things. "I had the same thoughts and honestly I don't know how I'm sure. I just... am." Lucio's normal bravado comes back now that he feels more secure in the conversation. "I know that I love seeing you every day. I know that I love sleeping with you every night. I know that I don't want anyone else to hold you the way I hold you and I know that you feel the same way about me." At that the blonde swallows hoping he isn't wrong. "But mostly I know I don't ever want you to leave. If you were to go, do you know how fucking boring this place would be? I would set the parlor on fire within minutes of you being gone." The cheeky grin is back and Iolas snorts at the idea and manages a smile as he is now fully embraced by his lover.

Lucio rests his head on top the shorter man’s and hums, kissing the top of it. Slowly he pulls Iolas back so he can look down at him. "But it's not just about what I want... you kinda need to want those things too." Now it's Iolas turn to nervously look away and slowly as the shorter man's courage builds he tightens his grip on Lucio's jacket and more tears roll down his face as the realization comes crashing onto him that he'd do anything to be with the man in front of him. Before He can answer he shoves his face into Lucio's jacket rubbing his head back and forth on the soft fabric. "You moron-- Of course I want all that."

The blonde can't resist the urge to tease the other man however and laughs to himself. "I'm sorry, could you say that again I couldn't hear you from inside my jacket." Iolas hits the taller man's chest with a laugh before he goes to wipe his damp eyes yet again. "You know for a fact that I said YES-- urgh, gods look at what you did to my make up how the hell am I going to fix this now--" Iolas' whining is stopped short by his lover picking him up in a searing kiss that continues as the blonde twirls them both. With a firm grip on Iolas' waist Lucio looks up at the magician with a smile that could blind the gods. "I wanna hear you say it." Iolas rolls his eyes at that. With most of his face red as a beet, a large pout crosses the silver-haired man's lips. He kicks his legs from his newfound lifted position.

"I have zero idea what you're talking about--" Iolas protests but Lucio shakes his head. "Say it or you are never leaving this gazebo." Iolas is about to rebuttal but the look in Lucio's eyes is that yes he is serious. Iolas' expression softens, even if it's despite himself. "Of course I'll marry you, LuLu." Lucio whispers a soft ‘yes!’ Before he bounces in his spot and spins the both of them once again but this time continues to spin around the whole gazebo. The blonde’s laughing slowly raises to excited cackling as they spin. Iolas can only laugh back and struggle against the crazy man holding him. "Stop--! Lulu Stop! we're gonna--" but it's too late. Lucio's legs trip over themselves and with zero grace they both tumble onto the hardwood floor.

Iolas rolls onto his back and groans, dizzy and sore his eyes dart over to the man beside him who is just as dazed. Slowly Iolas entwines their hands with a smile and Lucio is about to kiss his lover's fingers before he remembers the ring. The blonde springs forward, getting up like the fall meant absolutely nothing. Iolas however takes his time sitting up as his lover fumbles to find the ring he dropped.

Soon as it's found Lucio slides over, the scraping sound of the taller man's pants on the hardwood makes the magician giggle. Iolas has to give the other man sheer points for his enthusiasm. Pompously Iolas sticks his left hand out, to which Lucio plays along and kisses the other man's ring finger dramatically before slipping the large ring onto Iolas' hand.

Carefully Iolas' holds his hand out to the light and observes the sheer size of the ring and can't help but grin. Lucio practically radiates waves of anticipation. His cheeks flushed from their recent spinning but his eyes sparkle and scream that they crave his lovers attention.

"Was this the biggest ring they had?" Iolas wiggles his fingers, acting as if he's unimpressed. Lucio simply feeds back into him. "How dare you." He sneers, pulling Iolas into his lap as he sits, unable to be on his knees any longer. "I had this one custom ordered. Not only is it the biggest ring in stores, but it's also the biggest wedding ring, period." He speaks into the shorter man's neck before he kisses it, The count's tone never faltering. The very idea of that sends Iolas into a giggle fit. He knows for a fact that this ring physically cannot be the biggest ring ever but another part of him can see Lucio putting up a fight with store owners about the pitiful size of their rings to the point where he just orders them to make him a whole new size.

"Of course, I knew my Lulu would only get me the best. He’s not capable of anything less." Lucio preens in the praise and Iolas strokes the back of his fingers against his lover's face. For a moment they stay like that, both of them processing what exactly just happened and what this means for their future. Iolas is the first to break the silence with a soft hum as he presses against Lucio's chest. "Thank you... Lucio." the taller man responds by nuzzling his nose into the shorter man's hair with a confused hum. "I never thought I could do this...” Iolas voice wavers but only slightly as he takes Lucios hand in his. The weight of the ring feels odd but strangely comforting. “... but for the first time, I'm not scared." Lucio smiles at that. and squeezes his lover in his arms.

"Good. We can be fearless together."

[homeformyheart]

For F: “That position looks impossible enough, let’s try it.”

thank you V for the prompt!! this definitely got away from me, but I hope it works!

author’s note: thank you for the request, @hunnybadgerv. i hope this does your prompt justice and sorry for the length, all the intimacy feels got away from me (and i have to give a lot of inspiration credit to @gavcowles). this is very soft, the smut really plays a secondary role to the intimacy and respect for the boundaries of an aspec partner. *just fyi: my enby detective harley uses she/they pronouns and is aspec. hope you all enjoy!

copyright: all characters, except the oc detective, are owned by mishka jenkins @seraphinitegames. series/pairing: the wayhaven chronicles – felix hauville x nb!detective (harley bishop) rating/warnings: 18+; ns*w smut noted between the 🔥⚡ and ❄💧 icons (minors dni) based on/prompt: nsfw dialogue prompts // 73. “That position looks impossible enough, let’s try it.” (in bold) word count: 1.7k summary: felix learns harley’s boundaries and encourages them to be intimate on their terms.

on their terms

felix balances a pile of thick, heavy books on one arm while reaching up toward a shelf above his head. he realizes he underestimated the ladder rung that would get him the closest and it’s too late now to change course, given how he’s already balancing on one leg, the other extended behind him.

he very much looks like a ballerina-in-training.

in his haste, he accidentally grabs a few thin volumes stacked closely next to each other and leaps down to the ground. he glances at the one on top, the smallest of the bunch by far, and his eyebrows rise in surprise and curiosity.

he drops the rest of the books so he can flip through his new discovery, wincing at the sound of heavy texts crashing to the floor in a heap. he knows he’ll get an earful from nat for leaving them there, but he’s too excited and runs off to harley’s room.

they’re reading through some reports when he bursts in and climbs into the bed to sit next to them.

