#we are ignoring the clipping :pray: thank you so much

[ahollowgrave]

-- dress up.

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

✨️1K Followers Celebration Day 6: Seventeen bias wrecker - Dino✨️

Affect

AN: This has been in my drafts for 600 years because those clips of him from In The Soop still haunt me. I just think it's funny that because it took me so long to get to this, we got even more shirtless Dino in the gym content recently. Clearly a sign from the universe to finish this lmao. I was going to go on a whole unhinged rant about him but, I'll spare you all. We're all going to ignore that 1. his is the longest so far and 2. I've written the most for him out of every idol, thanks.

Synopsis: You thought working out with Chan would be a fun, productive way to spend time together. However, you're sorely unprepared for just how distracting he can be.

Heads up: Lee Chan x Fem! Reader, friends to lovers of sorts, Reader going through it because of her attraction to Chan, praise kink (f. receiving), Chan being a menace, technically public sex I guess (they fuck in the gym but, no one catches them and it's not brought up as a concern), hair pulling, dirty talk, petnames used for Reader, nipple play (f. receiving), oral sex (f. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), unprotected piv sex, Reader cries a little and creampie.

Word count: 4138

I will block you if you are a minor and/or have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

You knew you were doomed the moment you saw Chan in his workout clothing. His shirt sticking to his torso and practically acting like a second skin. You're sure if you looked hard enough, you could see the outlines of his nipples. His shorts were worse, somehow. Beckoning you to look at his toned thighs and zero in on how they hugged his ass.

Today is going to be more challenging than you anticipated.

"So, where do you want to start?" He asks, snapping you out of so blatantly ogling one of your closest friends. God, what're you thinking? You're here to spend time with him. Not think about how broad his shoulders are and just how muscular his ass would feel if you gave it a squeeze or five.

"You're the gym expert. You tell me," You pray to whichever deity is listening that Chan mistakes the delicate quality in your voice for anything other than how much just seeing him dressed like this affects you.

His laugh is boisterous and fills you with so much warmth, turning the already present butterflies in your stomach into dragons. One person shouldn't have this much power over you.

"I better not hear any complaining then," he responds with a wide smile, his eyes crinkling with mirth. Yeah, maybe being alone with the man you're borderline in love with isn't the wisest decision you've ever made, but it's too late now. You resist the scowl that wants to make itself known on your face when you invision a knowing Soonyoung in your mind. He's the one who suggested this to begin with. You're definitely going to be having some words with him the next time you see him, that evil man. He knew exactly what he was doing.

You severely underestimated how much worse this could get. You thought just seeing him in his tight-fitting gym attire was enough to fog up your brain but, that was before you heard the noises.

Lee Chan is a vocal man in all areas of life. Well, all areas of life that you've experienced him in. He's always talking, laughing, yelling at points, singing, sometimes rapping to fill the silence, and a million other things. The point being, Chan is not a quiet man. So, it shouldn't take you by surprise that he's vocal while he's working out too.

Still, the quiet grunts that fall from his lips and fill the otherwise relatively silent gym when he lifts weights causes your heart to beat wildly in your chest. The drawn-out groans when he finishes a set or stretches out his muscles might be the worst. Coupled with the way he grits his jaw and his face contorts when he's lifting, it's frankly a miracle you haven't spontaneously combusted.

However, as you stand and watch him while he illustrates how he wants you to lift these weights to your absolute horror and mortification, you realise you're getting wet. Not only that, but a barely there ache is beginning to make itself known between your thighs.

You're sure your face is radiating enough heat to power a small apartment building. You're really getting this worked up just watching him work out? What in the world is wrong with you? Are you truly this needy? You definitely need to call Soonyoung after this and yell at him until you're hoarse.

"Do you want to try now?" Chan asks you, kind eyes focused on you. You really might be the world's worst friend.

"Yeah, sure," you respond, pulling yourself together as best as you can given that you're unravelling at the seams. The weights aren't too heavy. You test them in your hold momentarily before imitating Chan's movements. There's a slight burn in your biceps but, otherwise you feel fine. It feels good, even. The slight burn fueling you.

"That's my girl,"

Oh.

Oh no.

That's all it takes for you to falter. Your mind suddenly completely forgetting the motions for the exercise you watched minutes ago.

"You were doing good just now but, try doing it this way," he says, standing up from where he'd been seated to watch you. His hands correcting your hold on the weights and the positioning of your arms. Every brush of his fingers on your skin leaves electricity in their wake. Fuck. Fuck this is bad. This is so bad.

Trying to remember how to be a normal human being, you nod at his words. Following his guidance and resuming the exercise precisely how he showed you now that your brain is semi-functional again.

"There you go. Good job," perhaps you should be a little more concerned about just how much his praise increases your pulse and worsens the way your panties are already sticking to you, but that's a thought for examining on another day. You can only handle so much right now.

"How about some pull-ups next?"

"Chan, do I strike you as the kind of person even capable of doing a single pull-up?"

"You could learn today,"

When all you respond with is a stone faced expression, he seems to get the message loud and clear, "Okay, fine. I'll do pull-ups and you do squats. How does that sound?"

"Now you're speaking my language,"

On the ever growing list of 'things you're violently unprepared for today', the next to be added is Chan just casually taking off his shirt. That stops you dead in your tracks. Your lips parting as his bare back comes into your line of sight. You thought it was broad before, but now? Seeing it completely bare? Broad feels like too simplistic of a word to describe it.

You knew, logically, that Chan was ripped. You've seen his arms, paying special attention to them more times than you care to admit. All of the guys work out regularly, and most of them mention Chan as one of the more dedicated members of the group when it came to hitting the gym.

You knew all of that, and yet, seeing the evidence a mere few metres in front of your very eyes leaves you speechless and stunned. Chan must notice your blatantly staring because he turns to look at you over his shoulder, "Is everything okay?"

You must struggle to come up with a believable response too long because he both looks and sounds panicked as he continues on, "Shit, did I make you uncomfortable? I should've asked if you were okay with me taking my shirt off. I'm sorry."

His panic must be infectious because you soon find yourself in a similar state, "No, no, Chan, it's okay. You did nothing wrong. I don't mind you being shirtless," quite the opposite actually, and that's the issue, but you decide to keep that bit to yourself.

"Are you sure? I really don't mind putting it back on if it's a problem,"

"Yes, I'm sure. It's really not a big deal,"

He looks unsure briefly but seems to accept your words. Giving you a nod before turning back to face the pull-up bar and begin his routine. You barely register the faint sting in your thighs from how deeply your nails are clawing into them. Eagle eyes drinking in as much as you can of every muscle contraction of his back. Your panties growing uncomfortably wet now as your ears are assaulted with grunts louder than the ones before.

You need to take a cold shower that lasts hours after this. At least you have a good month's worth of masturbation material now, so there's that.

Chan finishes his set far quicker than you would've liked. Sweat drenching his handsome face and droplets running down his jaw, his neck, his collarbones, his pecs until they disappear into the waistband of his shorts. Would it be so horrible to admit that you'd love to see just where those droplets wind up? That you'd happily follow their path with your tongue instead of your eyes?

"Hey, is everything okay?" Chan asks, dropkicking you out of your obscene thoughts.

"Ye-Yeah. Why do you ask?"

"It's just um you haven't really moved, and you've been kind of...staring at me?"

Oh no. Oh god, he noticed. No fucking shit he noticed you've probably been staring at him with all of the subtly of a rhino in a tea shop. Why did you have to make a day meant to be catching up with a friend so fucking weird.

"I-sorry. You're just distracting," is what comes out of your mouth in your blind panic.

"Distracting?" He asks, titling his head, "I'm distracting? Distracting how?"

By being shirtless, with all of the noises you've been making all day, by touching me, by telling me what a good job I've been doing, by just existing in the same space as me - are all of the thoughts that spring up in your mind. All the thoughts you show a great deal of restraint in not word vomiting out at him.

To your absolute mortification, an expression akin to understanding dawns on Chan's face. You've never wanted the Earth to spilt open and swallow you whole more than in this moment.

"Oh, I'm distracting huh?" Chan asks with a grin a touch too arrogant for you, taking a step towards you.

"No! It's not - I'm not - I wasn't - it wasn't like that," you stutter out, growing ever more flustered as a shirtless, sweaty Chan invades your space.

"It wasn't like what exactly?" He asks, mischief shining clear as day in his typically warm eyes.

Before you can consciously think about it, you find yourself stepping backwards. Much to the amusement of the man you're not sure if you want to kiss or throttle in front of you.

You decide to abandon the route you were on and attempt another one, "I'm sorry for staring at you."

"You don't have to apologise," Chan waves you off, "But I do want to know why you were staring,"

It's clear as day to anyone with basic critical thinking skills why you were so laser focused on his stupid back and shoulders. He just wants you to say it. You never took Chan for the humiliation type.

"You know why," you mutter, leaning against the wall that you had no idea you'd even gotten so close to. You suppose your brain is too preoccupied with trying to keep your friendship from going up into flames.

"I don't. You have to tell me," You really want to punch that shit eating grin off of his face. Your adrenaline spiking as he takes another step towards you.

"You're really annoying, you know that?"

"I've heard that once or twice over the years. Still doesn't answer my question though,"

"I think you're attractive, okay?" You finally blurt out. Looking at everything but him in the gym. Studiously focused on one of the treadmills in towards the back, over his shoulder.

"Aw, I'm flattered," he responds, so close to you now that all you'd have to do is reach out, and you'd be touching his bare chest. You have a feeling this isn't going to bode well for you.

"Whatever. You got the answer you wanted. Are you happy now?"

"You know, for being one of the smartest women I know, you're pretty dense," he responds dryly.

"What? Hey!"

"Do you really think I'd react this way to anyone saying they think I'm hot? Do I really have to spell it out for you?"

All you can do is owlishly blink at him. His words washing over you, trying your hardest to digest what he just said to you.

"I think you might have to spell it out for me, yeah," you mutter more breathlessly than you care to admit. It certainly doesn't become any easier to breathe when Chan is fully in your space, crowding you against the gym wall. His scent flooding your system, worsening the wetness between your thighs and muddling your mind even more.

"Is this okay?" He whispers, mere centimetres away from your mouth. His eyes considerably darker than they were minutes ago.

"Yes,"

"May I kiss you?"

"Yes," if anyone asks, you don't sound needy in the slightest when you reply to him.

You quickly learn that Lee Chan, as with many other facets of his life, excels in kissing you until you can think of nothing but, him. Not your mind has been anywhere else for the past few hours to begin with.

Your hands make themselves at home on his shoulders, fingers digging into the muscle there as you pour what feels like centuries worth of yearning into this kiss.

"May I touch you?" He mutters against your mouth and, you wonder why he'd ever stop kissing you to ask such a stupid question.

"Yes, Chan. You can do whatever you want. I don't care," you rush out in response, dragging his mouth back to yours to feed into what is quickly becoming your newest addiction.

With your green light, his hands drift towards your oversized shirt. Smiling against your mouth when you shudder from the brief brushes of his fingertips along your abdomen while he toys with the hem of your shirt.

"I didn't think you'd be one to tease," you say.

"Have you thought about me like this often?" You really had to be so weak for such an insufferable man huh.

You choose to kiss him instead of replying, tugging on his hair in retaliation for the grin you know is on his face. Luckily for you, Chan seems to have had his fill of toying with you for now. Shoving your shirt upwards, pulling away from you briefly to tug it off of you fully.

He just stares at you. Want clear as day in his eyes as he watches your chest rise and fall and how your sports bra outlines your hardened nipples. You find yourself growing a little self-conscious under his heavy gaze. You hadn't picked your outfit with the goal of winding up like this in mind.

"You're staring," you finally find the courage to say, pushing down every instinct to cross your arms over your chest.

"Just returning the favour," he quips back, jumping back into action and acquainting himself with your throat. You can't help the moans and throaty gasps that leave your lips as his kisses and nips at your sensitive skin, exploiting every weak spot he can find. One of his hands reaching down to fondle your breast, running his thumb over your nipple through the fabric of your bra.

All you can manage to do is lean against the wall for stability. Every kiss and lick and squeeze sending lightning down your spine straight to your clit. You wouldn't be surprised if your legging were wet, too, at this point.

"You're so responsive," he whispers against your neck. Given how quietly he said it, you're not sure whether he meant to verbalise that thought or not, but you can't think to respond when he pushes your bra up.

He dots kisses along your breasts. Each press of his lips bringing him closer and closer to one of your nipples before he envelopes one into his warm mouth. He seems intent to wring every noise, every reaction out of you that he possibly can. Teasingly running his teeth along the sensitive bud, smiling when you arch into his touch. His nimble fingers find themselves at the waistband of your leggings. Slipping into them and pulling a particularly loud gasp from you when they come into contact with your more than likely ruined panties.

Your face burns when Chan's expression morphs into one of surprise, his fingers running along your panty covered slit as if to affirm to himself you're really this wet already.

"I didn't realise I had such a strong effect on you," he says against your breast, his voice gravelly, "Fuck, you're already so wet."

A strangled moan is all you can offer when he finds your swollen clit.

"Poor baby. Don't worry, I'll take care of you. Just need to get you out of these," he says, kneeling in front of you and pulling your leggings and panties down. You kick off your shoes impatiently to help ease the process, leaving you almost fully naked.

"I can't believe you're this wet when I haven't even touched you properly," he says, sounding genuinely amazed. Intense gaze focused on your swollen, slick slit. Lifting one of your legs and letting it rest over one of his shoulders.

Anticipation settles in your gut as Chan makes himself comfortable between your thighs. Your hips jolting into him when he experimentally touches you once more, completely bare this time. Your wetness generously coating his thick fingers. Your eyes flutter shut as he shifts closer, goosebumps rising all over your body when his warm breaths hit you.

His first lap of you is messy and passionate. A muffled groan is your only warning before he grips your thigh and all but shoves his face into you. One of your hands fists his hair, not sure if you want him even closer or whether you need a minute from the sensations wreaking your system.

"Ch-Chan ah god," you cry out, your hold on his hair worsening. He doesn't seem to mind all that much, however. Intently focused on grinding your pussy against tongue until you fall into pieces for him.

With his mouth latched onto your clit, he teases your entrance with two of his fingers and you feel faint. His eyes find yours momentarily, looking at you through his hair as he checks for any signs of discomfort or reservations. Watching your face while he slowly sinks his fingers into you. His cock leaking even more when your warm, wet walls squeeze his fingers for dear life. He's so fucked.

The stretch his fingers provide requires some adjusting to, and Chan catches onto that. Focusing his attention back on your clit and providing some distraction while you get used to his fingers.

The wall behind you is proving to be extremely helpful. You're sure you would've crumpled onto the floor by now with the way Chan is determined to devour you whole and his fingers curl inside of you. Embarrassment warming your face as the squelching sounds of your wetness and his fingers moving inside of you hit your ears. Those sounds are accompanied by louder moans and whimpers from you when his fingers strike gold. Finding your weak spot and going for the kill.

He exploits your weaknesses gleefully, assaulting the spot over and over again while he continues his ministrations on your clit. It's no wonder your orgasm doesn't take long to slam into you. Watery cries of his name and jumbled curses echoing throughout the empty gym. You're sure you're hurting him from how fiercely you're gripping his hair. You couldn't remember the last time you'd cum this hard. Sagging against the wall when the most intense parts of it subside.

Chan presses one last kiss to your pussy before easing his fingers out of you. Standing up on unsteady legs, cupping your jaw and slamming his mouth against yours. The taste of yourself on his tongue further fueling the fog clouding your mind. Desperate hands dragging him closer to you, revelling in his closeness and the firmness of his body against your own.

"If I knew you tasted this good, I would've offered to eat you out a long time ago," he says when you shift to litter kisses on his jaw.

"If I knew you did it so well, I would've let you," you respond with an easy smile. However, any humour in your tone dissipates when you register his cock pressing against your thigh. Scorching and heavy even through the material of his shorts. Fuck.

Your mouth finds his once more. Teeth and tongue clashing with one another as he grinds himself against you, groaning into you.

"Chan, please," you whine.

"Hmm? Please, what?" You're not sure if he's genuinely too disoriented to understand what you're asking of him or if he wants you to beg. Either way, you've long since abandoned any semblance of pride.

"Please fuck me,"

His eyes shut briefly, and you watch the way his jaw clenches, "You're going to be the death of me."

If you weren't aching and noticeably empty, you might've giggled at his words. Watching him shove his shorts and underwear down his thick, muscular thighs through lidded eyes. A fresh wave of wetness gushes out of you when his cock springs free. Of course his cock would look mouthwatering too. Of course.

"You really do like to stare, huh?" he muses, stepping closer to you. Hoisting one of your legs over his elbow.

"Sh-Shut up," you stutter, fingernails digging into his biceps as he drags his cock along your pussy. His cock glistening with your arousal in no time.

"That's not nice," he faux pouts, nudging your entrance with his tip. Your knees almost buckle underneath you. A moan bubbling out of just from him toying with you.

"Chan, please. I want it. I want you, please-"

You're promptly cut off when he pushes inside of you. If you thought the stretch provided by his fingers was overwhelming, the girth of cock brings tears to your eyes. Your strained gasps and his restrained groans intertwining.

Is it possible to cum just from being so full? Lee Chan might just help you answer that question. You're not sure you've ever felt so full and stretched out in your entire life. A few stray tears running down your face already.

"Are you okay?" He asks, looking just as wrecked and overwhelmed as you feel. He's practically vibrating from the effort not to move. His cock pulsing inside of you.

"Ye-Yeah. It doesn't hurt. You can move," you respond. It's now or never.

Chan starts off very slowly. Letting you grow accustomed to his girth with every drag of him along your walls. Muttering quiet praises into your neck about how well you're doing, how good you feel, and how you're taking him so well. His words prompting you to clench around him and gush around him.

"Chan, faster, please. You can move faster. It's okay, I can take it," you whine. You feel like you're going to lose your mind if he keeps thrusting so slowly. His consideration is sweet. Really, it is, but it's torturous too. From the way he seems to be restraining himself, you assume the feeling is mutual.

Something snaps in him then. His eyes more feral than they were moments ago as he picks up his pace considerably. The sounds of your wetness and skin slapping against skin mingling with your respective noises of pleasure.

"Taking my cock like such a good girl," he groans into your shoulder, sliding impossibly deeper into you when he angles himself a little differently than before.

Perhaps he's noticed the way his praise impacts you. His filthy mouth not stopping.

"Look, baby," he mutters lowly into your ear, "I want you to look at how well your pussy takes me,"

You can't find it in you to disobey. Chasing the high of being his good girl. So, you glance downwards. Your cheeks heating up as you watch him fuck into you and the way you're being split open by him. You never thought the sight of yourself being fucked would garner such a strong reaction from you but, you've been learning quite a bit about yourself today.

"It's hot, isn't it?" He asks, a moan falling from his lips when you tighten around him, "So hot watching me fuck this pretty pussy of yours."

You've never cum just from penetration but, Chan is proving himself to be head and shoulders above every other man you've slept with. You're completely and utterly caught off guard when you cum for a second time and, Chan seems to be too. Startled, wide eyes watching you shatter in front and around him for a second time. Ever the caring gentleman as he soothes and fucks you through it.

You're barely coherent when Chan's pitchy moans of your name register to your mind and you feel his warm, thick cum flood your awaiting pussy. His hips weakly twitching into yours with ever spurt of his cum inside of you.

Honestly, it's a wonder both of you are still standing. Barely, but you're standing. Leaning into each other and the trusty wall for support as you come back to yourselves.

"If working out with you always ends up like this, we should work out together more often," he says, kissing your neck and shoulder lazily.

You really just had to fall for one of the most eye roll inducing men you've ever met, huh.

[contemplatingoutlander]

undefined

Excerpt of Kari Lake interview with 60 Minutes Australia

Kari Lake is a dangerous, dangerous politician.

And she might become the governor of Arizona.

Above is an excerpt from Kari Lake’s off-the-wall interview with Liam Bartlett for 60 Minutes Australia. It is worth your time to watch the entire interview, which you can see HERE (at these video times: 12:37 - 14:23, 16:17 -19:07, 20:14 - 20:33). 

During the interview, Lake uses the Trumpian defense techniques of lying, grossly exaggerating, attacking others, and projecting what the GQP does onto others.

In the video clip above, we see that when Lake doesn't like the direction the interview is going in, she accuses the mainstream media (and Bartlett) of being "conspiracy theorists." The interview goes downhill from there. Here’s part of the video transcript: 

LAKE: Maybe they get away with that stuff in Australia. Perhaps in Australia because you've given your rights away; you melted down all of your guns, and you guys have no freedom that you find that okay. But here in America we do things differently. We have something called the U.S. Constitution and we have rights.”

BARTLETT: So we’d be better off having more guns here. I mean, what? You would be better off—

LAKE: Yeah, you would. You absolutely would, sir. You absolutely would. I feel so sorry for the people in Australia have no power. The only thing keeping us from being Australia right now is our second Amendment, and we will never, ever let that go. Mark my words. What we saw happening in Australia where you have internment camps, and people are being forced, if they've encountered anybody with COVID, to be locked into a quarantine camp is the most horrifying thing I think I've ever seen a government do.

BARTLETT (Cross-talking): Would it—

LAKE (Cross-talking): It's frightening, and if you if you can't see that I feel sorry for you.

BARTLETT (Cross-talking): Would it have been better-- 

LAKE (Cross-talking): This is our last question Liam. We have to run but thank you for your time. 

BARTLETT (Cross-talking): Just, just answer me this one question. One, one more question, Kari-- 

LAKE(Cross-talking): Well, no, I've already told you we're done. Thank you so much.

BARTLETT (Cross-talking): Well, just-

LAKE (As an aside as she is getting up to leave): That guy's a complete nut. Seriously, a complete insane person.

I have honestly never seen a less professional and over-the-top interview by a politician as this one (and that’s saying something, given some of Trump’s interviews). 

Heaven forbid Lake ever makes it into federal politics where she has to deal with international representatives. 

I mean, accusing Australia of having COVID “internment camps”!😱 It’s not surprising that Kari’s statement is based on right-wing misinformation. Australia built a quarantine facility for travelers coming into the country, whether or not they were vaxxed. Most countries during the deadly COVID pandemic had quarantine requirements for incoming travelers. Kari’s comment was completely outrageous given the reality of what was actually happening in Australia.

Clearly Lake is used to American journalists who don’t push back on politicians who lie or try to evade answering questions. Lake’s meltdown in the above video in part was probably triggered by Bartlett’s previous confrontation of Lake’s claims that the 2020 election was “stolen” (shown in an earlier part of the interview not included in the above video). 