“look what i found in the library! nat’s been holding out on us,” felix grins, showing them the cover. “i am definitely not letting her live this down.”

harley raises an eyebrow in surprise at the title: sex positions through the ages.

“why are you assuming it’s nat’s?” they ask curiously, putting aside the reports and curling into his side as he wraps an arm around them.

this is one of his favorite (although everything about harley is his favorite) things to do with hayley – hold them and be held by them with the feeling of complete and utter belonging blanketing them both.

he flips through the pages quickly, taking in all the various illustrations the book offers. harley hums in agreement every few poses, until felix comes across one that makes him pause.

“that position looks impossible enough, let’s try it,” he suggests, moving the book over so harley can get a better look.

the position in question requires quite a bit of maneuvering, flexibility, and strength – none of which are “impossible” for him per se. but it’s still one that he hasn’t ever tried before, and felix is usually up for trying anything at least once.

he draws circles above harley’s hip, slipping his hand underneath their shirt carefully, watching their reaction out of the corner of his eye. they’ve been together long enough that he’s learned to read the subtle tells of their moods most of the time, but he still tries to encourage them to speak up more often.

harley remains still but he can feel their heartbeat against his ribcage. their hand hasn’t moved from its spot on his chest. he removes his hand from under their shirt and pulls it gently back down to cover their exposed skin.

if anything happens tonight, it has to be on their terms. even if harley hasn’t quite articulated their terms exactly – and he wishes they would soon so he could always know what lines must never be crossed – he’s still getting a feel for their boundaries.

his intuition hasn’t let him down yet.

he closes the book and leans down to kiss their hair softly, gently tucking his arm under their knees to pull them into his lap.

“thank you,” they murmur against his neck.

“of course, babe. i hope you never feel like you have to pretend with me,” felix responds as they pull back to look at him. “whatever we do, i always want it to be on your terms, okay?”

and he’s pretty sure the smile they give him could sustain him for the rest of his life.

“shower with me?” they ask suddenly and before he can respond, they’re pulling him out of bed and toward the bathroom.

their back is to him as they undress and step into the shower, adjusting the settings to the lukewarm temperature they know is at the upper limit of his tolerance and he follows suit, an ear-to-ear grin on his face at the sheer happiness filling his chest at the sight of them – comfortable and allowing him to see them this way.

the water gently flows over their bodies while they reach for the soap and he adjusts the showerhead pressure, grinding his teeth slightly at how extreme the adjustment feels until he gets used to it, standing behind harley with his hand on their hips and space between them as they finish washing their body.

his gaze moves up as they reach for their shampoo and he places his hand on theirs.

“let me,” felix murmurs quietly, grabbing the bottle and squeezing out a palm-sized amount onto his hand.

he knows, through observation but also trial-and-error, how much shampoo and conditioner to use for harley’s long, color-treated hair. and there’s something about how they let him gently massage their scalp (especially after the first few times when he was too eager and rough) and weave the products slowly down the length of their locks that makes his heart soar.

the bright blue color dulls a bit under the weight of the water and conditioner, but that’s how he knows he’s used enough. that, plus the quiet sighs of contentment leaving harley’s mouth sending a warmth blooming across his chest.

he shifts so that the stream of water hits their head directly, continuing his gentle massages as he rinses the products out of their hair. he carefully weaves his fingers through their tresses, untangling any knots that he can find as best he can without pulling at the roots – and he can tell, because their head jerks a centimeter back whenever that happens.

after a few minutes, the water runs clear down their back and he gently wrings their hair out, placing it over their shoulder. he reaches for the loofah before hayley stops him and turns to face him.

🔥⚡ 🔥⚡

they pull him forward a step so the water hits his back before placing their hands on his hips, tiptoeing up to kiss him softly before kissing down his jaw and neck. their hands mirror the movement, inching down his thighs as their lips reach his collarbone. he sucks in a breath at their hands moving to the inside of his thighs, trailing their fingers upward as their lips continue their journey down his chest.

felix shudders, and it’s not from the hammering pain of the water pressure on his sensitive skin.

no, that’s faded to a numb rhythm in the background as harley takes him in hand and begins to stroke him slowly.

his cock stiffens under their touch and he makes an effort to open his eyes and look at them, mouth parted and ready to make sure they know he’s not expecting or needing them to do anything and they—

“i love how responsive you are to me. i love knowing that i do this to you,” they murmur against his stomach, lips fluttering against the hair they find there and leaving goosebumps in their wake.

their eyes are teasing and serious at the same time and he wants to—oh, his brain stops processing for a moment as their strokes quicken, hands alternating and squeezing with just the right amount of pressure. they continue kissing down his happy path but he stops them with a gentle stroke of their jaw with his thumb.

they look up at him questioningly and he returns with a suggestive smirk of his own, reaching up to grab the curtain rod and lifting himself up so his hips are at their shoulder-level (he is very thankful that the agency installed reinforced rods directly into the walls as a precaution against the “activities” that some of the team is known for getting into).

the look in their eyes shift from confusion to adoration to gratitude to eagerness and oh, what he wouldn’t do to capture those expressions forever.

“this way, you’re not on your knees,” he says softly, his breath ending in a moan as they move his legs to rest over their shoulders and wrap their lips around his cock.

that feeling alone makes him want to explode right then and there—

but he holds on, because it’s harley and them together.

he vaguely senses that his body is shivering despite the warm steam from the shower but he is too preoccupied with how hayley is moving their head up and down his cock, the position allowing their hands to freely play with his balls. he tightens his grip on the curtain rod, reminding himself the last thing he wants is to fall on top of hayley.

felix glances down and they’re gazing right back at him, as though he’s been spilling all of his inner thoughts out loud, and maybe he is – he’s not sure and can’t be bothered to recall in the moment. not with them hollowing out their cheeks and taking him deeper into the back of their throat, pushing him all the way to the edge until he can’t hold back anymore.

and then he lets go, making an effort to move away but they hold him tightly against their mouth, swallowing eagerly without breaking eye contact. and for him, knowing hayley is giving as much as they are willing to give and on their own terms—

it’s everything.

“geez, harley,” he breathes out their name, a deep, throaty groan that synchronizes with their final swallow as they move off him and gently bring his legs back to the floor. he holds their face in his hands and kisses them deeply, the smile on both their faces making it so their lips don’t quite fit.

❄💧 ❄💧

felix steps out and reaches for a towel, holding it wide open as he turns back to them. they tilt their head at him curiously.

“your turn,” he says warmly, eyes soft and heart full.

harley steps out of the shower and into the towel he wraps carefully around them, their eyes never leaving his face.

“i love you,” they whisper as felix carefully dries every part of their body before handing them the robe hanging on the back of the door.

harley slips the robe on while felix wraps their hair up with a smaller towel.

“i love you more,” he replies, kissing their cheek and leading them back into the bedroom so they can cuddle.

* * * * * taglist: @kelseaaa; @kat-tia801; @anotherbeingsworld; @crackerdumortain; @gloynporslen; @writer-ish; @sosolenoo; @alyssalauren; @ambrosykim; @wayhavenots; @gingerbreton; @takemyopenheart;

[ahgaseda]

aura | two

driving me crazy, look in my eyes, follow me, come here, dance with me now, I’m gonna make you feel like that...

summary : back again at a camp for kids that can’t behave, you are still brokenhearted over your ill-fated romance with Jaebeom, until your friend Jackson offers to help make your ex jealous in exchange for helping him land the most unattainable girl at camp.

warnings : strong profanity, explicit dialogue, recurring alcohol or recreational drug use, graphic sexual content, brief mentions of illegal activities, potentially triggering elements involving toxic relationships and emotional manipulation, etc.

miniseries chapters : one / two / three / four / five / six / seven

Jackson could feel his head spinning out of control. There you were in his bed. Naked save for the dark silky sheets wrapped snugly around your body. You were curled up across from him, sound asleep with your lips slightly parted.

Your moans were still echoing in his ears, because nothing got Jackson off like sounds of pleasure. Especially when he was the cause. Shivers raced up his spine at the thought of you beneath him, made all the more arousing by the deep red lines your nails left down his back.

On his side, mirroring your position, Jackson merely stared. Fuck, he wanted to curse aloud. He really had just slept with his best friend. And more than once. Reaching forward, Jackson delicately brushed some disheveled hair from your face and rubbed his thumb over your cheek.

Fuck, Jackson thought again, pulling his hand back.

Given your histories (and your current dilemma with Jaebeom), Jackson made sure to rock your world if it was the last thing he did. He buried his head between your thighs, stroked your sweet spot with the pads of his fingers, and brought you to ecstasy on his tongue.

You begged him for more and Jackson was all too happy to oblige you.

Fuck, he had groaned when he pushed himself inside your heat. You winced at the pressure and he staggered out a breath at the tight vice of your cunt.

Your fingers pressed unforgiving into the skin of his lower back, your legs high on his waist as you accepted him deep. Jackson could see the tension on your face, the way you hid your nerves at the stretch. He had been much bigger than you were expecting.

Jackson remembered then it was only your second time and he slowed his pace. He rocked gently into you, coaxing your body to accommodate him. The patient thrusting helped you open up and it kept him from blowing his load in the first two seconds.

“God, you’re tight,” Jackson said under his breath, dropping his head to the crook of your neck and bottoming out.

You hummed softly when his lips began to suck at your skin. “Does it feel good?” you asked, a mix of teasing and curiosity.

“So good, baby,” Jackson whispered.

I’m fucked, was what he had wanted to say.

The moment you gripped him tighter, drawing him in closer, and sighed out a moan, Jackson knew he was doomed. He would do anything and everything you asked of him, if he could just bury himself in the heaven that was your body.

Jackson shook the memory from his head, still staring at your sleeping form. The first round may have been slow and tender, but what followed was anything but. No sooner had he caught his breath were you on him. He had inadvertently opened the floodgates and discovered you were as insatiable as he was.

You rode him until he cried out your name. He pinned you on your stomach and pounded you from behind until you begged for mercy and he gave you release instead. The two of you rolled around beneath the sheets till they were damp with sweat.

But it didn’t matter how much pleasure Jackson gave you, how many times he brought you to toe-curling release - there was still a twinge of guilt. You were sleeping with him to spite another man. Any other day Jackson would be happy to serve as such use, but you were his best friend. He was supposed to keep you from making bad decisions.

Not letting you indulge them by becoming the actual indulgence.

Jackson decided to justify it under the guise of helping you move on. Maybe if you got some orgasms you would stop pining over Jaebeom’s mediocre skills.

You stirred then and Jackson was at attention. He wondered if you would wake up and instigate more sex. One glimpse of your breasts and he would undoubtedly get hard again. Jackson shook that mental image out of his mind quickly and focused on dropping the obligatory “bomb dick put your ass to sleep” joke.

Your eyes cracked open and you peered at him groggily.

“Hi,” Jackson rasped.

“Hi.”

A short silence ensued and it was physically painful for Jackson. When you said nothing, he asked, “How are you?”

You thought a moment, recollecting the events of the past few hours, and replied, “Sore.”

Jackson chuckled in relief. He was known for his stamina, but you had him running on empty. “I’m sorry.”

You snorted and narrowed your eyes. “No you’re not.”

Jackson flashed a grin. “Okay, I’m not.”

With a chuckle, you rolled to your back, running a hand through your messy hair.

Jackson swiftly reached over to pull up the sheet where it had fallen slightly on your chest.

You glanced down curiously and teased, “Don’t wanna see me naked anymore?”