When Bartlett pushed her, Lake had the audacity to say that the bogus “forensic” Cyber Ninja Arizona audit proved that the election was stolen. Uh, no. In fact, it supported the fact that Biden won Arizona and that there was no substantial voter fraud in Arizona’s 2020 election.

Unfortunately, Lake is charismatic and there has been some talk of her being a VP candidate if Trump runs for president in 2024. 

Let’s pray that she loses Arizona and is also ignored for federal office. 

[edited]

[paperstorm]

Hi again.

I noticed another anon has already explained what was wrong about the Marjan praying clip and I do agree with everything that was said. But I thought I would point out other inaccuracies that I noticed as it could help to educate more people and also because you very kindly replied to my original ask and asked me to elaborate on the inaccuracies.

So one major inaccuracy is the fact that she has not covered her feet. Proper prayer attire always includes socks because it is compulsory to cover your feet while praying.

The other major inaccuracy is the way she did the Sajda (the position where it looks like she's laying on the floor). There is a specific way that the arms and legs are supposed to be when you're in that position.

I feel like both of these points are very basic knowledge that they literally could have gotten if they had asked even one muslim person.

You also mentioned that you didn't like that we got to see her hair in season 1 and that it felt like something we shouldn't have seen and I completely agree with that too. For some reason there's this weird obsession with having muslim women take off their hijab when it comes to muslim representation and that just really irks me because it's not something we take so frivolously. Majority of muslim women would not even consider taking off their hijab unless and until it becomes a situation of life and death and even then some women would choose to die with their hijab on and it's infuriating to see it being represented so carelessly.

Thank you so much, it sucks that they got these things wrong but at the very least hopefully this will help anyone who wants to write her character more accurately! I remember reading an article where Natacha talks about the prayer scene and how she knew it was wrong and tried to speak up but the people with power weren’t listening to her. Which is just really awful. I hope if they do return to showcasing her religion more they care about putting in the effort to do it right.

I was on the fence about how I felt about seeing her hair because I’m not Muslim so I thought okay maybe this is fine and I’m just being ignorant about it. But then I talked to one of my best friends who is Muslim about it and she said the same thing you did. That if Marjan was a real person and she chose to publicly take her hijab off that would obviously be her choice. But because she’s fictional, and she covers her hair, we the audience really shouldn’t be seeing it because we are not her family or her partner. We are strangers who she, theoretically, would not undress in front of. I’m glad they haven’t done that again.

[viiisenyas]

So here's a small clipping of my first chapter for my new fic The Last Prince of Starkhaven.

I will tag (with no pressure) @psalacanthea, @oxygenforthewicked, @n7viper, @inquisimer, @sulky-valkyrie, @gloriousonemahanon, and YOU !! Yes, you scrolling :D

Guardian, 9:31 Dragon

Goran never favoured the parties hosted by the royal family. It was nothing more than an elaborate way of flaunting what he coveted the most. The throne was rightfully his, and it was plucked from his grasp when his uncle Corbin assumed control of Starkhaven despite his father’s dying wish. He despised him ever since.

The cool breeze kissed Goran’s face as he stood on the balcony. He listened to the idle chatter of the elites, and his grip tightened on the silver chalice when his cerulean eyes landed on his relatives. Corbin was seated at the head of the royal table.

For forty long years, Goran has lived his life under his shadow. He was ridiculed in the council meetings, humiliated at political gatherings, and Corbin relished in it. But he wouldn’t any longer. Not after tonight.

His eyes flitted to the mercenaries hidden among the servants. He made a point to memorise their names and their features. He wanted to thank them properly when this was over. The Flint Company may not have had the reputation of the Antivan Crows, but they were skilled enough.

“Lord Vael,” a feminine voice sounded from his left.

Goran turned his head and his expression softened when he saw Johane approaching from the shadowed corridor.

“Lady Harimann,” he greeted formally, offering a curt nod as she stood beside him. “I suspect you have news?”

Johane nodded, lowering her voice, “The doors have been sealed, and your men await your signal.”

“And what of the guards?”

“They have been diverted to patrol outside the palace.”

Goran took a slow sip of his wine, savouring the taste of the rare vintage. “You have my eternal thanks.”

“So long as your gratitude doesn’t end here. Do not forget who arranged your ascent, Goran.” Johane clasped her hands together, “I would hate to see your reign end faster than the Ferelden Blight.”

He gave her a contemptuous look in response to her thinly veiled threat. “Unlike my uncle, I do not forget who my allies are.”

Goran began to move into the hall towards the royal table, leaving Johane behind. He wore a tight-lipped smile when he passed the feasting nobles, ignoring their sneers. They would never turn their noses up at him again.

“Your highness,” he bowed.

“Nephew,” Corbin greeted in a flat tone. “I take it you’re enjoying the celebrations? I must say, I am surprised you haven’t already indulged in the feast.”

Goran willed himself not to scowl.

“Aye, and now that you mention it, Father… His belt has certainly loosened since last we met,” Carsten jeered, and Adain chortled.

He forced a chuckle and ran his fingers through his brown curls. Imbeciles, he thought. He loathed them just as much.

“Where is Meghan?” Goran asked, looking at the empty seat beside Corbin.

“My wife has been feeling ill as of late,” Corbin reached for a roll of buttered bread. “She is abed.”

“Pity. I would have liked to have seen her tonight, but no matter.” Goran waved his hand dismissively, “I pray that she recovers soon.”

“She doesn’t need your prayers.” Corbin tore the bread into pieces before stuffing one into his mouth. “And I doubt anything coming from your mouth will ascend higher than the ceiling.”

His cousins erupted in boisterous laughter again, and Goran pressed his lips together.

“Your highness,” Goran bowed and turned to move to the centre of the hall.

“If I may have your attention,” he called as he moved his eyes around the room. The hall quieted to a whisper and curious gazes followed him. He watched the assassins move into position. “Tonight, we’ve come together to celebrate Wintersend and give our gratitude to the Maker.” Goran said, “But this blessed day also marks the fortieth year of our Prince’s rule of Starkhaven.”

Goran looked at the mercenaries who were moving behind his relatives as the room was filled with applause.

He shifted his gaze to Corbin, and his expression hardened as he saw the smug grin on his face.

“Long may he reign,” Goran raised his goblet.

[juletheghoul]

Burning Hour (Part 3)

This series has completely taken over my life and I am so happy you are all enjoying it so much - thank you for all of the lovely messages and comments - I treasure them deeply.

So - you shouldn't be surprised that this particular moment on the red carpet absolutely inspired a scene in this story and I regret nothing. Hope you all enjoy this fantasy that's keeping me going lol.

Din Djarin x F!Reader (Virgin reader)

Pairing: Din x F!Reader

Word Count: 4.9k

Warnings: (18+ NO MINORS) Angst, pining, slow-burn, implied arranged marriage, language, age-gap (about 10-11 years, legal, reader is of age) Yearning, jealousy, fingering/touching / slight dirty talk (slightly possessive)

Let me know if I missed anything!

reblogs are appreciated

Masterlist Series Masterlist Part 4

—

You floated through the morning.

Your dreams were full of kisses, of declarations of love and beskar glinting under the sun and it was hard to concentrate on anything.

You smiled to yourself as you broke your fast with warm bread and butter, feeling his eyes on you from his place behind your father.

“Your highness-” Your father’s advisor came through the door holding the usual paperwork, things for him to look over, letters to read. “-A letter has come for the Princess.” He turned to you then with a smile. He was an old man, grandfatherly and sweet. He handed it to you and you noticed from the corner of your eye Din’s helmet turn towards you.

It was a small letter and you noticed how beautiful the script was as you opened it.

Dearest Princess,

I would be honoured if you were to join me here at my home for dinner. My messenger awaits your response and if you agree, I will send my personal household guard to accompany you. I also imagine your knight will be in attendance, I welcome him and whoever else you choose to bring at my table. Ruby as well of course.

Hoping you’ll say yes.

Ever yours,

Poe. D.

“It’s from Poe, he asks that I join him this evening for dinner.” You were frowning at the letter, conflicted because you wanted to stay home, wanted to meet Din in the garden again. A tiny part of you however, the tiniest part wanted to say yes - wanted to see how Poe would behave. Part of you wanted him to do something unforgivable to wipe the smiles off your parents faces.

“Oh but you must go!” Your father’s voice boomed through the room and you imagined that you could almost hear Din’s jaw clenching.

“Yes my darling, you must go. What does the letter say?” Your mother held her hand out and you handed it to her. She smiled as she read it. “Din, you must accompany her.” She was smiling big, excited at the prospect of a match having been made. No one bothered to ask if you wanted to go.

“Yes of course, let his messenger know that the Princess will be in attendance. She will go, Din- I leave her safety in your hands. Take you who must.” It had been decided for you, and you had to accept it. You felt Mila’s hand grasp yours under the table in understanding.

-

“Which gown would you like to wear your highness?” She asked sadly as you put on your undergarments and you sighed.

Whichever one makes everyone leave me alone.

“Whichever you think would look best sweetling, I have no preference.” You said the words and they were honest. Yes - Poe was charming and sweet, handsome and in another life you would have been faint with excitement at his interest in you but you were in love with Din. He was the one you wanted to share a meal with. He was the one you wanted to kiss in the open - to have holding your hand as you sat together in front of the hearth. He was the one you wanted in your bed.

“How about this one?” She held out a lovely powder blue gown. You would have said no, something more plain but you had to be seen to be making an effort.

“Yes, that will do nicely.” You smiled but it didn’t reach your eyes. She didn’t comment on it.

“I will tie a blue ribbon around Ruby’s neck to match, and I think you have some sapphires as well.” She brought over a tray of jewelry for you to peruse while she laced up your gown.

Your mind drifted to an interesting place. You imagined you were preparing for dinner with Din and imagined your knight picking out jewels for you to wear.

Would he prefer diamonds? Would he like me better in opals or emeralds?

You had a feeling he wouldn’t mind either way, but it was lovely to pretend even for a moment. She placed a dark blue cloak about your shoulders and stood back.

“You look beautiful Princess, the blue looks lovely against your skin.” She held up a silvered looking glass and you saw the reflection of a happy woman, although why she was happy - no one could know.

“Thank you sweetling, let's get this night over with shall we?” You smiled at her as you both made your way outside.

---

Din, along with five of his best knights, waited for her to set out for Damerons home. Damerons own household guard waited as well, having been sent to accompany her and he surveyed them. They seemed competent enough, he gave them their space nonetheless.

It was getting more and more difficult to put the future out of his mind - he knew that the Princess would marry at some point, it was her duty as Queen. She might even marry Poe - he knew that objectively they were a good match but his mind simply couldn’t stay objective. Not when it came to her.

This whole thing was moving faster than he hoped and he didn’t know what he could do about it.

You have to face facts Djarin, you’ll never marry her. You are a knight, she is a Princess, there is no place for you. Maybe you should just let her go.

It was in him to do so, to ignore his feelings for her; to find Gisela and ask her to marry him - have a couple of little ones and pray for things to work out. The harsh words to get her to hate him on the tip of his tongue but they evaporated like dew on a sunny day when he saw her come out to meet him.

She was a gem- a bright, glittering thing that he wanted so desperately to hold onto.

“I am ready Sir, shall we?” She smiled shyly and he nodded.

“Of course Princess, allow me.” He guided her into the wheelhouse, dreading and cherishing every single second.

--

The ride was uneventful, the road was quiet thankfully with nothing to see but long swathes of trees and greenery in the gloaming of the evening.

Ruby was napping softly in your lap but woke quickly when you arrived, her little tail wagging happily at the prospect of exploring.

“Yes my little darling - we are here.” She was in Mila’s arms when you pet her, the two of you waiting for the wheelhouse to come to a stop.

Din opened the door for you, he was helping you climb down when you heard Poe’s voice sounding out.

“Princess, I am so pleased you agreed to come-” He was striding over, his squire on his heels. “-I am happy to see you all. Please - be welcome.” He was smiling big at everyone as his guards retreated, no doubt returning to their posts. He crouched quickly to pet Ruby before approaching you.

“Hello Poe, I thank you for your invitation.” You smiled as you took in your surroundings. His home was a beautiful sprawling estate. He must have been wealthier than you thought. “You must give me a tour of the grounds - I would love to see the gardens.” You smiled at him as he offered you his arm.

“Of course Princess, I will show you whatever you wish after our meal - unless you’d like to go now?” He paused for a moment.

“After dinner would be just fine.” You answered as he guided all of you inside.

--

You weren’t sure what to expect about his home when the letter had come in earlier but it was a pleasant surprise. There were fresh cut flowers everywhere, painstakingly detailed tapestries hung up on the walls as you made your way to the large dining room. Lush carpets and plush chairs, truly a man who enjoyed his comforts.

“You have a lovely home Poe.” You smiled as he led you to your seat.

“I thank you Princess -“ He turned to Din and the other Mandalorians waiting by the table. “-Please, sit with us. I meant what I said, you are all welcome at my table.” He gestured to them to sit.

“I do not wish to intrude, we would be happy to eat with the rest of your household guard.” Din replied, his voice was clipped however.

“Nonsense. I insist, I dare say the Princess would be more comfortable if you were to join us.” He said it with an easy smile and Din hesitated slightly before agreeing. They all sat, lining their helmets up before them.

Din barely spoke.

He had never been one for long speeches - you were unsure whether it was because of the helmet, or just his nature. The other Mandalorians were friendlier and Poe took it all in stride. You could see that he took nothing personal and treated them just as he treated you.

Aside from Din’s cool demeanor and Poe’s etiquette, the dinner went well. The food was wonderful and you didn’t fail to notice some of your favourites on the menu.

“I took the liberty of finding out what you like to eat.” He said it quietly, not wanting to draw attention and you favoured him with a smile. It was hard not to like him, he was very thoughtful.

Once the meal was done, he fulfilled his promise and escorted you outside. It was much more open than the gardens back home - everything illuminated by torches and lanterns. There were flowers and neatly pruned shrubbery surrounding the large building. You noticed a stable on one side, as well a modest greenhouse on the other.

“It’s nothing compared to what you’re used to but I enjoy it. The kennels are just behind the stables and there are flowers and different fruit trees just to the right there - that’s where they get the most sun. I’m afraid the night doesn’t do it justice, it’s much lovelier during the day.” He was walking you through the grounds, your arm tucked under his as your party followed.

“It’s lovely, truly.” You were sincere and you couldn’t help but look up, the sky awash in stars. “I would imagine you must spend a lot of time out here.” You let him guide the way.

“Not as often as I'd like to, but I try. Perhaps when we marry I’ll make more of an effort.” He said it with a wink and you scoffed loudly but without malice.

“Oh is that so? Well then I suppose I’ll have to change some things around since in your mind I’ll live here hm?” Your tone was playful but sarcastic and you were acutely aware of Din following the two of you.

“Oh yes Princess, I am quite sure. My home is yours and you may do with it what you will. I live only to make you happy.” He was just as playful and as annoyed as you were that he was so confident in your union, it was also aggravatingly refreshing to be able to speak to someone so honestly - better yet for them to respond in kind.

You ignored it, Poe was charming, that’s all.

Much to your annoyance, the night was enjoyable. Poe was an excellent host and it was later than you had originally planned when you set off for home. The woods were pitch black in some spots, it made you anxious to ride in the wheelhouse while the world outside seemed like it didn’t exist. The soft light of the moon doing nothing to pierce through the darkness of the road at times.

Reaching the palace had been a relief and you said as much when you stepped out.

“You should have told me Princess, I would have ridden in it with you - if it would have helped.” He spoke as he guided you inside. You had wanted to, but the temptation of having him so close would have been too much - and as much as Mila knew about your feelings towards him - you didn’t want her to see you kissing him.

You patted his arm in silent thanks and he said nothing else.

When you reached your room you hesitated at the door, wanting him to pull you away somewhere but he didn’t - instead he waited until Mila got in. He took his helmet off and you smiled at the state of his hair. Your fingers itched to ruffle through it.

“Princess, if it’s not too late, I would ask you to join me for a midnight ride.” He waited for your answer and your smile widened.

“Of course! Would you permit me to change quickly?” You didn’t want to ride in such a stuffy gown - as beautiful as it was.

“I will wait however long it takes.” He motioned for you to go and you did - urging Mila to help you once you reached your bedchamber.

“The soft linen dress I think - with the long shift and the heavy cloak. I want to be comfortable and warm.” You changed as fast as humanly possible - all but ripping the jewelry off and within a few minutes you were rushing out the door. The two of you making your way towards the stables as silently as possible.

You watched him work deftly, his skilled hands saddling his horse with ease. One horse, not two.

“Are we to ride together?” You looked at him confused.

“Is this a problem for you Princess? I thought it might be quicker to get us to safety should something happen if we were on the same horse. I could saddle you your own if you prefer - we just wouldn’t travel too far.” He hesitated momentarily and your heart leapt at the thought that he would be holding you so closely.

“I trust your judgment Sir, one horse it is.” You kept your voice neutral and he nodded, finishing his work quickly. Once he was done - he helped you up and pulled himself up behind you. The cool beskar pressed up against your back as his arms reached around you to grab the reins.

Your dress pooled up around your thighs slightly, but your legs were covered by your big cloak but it was exciting nonetheless. You felt exposed, with his proximity it excited you way more than it should have. It felt forbidden, taboo and thrilling to have it feel like he was holding you. You couldn’t stop yourself from leaning back into his body slightly but he didn’t complain.

The ride through the forest was quiet except for the sound of the night birds, the crickets and the creatures that prowled at this time. The sound of the horses' steps, the sound of its breathing mixing with yours as well as Din’s. He rode through trees, through the little paths only he seemed to know and after a while you were beside a lake. The soft sound of the water kissing the shore added to the nightsong and you were happy that he had brought you here. He had been silent the whole ride, but you felt him take his helmet off behind you and secure it somehow to the saddle.

“You should know that you looked exceptionally lovely today Princess, blue is your colour.” His breath tickled your neck and you shivered. You turned slightly to look back but you couldn’t fully face him, the angle awkward but he kissed you just under your ear to let you know it was okay.

“I thank you Sir, I hoped you would like it.” You leaned back into his arms to tuck your head under his chin.

“You wore that for me? I thought you wore it for Dameron.” His hands came up to hold onto your arms as he pressed little kisses to your neck.

“I always dress for you.” You left it at that, hoping he would understand that despite everything- he was the one you wanted.

“Can I confess something?” His hand came up to slowly undo the cloak tied at your throat.

“Yes, anything.” You answered almost breathlessly, watching his hands open up the cloak to expose your shoulders, the skin of your thighs poking out where the dress had bunched up even more.

“You might think me wicked but, I thought about what it would be like to kiss you.” His hand trailed down as he spoke, rubbing at your thighs over your dress and you watched them in the low light of the moon, mesmerized.

“You’ve kissed me before Sir, you could kiss me now.” You turned a little more but he stopped you.

“I wasn’t thinking about kissing your mouth lovely girl, I was thinking about kissing you somewhere else.” His hands slowly gathered the fabric of your dress, bunching it in his fist - lifting it inch by inch to bare your legs to him. “May I show you where I want to kiss you?” He stopped but you clung onto his arms around you.

“Yes - please show me.” You felt is other hand join the fray and soon he had exposed your lower half to the cool night air. Your undergarments were damp you knew it - the arousal pooling low in your belly at the thought that he might touch you where you most wanted him to. He didn’t disappoint.

His hand trailed up your inner thigh lightly, slowly, up until he skillfully slid it into your undergarments. He groaned deep in his chest when he touched your bare sex.

“Right here. I long to kiss you, taste you here.” His touch was feather light on the lips of your womanhood, slipping along the seam of you. You whimpered, no one had ever touched you here and you felt the slick dripping out of you as you let him explore. “Would you let me Princess? Would you let me bury my tongue right here?” He dipped his fingers low, parting you slightly to dip his fingers just at the entrance - collecting your arousal onto his fingers before slipping them out and bringing them to his mouth behind you. You moaned at the sound of him sucking you off of them and you nodded frantically.

“Yes Din, I would let you - I’m yours.” You moaned the words and his other hand held you in place.

“And I am yours.” He responded before bringing his hand back to where you craved it, this time he spread the lips of your cunt open wide, honing his middle finger on the pearl of your sex. He rubbed tight, slow circles around it and you moaned - trying desperately to open your legs wider. He chuckled darkly behind you.

“Does that feel good Princess?” He turned your face with his other hand, twisting his upper body enough to capture your mouth in a messy kiss, not quite aligned but it sent a shiver of arousal through you and you felt yourself climbing higher and higher- his finger relentless as he sped up a little.

“Yes - Gods yes - it feels so good Din, I thought about you too.” You moaned the words into his mouth. “I think about you touching me like this, when I do it to myself.” He groaned at your confession, his tongue thick in your mouth when he kissed you again.

His finger dipped low to collect more wetness and the glide of it was just right, just slippery enough to send you over the edge and you almost screamed. Your body seizing up with pleasure as your sex clenched around nothing. He cooed into your ear as you rode it out.

“You are intoxicating my lovely one.” He kissed your neck, as he lowered your skirts.

You watched him, blissed out and boneless as he licked his fingers before grabbing the reins again and slowly making his way back to the palace.

-

Mila was snoring softly when you slipped into the room and you were careful not to wake her and as tired as you were from travel it took you a long time to fall asleep. Your heart full of love for Din and a hunger you couldn’t satiate filled your belly. It was a craving for his body, for his kisses, for physical love a woman shared with her husband. You fell asleep hoping - though secretly knowing- that he craved you the same way.

—-

As happy as you were when you awoke the next morning, it was quickly dampened - your father informed you that Poe was to arrive at the Palace as his honoured guest. That he was to stay for a time as a gesture of good will.

You saw right through it.

Your parents had decided that Poe was the suitor they wanted for you and they weren’t being at all subtle.

They informed you with big smiles on their faces, no doubt in hopes of pushing you towards him. It was exhausting - this constant reminder that you would never be truly free to live the life you wanted with Din.

When Poe arrived, he was happy - taking this as a sign that he was winning you over.

“Greetings Princess, I cannot tell you how happy I am to be able to spend more time with you.” He was all smiles and you had no choice but to smile back.

“It will be interesting for sure.” With the way you felt about Din, the intense desire to be around him was at the forefront of your mind. As well as the way Din behaved around Poe, it would definitely be interesting to say the least.

—

Your father invited Poe to dine at your private table, and he engaged him in conversation almost the whole night. They spoke of the future, of how Poe would help rule if he were indeed to marry you. Your mother smiled silently, happy to let the conversation center around the two of you.

Din stood still behind your fathers chair and you wanted nothing more than to pull him to sit with you. To talk to him, kiss him and feed him from your own plate.

“I would want to help people to be quite honest, extend a hand to those that aren’t as fortunate as us. There are people out there starving and that doesn’t sit right with me.” He was honest, to a fault like he said but you admired that.

“That’s very noble of you my boy.” The king nodded.

“It’s very honourable isn’t it my darling?” Your mother smiled at you and you smiled back, nodding around a bite of your food.

“I’m sure the Princess and I could do much and more to help the people who need it the most, if she would let me that is.” He had a shy, genuine smile for you, tentatively reaching over and taking your hand in his. You couldn’t very well snatch it back but you felt Din’s eyes burning into the interaction.

This could get messy.

“Princess, I would humbly ask that you accompany me for a walk through the grounds - chaperoned by your knight of course.” He asked as the remnants of the meal were taken away.

“Oh I’m sure she’d love to join you wouldn’t you sweetling?” Your mother cooed, and you smiled and nodded.

“Yes of course.” You let him guide you, Din following closely behind.

—

“I hope I’m not intruding - I know that the King and Queen are very keen for this to work between us.” He held your hand as you walked arm in arm and you couldn’t help but sigh softly.

“Yes they are aren’t they.” Your tone came out a little more exasperated than you’d hoped but he was well aware that you were not to be swayed by him so easily, you knew he should expect some hesitancy from you.

“I understand that you aren’t impressed and that I am most likely not your first choice. For all I know you might already have your eye on someone else.” He laughed and you couldn’t help but look over your shoulder at Din. “Regardless of that Princess, I know this must be difficult for you but I beg of you to give me a chance to show you that there is potential here. I believe that in time you might come to love me.” He pulled your hand up to his mouth and kissed your fingers.

“You are selling yourself quite hard Poe, I appreciate that you understand that my feelings for you aren’t where you want them to be.” You looked up at him apologetically, expecting him to have a sad look on his face but he surprised you; he was smiling - content to listen to you speak.

“I know, it’s not in you right now but I believe you will see me in a different light. I have faith.” He left the conversation there.

——

It was hard to find time to meet with Din, Poe seemed to be everywhere and his determination seemingly had no bounds.

Your mother found you as you dressed for the day - she had a note from Poe. He was asking you to accompany him into town to hand out some supplies. You couldn’t refuse him, not when your mother had delivered it herself.

“Will Din accompany us?” You asked it offhand, your voice neutral - your face a mask of nonchalance.

“No your father is going on a hunt and Din will be protecting him, there will be other guards with you.” She said it with a shake of her hand as she searched your wardrobe for an appropriate dress. “This will do nicely.” She picked out an off the shoulder, deep berry coloured dress that was not at all practical for a day out in the city.

It would have to do.

-

He had taken you to an orphanage in the heart of the city. There were kids running around of all ages and the older ones ran towards Poe when you entered - recognizing him. He had a big smile on his face as they hugged him around the middle, all decorum forgotten.

“Poe did you bring us anything?” A boy of about twelve years was eager, looking around you to the entourage of guards waiting behind you.

“Of course, brought all of you some good stuff like I always do.” He ruffled the boys hair before he held his hand out to you, you smiled and stepped forward. “I have someone very special here with me today, this is the Princess. Come on over and say hello.” He called them over to you and you saw some of the little girls eyes light up. They flocked to you, asking you if you were indeed the Princess. Asked you if you had a crown, and most importantly why you were there. They were precious.

“She’s here to help just like I am.” Poe answered for you.

A little girl of about six pulled on your dress and you lowered yourself slightly to be at her level.

“Princess, I like your dress, you’re so pretty.” She was smiling at you, her hair was a tangle but her eyes were bright.

“Thank you sweetling, you are much prettier I must say.” You moved the hair out of her eyes and she smiled wide, her little hand clutching at a makeshift cloth doll.

You helped Poe hand out toys and new clothes and there was food for them to eat. You spent the day playing with them and learning about their lives. The women who ran the orphanage knew him and you saw that all of the talk of helping the less fortunate was real, he had already been doing much more than you had ever even imagined.

It was hard to deny the little spark of something that he held within you.

He was handsome, he was kind and smart- funny and generous and with the way his eyes found yours throughout the day; he felt something for you. His eyes were piercing, dark and mysterious and for the first time, he gave you butterflies.

One of the little ones was showing you his space within the building, his bed and his tiny toy horse. He was waxing poetic about how one day he would be a knight. You were smiling at him when Poe stood next to you, his gaze heavy and it sent a flush crawling up your neck to light up your ears.

The fabric at his neck was crumpled and you couldn’t help but reach up to fix it, your arm extended over to him and his gaze focused on it, reached up to hold it to his neck. He placed a delicate kiss to your bicep and pulled you closer. The act was small, but so intimate it did something to you. Melted a tiny piece of you that up until now was frozen to him and he saw it on your face. Felt it in the way you let him hold you close, your arm still around his neck, his hand moving down to hold onto your waist.

The little boy was in front of you now, asking Poe if he would ever give him a real horse and he laughed, not unkindly.

“One day my boy, one day I will give you a horse - only if you promise to behave and be on your best behaviour. Can you do that?” The little boy nodded sagely promising he would. You didn’t pull your arm away, and you couldn’t pinpoint why.

—-

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[mercy-burning]

Losing You Twice / 1: If I Hated You

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: It’s Valentine’s Day weekend, and it turns out Y/N isn’t the only one struggling with the breakup. Category: Smut (18+), Angst Content Warnings: Language, drinking/getting drunk, penetrative/unprotected sex (If I missed anything, please let me know!) Word Count: 5,538

SERIES MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST

“My bedtime is the darkest, that’s when I’m brokenhearted. The nighttime is the hardest. It’d be easy, if I hated you.” —FLETCHER, If I Hated You

FEBRUARY 13th

It was Valentine's Day weekend, which sucked this time around. Every year for the past three years Y/N looked forward to Valentine's Day, but that was when she actually had someone to spend it with.

Well, someone she actually cared about, anyway... Whether or not Spencer actually knew it, she did really care about him. She was just stupid and didn't say it when he needed to hear it the most.

And now Valentine's Day was on Saturday and Y/N was still without him. Not alone, but still without the man who'd spent the significant holiday with her for the past three years. Memories of their dates and 'afterparties' flooded through her mind as she got ready for work like a montage, a cheesy love-song playlist she'd found on Spotify acting as the soundtrack.

Eventually she sighed and turned it off, opting for something more loud and obnoxious, and therefore not tainted by Spencer's memory. She applied what was left of her makeup and added a pair of earrings before turning the music off altogether and shoving her phone in her bag alongside her keys and other necessities.

Even though she wasn't emotionally prepared for all the cheesy Valentine's things she'd see and hear and experience throughout the weekend, it was still kind of nice to see that things in the bank never changed during the holidays— Everything in her life was so severely different at the moment, that if Marjorie had somehow decided to throw out all her elaborate decorations for each holiday, no matter how small, Y/N would have thought the world was truly ending.

Speaking of, she was met with Marjorie's brighter-than-the-sun smile almost immediately once she set her things in the breakroom.

"How's my little macaron this morning?" she chirped, Y/N chuckling slightly at the nickname— She brought macarons from the bakery down the street on her first birthday she spent at the bank, and ever since then, the older woman had adorned her with the namesake.

"She's alright, Marj... Better now that she's seen you..."

"That boy still on your mind, hon?"

Obviously Marjorie's intentions were good, but Y/N couldn't stand to think about the situation at all, least of all at work... So, setting her jacket on the rack, turned away so that her coworker wouldn't see the visible discomfort on her face, Y/N squeezed her eyes shut and cleared her throat. "So, what are your plans with Geno tomorrow night? Anything special?"

There was a brief pause before Marjorie cleared her throat as well. "Nothing short of our usual dinner plans, my dear. He's been so caught up with work at the Mill lately, I think we're just going to spend the night relaxing."

"Hm," Y/N said shortly, finally turning around and giving her the best smile she could. "Maybe I should take a page from your book and stay in..."

"You weren't going to?"

"No... Britt's been nagging me about getting out there so we're going out tomorrow night. We both haven't been single in a long time, so... Should be fun."

Marjorie didn't look convinced. Either way, she nodded with a smile and walked over to Y/N with something glittery and bright red in her hand— A cheap beaded necklace to clip her nametag onto. She draped it over Y/N's neck and patted her shoulders. "Well, I want you to have fun. And remember that you still have to come to work on Monday. Whatever shenanigans you get into should be reserved for Saturday night only so you can rest properly on Sunday, got it?"

Y/N laughed, thankful for the playful tone in Marjorie's voice. "Yes, Ma'am."

"Oh, I joke, I joke," the older woman said with a bright laugh, turning to walk out of the break room. "A little..."

The smile on Y/N's face only really lasted until after Marjorie was out of sight, then she went into her bag and clipped her nametag onto the red beaded necklace with a sigh.

Was she excited to have a good night out with Britt? Of course. Hell, had it been literally any other day of the year, she would have been practically bouncing off the walls with excitement at the idea of going out to a bar, letting men hit on her until she finally let one of them take her back to his place for the night.

But it just felt like it was too soon.

Either way, she was glad that she'd get to see Britt again, after she'd been on vacation for Christmas and New Year's to see her family and only got back a few weeks ago. She'd seen her on Facetime of course, and they met up once for coffee right after Britt got back from her trip, but a well-needed night out and quality time getting ready together was something that had been missing from their friendship for almost a year.

Y/N knew Britt would most likely spend her time trying to hook them up with end-of-the-night dates, but maybe it wouldn't be so bad...

Even still, sleeping alone the night before was probably one of the worst spells of loneliness she'd ever had. It was normal to be sad spending the first Valentine's Day in years away from a significant other, but knowing how things ended between them—bitter and stained with words left unsaid—this time was just... cold.

And that was putting it lightly.

Y/N laid in bed that night, her eyes wide open and staring at the plastic glow-in-the-dark stars that adorned the ceiling. They used to give her comfort, but now they just reminded her of all the nights she'd spend with Spencer, listening to him tell stories about the constellations. They were some of the most peaceful memories she had.

And now those, too—those stars that had grounded her pretty much all her life and reminded her of the better days—were tainted by her inability to properly communicate.

She almost thought about taking them down.

But if she was really going to get over him this time, for good, then she'd have to learn to make new memories with the stars. Even if it was painful. Even if replacing those memories and writing new ones over them absolutely tore her soul to pieces.

And, as if that pain wasn't enough, that night Y/N dreamt of him, making love to her amongst the stars in every galaxy, only to wake up the next morning cold and alone.

FEBRUARY 14th

She promptly decided that she hated his guts.

It was Valentine's Day, Y/N was respectfully buzzed, and courtesy of two beers and four shots of tequila, she'd just deleted Spencer's number from her phone.

"I'm done," she said, waving a hand at Britt and shoving her phone in her purse. "He doesn't deserve my wallowing."

"Yeah!"

Britt was significantly the more drunk of the two, resulting in a fit of giggles after gaining some stares from the people around them at her sudden outburst.

Y/N smiled, finishing off another shot and shaking her head. "We need more!"

"More shots!" Britt hurried off to grab them, leaving her friend behind with a half-drunken smile that also only felt half-genuine.

Sure, she decided she hated Spencer's guts, but her heart didn't exactly agree well with that sentiment. Even after deleting his number from her phone, after downing all that alcohol, her heart still ached.

Y/N knew deep down that getting over him was going to take some time. A lot of time... But maybe one night of distraction would help.

So the shots kept coming, and by the end of the night, Y/N was just about at her limit.

Which was near black-out drunk. And when you're that drunk you tend to make decisions you wouldn't soberly condone.

Britt got into a cab, and she begged Y/N to come with her, but she assured her friend that she had someone to come pick her up. Eventually the cab driver got tired of their inability to decide, and when Y/N told him to go, he did, leaving her alone on the side of the street at 1am.

Unfortunately, it was incredibly cold, and she didn't really have anyone to come pick her up. And that's where the bad decisions started.

Y/N pulled her phone out, a long sigh escaping her as she dialed the number by heart.

Would he even pick up? He hadn't answered any of her calls or texts before, so why would it have been any different now? Not to mention it was Valentine's Day Weekend. With her luck, he was probably in bed with someone else. Someone who wasn't her. As she listened to the dial tone repeating in her ear, images of him wrapped up with somebody else—sleeping in the bed she'd slept in many times before—clouded her drunken brain and made her more angry than anything.

Her gut twisted, and she almost hung up.

But then the low buzz of the dial tone abruptly stopped and in its place came his voice.

"Y/N?"

Her name on his lips, even through the phone, was grounding, the anger in her system melting away and revealing a coat of drunken relief.

"Spencer! You answered!"

"Yeah... Are you— Is everything okay?"

"Pff, yeah, 'm-fine. Just really fucking cold."

"You're not outside, are you?"

"Duh, I'm outside... I wouldn't be cold in-side... Besides, I didn't call t'alk bout the weather, I need you t'come pick me up."

There was a brief pause, and for a moment Y/N didn't think he was going to say anything she wanted to hear. She swayed on the sidewalk, shivering and praying that he would throw her a bone, even if she'd regret it all in the morning.

"Where are you?" he said finally, and despite herself, she smiled.

FEBRUARY 15th

Spencer couldn't believe he was picking her up at near two in the morning.

Honestly, he'd initially thought about ignoring her call again, but remembering the day it was and taking note of the time, he figured she was most likely in some type of inebriated trouble.

His instincts were right, of course, but he wished that he could have been wrong. He wished she'd only been calling to drunkenly ramble on about how she missed him or maybe how he was stupid and she never wanted to see his face ever again, because that was normal. At least then he could have hung up after she was done and never thought about it again— it was a normal step in any relationship that helped move things along. They could have gotten on with their lives and it would have all been over.

But of course it was never that simple.

Y/N was never that simple.

He pictured her on the street near some bar, alone and cold and drunk, and of course he would have been the only one she could call to rescue her. After all, he'd been pretty much the only thing she'd ever known to make her feel safe.

Still, he wished he was capable of only giving her a ride home and then leaving.

But again, it was never that simple.

It was easy getting her into the car— that wasn't what he was worried about. Rather, it was the fated moment where she'd ask him to stay after he finally got her tucked safely into bed that worried him. Because it was bad enough that it was Y/N... It was her in all her alluring glory, and he'd never been able to deny her anything no matter how badly he tried or wanted to.

Now add on the fact that she was drunk, and most likely sad on their first Valentine's Day apart, and it was a recipe for disaster.

Even if she'd broken his heart, Spencer still cared about her.

Which is why he inevitably agreed to stay, at least until she fell asleep.

He knew her well enough to know all the ways she'd try to get him under the covers with her, so it was a familiar amusement that settled in his being when he was finally able to get on top of the covers with her underneath. But as he entertained her silly little questions with the right answers until she fell asleep, Spencer noticed something else accompanying that amusement.

Guilt.

And then anger for feeling guilty about her sadness— sadness that could have been avoided had she just gotten over whatever was holding her back and either returned his "I love you" or  told him she wasn't feeling the same way just yet.

All she had to do was talk.

He had a right to feel upset about Y/N holding back when he'd been nothing but patient, spending almost every year of their relationship trying to make her see that she had nothing to be afraid of. He'd given her every chance to talk about what she was feeling, whether it was happy or not, and every time she pushed it all away in favor of sex.

That wasn't what he wanted in a relationship, so he ended it. And there was absolutely nothing wrong with that.

So why was he feeling so fucking guilty?

He blamed his good nature and innate need to please people, to make them feel good and happy. But he also blamed Y/N and her adorable drunken sleeping face.

He watched as she slept, willing himself not to forget the way she hurt him. She'd completely stolen his heart and shattered it at the same time, and if he was being honest, she still held some of the pieces. But he couldn't get them back, not if he didn't want to risk shattering her own heart in the process.

It felt like they were tied together by some strong, invisible force that wouldn't break unless both of them broke right along with it.

So... maybe he could afford to leave those pieces of his heart with her. He'd have to if they were going to get out of this alive. Not unscathed, sure, but alive nonetheless.

Once he was sure she was deep in sleep, Spencer quietly and carefully got off the bed and navigated through her apartment, getting her a glass of water and leaving it on the table next to her bed. And because he couldn't help it, he cleaned up some of the clothes that were scattered around her floor, depositing them into the hamper and straightening out a few more things that were out of place.

He looked over at her sleeping figure one more time, sighed, and then left, keeping her bedroom door open just a crack.

***

Spencer knew he shouldn't have stayed longer.

Despite his better judgement, he'd plopped himself down on her couch after making sure she was sound asleep, hoping to catch his breath and sort through what he was feeling before he got behind the wheel. But of course, it was 2am and he was exhausted, and he couldn't stop himself from closing his eyes and drifting off.

And now he was sitting up, looking around the apartment through the lens of morning.

Though the curtains were sheer, they didn't provide much light, but enough of it showed him just how familiar the space was. Y/N hadn't moved anything around. The same art was on the same walls, the potted ivy plant on her mantle sat un-watered and withering, and every book and record and DVD on her shelves was in the exact same spot as they'd all been the last time he was there in December.

Meanwhile, after the breakup he'd re-arranged everything. He was so sure that they were through for good this time around that he wanted a clean slate. Not that he wanted to rid himself of her memory completely, but if he was going to move on from the hold she'd had on him, he had to do something...

And yet, he ended up at her apartment the morning after Valentine's Day all the same.

He heard the shower running faintly a couple rooms away. You didn't have to pass the couch to get there, so maybe she hadn't seen him sleeping and he could get away cleanly.

Spencer scrambled off the couch, thankful that he hadn't removed his jacket or his shoes and that he could just sprint towards the door without having to find any of his belongings.

But as luck would have it, the second he took a step, the shower turned off. He had to get out of there quickly, but if he did then she'd definitely know he'd stayed overnight. But if he went quietly, he wouldn't have enough time before she caught him.

Maybe I could hide...

He shook the thought with a roll of his eyes, settling on the clearest course of action, which was to make as quick of a getaway as he could. He'd try to be quiet as well, though the creaky door was going to be nearly impossible to get through without a sound.

His hand was on the doorknob when he heard her voice.

"You didn't think you could spend the night and then leave without saying goodbye, did 'ja?"

The pure amusement in her tone made his stomach churn, and it wasn't unpleasant in the slightest.

Spencer turned and smiled softly, avoiding looking at her completely. "Sorry. Didn't want to bother you."

"You're never a bother."

That sentiment held less amusement and more sincerity, which was what guided his eyes to meet the woman who said the words.

His stomach twisted again when he saw her, exactly like he knew she'd be— wrapped in nothing but a thin towel with near-dripping hair cascading down her back. Her legs were bare and exposed, the towel not only thin but short, which meant that her chest was also practically spilling out of it. Despite the obvious and inevitable hungover look in her eye, there was also a good splash of that mischief that'd always been there— the kind that spelled out trouble.

He needed to get out of there.

"Well, um... I'm glad I got you home safe," he said, clearing his throat. "I should... I should go."

"You sure you don't wanna stay for breakfast?"

Spencer could have sworn she was teasing him, dangling her body in front of him like a meal they both knew he wouldn't be able to resist. But then she added, "I've got everything I need for your favorite omelet," and he exhaled with a small smile, exhausted with his own mind for convincing him that she was out to pull him back in.

Still, he declined. "No, I... I shouldn't. But, uh, thank you..."

"You sure?"

This time when he looked up at her, she was closer. She was gently striding forward to meet him, and he half thought about backing up towards the door until he realized he was already there.

"I—I'm sure. Really."

"But you drove around all night just to take me home when I was drunk, the least I can do is feed you..."

"Eh, it's alright. It's... Nothing I haven't done before."

She stopped then, her eyes briefly dropping to the floor. It was like her whole demeanor changed—just for a second—from the prowess she'd always been, to what seemed to be a woman filled with sadness and regret. It didn't last long though, just enough for Spencer to notice it before she looked back up at him with that wicked gleam in her eye and a remark right at the tip of her tongue.

"Still. I feel bad, making you do all that for me... Especially now."

He wasn't sure what to make of this... It seemed like she was sincere, but she was also alluring, calling to him like a siren leading him to his ultimate demise. And while he'd come to know that as merely a part of her nature, he couldn't help but shake the feeling that she was doing it on purpose.

She was in a skimpy towel, after all, and she definitely knew how to use that to her advantage.

It didn't help that he didn't have the courage to leave. Everything inside of him right then longed to drop that towel and indulge himself once more. Putting aside all the heartache and the differences they shared, all he felt in that moment was the need to touch her— to get lost in her and never be found again.

She was his fatal flaw, and it was painfully obvious.

Spencer knew he shouldn't have stayed longer...

He was over to her in just three strides, throwing off his jacket and tossing it aside before cradling her face with his hands and bringing their lips together for the first time since Christmas Eve.

The small whine in her throat signaled that she hadn't expected it, but welcomed it all the same. The moment she lifted her arms to wrap around his neck, the towel fell to the floor, and there was no going back.

"What about breakfast?" Y/N breathed out once they pulled away for air.

Spencer contemplated, studying her face, seeing the way her eyes sparkled, and decided on the two words that sealed his fate.

"Screw breakfast."

Their lips were melded together almost as soon as the words left his mouth. And it wasn't long before every other part of their bodies were melded together as well.

Y/N helped him take the rest of his clothes off as they danced around the entryway and the living room. Everything was open, no walls separating the living room from the kitchen, so to compensate for the lack of breakfast they'd be eating, they migrated to the kitchen counter once Spencer had off everything but his boxers.

He trapped her against the cool marble of the countertop, her back hitting it solid and sending a shiver up her spine. Meanwhile his hands roamed her body, unsure of where to be other than on her at all times, whether it be her waist, her stomach, her arms, her breasts, or her ass. He wanted to feel all of her, and quite frankly she wanted the same.

She even told him so, in her own way, by bringing one of her legs up and wrapping it around his waist, pulling him closer to her as she wove her fingers through his hair and tasted his tongue with her own.

The action elicited a groan from his mouth, low and desperate. Spencer settled his hands on her waist and gripped it tight, silently telling her what to do.

So she jumped up and he helped guide her swiftly onto the counter. Her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist again, and he found himself grinding into her hips, urgent to feel every part of her. And thankfully she was feeling rather desperate herself, because she rolled her hips up into him in return, breaking their mouths apart just briefly to speak.