Jackson was quick to explain, “If I see your boobies again, my dick will be up and ready to go.”

You laughed, covering your mouth shyly as you felt heat behind your cheeks. “Is that all it takes?”

Jackson bobbed his head, amused at your reaction. “Depends on the tits, but yeah, pretty much. Super effective.”

“Tell your friend to keep it together down there,” you joked, eyes shifting down his naked body. “I’m worn out.”

Jackson moved to lay on his back at your side, both of you looking up at the slowly turning ceiling fan. “Don’t worry. He is too.”

You placed a hand over your lower stomach and grumbled, “Please tell me the cramping is normal.”

Jackson sidled closer until he could feel you against him. “According to one of my exes, yes. Unfortunately it can happen when things get a little too… vigorous.”

You wanted to smack him for sounding so arrogant, but opted instead to deadpan, “I’m relieved that my best friend is an all-knowing sex god.”

“Hey, don’t inflate the ego,” Jackson chided playfully. “It also makes the dick hard.”

You laughed again.

Silence returned, but this time it wasn’t uncomfortable. The post-coital conversation had been handled and nothing was left up in the air. Once you gathered enough energy, you dragged your feet to the bathroom and cleaned yourself up. Jackson offered you one of his long sleeve shirts to sport while you stayed in his room.

Part of you was still in disbelief. Here you were, in Jackson’s cabin, in his bed with a persistent ache between your thighs. He was now propped back against pillows, flipping through channels on the flatscreen, and you were tucked to his side, head on his chest.

Jackson leaned slightly, trying to sneak a glimpse of your face, and asked, “You didn’t eat earlier, did you?”

You shook your head.

“Yeah, me neither,” he huffed, thinking briefly. “Should we order a pizza?”

You shrugged.

Annoyed, Jackson barked, “Alright, dialogue would be nice.”

“I just…,” you murmured, head spinning. “Can’t believe we had sex.”

Jackson chortled. Then, his expression fell. “Are you freaking out?”

You sat up to face him, hair a mess over your shoulder, and braced your hands on your bare knees. All you sported was his shirt, like some kind of trophy. “No, but I feel different.”

Jackson cocked a brow. He was getting nervous and tried to hide it. “In what way?”

You smiled bashfully and said, “Like you broke the spell a little bit.”

Jackson’s lips parted in a devilish grin. “Did I?” he asked smugly.

You rolled your eyes at his tone, but continued, “Yeah, it’s like - with Jaebeom, the whole summer was spent flirting and seducing and in the end it was one quick, awkward slip of a dick and done.”

Jackson laughed at that.

You pushed his chest until you had his attention again, giggling all the while. “But with you it was hot and heavy and everything just built up until it exploded.”

Jackson pinched your cheek and taunted, “Glad I could make your toes curl.”

“I always thought that was just an expression, but fuck yeah, did they curl.”

Jackson studied you and tilted his head. “You’re cute.”

“And we’re still best friends, right?”

“Absolutely. I can’t live without you.”

You simpered, relieved. For once it felt like having your cake and eating it, too. At the thought of cake, your stomach growled. “Let’s go get food.”

Jackson practically soared off the bed.

After redressing into your clothes from before, you stepped outside and were shocked to see night had fallen. The crickets sang and frogs croaked. The lake nearby shone with the reflection of the moon.

Turning to Jackson, you gawked. “How long were we in there?”

“A while,” he snickered.

“The mess hall is gonna close any minute.”

“All aboard,” Jackson announced, stepping in front of you and crouching down.

You giggled, clambering onto his back and squealing when he grabbed your legs, proceeding to piggyback you all the way there.

Given that dinnertime had long passed, the dining hall was sparse. There were a few stragglers. Some merely stuck around to chat. Most were snacking.

Jackson set you down and you adjusted your clothes, peering inside to check for Jaebeom.

“You go ahead,” you said. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Suit yourself,” Jackson replied, kissing your cheek in parting.

No sooner had the door closed did someone sneak up behind you.

“Hard to get close to you with a bodyguard lurking around,” Jaebeom jeered.

You whirled around to snap, “In what way, shape or form have I made you think I want you near me?”

“Don’t be like that, baby girl. I remember when you couldn’t keep your hands off me.”

Jaebeom still enthralled you. His perfect shoulders and perfect hands and perfect fucking face.

It was downright infuriating.

Fortunately, you were feeling pretty obstinate at the moment and countered, “I must have done a number on you since I’ve moved on and clearly you haven’t.”

Jaebeom frowned, vexed. Every girl he loved and left came crawling back for more. He had it down to a science. But no matter how many girls were ready to throw themselves at him, his pride couldn’t stand you not falling in line.

You stepped back when Jaebeom approached, extending his arm to cage you against the wall. The scent of him made your heart turn. You remembered carding your fingers through his hair and breathing him in when he was on top of you. You thought it had been so perfect.

And it was all a lie.

Jaebeom whispered, “I was good to you, wasn’t I?”

You folded your arms in defiance. “How do you figure that? I recall only one of us getting off.”

“It was your first time,” Jaebeom whined. “Do you know how hard it is to make a virgin come?”

You peered up at him and said, “Jackson makes me come over and over.”

Jaebeom’s eyes flickered. His blood boiled and his expression devolved into a frown. “Does he now?”

Realizing you had him on the ropes, you stood a little taller and ran a hand down his chest, smoothing a nonexistent wrinkle in his shirt. “Yeah, maybe you should talk shop with him sometime. He can give you a few pointers.”

Jaebeom’s pulse quickened at the touch of your hand, but seethed at your words.

Pushing his arm out of your way, you grabbed the door of the mess hall and gave him one last insult, “I mean, if you’re gonna make a career out of deflowering girls, you should at least be good at it.”

Jaebeom watched the door close behind you and he was quick to head inside, though he didn’t give chase. Briefly he watched you stride to the line to get food, then his eyes scanned over the tables until he found Jackson.

Meanwhile, Jackson shoved a piece of chicken into his mouth and didn’t even look up when Jaebeom took the empty seat beside him.

“What’s your game, Wang?” Jaebeom asked roughly.

Jackson replied, “I’m gonna bag Yeona,” and tossed back a gulp of soda.

“Oh please,” Jaebeom retorted, unconvinced. “She’s impenetrable. Literally.”

“Uh-huh.”

Jaebeom shot a glance across the room, spotting Yeona near the wall with a small group of friends. “That promise ring has a matching chastity belt.”

Jackson sang, “Both of which will be on the floor with the rest of her clothes when I’m done.”

Jaebeom brought his gaze back to you as you piled food on your plate and set it on your tray to move down the line. “What about you and the Ice Queen?”

Jackson fought a frown. He wanted to slug Jaebeom in the jaw every time he mentioned you. Playing cool, Jackson spoke nonchalantly, “We’re just having fun. The Ice Queen’s got that fire pussy.”

“I know she does,” Jaebeom growled, images of you naked filling his head. “So, you guys aren’t exclusive. She’s playing the field and I can round the bases.”

Jackson almost bit the tip off his plastic fork and snarled, “Dude, she hates your guts.”

Jaebeom licked his lips. “We both know hate sex is the best.”

Jackson felt his blood pressure rising. He wanted nothing more to beat the living shit out of Jaebeom, but he remembered the game you both were playing.

Sensing the conversation was over, and having gotten what he wanted out of it, Jaebeom moved to leave.

“Hey,” Jackson called.

“What?”

Jackson leveled his eyes on Jaebeom, stern and full of contempt. “You didn’t have to make her fall in love with you.”

“She was tough to crack. I had to go all the way,” said Jaebeom, as if it were of no consequence to him.

Jackson could practically hear sirens in his head and imagined himself being loaded in the back of a squad car in handcuffs with a satisfied grin on his face. “The two of you could make a go of it,” Jackson said, expression sour. “She could be the one to calm you down.”

“Pfft,” Jaebeom scoffed. “Me and her are you and Yeona, the before and after. We’re the same, you and I.”

That was the last straw. “We’re nothing alike,” Jackson snapped vehemently. “I’m just having fun. You’re trying to prove something. Matter of fact, you’re trying to spite a bitch that doesn’t even remember what your dick felt like.”

Jaebeom tensed with wrath and lowered his voice to something dangerous and threatening, “You’re lucky we’re inside or I would fuck you up.”

“The door’s right there,” Jackson hissed, though his muscles tensed in response.

The two stared each other down for a moment. You stood frozen in the aisleway, tray in hand, watching and waiting.

Then, Jaebeom scowled and rose from the seat.

You sighed in relief, knowing a brawl on the first day was not on your list of sights to see. Then, your heart clenched when you realized Jaebeom was striding toward you.

“Hey,” he called out.

With a groan, you whined, “Jaebeom, how many times do I have to tell you?”

“I wanna make peace.”

You deadpanned, “You wanna get back in my pants.”

Jaebeom slipped his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I thought this summer we would pick up where we left off.”

You were tempted to take the tray in your hands and whack him over the head, but you would never disrespect and waste food like that. “You spent all last summer getting me into bed and you thought this summer I would just jump right back in. Do you really believe I think as little of myself as you think of me?”

Jaebeom shook his head. “Not at all.”

“You knew I had feelings for you. You convinced me that you felt the same way. You…”

Jaebeom interrupted with a soft, “Don’t.”

You could feel the conversation devolving. Emotions were pushing through. You whimpered, “We used to be friends, you know.”

Jackson watched it unfold, ready to jump in. The moment a tear escaped your lashes he would be ready to level Jaebeom into the fucking ground.

Jaebeom seemed to get frustrated. Maybe even losing his cool. “Will you just let me explain?”

You gaped. “There is no explanation for wounding someone that trusted you as much as I did.”

A voice suddenly appeared at your side, chiding, “Haven’t you done enough, Jaebeom?”

Jaebeom’s eyes widened slightly at the appearance of Yeona in your corner and he began, “Yeona, this…”

She looked at him with nothing but disdain. “Your motto is hit it and quit it, right? How about some follow through?”

You studied her in complete surprise, resisting a smile.

“You really…,” Jaebeom tried to argue.

“Begone, Satan,” she snapped, holding up a hand.

Jaebeom threw in the towel with ease. He had no desire to contend with Yeona in the middle of the dining hall. She was known for her volume.

You turned to her and said, “Thanks, Yeona. I guess I’ll never stop making a fool of myself, huh?”

She glared at Jaebeom’s back as he walked away and spoke with disgust, “He’s slime for what he did to you.”

You shrugged, feeling out of place. “I let him do it. What does that make me?”

She met your eyes, filled with compassion, and said, “I meant lying about being in love. I can’t imagine anything worse than that.”

You smarted, “Well, there’s climate change and world hunger and a Republican-controlled Congress…”

Yeona laughed and the sound was delightful. “You know what I mean.”

With the tray still in your hands, you elbowed her gently and whispered, “Thanks for sticking up for me.”

“Anytime,” she gleamed, elbowing you back. “You did the same for me once.”

The memory played across your mind and you replied softly, “Yeah, I did. Wow, I had almost forgotten.”

Yeona didn’t hesitate to loop her arm through yours and asked, “Wanna sit together?”

You nodded with a smile. “Sure, I would like that.”

Jackson watched you and Yeona striding together to the remainder of her clique. You were smiling like the two of you had been best friends for years. Jackson wrinkled his nose with another taste of bile on his tongue.

When you had finished most of your food, you leaned toward Yeona and whispered, “Listen, I’m really awkward about this, but Jackson is my friend and I want him to be happy.”

Her face lit up with curiosity. “What’s up?”

“He wants to watch the stars with you tonight.”

Yeona cocked a brow, skeptical. She and everyone on the east coast knew Jackson’s reputation as a playboy. “Really?”

“Yes,” you told her hurriedly. “I’m sorry if I visibly cringed. He’s my best friend. It’s hella weird to be doing this on his behalf.”

Yeona sized you up. Never in the years of camp did you approach a girl for Jackson. And that made Yeona feel special. It gave her a false inclination that Jackson was after something more.

“He’s a nice guy that Jackson,” she finally said.