"Fuck me..."

There was so much he wanted to say to her in that moment— how badly he was feeling about keeping her entertained while he was slowly deteriorating inside from her emotional detachment and rejection, how much she frustrated him, and more prominently, how she was so goddamn impatient and that he was getting there...

But all that he could manage was a broken, desperate whisper of her name.

It was all he'd ever known.

All that frustration... All that anger, heartache, passion, and time apart combined beautifully into those few syllables that made up her name and tore him apart from the inside out.

And his hands were just as destructive.

Spencer deftly dropped his boxers to the ground and pushed forward, almost losing all sense of self the moment the head of his dick finally made contact with her cunt. He made his way inside of her and then used both of his hands to grip her waist and bring her closer, their mouths connecting harshly as they found one another once again.

His grip was bruising— not possessive in any way, but desperate, like he had to cling to her for dear life or he wouldn't live to see another day. He held himself inside her, sighing and whimpering into her mouth as she clenched around him. It was so familiar, so comfortable and exhilarating that he almost didn't even want to move. He thought about staying there, still inside her forever.

But as always, Y/N was insatiable.

She wrapped all her limbs around him and held on, rolling her hips and seeking friction in any way possible when she briefly tore her lips away from his.

"I need you, baby, please..."

Even as his heart started to rumble in his chest, well aware of the fact that she still probably didn't love him the way he loved her, Spencer gave her everything. He pulled out and snapped his hips forward again, setting a strong, steady pace that had Y/N's eyes rolling back, and the payoff of hearing her sigh out his name was more than enough to keep him going.

Her nails dug deliciously into his shoulders, the faint sting adding something reminiscent of gasoline to a fire. The flames grew taller and brighter the more he fucked her, and with each gradual increase of volume and intensity, it was a wonder the whole kitchen around them hadn't literally burst into flames.

That's how they always were.

Together like this, so lost in the high of each others' bodies, it was easy to forget the things that made their relationship so hard. It was easy to let all the negativity slip away into the throes of pent-up, well-needed sex. The high they gave each other was merely that— A high...

A distraction.

And while that's exactly what Y/N needed, what she preferred in most cases, it's what Spencer recognized as completely unhealthy, despite his coming back to it every time.

It's also why he dreaded the moment ending. Because once they came down from the high, all that's left would be sadness, regret... Guilt... Their fire burned hot, brightly and wildly, but in the aftermath would lay only a thick layer of deadly smoke between them— hard to navigate, and nearly impossible to breathe in without suffocating.

So they simply burned and burned and burned...

Spencer gripped her so tight he was sure to leave her with bruising. And in turn Y/N dragged her nails down his back and dug them into his ass, her palm laying firmly over the muscles that aided in fucking her into the marbled surface. She whined out curses and moans, and he cried out broken whispers of her name, pet names, and curses alike.

Even once she'd come, he kept going, willing himself to hold on as long as he could. She whined into his ear at the overstimulation. And rather than keeping her legs wrapped around his body, she decided to spread them wide, perching her heels up on the counter as far as she could go and anchoring her fingers through his hair.

And though she might not have had enough orgasms in her to keep up with him, she welcomed it all the same—She welcomed the burn just as much as he did.

Even still, no fire can burn forever.

All concept of time was lost by the time Spencer finally collapsed forward, completely spent and barely standing on weak legs after coming twice. Y/N held onto him tightly to keep him upwards, lightly massaging his scalp with gentle fingers and closing her eyes as she focused on his breathing— the way it fanned over the skin of her bare shoulder and how it sounded, perfectly in time with hers...

It was the most peaceful she'd been in a long time.

She felt him pull out of her, the both of them groaning at the feeling, and a little at the mess it would make.

Spencer gently peeled his body off of hers, sniffing once and avoiding her eyes. "Sorry... You just got out of the shower..."

"It's fine," Y/N breathed. She begged him silently to look her in the eye, but he remained still... Most likely thinking. She could practically see the cogs turning in his brain.

So, in an effort to lighten the mood a bit, she added with a breathy laugh, "Besides... It's nothing I haven't done before."

The callback to his words—and memories of all the times they'd found themselves in this position before—got Spencer to laugh a little, but he still wouldn't meet her eyes.

Finally, he cleared his throat. "I'll... I'll grab the wipes?"

"Oh. Sure," Y/N returned with a thankful smile. It was hopeful, too, though the moment he was out of eyesight, it turned rather sad.

She'd known that behavior before, seen that hesitation in his movements and that sound in his voice.

It was guilt.

Regret.

Probably a bit of self-hatred, too.

When he returned, a pile of her clothes in hand and the bag of wipes on top, she took them from him with a kind smile and cleaned herself up while he put his clothes back on.

The silence was more uncomfortable than anything either of them had ever experienced.

So much so, that Y/N couldn't even muster up the courage to ask him to stay for breakfast— and she always did after one of their post-break hookups.

Maybe this time really was different.

Spencer was just at the door again when she stopped him.

"Thank you," she said. Her voice was so small, he almost didn't hear it. "For bringing me home..."

But he paused, turned, and finally looked her in the eye.

He almost sunk to his knees right there...

Seeing her, arms crossed like she was trying to keep warm, as her head hung low and she looked up at him through sad, hooded eyelids...

It reminded him of the woman he fell in love with.

But in his peripheral, he saw the towel on the floor and was reminded of the woman who'd shattered his heart.

Spencer cleared his throat. Once upon a time he might have returned her thanks with, Anytime, but... Honestly he wasn't sure there could ever be another time. For his sanity, he'd have to avoid 'anytime' at all costs.

So, he settled on, "You're welcome."

He was glad to see her return his kind smile with one of her own, even if it was tainted with sadness, and a small wave goodbye.

Maybe this time it would stick.

Even still, as he closed the door behind him and made his way to the parking lot, for some reason it didn't quite feel like goodbye.

And some of that deadly smoke that settled in his lungs as he drove further and further away from her apartment was inclined to agree.

***

Neither of them could sleep that night.

While Spencer stared out the window of the jet, a little annoyed to be called out on a case so late but at least thankful for the distraction, Y/N laid in bed, staring at the stars on her ceiling.

The same constellation caught their eye.

Columba.

The Dove.

She hadn't even meant to arrange the stars like that, but one night after a date, they were laying in her bed and Spencer pointed out that the cluster of plastic stars right in the corner of the ceiling looked like Columba.

Y/N fondly remembered Spencer telling her about how it was originally named to represent Noah's dove, which searched for dry land during the great biblical flood and returned carrying an olive branch to make news of its recession— of peace at last.

The memory made her smile. It tugged at her heart and made her dreams of him even more vivid.

All the same, Spencer noticed the constellation outside the jet window and remembered that same night. The smile on her face as he told her the story, the feel of her fingers gliding softly over the bare skin of his forearm...

It was the first night since he'd met her that he thought it.

I love her...

He almost told her then, too, but he was afraid it was too soon. So he refrained.

Looking back, Spencer was starting to regret that— Maybe without that extra time together, breaking up would have been easier. But instead, he gave her more time. He gave himself more time to fall deeper in love with her, and in the end it still wasn't enough.

Now they were both looking at the same constellation, one made of plastic and the other of gas, wondering if their flood would ever recede.

And in the event that it did... Who would be the dove, and what would be their olive branch?

“You know I dream about getting back together in the future, I could focus on you. But if I leave right now, I hope that you don’t find someone that touches you the way that I do...”

***

SERIES TAGLIST:   @reidyoulikeabook​ @yourmisosoup​ @fortheloveofcriminalminds​ @bellzo17​ @altsvu​ @flipperpenguins​ @mcumorningstar​

TAGS NOT WORKING: @reid-to-me @totallyclearwitch

[lizzy-williams]

𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐭

🐺Warnings: Alpha/Omega dynamic, SMUTTTT, neediness, language, mature themes, dubcon?

🐺Masterlist

🐺Summary: Every Omega knows that going into heat is rough, especially when unclaimed. All eyes are on you. So when it hits you in the middle of a coffee shop with your friends, a particular alpha is very willing to help.  

🐺Theme (All I Need by Radiohead)

🐺A/N: Lol we gonna get dirtttyyyy. By the way, you’re small in his, like body proportion wise, like 5′4 small so there’s that. I know people want the ‘independent strong hardheaded alpha female’, but in this one ur compliant, sorry if ya don’t like it. There will most likely be a part 2 :)

“Y’know, I dunno how you drink that stuff,” Anna-Lynn said from across the table, making [ y / n ] roll her eyes and look up.

“You’re just jealous cause your tastebuds are weak,” she retorted, taking a teasingly long sip of her dark black coffee. 

It was nice having a day out like this. Especially when everyone seemed so busy with preparing for the spookiest holiday of the year. Paper bats and small pumpkins littered the store-fronts of London, the summer weather fading with the light chilly breezes autumn seemingly brought. 

The calm warm light streamed through the window of the coffee shop the three young women were in, the dusk just hitting them. The tree leaves complimented the light as it covered the area in a soft blanket of pink and orange hues. 

“So, um,” [ y / n ]’s other friend, Elizabeth, began to speak, clearing her throat and shooting a daring look at Anna-Lynn, “Have you thought about Ethan at all?”

Ah, yes, Ethan. He was Elizabeth’s younger cousin, just then turning 19, a simple beta with no claimed mate. 

[ y / n ] shook her head, and to this, the two girls let out a defeated huff, “You need to chose someone,” Anna-Lynn’s voice was clipped as she huffed, but it had a hint of concern. Worry even. 

And of course there was a stipulation to one of [ y / n ]’s favorite seasons. Because for her kind, not only was it autumn, but it was also mating season. A dangerous time for any omega unclaimed. If you were unclaimed when the time came around, you were easy pray, and other alphas and betas could smell you much much easier. 

You would become a target. Even more so if you were in heat. 

“I’m not worried about it.” [ y / n ] sighed, nonchalantly, taking a large gulp of her drink before setting it back down. But deep down she truly was.

“We just don’t want you to become like one of those other omegas... you know, getting claimed by someone on the street during their heat... someone they don’t love at all and being forced to have pups, it’s just barbaric.” Elizabeth glanced down at her dwindling hands. 

“I understand that. But I’ve had no issues with this before. I’ll just... lock myself up in my room with a vibrator and some porn. That’s worked before,”

“Bullshit, you were a grump for like a month because you had built up aggression. Ethan’s a good guy. You should really consider it.”

Yes, Ethan was nice. But when it came to [ y / n ]... she just felt as if they weren’t meant for each other. And there was no way that she would consider having pups with him and-

Speak of the mother fucking devil-

It was as if she was hit with a million bricks at once, her body becoming hot, a powerful wave of uncomfortable warmth crashing through her body like a tidal wave, her mouth clamping shut tightly. Her breath hitched, her thighs tightening around nothing, her legs shaking as she felt herself feel as if she were going to throw up. The moisture between her thighs was uncomfortable as she felt her panties stick to her mound.

How could she be so careless? Now she was in heat in public and she knew that nearby alphas and betas had already caught onto the scent, most likely heading their way. She knew it was roughly the time she would go into heat. And it was hell on earth right now, knowing that now that the sun was just now taking it’s last breaths over the tall buildings, the night heightening her kind’s senses acutely. 

Her friends caught on almost immediately, knowing the mannerisms of the heavy breathing and the quivering lips. Her eyes were wide as she bit down on her bottom lip harshly, trying her best to keep her whimpers and whines in the back of her throat. 

Thoughts raced through the young woman’s mind. Thoughts of her being taken in the most delicious ways possible by any man that just so happened to look her way. And her friends could tell that there were already at least a few alphas coming in hot, the sudden howling through the now darkened air making the 2 other girls’ senses hyperactive. 

What was ironic was that there was a conversation going on between two baristas behind the counter, “The dogs are at it again, they’ve been a lot noisier than usual.”

“We need to get her home, right now.” Anna-Lynn commanded, Elizabeth giving a chaste nod before flipping through her phone as a poor, squirming, [ y / n ] sat right across from them, panting in her intense discomfort. 

She shut her eyes tightly, desperately trying to ignore the ache in her core. She wanted, no, needed to be filled up. To be claimed. But the thoughts only drove her down deeper, desperation seemingly seeping out of every pore. 

As soon as she was called an Uber, it was an agonizing amount of time before it finally came to a stop, the driver flashing concerned looks at the poor squirming girl in her back seat. Throughout the whole ride, it took everything for [ y / n ] not to touch herself, and all she could do was shift her thighs together, and thankfully, (soon enough), the car came to a stop. 

[ y / n ] let out a strangled ‘thank you’ to the driver before getting out, and after the woman drove off, she found herself stumbling into an alleyway. Her whole body was on fire and she needed release, any release. 

Her back violently hit the brick wall of a darkened alleyway, her loud and labored breaths echoing through the seemingly empty face. She needed tension. At least a little bit. 

As if her legs weren’t her own, [ y / n ] spread her legs only a small amount, just enough to slip her hand under her pants and softly drifting her fingertips over her clothed clit. 

A smooth and controlled rubs soon turned into harsh and fast circles, her needful thoughts forcing her mind to tune out the howling that was getting closer and closer to her. It wasn’t until a low and terrifying growl resonated through the hollow space, making her stop in her tracks, yanking her hand out of its position, doing her best to stand up and steady herself. 

But it was far too late, because by the time she finally started bolting towards the opening in the cold alleyway, her body was caught and thrown against the frigid brick, a pitiful yelp leaving her lips, unleashed tears forming in her eyes. 

“You smell fucking delicious,” a dark voice spoke, no doubt an alpha, and [ y / n ] wouldn’t dare look up and meet his eyes. 

“P-Please, I c-can’t-”

[ y / n ] didn’t even know why she was saying please, for there were so many reasons she could be saying it. 

Please don’t.

Please help the pain.

Please touch me.

Please don’t touch me.

Please.

But the young woman’s thoughts were cut short by a violent tug to her hair, forcing her gaze on the person in from of her. He had bright red hair, freckles apparent, even in the dull light of the closed off space. He wore a jet black hoodie, and that was all that [ y / n ] bothered to take in. 

“You’re a pretty one...” his words rattled through her mind, muffled by the sharp ringing in her heat from the sudden contact to the wall only moments earlier, “Glad I claimed you before anyone else could,” he paused to chuckle to himself, “Would hate to touch damaged goods.”

[ y / n ] whimpered and almost recoiled away, but she knew better. This alpha seemed ill-tempered, and she didn’t want to find out what would happen if she dared to disobey. 

He gave a rough tug to her hair, standing her up, and immediately started to kiss her neck in hopes of warming her up a little bit more, not that she needed it, but nonetheless, his lips continued their assault on the young woman’s neck, whimpers and whines escaping her lips. 

“Just one little thing, pretty girl, you’re unclaimed, I can smell it on you.” he spoke before leaving a long, sinful lick up her throat, “I’m going to bite this pretty little neck and make sure that nobody else is going to touch what’s mine.”

The girl’s body shivered violently. He was talking about a claim mark. If that happened, she could never escape him, it was a tracking device. Where ever she decided to go, he would know exactly where she was. 

“Please, don’t, I-”

But a violent growl made her blood run cold and her words pause half-way up her throat. But it wasn’t from her captor. His head was already snapped towards the source of the sound, which was at the opening of the alleyway, the minimal light caused by the streetlight exposing a clothed figure with its hands in its pockets. They weren’t tall but they weren’t short, but their stature was confident. 

Great. Another alpha.

“Drop her.” the voice spoke, straight to the point and commanding. 

“Fuck off, she’s mine, I got to her first.” the ginger male snapped, his eyes now a vibrant scorching gold, shining in the darkness. 

“Drop the fucking girl or I’ll rip you’re fucking head off.” this time it was a vicious growl, strong and unwavering that sent goosebumps down [ y / n ]’s spine. 

“That a challenge, pint-size?” the ginger taunted, referring to the other alpha who only stood at a good 5′8, while he stood at a large 6′1, slamming the girl onto the ground making her yelp out in pain.

Finally, the young alpha stepped into some form of light, making his face visible, and the ginger’s expression of defense faded into a face of fear and regret, the eyes that once glowed yellow dying down to it’s original color. 

“T-Tom, Jesus, man, excuse me, I didn’t-”

The alpha, apparently named Tom, harshly grabbed the ginger’s shirt, pulling him in and looking up at him with deadly eyes, “Leave.”

And just like that, he was gone, and hopefully never going to be seen again. 

Tom’s expression turned soft when he saw the poor writhing omega in a mound on the hard concrete of the ground, small whimpers of discomfort making his chest clench. 

“You live here?” he questioned, motioning to the building she was now leaned against. 

All she could to was let out a whine of confirmation, nodding her head slowly as she clamped her thighs together as tightly as possible. 

“Come on then, can’t have you out in the open, there’s already talk, let’s get you inside,” he said, kindness and understanding in his tone, holding out a hand to [ y / n ], who in turn took it almost immediately. 

It took her a second to walk, her knees weak, not to mention it was hard not to notice Tom’s muscles, and his face. God, he was truly attractive. 

She let her mind wonder as they began to walk, his arm firmly around her waist, trying to keep her steady. She wondered what it would look like when he came, filling her up to the brim, making her full, a thin blanket of sweat covering his body, his eyes glowing, hungry, and she let out a whimper at it. 

“You’re staring.” Tom smirked as they stepped into the elevator of the complex. 

“S-Sorry,” she muttered, trying to shake the embarrassingly dirty thoughts from her mind as she continued to try and focus on just getting to her apartment. 

The sooner she got there, the sooner she had her vibrator, the sooner she had release. She was convinced, at least, that that would solve her problems, at least temporarily. 

She led him to her apartment, still holding onto him for dear life as her core throbbed with need and want. When the door unlocked with a small click, she turned the doorknob, almost collapsing through the doorway. 

“Do you need any help?”

This could have meant many things. But of course, [ y / n ] was oblivious in her response. 

“N-No, I think I can manage to put myself to bed.”

Tom gave a small chuckle as he sat her down on the couch, sitting next to her as she slouched back, “No, I mean I can help with your problem... that is, if you want me to,”

[ y / n ]’s mind was clouded in a haze of neediness, so with no hesitation, she whimpered a small yes, before immediately unbuttoning her jeans and slipping them down a little bit to eagerly. 

She knew this was happening to quick, almost irrationally quick, but the need in her pounding cunt was much more important to her at the moment than her petty morals and reason. 

“Are you sure?” he looked at her with sincerity, watching as she shifted out of her pants and took his hand, placing it on her covered mound. 

“Please, just touch me, Tom,”

Hearing his name on her lips was almost enough to make him lose his control and say ‘fuck it’, but he figured that if her were to do this, he might as well try to do this right. 

“Don’t have to tell me twice, darling,” he muttered, easily finding her sensitive bud, even through the material of her panties.

She let out a soft and breathy moan, taking her hand of his own and moving it to his bicep, squeezing, as if it were anchoring her down to Earth, because she had never been touched like this, especially by someone else. 

As if Tom had read her mind, he looked up at her, drinking in her reactions before speaking, “Are you a virgin?”

She nodded her head, his pace never faltering. 

“I’ve been waiting- ugnh - for the right person... I trust you,” she managed to get out between moans.

“You barely know me,”

“But I want to. There’s - ah, fuck - something about you. I l-like you,” she admitted, the filter between her mouth and her brain nonexistent as she felt nothing but pleasure and a release from the uncomfortable pressure she was feeling only moments before. 

“Fuck,” to Tom, it was nice to hear that somebody needed him, trusted him, especially with something like this, so sacred and meaningful. She was giving him the gift that could only be given once, and he was happy to receive. 

After a few moments of him rubbing her in all the right ways, he hesitantly pulled his hand away from her, hating the noise of protest that she released. 

“Come on, princess, let’s take this to you're bedroom, yeah?”

[ y / n ] was compliant to his suggestion, standing up best she could without Tom’s help, but soon leaning on him as she directed him to her bedroom door. 

The door was busted open, and she was thrown onto the bed, and as soon as she hit the mattress, she stripped off everything else, leaving her completely nude, and her actions inspired Tom to do the same. 

He quickly got on top of her, grinding the length of his cock against her soaking wet folds, making him growl. 

“Fuck, darling, I’m not even inside you yet and you feel heavenly-” he hissed, the little omega nodding in response. 

“Alpha, please, I need you inside me, I want you to fill me,” she desperately pleaded. 

Tom let out a feral snarl at the use of the word ‘alpha’, surprised it had so much of an effect on him being used like this. It was so fucking hot. She had him wrapped so tightly around her pinky and didn’t even know it. 

“Anything for you, darling,” he muttered, lining himself up and ever so slowly easing himself inside his new mate, a pained whimper escaping her, his cock seemingly splitting her in half. 

Tom finally remembered that she was a virgin. And that made him even harder inside her. He waited for him, for her mate, while he was out fucking every omega that crossed him. But with her, she wasn’t just an omega. And he wanted to prove it to her. 

He took his time, almost cockwarming, staying still inside of her as her body naturally adjusted to his size, feeling so close to each other, it was enough for the two of them to almost fall in love right then and there. Tom finally took in how perfect she was to him. Someone he knew he wanted to keep around in the long run. Someone he knew he wanted to protect, even when she didn’t need protection. 

[ y / n ] scratched up his back, signaling that she was ready, and confident that he could move with little to no discomfort from her. 

The alpha started to move his hips, her tight cunt making his eyes roll back in his skull as he dropped his head into the crook of her neck, leaving soft and reassuring kisses to her neck as she made the most delectable noises, making him addicted, almost like his own brand of opioid. 

“So fucking tight, princess, you feel like fucking paradise,” he praised as he drank up the omega’s reactions as she experienced her first time with him. 

She’s like this for me and only me.

Her face was scrunched adorably in pleasure, her eyes shut tight as she felt the moment, his skin under her finger tips, the burning that was set in her core easing as she finally had pleasurable relief. Like getting a refreshing drink on a particularly hot day. 

Tom couldn’t help himself, and as if his body wasn’t his own, primal instinct took over as he began to make his strides harder and quicker, making the most pathetically cute noises release from her mouth. 

“You like that, darling?” he panted licking and sucking her neck, making one of her tiny hands weaving itself though his chestnut curls, “Why did I bother asking, of course you do. You love it when your alpha fucks you.”

All she could do was nod her head as she felt a coil inside her tighten. Tom felt his cock inflate as he continued to drive into her, pounding her into the mattress as he growled praises into her neck, her moans and whimpers never stopping. 

Soon the praise turned into a single word, falling out of his mouth like a prayer, even though what they were doing was the farthest thing from holy. 