You looked over at Jackson, simpering slightly to see him snarfing down more food. You were suddenly reminded of how he felt between your thighs and forced the thought from your mind.

“Yeah, a really nice guy,” you murmured.

Yeona nodded. “Tell him I’m down.”

When you relayed the news to Jackson back at his cabin, he beamed with delight.

“You’re a queen,” he announced. “You know that?”

“It’s been said by you many times,” you chuckled. “Just go. Have fun.”

Jackson gave you a parting kiss on the cheek as he always did and was halfway out the door when he called out, “Have a good swim.”

You had donned a bikini and a towel with the intent of visiting the pool. At night it was generally empty and you could swim a few laps in peace. You figured it would help you relax and clear your head.

Which was what you did.

As you swam back and forth, back and forth, your thoughts were a constant cycle of Jackson and Jaebeom. The sex with Jackson had been so mind-blowing and eye-opening that you couldn’t stop thinking about just how good it felt. Then, you circled back to Jaebeom and how badly your heart ached.

How much you still loved him.

He was all you wanted. You had spent the summer falling more and more in love with him. He had always been a friend that kept you at arm’s length. Jaebeom was mysterious and aloof, and you fell headfirst in the trap of him.

But you couldn’t stop being that naive little girl. Imagining a life with him. You pictured marrying him. You thought about the white picket fence around whatever house you got together. You wondered how many kids you would have.

It was sickening.

He made you want the life your mother had always planned on forcing upon you.

A large splash made you lurch up, surprised beyond measure when Jaebeom emerged from the water. He threw his head back, tossing the long hair out of his face, and he had never looked so damn intoxicating.

Your eyes met and your heart skipped a beat.

“I’m done playing games with you,” Jaebeom said, swimming nearer.

“Is that so?” you retorted, feigning indifference.

Jaebeom whispered, “Tell me you don’t want me.”

You stared him down, but you couldn’t bring yourself to lie. Of course, you wanted him. You wanted him with every fiber of your being.

At your silence, Jaebeom swam forward, wrapping his arms around you and pressing his lips to yours.

You cradled his head and kissed him back. You locked your legs around his waist, trying to trap him to you forever.

And you wracked your brain for what would make him stay.

Jaebeom kissed you harder and harder, roaming his hands up and down your sides as he bobbed in the pool. There was a slight catch in your breath with the rush of his kisses and Jaebeom could hear his pulse pounding in his ears.

You woke something in him. Jaebeom realized it the first day he spent without you. He needed it back. He needed that high, that rush.

Tugging at his hair, you broke away, breathing loudly. Jaebeom didn’t hesitate to latch his lips to your neck.

“I know what this is,” you panted, lashes fluttering.

“Tell me,” Jaebeom growled, lips smacking with wet kisses beneath your ear.

You gripped his hair tighter and draped an arm across his broad shoulders. “You’re mad I didn’t come crawling back to you,” you sighed, resisting a moan when you felt his tongue. “You wanted me to beg you to take me back so you could have the pleasure of saying no.”

Jaebeom kept sucking your neck and his voice was barely a whisper when he confessed, “I can’t get you out of my head.”

You wrestled out of his grasp and swam backwards, grabbing the edge of the pool and hoisting yourself up, but you kept your legs in the water, kicking them back and forth.

“If you’re gonna hurt me, then just leave me alone,” you sighed in defeat.

“I admit it,” Jaebeom said sharply. “You were the biggest challenge I ever had and I took it too far.”

There was no flicker of expression on your face. “Mm.”

Jaebeom approached you tentatively and said, “You got under my skin.”

“Imagine that,” you sneered. “I broke Lim Jaebeom.”

“I…,” Jaebeom hesitated, avoiding your eyes. “I know when it was all over and done with, I felt something for you. And I didn’t know what to do with feelings like that.”

That hurt you even more. He was more afraid of his feelings than breaking your heart.

“That’s sad,” you told him bitterly. “You’re a pathetic excuse for a human being. You know that, right?”

Jaebeom glanced up. Of course, he knew that, but he couldn’t stop. “Ouch,” he shot back.

You shivered in the cool night air, eyes falling from his piercing eyes to the wide expanse of his chest. Where you assumed a heart was beating in tandem with yours.

If there even was a heart in there at all.

“I gave you a part of myself and it meant nothing to you,” you continued, voice trembling. “You will never know what that feels like.”

Jaebeom was quick to counter, “I do know what it feels like.”

You rolled your eyes and snapped, “How could you possibly…”

Jaebeom looked away, frowning in contempt.

You tilted your head and muttered, “So the rumors are true? You do this to get back at a girl?”

Jaebeom shot you a glance and snapped, “I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

You lowered back into the pool, dipping down until the surface was to your neck. “Me of all people,” you asserted. “Yes, you do.”

Jaebeom groaned.

You swam back into his grasp, smiling faintly when he eagerly wrapped his arms around you. Taking his face tenderly in your hands and losing yourself inside the endless black of his eyes, you purred, “If you tell me, I’ll kiss you again.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, like the thought pleased him. Like he wanted nothing more in this world to kiss you. But not at the expense of bearing his soul. “It would take a lot more than kissing to get that out of me.”

You chuckled, tangling a loose lock of his hair around your finger and combing it off of his forehead. You wanted to kiss him so bad you couldn’t stand it. Feeling his body against yours drove you into madness and desire.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you said, “Let me ask you something.”

“Sure,” he replied.

His eyes were fixated to your face. Every tiny flicker across your features had his attention. No one had ever looked at him the way you did. The blue hue of the pool made you look otherworldly. And the stars danced in your irises.

Your voice was tender when you asked, “How many hearts do you have to break before yours will heal?”

Jaebeom grit his teeth. He didn’t deserve your compassion. Gathering you in his arms a little tighter, he began gliding around the pool, seemingly dancing with you beneath the moonlight. “I don’t know yet,” he ultimately answered.

“I want to be the last,” you coaxed, resting your head on the bend of his shoulder. “Don’t do this anymore.”

Jaebeom leaned his head against yours and chided, “How can you still care about me after what I did to you?”