Mine. Mine. Mine.

The omega could take it anymore, whimpering out, “P-Please, I... want you to b-bite me. Please, I need you to claim me,” she begged, which made his assault on her cunt falter slightly, slowing down to a calm and intimate pace. 

He knew what that meant. When an alpha bites an omega, she’s claimed. It means that nobody can touch her. Almost like an unbroken bond between two of their kind, and it meant a lot. 

And though they had just met only a half an hour prior, he knew that she was special, and he knew that this was who he was meant to be with, and his heart swelled at the thought of getting to know her inside and out. A true connection. 

“You want me to claim you, huh?” he paused his movements, [ y / n ] nodding frantically, wanting more than anything, “I’m not going to go easy on you. I want you to feel nothing but you inside me while I claim you, nothing but rapture as I claim you as mine.”

[ y / n ] nodded once again, to while Tom protested, “Words, darling,” 

“Yes, alpha, I understand, I- OH FUCK-,” she yelled out. And she thought he was going hard before, but that was nothing compared to the pleasure she was now presented with, his cock properly railing into her as he left a long and sinful lick up her neck before taking a bite, his eyes glowing a bright fluorescent gold as she let out one of the most pornographic moans she had ever heard. 

The copper taste in his mouth tasted like candy, and home, the sweet substance covering his lips as he finally pulled back, knowing that she was close. 

And close she was. She was so close to release she could almost taste it, and god did it taste good. Without warning, the coil inside her snapped, making her vision cloud, her thoughts unable to collect themselves as her vision clouded, and she swore she blacked out for a second. 

She was so overcome with pleasure, she didn’t notice that he had cum himself, the sensation of him pulling out and his cum spill out of her enough to get her riled up enough. But if what just happened didn’t vanquish the heat she was experiencing before, God only knew what would. 

Tom stepped back, taking in the sight of his new mate, completely fucked out and covered with marks, his cum dripping out of her like a faucet. He wished for this image to be branded into his mind so he could see it every time he closed his eyes. 

“Absolutely stunning.” he praised, his hands now running up and down her thighs. 

[ y / n ] was finally Tom’s, inside and out, and Tom couldn’t be more proud. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up, love, yeah?”

The morning was soft and filled with nothing but admiration to each other, the two staying in bed most of the morning until they finally went to the omega’s kitchen to make breakfast/lunch.

[ y / n ] was cooking the bacon and eggs when she suddenly felt arms wrap around her from behind, a chin resting on her shoulder. 

“How’re you holding up?” he questioned, and it make [ y / n ] blush at how considerate she was about her state, his fingertips dragging lightly over the violent-looking bite mark on her neck.

“I’m absolutely perfect,” she smiled, “Feels nice to belong to someone.”

“You know what? I was thinking the exact same thing.”

And for once, the two of them were truly excited for the future. 

[don-dake]

undefined

《西遊記》 [貳] (1998)

Clip from TVB’s “Journey to the West” [II] (1998).

If I had thought TVB went overboard with this sequel, well, they were definitely not proving me wrong with scenes like this! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Pray tell, TVB, why was the Spider Spirit (蜘蛛精) and the White Bone Spirit (白骨精) back in the plot, when they have either “returned to form” (打回原形) or been irrevocably killed in the first installment? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

If I didn’t know any better, I’d have assumed this was a standalone comic skit on JTTW — and it probably would have been better that way…

But, despite all I’ve said above, I have to admit, I did find this scene pretty funny, if only because I like Mariane Chan (actor who played 白骨精) a lot, and it was great to see her again even though her character really had no business being back! LOL.

Guess I should ignore plot continuity issues and just pretend this is indeed a standalone JTTW comic skit! LOL. Because taken on its own, I did LOL at a “split-personality” 白骨精！(^^)

新字：於是乎 (jyu1 si6 fu4)，洗心革面 (sai2 sam1 gaak3 min6)，睬 (coi2)

黑熊精：我哋返嚟啦！聖僧？

Black Bear Spirit: We’re back! Venerable Monk?

白骨精：啊！大聖爺！(猛聲) 我搵咗你好耐啦！哈哈哈哈哈！(猛聲終止) 真係唔好，對唔住！

White Bone Spirit: Ah! Great Sage! (Aggressive Voice) I’ve been looking for you for a long time! Hahahahaha! (End Aggressive Voice) Wait that’s no good, sorry!

孫悟空：你唔係又諗住替你老公報仇吧⁈

Syun1 Ng6 Hung1 (Sun Wukong): Don’t tell me you’re still thinking of avenging your husband⁈

白骨精：當然唔係啦！自從…(又猛聲) 我被你打敗咗之後 (猛聲終止)，我就已經洗心革面，我仲同呢班兄弟姊妹結拜咗，而家一齊行善積德，一齊分享！

White Bone Spirit: Of course not! Ever since…(Aggressive Voice Again) I got defeated by you, (End Aggressive Voice) I’ve turned over a new leaf, I’ve even become sworn siblings with these good folks, and now we do good together and share everything!

沙悟淨：噉你呢？

Saa1 Ng6 Zing6 (Sha Wujing): Then what about you?

黑熊精：話是有一日，係觀音都話我有慧根喎，於是乎準我落山竟將還我自由…我真係滿心歡喜，心受感動，於是乎我咪係行善積德囉！咁啱就撞到呢班志同覺嘅朋友，於是乎就係咪一齊，又自稱咗「六仙」，噉方便啲人稱呼我哋嘛！哈哈！

Black Bear Spirit: Well one day, Gun1 Jam1 (Guanyin) said I had become smarter, therefore, allowed me to leave the mountains and gave me back my freedom…my heart was filled with happiness and was really touched, therefore, I decided to start on my journey of doing good! Just coincidentally then, I bumped into these like-minded friends, therefore, we decided to stick together and also called ourselves the “Six Celestials”, it makes it easier for people to call us! Haha!

沙悟淨：噉你就還埋俗，成埋親，生埋蘇蝦啦？

Saa1 Ng6 Zing6 (Sha Wujing): Oh so you returned to a secular life, got married and had kids?

黑熊精：其實件事係噉樣嘅…隔離村阿二姑，三年無所出，佢相公話若遇佢再唔生返個出嚟，就會休咗佢噉話。(沙悟淨：我抱！) 真係聞者傷心！唔該！(蘇蝦畀咗沙悟淨)

Black Bear Spirit: Actually it’s like this…Second Aunt from the next village has been barren for three years and her husband threatened to divorce her if she could not produce. (Saa1 Ng6 Zing1: I’ll carry!) It was so sad just hearing about it! Oh thanks! (hands baby to Saa1 Ng6 Zing1)

沙悟淨：唔好喊啦 唔好喊啦！

Saa1 Ng6 Zing6 (Sha Wujing): Don’t cry! Don’t cry!

黑熊精：於是乎，佢隔離嗰個四嬸一生就生咗八個出嚟，噉我咪諗住喺佢屋企攞一個交畀阿二姑。一家便宜，兩家着囉！

Black Bear Spirit: Therefore, since that Fourth Aunt (also) from next-door has eight kids, I was thinking I’ll just take one of hers and give it to Second Aunt. Both parties will benefit!

豬八戒：嘩！咁冇陰功啊…

Zyu1 Baat3 Gaai3 (Zhu Bajie): Wah! Aren’t you horrible…

黑熊精：咩呀？…

Black Bear Spirit: What-why?…

豬八戒：喂！骨精！你攞住咁多銀兩，又偷返嚟㗎？

Zyu1 Baat3 Gaai3 (Zhu Bajie): Hey! Bone Spirit! What are you doing with so much silver ingots, did you steal that too?

白骨精：梗係唔係啦！我哋都不知幾叻呀！黃老爺呀，大把錢，十世都使唔完啦！我哋咪係幫佢散緊啲囉！

White Bone Spirit: Of course not! You don’t know just how clever we are! Old Man Wong has money aplenty, he wouldn’t be able to finish it all even in ten lifetimes! So we’re just helping him distribute his money a little!

黑熊精：係囉！

Black Bear Spirit: Yeah that’s it!

豬八戒：唉！睬你哋都傻啊！做到噉！

Zyu1 Baat3 Gaai3 (Zhu Bajie): Sigh! I’ll be silly if I even acknowledge what you guys have done! Unbelievable!

孫悟空：你哋噉做善事唔得㗎！

Syun1 Ng6 Hung1 (Sun Wukong): You guys can’t do good deeds this way!

黑熊精：唔係噉做，應該點做呀？

Black Bear Spirit: If not like this, then how should we do it?

孫悟空：你哋真係離譜呀！我都已經冇分寸嘅啦！你哋仲過份過我呀！

Syun1 Ng6 Hung1 (Sun Wukong): You guys are really ridiculous! I’m already considered as reckless! But you guys are even more reckless than me!

第叁拾柒集

[iguessilovebakugou]

Stranger ||  Bakugou x Reader ||  { Anon Request }  ||  Stalking

TW:  Cursing ||  Stalking || Threats of violence  ||  Implied desire for Non-Con (not from Bakugou tho) Word Count:  5.5K

It started after the Sport Festival.  

A DM that had been sent to your private social media account - a friend from your old school named Honoka. You hadn’t spoken to her since starting UA - and the moment you saw the notification, you felt guilty that this was how she had to reach out to you.  She had been so proud of you when you got accepted, she almost started crying, hugging you tightly and telling you as much.  She asked you to keep in contact in High School.  You had promised her you would.

You had been so busy, it was hard keeping promises.

Honoka: Hey!  I saw you on the TV - you were amazing!  I can’t believe they wouldn’t let you pass onto the finals.  Good thing though - you would have gone against that asshole.

Honoka:  Not that you couldn’t have handled it!

It should have tipped you off that one of the quieter kids of school would have used such language, but it didn’t.  It had been a few months since starting high school and people have changed faster.  You didn’t think much about it aside from replying before your train pulled into the station.  You might miss your stop and be late to school.  

You were always punctual and refused to have something as stupid as that go against your record.  

You waited until you were off the train, standing on the steps before sending a quick message. 

Thanks!  It was really terrifying.  But I lost fair and square.  Besides, I wasn’t the only one who didn’t make it to the finals.  So I guess it’s okay. :) 

You decided not to humor her comment about Bakugou.  While it drew a hot, angry tie around your neck, part of you understood.  Honoka wasn’t alone in thinking he was...less than pleasant.  It had been a point of contention, something that bothered you both that day and since.  People were just wrong about him.  She didn’t know him like Class 1-A did.  A few short clips from some televised sports festival didn’t do him nearly the justice he was deserved.

You didn’t have enough time to put your phone back in your jacket pocket when it buzzed again. 

Honoka: Still.

Honoka: You were so strong.  We all think they should have made an exception for you.

Honoka: We should meet up sometime.  Gtg! Text me after school to set up a time!

You wanted to question it but you didn’t.  

You really should have questioned it.  

King Explosion Murder was a perfectly good name.

Miss Midnight just doesn’t understand art.

The conversation had been going on for a hour.  It was the longest that you and Bakugou had texted.  You had moved from a group text to your own private thread.  He didn’t text you like normal boys did - no pictures, no emojis, no stupid memes he had found.  It was...conversation, one that hadn’t been as hard to keep going as you thought.  you tried to distract yourself with school work while he replied, but found it hard not to keep your attention on your screen as the text bubble flashed.  

Bakugou:  It was better than “Deku”.

Well Deku was less violent

Bakugou:  AND IT WAS STILL BETTER

Bakugou:  THAN FUCKING DEKU’S

Honoka: You still up?

You stopped.  Honoka?  Why on earth was she texting you...oh shit.  You groaned, rubbing your eyes and kicking yourself for forgetting to text her back like she had asked.  You had been so wrapped up texting Bakugou since getting home that it just completely slipped your mind.  Though, to be fair, most things slipped your mind around him.

You opened your chat with her, trying to figure out how to apologize without seeming like too much of an asshole.

Hey, yeah, sorry.

I started talking to one of my classmates and totally forgot.  

My bad, dood. 

Once again, she replied quickly. 

Honoka: Who were you talking to?

There was a small part of you that wanted to ask her why it was her business, but you bit your tongue.  She probably didn’t mean anything by it and some residual bitterness from her comment this morning was probably lingering.  You took a deep breath. 

Bakugou.  

We workshopped hero names today.  His got shot down by our teacher.  

It was so sad. 🤣🤣🤣

Honoka:  Why are you talking to him?

It wasn’t a question, not really.  It was a statement.  Like you talking to Bakugou was taboo, you could practically hear her grasping her pearls.  You shouldn’t have had to explain to her why you were talking anyone, let alone him, and it bothered you that she felt she was owed that right. That she even dare ask the question. Your brow furrowed as you sat up in bed.  

What do you mean?

Honoka:  Why are you talking to him?  He seems like an dick

Honoka:  And isn’t good for you. 

Honoka:  You need to focus on being the best hero you can be.

Honoka:  He seems like he would only drag you down. 

Rage filled your stomach.  Your hands were shaking as you tried to figure out what the fuck was going on.  She had never acted this way before...right?  She had always been so nice and meek and unassuming and... 

You were confused, finding yourself chewing on your lip as you tried to make sense of what the hell you were seeing.

He’s my friend.  I really like him.

Look, he’s not as mean as he appears on TV.  He’s actually a really good guy.  And he’s really smart and he’s going to be a better hero than even me some day.

So I would appreciate it if you didn’t talk about him like that.

The chat bubble popped up.  Then disappeared.  Then popped up.  And disappeared again.

It’s funny - you had never felt so threatened by someone not answering.  But as the bubble flashed for a final time, something told you that you had fucked up. 

Honoka was always quiet, yes, but she was also amazingly sweet.  She cried when you were little kids at the ending scene in All Dog’s Go to Heaven, always scrounged up change to donate to someone on the street looking for food, and volunteered every weekend to help with the younger students struggling in studies.  She hadn’t been born with a mean bone in her body.  

But by the end of the week, you were certain the person messaging you wasn’t the same Honoka you knew.  She had changed - and not for the better.  Not in the slightest.  She was growing more insistent that you talk to her - every night.  And if you didn’t?  

The calls were incessant.  One after the other until you finally had to shut your ringer off.  And the voicemails - she never spoke.  Just let it sit for a moment before hanging up.  And you were grateful for it - you didn’t want to talk to her.  Every chance she got, she showered you with praise and adoration while slinging hate at all your friends in 1-A.  But no one got it like Bakugou did.

Honoka:  Stop talking to him.

It’s not any of your damn business who I’m talking to.

Honoka:  If you don’t stop talking to him, I’ll tell him what a whore you were in Middle School.

The water of your bath was scalding, but that didn’t stop you from shaking.  Why was she doing this to you?  Why was she so adamant about making your life miserable?  This wasn’t Honoka - not even in the slightest.  

I’m blocking you.  Leave me alone.

Don’t talk to me anymore.

No matter what, he was pure evil to Honoka.  He was disgusting, arrogant, rude, a monster, a villain hiding in sheep's clothing and would do nothing but drag you down.  He would hurt you, she said.  

Honoka:  Go ahead.  I’ll just make other accounts.

She was as good as her word.  At least that hadn’t changed.

Your classmates were starting to take notice.  After the first few accounts were blocked, she started using a calling app to randomly call you - only to hang up the moment you answered.  Sometimes it was once a night, supplemented with texts about what a no good, lying whore you were.  About how you were just some slut who’s opening you legs for the first guy who gave you any attention. 

Honoka:  Fucking skank.

Honoka:  You’re so fucking worthless.  

Honoka:  You fucking him?  Is that it?  Is that why you want to defend him so bad?

Honoka:  He’s probably fucking every other girl in your class.

Other times, the calls were every hour on the hour.  It had gotten so bad, that you started sleeping in later and later.

You raced through the empty halls, trying to will time to back up.  You had slept in, missing your first train.  When you got on the second one, you fell back asleep until the stop after yours.  The only thing you could do was get off and just run to school as fast as you could.  Class had started 20 minutes ago.  This had never happened before - in your whole life.  You were always meticulous about getting to class early.

You were a good student.  A good person.  You were.  

“Well, look who decided to join us.”  Mr. Aizawa didn’t even bother to hide the annoyance in his voice.  It made it all the more terrible

You wanted to cry.  You felt the eyes of everyone in your class fall on you.  It made your skin squirm, your stomach flip.  You wanted to turn around and just...run home.  To crawl into your bed and... 

You bowed low, your head almost hitting the floor.  “I’m so sorry I’m late, sir!  It won’t happen again!”

“Be sure that it doesn’t.”  His glare hardened.  “We’ll talk after class about your punishment.”

Punishment.  Shit.  You couldn’t speak, resigning to solemnly nodding as you making the walk of shame to your seat, collapsing down.  You had to take a minute, to steady your breath.  To try and collect yourself.  At least at school, you had an excuse not to answer her texts.  To ignore her and pretend like she wasn’t out there being fucking crazy.  School was safe.  School was free from it all.

Almost by habit, you turned and looked over at Bakugou.  A small part of you was praying that he was looking at you.  That his glare would ground you in a way only it knew how.  But when your eyes met...the only thing you felt was misery.  

You fucking him?  Is that it?  

Your heart raced, panic flooded your nerves, and all you wanted to do was run.  Get away from everyone and just...just go to sleep.  You just wanted to sleep.  But Honoka wasn’t allowing that.  You couldn’t stop thinking about half of the things she said while the other half had been resting heavily in your stomach, making you sick.  She was stealing everything from you.

You’re a fucking slut opening her legs for the first guy who gives you attention.  And of course it had to be that fucking dog.

No...no you couldn’t look at him for too long, afraid that he would know.  Terrorized as you were, you couldn’t run the risk of him finding out.  Because...what if she messaged him first?  What if she told him all of her lies and...what if he believed her?

No.  No, that couldn’t happen.

You pulled away from his stare, folding in on yourself.  Just get out your books.  Focus on class and get out your books.  Your phone dinged and your blood ran cold.  You dreaded even looking at it, but as you tugged out your notebook,  the piece of plastic fell, resting against the back of your bag.  It was as if some higher power was damning you to be always aware of the vitriol Honoka was spewing in your direction.  The lock screen shone bright: 21 missed texts, 44 missed calls.  But the most recent message sent horror down your spine.

Honoka:  Naughty girl, sleeping in late for school.  

You slipped out of the lunch room and made your way down the hall.  You were going to put an end to this - once and for all.  You didn’t know what game Honoka was playing at, but whatever it was, you were fucking done.  She was starting to seep into every facet of your life and it was ending now.  Right then, in that hallway.  

When you got a safe distance away from the double doors, to ensure no one could hear you when you started screaming, you searched through your contacts for her number.  When you finally found it however...

God, just looking at her name made you sick.  The fact her contact picture was of you and her, eating ice cream at a beach, grinning and giving the camera a peace sign, posing as only 12 year old girls knew how, it drove a knife into your chest, twisting it even deeper the longer you stared at it.  She was making your life a living hell.  It wasn’t right, it didn’t make any fucking sense.  Why was she doing this to you?  Did you do something to her?  Were you cruel in your last interaction?  Did you make a joke that went so poorly that she decided the only way to get back at you was to ruin your entire life?  To push you so close to the edge that...

She going out of her way to make your life a living hell and for what?  

Well, no better time like the present to find out.

Your thumb slammed down on the dial button.  Each ring was like nails on chalk board.

Her voice was even worse.

She said your name so surprised, before crying it out in joy.  “Oh my god, it’s been so long!”

Well...that...wasn’t...true?

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Honoka went silent on the other end of the phone.  “Uh...are you okay?”

“You’ve been harassing me since the festival and you’re just going to act like-”

“Wait...what?”

“The thousands of texts!?  The millions of calls!?”

She didn’t answer.  You couldn’t help the grin that spread over your face.  You fucking got her.  You caught her in her bullshit lie and she didn’t have anything to say for it.  You hated to admit it, but part of you was excited to hear how she was going to explain it way.  How she was going to break down and finally you could tell her off and it was going to stop and you could get a good night’s sleep and maybe your mom could make your favorite curry and you would be able to eat it and not throw it up later and -

“I haven’t been texting you.”

Well...you couldn’t have said you were expecting that.  You stopped, staring at your feet.  “I...what?”

“I...haven’t been calling you.  Or texting you.”  She said, her voice - that ever familiar voice - filled with worry.

...of course she would be worried.  She was always so fucking nice. 

“Yes you have!!”  You shouted, gritting your teeth.

She said your name, so softly and so calmly, “No.  I haven’t.  I promise you, I haven’t.  Are you okay?  Is everything alright?”

The phone vibrated in your fingers and the screen lit up once more.  Another unknown number was calling you.  You didn’t hesitate and for the first time since this all began you answered the her-him-they-it. 

“What!?”  You screamed, pressing the phone to your ear.  You strained to hear, to try and find out who was doing this to you.  “What do you want!?  Why are you doing this to me!?  Leave me alone!!!”

...click!

The dial tone felt like a death sentence.

The hallway shrunk and expanded, growing larger and darker - like the mouth of the beast, it was going to swallow you whole.  You pressed your phone to your forehead, slumped to the floor and realized...you were crying.  No, not just crying.  You were sobbing, each one wracking your body and shaking your bones.  Shit...shit, shit, shit.  You just wanted to go back to the way things were.  You wanted it to stop, wanted whoever was doing this to leave you alone and - 

Your phone buzzed again.  Another message.  

Another sob rocked your body, but you found the strength to turn it back into view.

UNKNOWN NUMBER ::  [ MULTIMEDIA MESSAGE ]

Your fingers trembled so hard you almost dropped the phone.  You didn’t want to look at whatever it was.  Whoever was doing to you was fucking sick, was deranged and psychotic and out of their mind and...you had to do something about it.  Maybe you could tell a teacher?  But what could they do about it?  Up security?  Just for you?  No, it was entirely out of the question.  You couldn’t go to the police - since who ever this was hadn’t physically done anything to harm you.  

You were on your own.

You opened the message.

It was your house.  The sun was setting.  Then another.  This one was early in the morning.  Then another.  And another.  Another another another another another another another another another different angles, different times of day...but all focused on one spot. 

Your bedroom.  Sometimes it was empty, but other times you were in shot.  Sometimes working on homework, sometimes sitting with your cat on the window sill, other times pulling your shirt above your head, reaching behind your back for your bra and...

UNKOWN NUMBER :  Stop ignoring me.

Your phone clattered to the floor as you gripped your hair, trying to steady your breathing.  In two three fours, Out two three fours.  In two three fours, Out two three-

“Hey.”

The scream was involuntary, as was backing against the lockers so hard that you slammed your head against them.  Bakugou recoiled, staring at you, his eyes wide with surprise.  It didn’t last long, quickly overtaken by gritted teeth and snarls.  “The hell is your-”

He must have noticed the tears, the absolute panic on your face.  The silence fell over the two of you, the echo of your scream now long gone.  You wished you were.  You couldn’t look at him, couldn’t face the shame of what was happening.  How could you explain it. 

“You alright?”  

You pulled your legs up to you chest, hugging them tightly.  “No,” You replied.

Bakugou was never one for consolations.  So you were almost surprised when all he made his way over to where you were sitting and sat down beside you.  You flinched, only a little, but it didn’t seem to bother him none.  He shoved his hands in his pockets, but didn’t say a word, his bright red eyes focused out the window across from you.  You...were grateful.  For the first time in almost two weeks, you didn’t feel entirely vulnerable.  Like everything was crumbling down around you.  And in this small moment of peace, you felt horribly exhausted.  Your mind ached, your body was sore, your eyes were so red and...and...

You rested against his shoulder and he didn’t make a move to stop you.  It was like Bakugou was putting himself between you and...whoever was stalking you.  

Stalking you.  You had a stalker.  

You sniffled, wiping the tears from your eyes.  “I’m sorry.”  You offered.

“For what?”  He barked.

“For crying.”

He didn’t answer for a moment, “Tch.  Yeah, well...maybe suck it the hell up.  Whatever it is, it’s not a big deal.”

Not a big...you turned to look at him, eyes narrowing.  “Not a big deal...?”  

He looked at you, a bored and disgruntled expression on his face.  “Yeah.”

“It’s kind of a big fucking deal.”

“Oh yeah?  Well then what the hell is it?”

“Whoa, it’s that kid who just won the Sports Festival!”

“Oh, wow!  He’s so much scarier in person!”

“Do you think he would be mad if I asked for an autograph?”

“Yeah! Look at his mug - he’s obviously pissed off about something!”

Bakugou had stayed late, even through your detention, to walk you home.  It was nearly dark now as you walked side by side down your street.  The sun was struggling to peak over the row of houses and a purple ink had settled over the top of the sky.  

It was taking everything in you not to apologize...again.  He didn’t need to be dragged into your mess.  But...shit, it wasn’t like you weren’t ecstatic that he offered to walk you home back in the hallway.  He was a terrifying presence, unstoppable.  As he stalked down the road towards your house, a scowl on his face as his eyes peered around every corner, it hit you that you felt safer now than you had the past few weeks.  

“Hey.”  You picked up the pace, making sure to stay close.  “Thank you again.  I just-”

“Ugh, stop thanking me!”  He glared at you.

“I’m just-”  You sighed and gripped your bag straps.  “I...I don’t see the point of you walking me home.  Not...that I don’t appreciate it, I just...won’t that make him mad?”

Bakugou scoffed.  “That’s the point, you idiot.”

Sometimes, you thought you almost understood him.  But then he blew up Rome and screamed at you to start over tomorrow morning.  You stared at him in confusion though ultimately decided you didn’t have the energy to argue.  You were just...thankful that he was here.

“This is me.”  Your house was a small thing, nestled on the corner and surrounded by a garden that was meticulously maintained by your mom while you were at school and your father was at work.  Sometimes the pictures had her in the shot, busy at work.  Your lips thinned as you stared up at the second story window,  Your white curtains lay still and your cat stared down at you, like she knew something was wrong.  Like she knew...that things were amiss. 

Well...Bakugou came all this way and the guy didn’t have the guts to show himself.  As you had figured, you had completely wasted his time.  It wasn’t like he was going to move in just to be your watchful protector.  You didn’t want to think that maybe he was just patiently waiting until you were alone but...

“Do you want to come in for something to drink.  It’s the least I could...”  

Bakugou wasn’t looking at you.  His attention was focused entirely over your shoulder.  You blinked, taken aback by the cold, dead glare on his face.  The way his eyes seemed to burn with...rage?  Unbridled anger?  Nothing seemed to do whatever it was justice.  “You’ve been following us since the train station!”  He yelled out.  “Why don’t you stop being a fucking coward and come out of hiding!!”

…someone...had been following you?

You could see the reflection of someone in his eyes.  With a shaking breath, you turned to look at who he was talking to.

You weren’t sure what you expected.  But throughout the day, you had come up with an image in your mind of what your stalker had looked like.  He would be the perfect embodiment of the horror you had suffered though, that was for certain.  A Cheshire grin, wild unkempt hair, vacant, glossy eyes, maybe a knife or something - anything to solidify himself as the monster who had been making your life miserable.  But...he wasn’t.  As you got a good look at him, you realized that he looked relatively...normal.  And for some reason, that thought alone made you sick.  

He was about your age - maybe a bit older - in a school uniform you didn’t recognize.  His hair was dark, pulled back and pushed behind his ears.  His chin was dusted with facial hair and his eyes were darting between you and Bakugou.  He had been standing by the cross walk and tried to pretend to be shocked that Bakugou was even addressing him. 

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t pull that bull with me.”  Bakugou stepped around you, making his way towards him. “I saw you get off the train with us.  You made every turn we did.  Always stayed one step behind where you thought we couldn’t see you.”

The kid only got a word out before Bakugou gripped him by his shirt and slammed him up against the wall of the neighboring house.  “Please!” The kid yelled.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Bakugou!”  Your legs finally remembered they could move.  You bolted over to where he was standing, looking between the two of them.  “Bakugou maybe it isn’t him!  Maybe he-”

“Show us your phone then if you don’t have anything to hide!”  He lifted him up and slammed him back against the bricks.

“I don’t have to show you anything, you fucking lunatic!”

You don’t think you had ever seen him on this street.  You don’t think you had seen him ever but-

“HEY!”  The boy tried to stop Bakugou from reaching into his pocket.  But it was no use.

You caught it was ease, “Try the day of the sports festival for the password.”  Was all he said.

This was fucking insane.  What if this kid wasn’t the stalker?  What if he was just some random guy who was meeting a friend.  You looked back and forth between the two of them - Bakugou, hair wild and death in his eyes, and this guy who looked down at him with fear and...

...oh...

You swiped up, entering the date as instructed.

It unlocked.

And you were met with a pretty lain layout.  Some photo editing apps, Youtube, a few games, and...

Texting and Calling apps.  Your blood ran cold as you opened the first one up.  Texts apon texts, all to the same unlisted number.  Your unlisted number.  You went to the photo gallery and there they were.  The pictures of your house.  Some of them were zoomed in and cropped to only show you.  You wanted to be sick.  You wanted to-

“I can explain!”  

“What the fuck,” You breathed, scrolling through the pictures.  Not just of your house, but of you - walking home from school, of hanging out with your friends, of you shopping.  And that’s when you saw the edited versions.

Fuck.  Oh Shit Fuck. 

“I was only trying to help you!!”  He cried, scratching at Bakugou’s wrist, making his skin bleed.  “I only want what’s best for us!”

“I think I’m going to be sick.”  You covered your mouth, trying to think of what to do next.  Should you call the police?  Your parents!?  What do you do now?

His eyes fell on Bakugou, practically snarling.  “I knew he would do something like this!!  I knew he would try to make me look like some psycho, but I’m not.  I know how he would treat you!  He’s a rabid fucking dog, a mongrel!  I couldn’t let him treat you the same way!  I couldn’t!  I’m just trying to protect you!  But you wouldn’t fucking listen!!  So I thought if maybe you and I could talk you would understand!  You would see what I’m-”

“ARGH!”

Your body tensed as the smell of burnt stone and ash filled the air.  You looked up and half expected his head to be blown clean off.  But it was still attached, only now he looked terrified as he stared down at Bakugou.  You followed his gaze, saw the look of pure, unadulterated rage.  His hand had connected to the wall beside the man’s head, smoke dancing up and around them.  And he was shaking.  Oh, god, how hard Bakugou was shaking.

He spoke low, deep in his chest.  “Listen close, you freak.  You’re going to leave her alone from this point forward - you got that?  If I find out you’re even thinking about her, I’ll kill you myself!!”

The world fell silent.  No one said a word until.  Your stalker was crying now, shaking as he nodded, quickly, mumbling apology after apology.  You couldn’t find the words to say, but your heart.  God, your heart was beating so hard in your chest as you stared at Bakugou.  He...he was...

Oh.

The window in the house behind you slid open.  An older man leaned out the window, his wife nervously peering over his shoulder.  The looked to the source of the commotion before standing up straight, fumbling as the smoke continued to rise from the spot Bakugou...well...destroyed.  “Hey!!  If you don’t get off my property, I’m calling the cops!”

...the police.  

...

The police.

Oh god, you had his phone.  You could prove he had been stalking you!!!  You perked up, smiling for the first time in weeks, “Yes!  Yes, please, call the police!”

The man stared at you, confusion on his face. “....what?”

The weight of the situation only grew heavier when the police searched the contents of the guy’s backpack. 

Rope.  A knife.  Some cloth.  A box of condoms.  And a jar of a clear, sickly sweet smelling liquid.  You heard one of the officers say what it was, though you were sure you weren’t supposed to hear.  But you did, and so did your parents.  Your mom nearly broke down for the third time that evening as your father swore under his breath.  

Homemade chloroform.

His name was Eito Moto - a second year at another High School near your home.  You would find out later that the stalking had started long before the Sports Festival - ever since he started working at the coffee shop you and your mom would go to every Sunday for breakfast.  Your neighbors, the ones who actually called the police, had seen him hanging around sometimes but didn’t think much off it.  

They thought he had just been a fan.  

They decided not to press charges against Bakugou for putting a hole in their fence.  “Given the circumstances,”  The man said, “I think I would have done the same thing.”

You had to go to the police station to file a report and request a restraining order.  It took well into the morning hours, where you mainly spent your time talking to different police officers, retelling the same story, going over evidence, assuring them you didn’t know this guy so you had no clue why he thought you two had been dating for months.  

They sent Bakugou home, your parents offering him their thanks and promises they would find a better, proper way to think him for essentially saving your life.  

By the time you fell into a crumpled heap on your bed, it was 2 in the morning.  It had been so long since you felt...okay.  Your stalker was in police custody for now, you could at least rest easy tonight.  You gripped your pillows, tugging them up and over your head to block out what meager light filtered in through the hallway.  No more late night calls.  No more insistent texts telling you what a no good whore you were.  You were okay.  

Everything was going to be okay. 

Bzzzz.

...oh no.  Oh no.  Oh no.

You peeked out from under your pillow, trying to calm your racing heart.  It couldn’t be him, you thought.  He was in jail, so they wouldn’t let him call you - right?  They wouldn’t let him do that, even if they did give him one call.  With shaking fingers, you reached out and plucked your phone from your end table.

Bakugou is calling!

Oh....oh thank god.

You couldn’t press accept fast enough.  You sighed, resting back against your pillows.  “Hey.”

“Is that bastard in jail?”

A laugh, a good honest laugh.  “Yeah.  Yeah, he’s in jail.  Dad and mom are gonna to talk to a lawyer tomorrow about our options.”

“Did you get a restraining order?”

You nodded.  “Yeah.  That’s what took so long and why we have to go to court.  They gave me an emergency one so...”  You blew out a puff of air, watching as a lock of your hair jumped up and fell back into place.  “At least there’s that.”

“You should have talked to me about this sooner.”  It was softer than you anticipated, less of a bite than he normally had.

You knew you should have.  You should have told someone but...it felt so...pointless?  Like it wouldn’t have mattered.  But, you had to give credit where credit was due.  “I wish I would have.”

He didn’t respond.  You had expected he would have started yelling at you, about hiding it from everyone.  Chastised you for being so stupid and letting it go on for as long as it had.  But no, he stayed quiet.  You could imagine him laying in bed, staring up at his ceiling, and wondered what he was thinking about.  What he wanted to say.  

You rolled over onto your side.  “Hey, Bakugou?”

“What.”

“Thank you.”

There was a long pause before he let out a soft noise.

“Don’t be stupid.  I was only doing what I had to do.”

Stalkers are fucking scary, yah know.  I had to listen to some voicemails left by stalkers to get the vibe down right - and I still don’t think Eito sounded perfect but hey.  At least one blessing in that:  I’ve never been stalked.  

[palbabor-writes]

Shigaraki finally seeing the new recruit without her mask, finding out she’s super hot, and then Shig just basically stares at her all the time, trying to make any and every excuse for her to take off her mask. Can be NSFW, I absolutely would not mind it. Just want Shiggy to find me so attractive he’d nearly kill me to see my face again :p

hey, hi! idk if this is exactly what you had in mind but i did my best ~(˘▽˘)~ warnings: death threats, vaginal fingering

“I don’t know why you bother with the make-up. Right after you finish, you just tack that mask of yours on, covering up all of that extra ornamentation you insist on wearing. Such a waste of time,” Giran scoffs, annoyed that you’ve delayed his meeting with Tomura Shigaraki, again.

“Would it shock you if I said: I don’t give a fuck what you think?” you grin, shouldering open the bar door and dramatically ushering for the broker to enter before you.

“Hmph,” Giran snorts, rolling his eyes. He takes a long drag of his cigarette, careful to blow the smoke toward your masked face. “You’re a piece of work, you know that?”

“Whaaat? Me? Oh my God, I’ve never, ever heard that before. And for you to say something so cutting? I’m hurt,” you mock.

“Who’s a piece of work?” Toga calls out as you close the door behind you, knocking the last of the noxious wisps of smoke away.

“Me,” you announce loudly, pacing toward one of the bar stools and seating yourself on the red leather. 

“Awe, why’s that?” Twice begins sincerely before stumbling into a quick, “Well, it’s fucking true.” 

“He doesn’t like that I took a little bit of extra time to put on make-up. Shigaraki isn’t even down here yet, so I don’t see what the big deal is,” you snark, turning your head toward Giran. He has the grace to give you a disgruntled lifting of his shoulders. 

“Well,” Spinner chimes in, “it does seem a little pointless. You are wearing a mask and not just some half mask, that thing covers your whole face.” 

“Pointless! Why, no my dear, that’s not pointless, not at all!” Compress defends, his gloved finger tutting Spinner’s hunched figure. “You never know what the next performance will call for! One must always be prepared.”

“Oooh, do you do, like, eyeliner? I looove the winged points.” Toga declares, striding over and leaning close, her big yellow eyes blinking up at you.

“Yeah. I can do winged eyeliner,” you confirm, a grin spreading across your lips. Not that any of them can see it, but they’ll likely hear it’s lift in your voice. 

“Ahhh! Teach me, teach me!” Toga claps her hands and perches on the seat next to you. “Oh wait! Before that, can I see it? Just so I can tell how good you are.”

“See? Ah, my face. Um, yeah, I guess...” you begin, fingers reaching behind your jaw, tugging the reinforced porcelain away. Toga’s eyes widen and she cups her face between her hands and hushed gasp sneaking out of her lips. 

“You’re so pretty!” she beams. You’re just about to answer her when she tilts her head past you, looking at someone over your shoulder. “Whaddaya’ think Tomura? I like her even better without the mask! You think she’s pretty too, right?”

Without thinking, you twist to look at the league’s defacto leader. He’s stepping out of that long hallway, his face obscured by the pale fingers of Father. However, he does pause, cocking his head at you. From what you can see of his expression, he does look a bit, uh, staggered. One red eye is gleaming out at you, the whites almost comically wide and he lifts a hand to his neck, fingers automatically scritching at the skin they land on. His head rises, chin jutting forward and he takes a step forward, toward you.  

Odd, you think, instinctively biting on your lower lip. It’s not like him to stare. Well, at least not that intently. Usually, he ignores your presence, treating you more like the background furniture than a living, breathing, person. Toga’s question hangs on the air and the others start to notice the shift too, their gazes passing between the two of you. You’re about to croak out some kinda response, when Shigaraki does the honors for you.  

“We have a meeting,” he rasps and something in his tone breaks the spell. His head finally turns from you and you lower your gaze, sliding your mask back over your features. 

“Awe,” Toga bemoans, hopping down from the bar stool. “Don’t think you’re getting out of helping me with my make-up!” She scolds, tossing you a swift wink before following the others as they gather around a low table. 

They don’t need you for this part so you shift off of your seat and press open the front door, grateful for the cool autumn air that hits you. You lean up against the brick siding and take a moment to steady your thumping heartbeat. That was a, um, strange interaction. 

You’d never put much thought into Shigaraki. He was quiet and there wasn’t much cause for the two of you to interact. Well, besides passing his requests on to Giran, or confirming shipment dates. Honestly, it was nigh impossible to get a read on him most days. Namely because, like you, he always had something obscuring his face.

Despite that, he did have a pleasing build, with broad shoulders, cabled neck muscles and you’d always quietly admired the snaking length of his long legs. The fact that he had white hair and startling red eyes were two other bonuses. You’ve always had a thing for guys that sported a long mop of pearlescent waves and Shigaraki was a pristine specimen in that regard.

Even so, it’s not like you knew much about the guy and you doubted that was going to change any time soon. No, he’d likely only been taken aback by your startled expression. You couldn’t help it. Once Toga had uttered his name you’d wanted to see him, so, so curious to see if he’d comment on your appearance. Would he like you? Notice you? Say something maybe? But, he hadn’t.

So, yeah. That was that. Right?   

******

A week passes before you slide into the bar again. This time of year is always busy, but you’ve carved out some time to double check on the league’s shipment requests. 

The main room of the bar is quiet, but you can see Shigaraki’s dark back, hunched over the bar top. His head tilts toward you when he hears the door close and that bright eye of his is doing that fervid glint again. His look travels from your neck to your covered face and you can swear his eye narrows when it lands on the smooth surface of your mask. 

“What?” he asks, his tone low. 

“Uh, I was coming to check on the shipments. See if there was anything extra that you guys needed.” 

“Ask Kurogiri,” he clips, that lone eye of his continuing to transverse the planes of your covered face.

“Alright. I’ll go and look for him– ”

“Why do you wear that?” Shigaraki suddenly asks. It’s a simple question, but it makes your heart start that ragged tattoo again. What is wrong with you? You’d think he’d asked for you to strip naked and lay atop the bar, what with the way your heartbeats are palpitating. What’s the big deal?  

“Wh-what?” you blankly hear yourself stammering out. You know what he’s asking. You’re not stupid. Apparently, your brain has another plan in mind and that involves, um, playing dumb? 

“Your mask,” Shigaraki supplies, his voice falling into a hushed rasp. “Why do you wear it?”

“Well, why do you wear a hand on your face?” Shit. Fuck. What? Why did you say that?

The bar stool scrapes back and you can’t help but wince at the sound, your body flinching. He’s slow as he steps forward, his fingers carefully threaded into his pockets. Once he’s a few feet from you, you let out a slow breath, praying he can’t hear the ragged thuds of your pulse.

“Take it off. The mask, that is,” Shigaraki demands and you can hear that grin, that wicked, wicked smirk that you can only imagine is parting his lips. Lips that you’ve never seen. Lips that are so close. If only he’d...oh, that’s an idea... 

“No,” you reply. Your voice is even and strong, thank God, but it doesn’t grant you an immediate reprieve. No, your defiance only makes him shift closer, his chest nearly bumping against yours.  

He’s not much taller than you. It’s likely only an inch or two difference, but it suddenly feels like he’s miles above you. Instinctively, you arch your neck, closing that tiny distance to peer up at him. He’s watching you intently and you can hear the steady, in and out, pulls of his breath. Shigaraki lets another few beats pass before he answers your challenge, leaning forward, demanding your full attention with his overwhelming proximity.

“I can just decay it off, you know. It would be easy. But, if I do that, well, you’d need to be quick. You’d have to get it off of you in seconds, because once it starts, it’s hard to predict and I’d hate for my quirk to take the rest of you with it.”

“You’d risk killing me, just to see my face again?”

“Tch. Sure. If you wanna look at it that way. It was a pretty face, (Y/N). So here’s my advice: don’t be fucking obstinate and do as I say.” 

“What if...what if I make a deal with you?”

Shigaraki barks out a laugh and the sharp angles of his lips spread past the palm of Father. “A deal? I’ll say it again, since I guess you didn’t hear me the first time, I can decay it off. I don’t need to bargain with you.” 

“Sure,” you qualify, the heavy pants of your exhales hitting the front of your mask, bathing you in wild, damp, warmth. “But I don’t like the idea of being the only one who is exposed. Why don’t you let me see you, too?”

“Me?” Shigaraki asks, his head ducking slightly, voice clipping over the word. “Why?”

“Please?” Your hands lift of their own accord, ghosting over the lines of his forearms. You can hear his breath hitch and you rejoice at the tiny sound. He’s right. He could simply raise a hand and disintegrate your mask, and possibly you, to bits, to fucking pieces, but you wanna know. You wanna see him. Besides, you’re starting to like this standoff. There’s something coiling under it and you can almost taste the line of tension that’s tightening between the two of you.  

“Only for a second,” you promise, imbuing your tone with airy light. “Come on, what are you scared of? Like you said, it wouldn’t take much for you to kill me. Might be easier even, if I’m, mmm, distracted.”

“You first,” he commands, one of his hands rising from his dark pocket, hovering beside the golden base of Father. 

“Ugh. You’re not gonna go back on your part, are you?” you tease, fingers already cupping at your jaw, peeling the heated porcelain away from your skin. 

“I might,” Shigaraki taunts, “you’ll need to take that mask off to find out, won’t you? Oh, and you can go slow. Since you seem to be partial to the theatrics of it all, why don’t you put on a nice show for me?” 

Woah.

A gasp falls from your lips before you can contain it and Shigaraki presses his advantage, his white hair falling toward you as he looms impossibly closer, that red eye glowing in the darkness of the bar. Ok, ok, you think, gulping down your nerves and that rising crest of fucking arousal that’s pricking between your legs.

Your mask is leaden in your hands, but you do your best to steady your shaking fingers. You can feel the familiar weight slipping from your chin, your cheeks, your nose, but it feels different, too. Charged and heavy. A light rush of gooseflesh bumps its way up your arms and you tremble when the mask finally slides past one half of your face. 

Without warning, Shigaraki’s hand whips forward, snatching onto your wrist. That one, all important, finger is arched away but he stills your movements with a squeeze, his eye whisking over you. He lets his gaze linger indulgently against your lips, tracing the dip and pout of your mouth. Then, he lifts his intensity to your own stare, that broad smile rising along his lips. A pleased rumble echoes from his chest and you almost reply with a moan. 

Fuck. This is...