You blinked. Because I’m in love with you. Because I've never felt about anyone the way I do about you. Because when I’m with you, I’m whole again. You broke me - only you can fix me.

“I wonder if the boy I loved last summer was the real Jaebeom, and this one is just the face he shows the rest of the world,” you spoke in his ear, traveling the gentlest touches of your fingers up and down his back.

Jaebeom snorted, rebuffing that notion. You thought more highly of him than he did. “Don’t get your hopes up, baby.”

“Trust me. My hopes are dead and buried,” you replied dryly, pulling back to meet his eyes one last time.

Jaebeom sighed when your lips met. His arms tightened around your waist, sensing you were about to leave him and wanting to dissuade you. This just felt so right. Even he had to admit it.

But Jaebeom knew he was defined by destroying whatever he touched.

There was no future for you and him. No chance of commitment or intimacy. Not when the world had beaten the heart and soul out of him. Jaebeom didn’t know how to love and he dared never trust anyone but himself.

You broke the kiss, lashes fluttering as you felt the threat of tears. “Goodnight, Jaebeom,” you whispered.

Jaebeom kept his hands on your body until you had completely slipped from his hold and swam to the edge of the pool. He watched you grab your towel and leave, never looking back.

He wiped a hand down his face, blinking the water from his eyes. He wasn’t sure of much, but Jaebeom knew he had to have you.

Stepping into Jackson’s cabin, you were pleased to find him taking off his watch and rings.

He looked up and asked cheerfully, “Hey, how was the pool?”

You trudged toward him with purpose in your step and asked harshly, “Did you sleep with Yeona?”

Jackson laughed, not yet noticing the way you closed in on him like an apex predator, and said, “Nah, not even close. It’s gonna take time to…”

You pulled off your towel and collided into him, smashing your lips on his.

Jackson grunted and took your waist in his hands, mumbling something against your mouth.

Your lips parted with a loud smack and you cradled his face firmly when you said, “Fuck me until I can’t think. Until I forget everything.”

Jackson’s pupils dilated and he knew exactly what you needed - and what had happened. He dipped down, hooking his arms beneath your thighs and hoisting you up.

You grinned at getting what you wanted, your racing pulse migrating down to between your thighs.

Jackson dropped you on his bed and hovered over you, rising long enough to pull the shirt over his head and across the room.

“So, you saw Jaebeom at the pool, huh?”

You grimaced. Nothing escaped your best friend. “Yeah.”

Jackson lifted on his knees, proceeding to unbuckle his belt. “He’s back in the game, you know,” he told you warily.

You lay there with hands at opposite sides of your head, pliant and waiting. “I know,” you admitted, more so to yourself.

Jackson pushed his pants down. “What do you need me to do?”

You covered your face, on the verge of frustration, and cried, “He makes me so fucking crazy.”

Something in Jackson’s chest clenched and he reached forward to take your hand, refusing to let you hide behind it. He kissed your fingers sweetly and made himself comfortable on top of you. “I’ll make you forget him, baby.”

“For a little while,” you sighed.

Those words weren’t lost on Jackson, but he couldn’t think past his desire to indulge in your body again. Your need made him so hard.

Lifting your leg high on his waist, Jackson whispered, “Only think of me.”

Your eyes rolled back and you hummed softly when Jackson began to kiss your neck. You knew then what a dangerous game this was you were playing, but as you felt Jackson’s weight on you, Jaebeom was slipping from your mind.

“Only you, baby,” you crooned in his ear.

And it was true. When you were with Jackson, all you knew was the passion you made together. To be with someone you trusted - mind, body and soul was all-consuming.

You were left to wonder how something could feel so right when it was being done for all the wrong reasons.

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[kitkatd7]

Broken Hearts and Whiskey

Summary: Bucky’s not the same anymore. He doesn’t spend time with you at all, or keep his promises. And your done with it.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Cursing, lots of angst, drinking, my grammar errors because I didn’t fully edit

Dialogue Prompt #19. “Please! You have to let me make this right.” 

Dialogue Prompt #7: "I can't keep being your second choice, not when you're my first." 

(Prompts will be in bold)

Word Count: 1,654

A/N: This is for @imma-new-soul‘s 550 Follower Writing Challenge and @buckys-other-punk 500 Writing Challenge!! I hope y’all like it! Sorry it’s pretty sad and the ending isn’t as good as it could be :( Also this was inspired by the songs ‘Die From a Broken Heart by Maddie & Tae and Different For Girls by Dierks Bentley' Also there are a few Criminal Minds references in here😂

Masterlinst of Masterlists || Marvel Masterist || Series Masterist || part 2 

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“See you later!” You call over your shoulder at Natasha and Wanda as you unlock the door to your apartment, coming home from a very successful shopping spree. Walking into your home you toe-off your shoes at the door, setting down your keys and purse. “Babe, I’m home!” You sing, excited to finally get some time with Bucky after him being gone on a mission for three weeks. “Babe?” You ask, walking into the kitchen, setting down your multiple shopping bags and taking in the empty space. Where the hell is he? After searching the bedroom, living room, even the bathroom and still coming up empty, you look to see if you missed any calls. Nope. He was supposed to be here you fume inwardly as you press the speed dial photo; both of you together at a carnival, you smiling brightly as he places a kiss on your cheek sweetly.

It goes straight to voicemail. 5 times. Now you're not even mad… just disappointed in him. He promised. On try number 6 you’re just done. “Hey, it’s me. Listen, so I don’t know where you are but- just don’t bother coming home tonight, okay? I had plans but- never mind, it doesn’t matter that much. I’ll see you later.”  Pressing the red button you throw your phone on the couch before changing into something more comfortable. It wouldn’t be so frustrating that he wasn’t here if it was a one time thing- But this is the fifth time he hasn’t come home to spend time with you after a mission.

Plopping on the couch, you press start on something mindless that you aren’t going to watch anyway before checking your phone for- well. really anything.

1 new message

Unlocking your phone quickly, you open it in high hopes, only to see Sam’s name appear and your face falls. 

Sam: Bucky said you tried to call. Is it important?