It’s like standing too close to an open flame and your whole body feels like it’s reacting to the sting, the burn that is rising within you. “Do...do you want me to keep going?”

His reply is a silent one. Silent, but firm. That hand that’s wrapped around your wrist, that’s blazing the heat of him into you, pulls. It takes your arm and the rest of your mask with it, leaving you bare and vulnerable, completely at the mercy of that hungry eye. 

You can’t fucking breathe and you’re biting your lip so hard that you’re worried the skin is about to split open. Shigaraki is quiet but his head tilts, cascading white hair against his dark shoulder. This is ridiculous, you think, unable to snatch yourself away from him. It’s not even both eyes. He’s only looking at you with one eye. Shit, what will two eyes do? Is he going to keep his side of this? Do you even really want him to? What if...it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter what it means, or what it does, you want to see him, all of him. 

After all, fair is fair.  

His fingers are still curled around your wrist and you feel each indentation of his finger pads, hot against your chilled flesh. “S-so,” you begin, your words snagging in your throat, “are you gonna hold up your end?”

You can hear his snort of amusement but he does release your hand. Once his elegant digits pass the pasty gloom of the embalmed hand on his face, you can feel your heartbeat slowing, your eyes following his motions, watching, waiting. He’s not as slow as you were, but he gives you a moment to savor, teasingly lifting the obscuring palm up and away. 

Oh. 

Your mask clatters to the floor, skittering across the wood, shattering the weighty silence. Without thinking, your hand comes up to his cheek, letting your brave thumb run across that tiny mole on his chin. He’s not handsome. No, he’s not what anyone would deem perfect, not with those cracks and scars, but fuck, he’s beautiful. It’s a shattered magnificence and you’re so glad you asked him for it.

“Didn’t say you could touch,” Shigaraki growls, his voice rasping toward that lower register. 

“It’s ok,” you reassure him, your other hand lifting to feel out the smooth and rough patches of his skin. “You can touch me, too.” 

He groans at that, those red eyes finally slipping closed. He’s uneasy at this part, his hands too broad and too jittery to really appreciate the curve of your face, but dips his head closer, his forehead pressing against yours. 

When you dance your fingers over his lips, he moves in the same moment. He’s arms cage around you and he yanks you to him, sucking, biting, kissing you until you can’t think, let alone breathe. 

The bump of the couch is a surprise and you topple backwards, splayed across the tattered cushions. You hadn’t even realized you’d taken those steps, that he’d pushed you that way. It doesn’t matter, because he’s on top of you, seconds later, his fingers everywhere, touching every part of you that he can reach.

“How are you so warm?” he asks, sliding his palms under your shirt, cupping at the roundness of your breasts. His voice is soft, awed, and you grin up at him, urging his lips back to yours. 

“What’s the matter?” you tease, worrying his chapped lip between your teeth. “What happened to all those death threats?”

Shigaraki smirks, pulling away from your mischievous bites, that long scar across his lip rising. One of his hands wanders downward, feeling for the edge of your pants, while the other encloses around your neck, clamping until you’re arching under him, eyes shut and lips parted. 

“You like that I can kill you?” he leers, finally snapping the button of your jeans open, permitting his inquisitive touch to dip into something even warmer than the skin of your breasts. He breaches the fluttering petals of your cunt and glides into your heat, hissing at the slick that pools around him. 

The hand at your throat squeezes again, demanding your answer. “Y-yes,” you gasp, hips canting up at the steady rhythm he’s building inside you. 

“Hmm,” he ponders, releasing your neck and lifting that hand in front of your face. “Then you better hope I can control myself. We’ll start with something simple. These clothes of yours should be easy enough to decay...” His thumb swipes across your budding clit and you writhe, squirming and panting. “Ah-ah,” he warns a cruel grin spreading along his lips. “Keep still. I’d hate for my hand to slip.” 

Carefully, he lowers his free hand, trailing it toward your shirt. Once four fingers are curled under the hem, he reapplies his other thumb, circling until you’re white knuckling the cushions. “Don’t forget,” he reminds you, adding the tiniest pressure to his oscillations, “one wrong move and you’re nothing but bone and gristle. Tch, it would be such poor timing too, what when we’re just starting to have so much fun together” 

Then, he lowers that deadly finger. 

notes: again, not sure if it’s exactly what you had in mind, but I had fun with it!                  

[ka-writes]

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Notes: READ WARNINGS!!

Please I really want you to be safe.. anyways, this is mainly a set up for the next chapter.. it has a shit ton of angst prepare yourself.

Also am very sorry it is late!! ‘‘Twas very hard for me to start writing it, btw I started another AU please go check it out, thank you <3

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Warning: Torture I go into detail, gore, cussing manipulation, characters lose sense of reality.

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In case you missed:

Chapter 1:

Chapter 6:

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Inspired by:

Humans are Space Velociraptors

By:FreshRoses_InMyGarden_NeedTheRain

Some kids come from storks, others come from crashed spaceships

By: mmmajora

Home Again, Home Again

By: teeth_eater

All works can be found on Ao3

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Ao3 link for this work:

And my other AU:

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Change 7: This is a dream… right?

——————

He was back where he started this whole thing.

In a cage.

One cage over from the door and now in the middle of the room. It felt empty and bare, yet full of an uncomfortable sense of dread and fear, though he would never admit that aloud.

This time there was only one other cage in sight. The room had changed as well. It was no longer covered in grime, or smelled of blood. Instead it was a sickly white and smelled of rubbing alcohol. Which caused his nose to burn with the overwhelming scent of the cleaning supplies, making the entirety of the room feel more and more like one of those horror stories in hospitals, the only difference being that this one was real.

The thing that replaced the other cages and humans was an operating table with vials and tools that Tommy couldn’t identify.

There were no lights currently, except for the same small door window, which was the only thing that really stayed the same.

It was cold, it felt empty. There was no description fit for the amount of dread Tommy felt. It was built up after laying in the dark for so long. It burned his gut and made his head swirl with thoughts of what would happen next.

He wouldn’t ever admit he was scared, but the situation kinda explained itself.

Without warning the door swung open. No squeaks like last time, just a smooth motion allowing the room to be basked in yellow light from the hall.

Then the lights turned on, immediately causing Tommy to shut his eyes. His head started throbbing and every fiber in his body screamed at him to run. The lights turned into blurry blinding blobs that lit everything in a white fire, making it apparent that the room was indeed scrubbed of any stains or blood. Once his eyes finally adjusted, his migraine caught up to him, making the entire thing unbearable.

“Hello there!” An alien stepped in the room. Their features were outlined in white and their skin wasn’t even recognized, simply because it looked like a shadow. They had claw-like hands and wore glasses over their white to red eyes. They had a black doctor’s coat and wore black pants with white knee high boots. They had a devilish tail along with devil horns and a floating white halo. Their fangs poked out from a blinding white mouth, which was curved into a practiced smile.

“My name is BadBoyHalo, but you will refer to me as Dr. Halo.” They finished with a sickly sweet tone and a side smile, “My pronouns are he/him, and I will be taking care of what happens while you’re here.. not that you will ever leave of course.”

His mind was racing. Everything told him this was real, but he couldn’t help but pray that it was all a sick dream.

“Now we will start off easy and move onto the harder stuff later! Please refrain from trying to run, we have a shock function attached to your translators.” This caught him off guard. Why was he using plural tenses?

He looked towards the other cage, that’s when he noticed the strange bee alien also wearing a petrified expression. His eyes didn’t wander to the other cage, only watching Dr. Halo.

“Now who do we start with?” The doctor asked, even though he clearly already knew. A twisted smile shone on his face letting the light catch the awfully amused glint in his eyes, “Let’s start with the droneling!”

——————

There was no explanation for where the two went.

They simply vanished. No traces to follow or reasons to run.

The only logical explanation was Dream catching them. Which meant Techno would have to ask around for where the ship was harboring. The only problem being, he was awful at talking to people.

“So what do you wanna know?” A tall Wollylock person asked, she was the only known person to know anything about Dream, being his mother and all.

“Er- information on the Dream Team Ship.” Techno stated rather awkwardly.

“Why?” The captain asked, impatience clearly visible with her expression.

“They took two starlings from my crew.” At that the captain practically fumed with furry.

“I will help. After all, that boy needs to learn some manners.” The captain stated, her determination was infectious. “What is your craft’s name?”

“The SBI Craft, piloted by captain Philza.” He said robotically.

“Course it has to be Phil. That man has what, four kids he claimed to his crew..”

“Technically, I am not a kid, neither is Wil- Er our scientist, so really he’s only harboring three kids, now one since two were taken..” Techno decided that was the best explanation he could come up with, though there was really no point.

The captain chuckled and brushed off the other’s attempts at defending the crew. “Just send me the ship’s cords and your captain’s contact and I will be in touch.” With that the captain slid a communicator over the table and walked out of the sketchy bar.

Techno made his way back to the ship and delivered his captain the news. He tried to ignore the gut feeling that everything was wrong…

——————

(The next section has graphics depictions of torture and gore, please skip this section if it could or will trigger you in any way, there is a summary at the end. Thank you <3)

The world moved unbearably slow. The cage opened ever so smoothly, making him want to throw up. It was the sign that everything was going to go to hell.

That’s what this has to be right? A hellish nightmare that wasn’t real..

No that wasn’t right..

Did it matter?

A hand yanked his wrist out of the cage and into the blinding white room, that felt like fire surrounding him as he stepped to the operating table.

Needles and scalpels were set neatly on a silver tray. The restraints were heavy and felt like they burned his wrists and ankles. He was pushed onto the table as the ‘doctor’ slapped on gloves. More restraints were clipped over his waist and thighs.

Then something pinched his leg. He felt the blood rushing it’s way down to the cut, as a scalpel carved out a rectangle. He could hear scissors cutting something, and distant screams… were they from him?

He didn’t know at this point. More agonizing cuts on his legs along with a couple of needle pin marks.. a couple snaps of an illusion disk and a bit of writing, on both his skin and paper..

He couldn’t really feel anything after the first one, only simply knowing that his body was reacting to the pain yet his brain hadn’t quite caught up with reality.

It was like he wasn’t exactly controlling his body, just simply existing in the dream-like state. Time didn’t exist there, neither did recognition of the pain. Emotions ran wild. Turning all of his thoughts sour as he attempted to remember what happened.

It wasn’t until the doctor un-clipped him and put him back into the cage that he noticed the other.

That’s who did this to him. That’s the person that pushed him through pain.

The human wore a terrified expression as the doctor took him out for his turn.

He couldn’t help but smile at the other’s pain. The other deserved it..

Right?

(If you skipped this, Tubbo got tortured and blamed Tommy for the situation.)

——————

“IT’S BEEN A FUCKING MONTH! And you still haven’t found your son’s damn ship?!” The man on the other line was furious, and rightfully so.

Puffy undoubtedly understood the anger the man had. I mean she had been in the situation before when her youngest was kidnapped by another crew of pirates. The only difference in this situation was she was fighting against her son, her duckling… when did her duckling turn sour?

“You’re right about that, Phil. I can assure you Niki is doing everything in her power to track them down, along with Jack.” Jack joined the team after Puffy met Niki.

She must admit that having someone working in the ISF had its perks. Though no one could fully trust him. For good reason of course.

“Ponk is ‘talking’ to Sam, he sure as hell ain’t cracking yet.” She finished bitterly, “Like I said Quakity is waiting for his monthly letter from his fiancé, which would hopefully give us a clue at where to look.”

“I am still trying to wrap my head around the fact that it’s been a month.. Wilbur said the humans barely last a full week if they aren’t treated..” The worry was lining his face and causing the bags under his eyes to look more like nasty black eyes. His face was sullen making it apparent the man hadn’t been eating properly. His wings ruffled at every noise and he seemed to be running purely on coffee. Puffy wanted nothing more than to return the man’s unofficial sons back to him.

——————

Everything was great!

The plan worked perfectly, and Sam hadn’t cracked yet.

Meaning he could easily start on the next faze. The only issue would be he’d have to gain both of the starling’s trust.

Even if the present was a bitter reality lined with things that would annoy him, the end result would be worth it.

Having a human and a nuke expert by his side would allow him to have everything he ever wanted.

Power.

Not just power, but all the things that came with it. He wouldn’t be questioned again, and everything and anything he said would be the final word.

It would be hell for those who crossed him, and even worse for those who abandoned him.

Wilbur, Sam, Ant, Quackity, Foolish, and even mother dearest, Puffy. They would all pay for their disloyalty. Once this is all over, they would never cross him again.

I mean he did give up everything to gain this life.

There was nothing to lose and everything to win, and he’d be damned if he didn’t win.

I mean he sold his soul for this!

It was all worth it.. right?

Of course it is. Stop doubting me child.

——————

28 days of torture, and now they were sitting with their captors playing house.

It was wrong. So utterly wrong.

“Eat your food Tommy.” The captain commanded.

Tommy complied not wanting to go back in the cage. Every day he woke up there, more things were shoved into him and more pain was given.

“You too Tubbo.” The command was given and the other complied, the same fear visibly shown.

“Reports.” Dream stated sternly, the rest of the crew compiled without hesitation.

It was a bunch of regular reports of how no one knew where they were, what supplies needed to be restocked, the current condition of the ship, and any developments with the news. A bunch of boring bullshit. He bit back any sarcastic remarks that threatened to spill, but refrained in fear of what they would do to him.

The crew was dismissed leaving Tubbo, Tommy, and Dream alone.

“I want both of you to listen.” Dream started his tone raising all hairs on the back of Tommy’s neck, “Phil and his crew led you to us. They didn’t comply the first time and poisoned your minds. We did the right thing, and fixed you. Now, there are some rules you have to follow. You may not wander the ship, only go anywhere with one of the crew members. You will both share a room and follow the same schedule. Anything you do that is not an order deserves a punishment, for it is proof of what the other crew poisoned you with. Now! Go to your room, it has a black door.” With that the man finished and the pair headed towards their room.

The speech sounded right, yet felt wrong. But everything was justified, therefore it was fine. Plus the worrying was just a problem for future Tommy, maybe that’s what Dream meant by the other crew poisoning him.

The other said nothing as they entered the room, only fixing Tommy with a bitter gaze which turned into something of confusion. Neither one slept, they couldn’t bring it in themselves to sleep, especially since Dream hadn’t told them to.

Instead both of them settled into a silence as they lay on their bed, only getting up when the man told them too. This was all they could really do as they faced their new reality. Slowly but surely their brains began to believe every word of the speech. Finally when the man asked to join him, a bubbly sickly joy gave them the grace to finally help their rescuer.

Six months after the initial capture, one month of torture and five months of vigorous training, consisting of fighting, weapon design, and hours of studying blueprints, they were finally able to go on their first mission with their rescuer, not questioning anything any of the crew said at this point. Sick months of training and they became living weapons ready for whatever the cruel world threw at them…

This is a dream.. right?

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Chapter 7- End

Words: 2221

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Notes:

Hahahaha I am in pain from writing this... please bare with me.. ;-;

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Dream is being a manipulative bastard... I mean the character. More specifically my take on Dream’s character in this situation... ahhhhh

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I hope you’re staying safe, don’t forget to take care of yourself!! <3 also likes are appreciated but reblogs are always better! <3

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[justasparkwritings]

Green Light

Previous: 

Pairing: Harry Styles X Ex Reader, Harry Styles X New Girlfriend

Genre: Angst

Rating: PG15

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Swearing, Alcohol use, Mentions of Drug use, Past Infidelity 

Listen: Green Light by Lorde

For the #playlistficchallenge by @harrystylescherry 

           The lights flicker against her skin, dancing pinks and purples and blues giving way to green as the bass thumps through the speakers. The light up floor is causing an illusion against her body as she hastily searches for her peers. Eyes darting across the club, trying to find the couple of the hour, but getting lost in the sea of drunk people dancing to a b-rate Whitney Houston cover, she’s becoming frustrated. Why play Whitney if you’re not going to play the original? She wonders, moving through the perimeter towards what she assumes is the VIP area. Being correct, she waits patiently for one of the guests to notice her, waving her into the exclusive space.

           He notices her first, beaten converse and magenta tulle, she dressed to kill. Standing, he moves towards the bodyguard, pointing to her as the guard gave her a once-over. Nodding, pulling the rope back, she smiles at the stranger before deftly moving into the space.

           “I didn’t know you’d be here,” Harry says, hand on the small of her back, flush against the exposed skin, lips low to her ear, guiding her towards their friends.

           “You’re such a liar,” She replies, rolling her eyes. The neon eyeliner, drifting over her eyelids and near her brows is striking against the dim lights. The single rhinestones applied carefully to the inner corners of her eyes bounce the light off, shrouding her in a conflicting color story.

           “You made it!” Daisy yells, arms reaching to pull her into a hug. It’s tight and sweaty, a sign she’s either been dancing or snorting.

           “I told you I’d be here,” Her smile widens at her friend, “Congrats again on your engagement.”

           “Thank you!!! Now please, drink. We have bottle service until midnight,” Daisy hands her a champagne flute, which she happily tosses back before reaching for the vodka. “If you’re good, you can have a little of what I’m having.”

           “I better behave,” She responds, eyes clocking Harry talking to Daisy’s fiancé, Jack.

           “I thought he wasn’t coming,” Daisy’s gaze follows hers, eying the man. His wide trousers and cropped jacket give way to the tattoos covering his chest, swallows in constant conversation. Hair recently cut, he’s scruffy and wanting, his eyes not hesitating to check her out for the second time in two minutes.

           “Lies,” She scoffs, eyes rolling again at the sentiment.

           “I swear! Jack said he was out of town,” Daisy counters.

           “Clearly he’s not,” She looks at their other friends, nodding and smiling to the familiar faces. Their friends from uni, from work, a few from their neighborhood in Holmes Chapel have all gathered to raise a glass at Daisy and Jack’s inevitable engagement. It feels like the kind of New Year’s party Harry would’ve dragged her to, on the pretense that it would be fun to catch up. Knowing he would be right, she would’ve gone and enjoyed the company of the people who knew her before she was on his arm, the people who knew him when he worked all hours at the bakery. Tonight, their friendly smiles weren’t hitting the same, welcoming her into their embrace, no, they were darting between her and Harry, unsure where their allegiance should lie.

           “Rumor has it, he’s got a new girlfriend,” Daisy says.

           “Super,” She purses her lips, eyes moving to search for whoever his latest trophy was.

           “Don’t be like that,” Daisy shakes her head, disappointment oozing from every syllable.

           “Like what?” She snaps.

           “You’re so mad he’s with someone else, when -

           “I thought we were done talking about what happened between us?” She interrupts, frustration and anger coursing through her veins.

           “If you were over it, you’d stop looking at him like that,” Daisy holds her own, tone unwavering.

           “Fuck off.”

           Handing her a drink, Daisy levels with her, “Drink.”

           Tossing back whatever was in the glass, she waits impatiently for the liquor to take over, coursing through her veins and reducing her heat to a dull simmer.

           In the months after the breakup, she hadn’t seen or interacted with Harry. No cursory texts, no awkward pleasantries exchanged at a birthday party, or running into him at the grocery. She didn’t speak to him, and yet he was everywhere. His voice, his favorite sayings, his touch, his music, all of it spread across the city, taunting her. She had let him go, literally, but figuratively, metaphorically, he was everywhere. Seeping into her thoughts, burrowing into her mind, never able to escape him even in sleep. Tonight, he looked at her like he didn’t know her at all, like she was the villain in his story, not the other way around. Like he didn’t let his work get the best of them, ruining what they had in its wake.

           Somewhere between drinks four and five, Harry’s latest lover arrives. Scarily tall and equally skinny, silky brown locks and pouty lips, it’s clear she’s a model. Whether she was with anyone or not, the bouncer lets her into the VIP section without a second thought. She floats towards Harry, sinking gently onto his lap before whispering in his ear. He smiles at her as she places a hand on his scruff covered cheek and lowers her lips to his.

           From the dance floor, she stares, unable to stop watching him move on from her. How could it be so easy?

           Pulling her attention back to the floor, Daisy spins her, moving them out of sight from Harry. The lights beneath their feet give way to a soft glow about her, the colors bending against Daisy’s white jumpsuit. She’s grateful for her friend, her best friend, grateful for the distraction of alcohol and blow, grateful to be dancing and screaming the lyrics instead of sitting in the tub at home, crying into her room temperature bath water. But grateful and grieving often go together, and as her level of intoxication ebbs, the hurt of seeing Harry with someone knew, she retreats to the VIP section to gather herself.

           “You must be Y/N,” The model says, moving from her post next to Harry to her.

           “Um, yes?” She responds, eyes traveling up the woman’s legs, slowly making their way to her face.

           “I’m Arden, Harry’s girlfriend,” Arden smiles, blinding, and sits down. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

           “Can’t believe everything you hear,” She scoffs, grateful for the bottle of water Jack hands her before going to find Daisy amongst the neon.

           “Harry speaks quite highly of you, so does Jack,” Arden continues to smile, blissfully ignoring the contempt she’s displaying.  

           “You’ve met Jack before?” She asks.

           “Just Jack, never Daisy, she’s stunning, right?” Arden asks, laughing.

           “Yeah, completely,” She nods, eyes traveling to find Daisy, her beacon in the club. She’s been best friends with Daisy since diapers, their mother’s best friends, hoping and praying they’d each have daughters to carry on the legacy of their familial bond.

           “Harry tells me you’re in publishing,” Arden tries again to make conversation.

           “Correct,” She nods again.

           “That’s amazing, I love reading,” Arden offers.

           “Same.”

           “I have a lot of downtime at work, I’m a model. I just did the new Rodarte campaign, and Gucci,” Arden is trying her damnest to make this work, but her motives remain a mystery.

           “Congrats,” She snorts, unimpressed by the model’s recent credentials.

           “Thanks, I just want to say, I know you and Harry are at this weird point in your friendship, but I do hope you’ll work it out.” Arden is serious, glossy blue eyes resolute.

           “Did Harry tell you why we broke up?” She asks, eyeing Arden suspiciously.

           “A little, but I didn’t ask. It was before me so really, who cares?” Arden forces a giggle, baby blues trying to break through the tension.

           “Right,” She nods, a slight eyeroll giving way to her true feelings.

           “I just thought maybe you two could, mend your –

           “Hey,” Harry says, making his way towards the two of you.

           “Hi babe,” Arden seamlessly slips her arm around his waist, pulling him close to her.

           “What uh, what are you two talking about?” Harry asks, eyes accusatory as he again takes in your stunning appearance.