You: No… just we had plans.

You confide, knowing Sam will understand.

Sam: Oh shit. Okay, want me to tell him to come home?

You: No. It’s fine.

Sighing, you toss your phone on the other end of the couch, throwing your head back in newfound anger. Asshole. He saw your calls and didn’t even pick up the damn phone. After a year of dating, you at least deserved that. 

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“Hey this is y/n, I can’t come to the phone right now cuz I’m out livin’ my life! Leave it at the beep.” He hears your all too familiar voicemail through the speaker. He had helped you come up with it, you hadn’t known what to put on it. He kicks himself, knowing you weren’t actually out living your life, just dodging his calls. Not that he blamed you- He deserved it and he knew it. Calling again, he’s not surprised when he hears your voicemail again.

“Hey… Um, listen, I know I was supposed to be at your place after the mission… I just wanted to unwind with the guys and- Shit. I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t think you would mind that much, I’ll be over in a bit to make it up to you, okay?” He leaves the message and ends the call before starting his car and driving towards your apartment, guilt heavy in his stomach.

You listen to his voicemail over and over, a strange mix of rage and sorrow weighing on your heart.

Tears roll slowly down your cheeks silently as you lay curled up in a defensive ball on your bed, trying to block out the unmistakable sound of Bucky begging you to open the front door; “Babe, please open the door,” He says, fist resting gently against the frame. “I’m sorry- really, really sorry. Please let me in and we can talk about it,” He sighs, resting his head against the door in defeat. He could break the lock and go in. You both know that. But he wouldn’t do that to you- All that would do is make you fear him and that’s the last thing he wants. He slides his back down the wall til he’s sitting on the floor next to your door, his elbows on his knees and his hands in his hair; Tears gathering in his lashes. He really messed up this time.

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The next day you drag yourself out of bed, trying to forget last night and all the tears you shed. After a shower and breakfast, you head out the door for a coffee run before work. You stop in your tracks when you see Bucky still sitting there, eyes red from lack of sleep and regret written all over his face. He jumps up when you walk out, keys in hand, the door closing behind you. “What are you doing here?” 

“I- I came to apologize,” he murmurs, looking in your eyes.

“I don’t want to hear it,” you bite, moving to step around him but stopping when he steps to block your path.

“Bucky, I’m going to be late for work,” you say coldly, glaring at him. “Move out of the way.”

“Please doll, just let me expla-”

Huffing, you roll your eyes. “I understand perfectly, James.” You watch as he flinches a little at the use of his first name. You only use it when your really mad or really happy, and it isn’t the latter right now. “You were too busy with your beer buddies to come see your girlfriend after being gone for three weeks, but what’s new? It’s been like this for months. I guess it was naive of me to expect something else this time.” You shoulder past him as he stares at you; dumbfounded. Tears gather in your eyes as you make your way to your car in the rain. Your almost there when you feel a large hand on your arm and hear your name being whispered. You turn around and look up into his stormy eyes. You always loved his eyes- They’re always so bright and big and- Now is not the time to be thinking about his stupidly gorgeous eyes.

“Please! You have to let me make this right,” he whispers, tears forming in his eyes as well, mixing with the raindrops rolling down his face and dampening is hair. 

“Bucky…” You sigh, pulling your arm out of his grasp gently. “I don’t think you can fix this. I can't keep being your second choice, not when you're my first." You climb into your car as he stares at you as you pull out of the parking lot. He sinks to the ground on his knees, not caring that his clothes are practically soaked, or that someone might think he looks crazy. None of that matters- because your gone. His girl. Gone. He can’t breathe. The pressure weighs heavy in lungs as all the air is pushed from them and his heart shatters. It’s all he can do to draw a ragged breathe between sobs.

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You manage to hold yourself together until you pull into the starbucks parking lot. And then you totally loose it; Tears and mascara mix together and run down your cheeks as you sob into your steering wheel. It feels like your heart is being torn out of your chest. Bucky was the best thing that ever happened to you… and deep down you had feared something like this would happen, but you didn’t think it actually would. You loved him- And now he was gone. 

You trek into Walmart, heading straight for the junk food isle, not caring that you look like an absolute mess. Grabbing some much needed chocolate, chips, cookies and other coping foods, you check out, starting to cry again when the cashier gives you a pitiful look on your way out. 

Stumbling into your apartment, you throw your bags on the kitchen counter before grabbing your desired snacks and tossing them on your bed. You pull on sweatpants and one of Bucky’s hoodies, sending an ache of longing through your chest. Even changing clothes feels like more effort than you could possibly muster but you somehow manage before crawling into bed and turning on reruns of Friends before you start crying again. After 2 bags of chocolate, a bag of Doritos, a burger and french fries you grabbed on the way home, you still feel like absolute shit. Maybe this is just how it will be- Unable to get over him, unable to move on. Eventually you fall asleep from exhaustion, tear stains and left-over makeup on your face and Bucky’s pillow clutched against your chest. 

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Bucky ambles into the bar, sliding onto a stool with sullen eyes, ordering a shot of vodka before mumbling “Keep em coming.” 

Throwing his head back, he grimaces as the bitter liquid burns its way down his throat. He knows he can’t get drunk but he’s willing to try. Anything to stop feeling like this.

The old barkeep leans on the bar behind him, looking at Bucky with an evaluating stare. 

“What was her name?” He questions gently after a moment of silence.

“Wha- How did you know?” Bucky looks up in surprise and pain, his forearms resting on the bar, holding another shot.

“Son, you can’t hide the look of love gone wrong.”

Tossing back another, Bucky looks in the shot glass like it holds all the answers before whispering your name, his voice breaking. “Did you ever love someone?” He asks brokenly.

The older man chuckles lightly at this. “I did, still do.” He holds up his left hand as proof.  “Do you wanna know the secret to love?” He asks, stepping closer.

“Why not, it’s not like I could lose anything else,” Bucky says dryly, taking yet another shot.

“Sometimes love doesn’t last and you have to let it go… but sometimes you have to fight for it. And it’s up to you to decide which you’re gonna do. So which is it?”

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