           “I was just saying that we’re going to Tahiti after I finish my campaign with Gucci. Relax, sit on the beach, drink Mai Tai’s, surf, or really, for me, learn,” Arden rambles on, her hair bouncing in animation, matching her words. Her deft swerve to the topic of vacation surprising, unsure why she needed to lie to Harry.

           “The beach?” she asks, looking at Harry. He nods, cursory.

           “Yeah,” He sips on his drink.

           “Huh,” She responds, eyes narrow. “Will you excuse me? It was nice meeting you Arden.”

           Slipping out of the VIP section and into the night air, she feels his presence behind her, chasing after her as she moves through the crowd and into the brisk summer air.

Not bothering to turn around, she asks, “Why are you following me?”

           “Why did you just disappear?” Harry demands, coming to stand next to her. His warmth radiating onto her skin.

           “You’re here with someone else,” She reminds him.

           “You haven’t responded to any of my –

           “Harry, you are here with someone else, the very someone else who if I’m not mistaken, is the reason for our demise,” She turns to stare at him, eyes boring into his.

           “I, she’s not,” Harry shakes his head.

           “Oh right, because I am the sole proprietor of our heartache and failed relationship,” Another eyeroll. Her mother used to tell her that if you roll your eyes too many times, they’ll get stuck up there. A fear she was clearly ignoring.

           “You’re not,” Harry scoffs, they’d had this fight before.

           “Why are you looking at me like I am?” She’s unwilling to back down, a trait Harry once loved about her.

           “I’m, I’m sorry alright?” Harry’s flustered speech gives way to a run of his hand through his curls. Resting his hands on his hips, he stares at her.

           “Sorry for what?” She asks again, words clipped.

           “Everything,” He shrugs.

           “That’s the least specific apology I have ever heard,” She deadpans. He wants to respond with some witty banter, some lighthearted sarcasm, some joke a year ago, five years ago, she would’ve laughed at. But they’re not the same people they were six months ago.

           “What do you want me to say?” Harry’s exasperated.

           “I want you to tell me how you really feel, because we broke up six months ago, and I still don’t understand why you ran to her, whoever she was, instead of fighting for me. Then tell me why our friends think I’m the viper, I’m the one who broke your heart. Why are you spreading rumors hoping they’ll bite me, when they just show how pathetic you’re behaving?” Her volume increases exponentially as she speaks, until she’s nearly yelling at him.

           “That’s not fair,” Harry states, eyes closing as he shakes his head.

           “I’m trying to let go, Harry. But you fucking have your tentacles in everything I do! You’re everywhere.”

           “It’s so easy for me? You are everywhere. Every new song I write, every role I consider taking, every project. I still fucking talk to you like you’ll hear me, everywhere I go is tainted by some memory of us.” Harry spits back.

           “Tell me why, Harry. Why are you going to Tahiti?” She questions, voice cutting through the cold air and going straight to Harry’s heart.

           “I like the beach,” He shrugs.

           “You are such a fucking liar! No, you don’t!” She yells, arms reaching towards the summer sky as she shakes her head at him.

           “Maybe I’m trying out new things,” Harry stares at her, “Maybe I’m trying to be –

           “What, different? Better? You cheat on me, after saying that you will always be in love with me, which surprise, you’re not!”

           “Not a cheater?” Harry’s momentarily confused, a slight diversion from the rant she’s begun.

           “Not in love anymore,” Her eyes are wide, confused by his lapse in memory, “You’re not in love with me anymore. You cheated on me, lied to our friends and now you’re here with little miss long legs.”

           “Don’t call her that,” Harry says.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Arden,”

“Look, I’m sorry,” Harry runs a hand through his locks again, sighing in frustration.

           “No, you’re not. If you were, she wouldn’t be here with you. If you were sorry, you wouldn’t be fighting with me outside the club. If you were sorry, you’d –

           “I need your forgiveness! Alright, that’s why I’m out here.” Harry’s voice raises several decibels. He’s been holding onto this for months, long before she found out, long before he willingly broke her heart.

           She lets out a shaky breath, “What?”

           “I need you to forgive me, to accept my apology, to, give me the green light that it’s okay to be, not yours anymore,” Harry explains.

           “You cheated on me!” She yells, finger pointing directly above Harry’s heart. “I have honored you by not telling our friends for what? You don’t get to have or ask for my forgiveness, I’ve already given you too much. Forgiveness went out the window when you fucked someone else Harry! How dare you ask me to forgive you, absolve you, for a sin you willingly committed. You were in complete control of yourself and you still cheated on me. You want a green light? That was fucking it.”

          She pushes past him, stomping back into the club and onto the dance floor, into the arms of someone else, someone who isn’t scared to kiss her above the dazzling lights, someone whose bedroom she’ll wake up in, unsure where she is, not caring to leave a note before slipping out into the city. And hopefully, after a few more escapades, the embrace of the rising sun on her walk home won’t echo his voice anymore. The birds chirping won’t sing his songs, and the sting of telling Daisy the truth won’t ring out over overcooked eggs and overpriced mimosas.

          Harry had wanted her to give him the green light, but in refusing to do so, she watched the light change for herself.

Next: Talia

[nolabballgirl]

Heyyy, I love the way you break down each clip and I thought of sharing my thoughts with you and your followers…

Here’s a controversial reflection on this season of wtfock:

As a Belgian Convert Muslim Woman with immigrant roots myself I really tried to understand the pov of yasmina throughout the series. At first I was mad we didn’t get enough information about yasmina’s relationship with faith, but then I remembered that this is not the same for everyone especially for belgian muslims, from what I’ve gathered from my muslim friends is that most follow islam because they were born into it without having a special reason for believing in it, least of all considering it when feeling distressed.

So then I understood what they were trying to portray. This is Yasmina’s story, she feels isolated and alone. So of course every clip is going to confirm that feeling. As much as it’s painful to watch, this is her reality and the reality of many belgian muslims with immigrant roots. I myself have experienced what it’s like to just apologise or ignore your feelings when your friends are being racists because you don’t want to be ostracised by your friends. See when yasmina realised that her friends didn’t understand her pov she felt like she ruined her friendship with them by ‘reacting’ to BA. That’s why she feels guilty, she feels guilty about speaking up, not because speaking up about racism is ‘bad’ but because speaking up caused her to lose her friends.

Now I feel like this is a very accurate portrayal of the slippery slope poc in Belgium go down to keep their friends. It’s not as simple as just drop your friends, find better friends,… . When this is all she’s known she will inevitably return to her oppressors while apologizing.

WTFock is not a documentary about teenage muslims or an attempt at a ideal world where every teenager respects each other fully. So I stopped expecting it to be just that. The reaction of her friends is realistic for the climate in Belgium. Maybe this was very intentional by the writers and their consultant Nora Dari?

Just a thought, what do you think?

as-salamu alaikum sister! thanks for your ask and your comments. so i appreciate your opinion, but i have a different take on the situation.

(1) problems w/ yasmina's POV - so we can't generalize as to the experience of all muslims, obviously. i was born into islam (my family emigrated to the US and i was born and raised here), but i spent many years in college/grad school questioning islam and reading and educating myself about the religion. so today i have a strong belief in the religion, and i'm not just a muslim because my parents are. i have friends and family around the world (both reverts and born into the religion) and each person has a different reason for why they identify as muslim, even if they grew up in the same country. and i find that even my friends who aren't particularly religious, still at times pray salah or seek comfort in qur'an/dua when times are tough (as seen very frequently in this last year with coronavirus related woes). so we can't generalize with all belgian muslims either.

so recognizing that yasmina is not the spokeswoman for all muslims, everywhere, one of my biggest criticisms of the season is that i don't understand how yasmina really feels about islam and her faith or where she fits on the spectrum i discussed above. if to your point that yasmina doesn't have a special reason for believing in islam, then why is she so upset about taking off her hijab? and what about her connection to younes? is it the fact that he's non-muslim that bothers her or the fact that she wants to give in to her physical desires? why don't we know? the fact that we are supposed to be in her POV, but we simply get clips of her reacting to situations without really delving beyond surface deep of what she thinks and feels is a major issue imo.

(2) take away message from the season - skam isn't a documentary as you so said. but there's a very specific history and reason behind why skam was created and the topics its chooses for its target audience. so what is the point of this season? are we telling belgian muslimahs or muslim girls in other similarly situated countries that it's more important to coddle the feelings of your non-muslim friends and downplay the racism that you feel? are we telling them that it's more important to keep toxic friendships than to call out your friends for their microaggressions? shouldn't we be telling our girls that they should stand up for themselves? i've had several experiences where people i thought were friends have made islamophobic or racist comments that made me feel so small, but i just laughed them off for the sake of friendship. and it sucks, and i wouldn't wish that for anyone.

in any case, it's 2021 and enough is enough. there's no reason to stay friends with people who treat you like garbage. why can't yasmina drop her friends and find better ones? aïcha is right there (for example), and if we are talking about staying true to life, my best friends are the ones i made in college, law school, and at my law firm - it's very natural to drift away from these types of fake friends, especially as you grow older.

(3) nora dari vs. muslim writers - it's so freaking unfair to the nora daris and hajar browns of the world, when showrunners trot them out as the muslim "representation" instead of having actual muslim writers as part of the writing room. if we learned anything from the #MeToo movement, it's the gross power imbalance especially between young actors just starting their careers and the older, more established showrunners, directors, and writers that can make or break their careers. so it's an injustice to put nora, hajar, and others in the position of having to defend any of the writing decisions for these seasons. no up and coming actor wants to have the notoriety of being difficult or stepping out of their lane.

so anyway, thank you for raising these salient topics, and here's my two cents on them.

[onlyfortheplot]

Can I hit him? With a knife?

S/O with a rude, idiotic ex who insults them in front of their boyfriends. 

Pairing: Bokuto x Reader, Kageyama x Reader

Warning: Slight Language, mentions of NSFW, Violence (in Kageyama’s), toxic ex

A/N: THANK YOU GUYS FOR THE 100 FOLLOWERS!! ITS AMAZING AND NICE TO KNOW PEOPLE ACTUALLY LIKE MY WORK! I’m not going to do an event unitl after SHIPTEMBER! Especially since SHIPTEMBER are full blown fics! Anyway thanks and hope you enjoy!!!! Asks are CLOSED for SHIPTEMBER.

If you had known, you would be seeing you ex at the theater, you would had eagerly missed your last to watch the movie. Even though it was the movie you had always wanted to see.

Even worse, you were sure that you had already caught his eye. You clung to Bokuto’s arm, tugging it to make him look at you.

“Y/N?” He looked down at you with wide eyes, a grin plastered onto his face, “Sup?” Your eyes widened as you caught sight of your ex making his way. Towards you. You grimaced. You did not want see him.

Especially from the way it ended. You shivered at the thought of seeing him again.

“Babe?” he asked again, following your direction of vision, he stiffened under your grasp, his smile flickering. “Oh,” he softly said, as your ex was walking towards you. 

“Y/N,long time, no see!” Bokuto pushed you behind him slightly, blocking your ex from seeing you. You could act dumb, pretend you didn’t know him, but you were pretty sure that would be useless.

“Who are you!” Bokuto asked, narrowing his eyes as your ex scoffed at him.

“So you’re the dude she left me for,” he laughed, as if that was the stupidest thing he had ever heard, “Y/N, its the muscles isn’t it. You always loved my muscles when we dated.” You blushed at the statement.

You had pretended to like his non-existent muscles, merely just brush his ego. You were a stupid person, all those months ago, but now. Now you didn’t want anything to do with him.

“Bo, lets go”. you whispered to him, tugging on his arm, “Please,” But, he didn’t budge, just looking down at your ex, who was a few inches shorter, and grinning.

“What? Y/N, I just wanna talk.“ He gave your boyfriend a big smirk, “I’m sure she wants to.“ You tried not to roll your eyes. 

“No, I don’t think so.“ He turned around, looking at you with adoration in his eyes, “Do you, babe?“ You shook your head, immediately. No. Never

“See, sorry, but she doesn’t want to talk.“ he gave your ex a big smile, clasping your hand in his, as he made a move to leave.

“So this is the trash you left me for!“ The grin blew of Bokuto’s face as he turned around.

“Your following him like your his little — “

“I wouldn’t finish that sentence, if I were you!“ Bokuto smiled, a dark smile, “Anyway, have a good day!“ It sounded more like a wish for a horrible day, as the words rolled from Bokuto’s mouth.

“Come baby, I want to get some buttery popcorn,“ He gave you a soft smile, clasping your hand tighter, “And, then there’s those small candies, I wanna buy. And also the— “

You looked up to your boyfriend, tugging his hand again, he looked down as he smiled warmly, tilting his head.

“I love you,“ you murmured, throwing your hands over his neck, not bothering with the fact people were watching.

You could feel his smile on your neck, softly huffing warm air, as he grasped your waist, and heaving you slightly in the air.

“Me too, babe!“ his lips tickled your neck. You giggled. I love you

When you were in grade school, your skirt had fallen down. Luckily, you were wearing shorts underneath, but still. It was awkward. 

A few years later, in middle school, you had chucked a book at your teacher. “To hit a bee,” you had said, as you sat in the principal’s office. 

The in high school you had accidentally insulted someone as you rejected them. “I just don’t like you, you know.” You still blushed at the thought.

But, now. Oh right now was probably the most awkward moment in all your 21 years.  

Hand in hand with boyfriend, you waved awkwardly at the man who came joking towards them. Kageyama stiffened around your hand, you gave him an apologetic glance.

“Y/N, babe, how are you?“ You cringed at the pet name, not even bothering to see Kageyama’s face. It would be one of anger, if you had looked. 

“Hey...“ you trailed off, as he tried to give you a hug, you side-stepped, the second Kageyama pushed you out of the way.

“Bro, just let me hug your sister!“ he huffed. Kageyama gave him an incredulous look. You looked nothing like him, almost every feature of your face contrasting his own.

“Are you stupid?“ he asked, pushing you behind him. You peeked from behind his shoulder. 

“No!“ he puffed his chest, almost proud, “I gradated high school!“

Tobio, tilted his head, annoyed and confused, “That’s not much of an achievement.” You pinched his side, warning him to be a little nicer.

“So, Y/N, is this your...“ 

“Boyfriend.“ you said, wrapping yourself onto his arm, pressing your chest against him in proof, “In love. The whole thing.“

“Oh, how much did she pay you?” he joked to Tobio, who glared at him angrily. Sparks flew in his blue eyes as he scowled.

“Just what are you saying.“

“I’m saying that this thing isn’t worth much of your time,“ he laughed at his own comment, “She’s not bad in bed, though, Maybe that’s why you keep her.“ You burrowed your face in his arm, groaning.

You mentally prayed that Kageyama would ignore the comment and leave. 

“Shut up you — “

“Let’s go, Kageyama.“ you interrupted, not wanting to be the reason he gets hurt, “Please.“ He looked into your anxious eyes and then back at the man.

“Fine.“ he clipped, dragging you with him as started to walk away.

“That’s right. Run away you wuss.“ Oh no. Kageyama whirled around, dropping your arm, as he swung a sharp punch to his jaw. 

He guttered in pain, clenching his face.

“You crazy—“ he winced as Kageyama raised his hand, only your weak grasp on his wrist stopping him.

“He just insulted you.“ he hissed, looking at you.

“Please, Tobio, this is our day!“ He huffed a small response, dropping his hand and giving the man an intense look. 

“Tobio, what was that,“ you let out a breath, one you didn’t know you had held, “That was — “

“I’m sorry,“ he muttered, pulling you in by the waist, “if I scared you.“

“I was going to say unnecessary, yet badass.“ you retorted, holding his face in your hands,”But, thanks Tobio.“

He pressed a kiss, on your palms, his breath ghosting over your wrists.

“I love you, Y/N.“ he mumbled, “Not just because of you in bed — although I — “

“Tobio, leave it.“ He gave a small smile.You pecked his lips.

“I love you too, okay.“

“You have bad taste in men.“ 

“...“

“Expect me.“

“...“

“Y/N? You just said you loved me.“

You sighed, hooking an arm around his own, and dragging him away. “Let’s go home, Tobio.”

[wintervvidow]

apricity one-shot: the time florence got shot

apricity - the warmth of the sun in winter

warnings: gunshot wound, blood mention, mature language

pairing: bucky barnes x female oc

word count: 2,027

A/N: apricity will have a series of installments of one-shots to give in-depth glimpses of bucky, florence, and their story! this is one. thank you for reading! feedback is welcome!

MASTERLIST

Bucharest, Romania. 1990

Eight months into the year-long recon mission.

Florence wasn’t a stranger to the searing pain of a gunshot wound or the stinging radiation of a stab wound. She’s taken too many bullets to count, patching herself up in dingy bathrooms, dark back alleys, and now a safe house in Romania.

She stumbled through the barren apartment leaving a trail of blood, the Soldier nowhere to be found. She pushed the bathroom door open with bloody hands, her footing messily stumbled to the sink as she felt hot blood ooze down her hip. She tore off her tactical vest the bullet had managed to go through and peeled the sticky shirt off of her abdomen, the blood making the fabric stick to her skin uncomfortably. Gritting her teeth, she swiped an alcohol pad up the trail of blood, the movement ending at the entry wound.

The bottle of liquor was in front of her on the sink, leftover from the soldier when he had gotten stabbed the week before. She took the bottle in her hand, the glass smearing with blood, and shakily twisted the cap off and taking a long swig before she poured it on the wound. Florence yelped in pain, biting her shirt to quiet her moans of pain and to keep it out of her way. She places the bottle back down on the sink, the glass meeting the porcelain with a clink. 

She fishes the tweezers out of the first-aid kit and runs them under the tap, the blood loss not giving her the energy to properly clean them. A deep breath in and then the metal enters the wound, blindly poking and prodding her flesh to try to find the slug of the bullet. Florence bites down on the blood-soaked fabric of her shirt so hard she’s afraid she’ll fracture her own jaw, her hands shaking so uncontrollably that she drops the tweezers into the sink. The shirt drops from her mouth as she leans against the porcelain, catching her reflection in the mirror as she drops her head and takes a deep breath in, closing her eyes.

Something shuffles behind her, she lifts her head slowly to look in the reflection of the mirror behind her. The soldier looms in the doorway, his broad figure taking up the entire space of the door as his eyes scanned the bloody mess of the bathroom. If Florence wasn’t so delirious from the blood loss, she would have noticed the panicked rise and fall of his chest or the mixture of concern, relief, and anger swimming in his eyes as he finally took in her slumped form. 

The soldier enters the cramped bathroom without a word and picked the bloody tweezers from the floor. His hand meets Florence’s elbow, gently guiding her to sit on the closed toilet lid, ker skin was paling by the second from blood loss. Bucky reaches in front of her and grabs the whiskey, pouring it over the tweezers. He fishes around the first-aid kit for what, Florence doesn’t know, too busy trying to keep herself upright and not falling onto the floor. The last thing she wanted was for the soldier to carry her out of here like she was helpless.

The soldier found what he was looking for, busying himself with threading a needle to stitch up the wound once he got the bullet out. He hid the shake of his hands well, swallowing down the anxiety that settled in his bones. The thought of something happening to Florence sparked a fire inside if him that would never die out, the embers would always be lit even if it was only a dying ash. Bucky has killed for much less, he wouldn't bat an eye to do it for Florence, it would be the only time he would wash blood from his hands and not end up in a fit of panic. The length Bucky would go for her knew no end, he'd go to the ends of the earth. 

He laid out gauze and pads along the sink edge, much more prepared than Florence. He could probably patch up a bullet wound in his sleep, only if he ever did sleep. Florence tiredly watches Bucky as he turns toward her with tweezers in hand, his stormy eyes never meeting hers and his jaw clenching angrily and shoulders tensing, his body rigid. The girl didn’t have the energy to indulge in his anger, she didn’t understand why he was even angry in the first place.

Bucky set the tweezers down on the edge of the sink, his hands dropping down to his belt, fingers working at the buckle. Florence watched in confusion as he undid his belt, metal and flesh fingers sliding it through the belt loops of his dark jeans. He wrapped the leather around his hand before sliding it off and motioning the folded leather towards her mouth, nodding for her to bite down on it. 

He picks up the tweezers again and kneels in front of her on one knee, looking at her in a silent apology before he plunges the metal into her flesh. Florence bites down on the leather, eyes screwing shut as she balls her hands up in fists in her lap. Bucky continues to dig, the tweezers hitting a particularly tender spot, Florence’s hand flying to his shoulder and clutching his navy blue shirt, causing the man to pause for a moment and take a deep breath. The tweezers finally catch on something solid, Bucky pulling the bullet out quickly and pushing gauze to the wound as he drops the blood-soaked bullet into the sink, blood splattering across the ivory porcelain.

Florence drops the belt from her mouth, watching as it falls the ground between her and Bucky, who still kept pressure on the wound. 

Bucky reaches across himself to grab the needle, finally speaking, “Hold the gauze.” His tone is cold and sharp, a night and day difference from the look in his eyes that expressed that he was scared and worried. Florence could usually read him like a book but now that book had slammed closed and locked itself away. 

Florence places her hand over his as she takes over holding the gauze, Bucky sterilizing the needle with the remaining liquor in the bottle. He'd have to buy another tomorrow. 

He turns back, fingers prying at her hand to remove the bloody padding as he began to stitch the wound closed, not bothering to warn Florence of the sting of the needle, this was her payback for making him feel like his entire world was ending at the fear of losing her. Only she didn't know that.

Time passed slowly as Bucky stitched her up, Florence gaining more awareness as she watched Bucky’s jaw tick, “I didn’t ask you to help me, so why are you mad? Is it the mess?” Blood was everywhere leading to and in the bathroom, she remembered their first month in the apartment, the soldier had yelled at her about her leaving a dish in the sink, something about not leaving a trace that they had been there. She called him paranoid then and she immediately regretted it when the look on his face read like she had just slapped him. 

The soldier clipped the thread and started a new stitch, shaking his head, “No.”

Florence huffed, wincing as the needle plunged through her flesh again, sharp and pulling, “Then what’s wrong with you?”

“You should have been more careful.” Bucky spoke with a clipped tone, not daring to look up at her. If he did, he's afraid he'd crumble right on the floor in front of her. 

If breathing didn’t feel like her sternum was going to crack, Florence would have laughed, “Are you kidding? You got stabbed last week and I didn’t say a word.” The soldier had entered the apartment at 3 in the morning clutching his side with one hand, a bottle of whiskey in the other and a sour scowl on his face. Florence sat awake on the sofa, she was waiting for him to get home, her anxiety growing as the clock continued to tick, and watched as he stumbled to the bathroom and locked the door. She didn't follow but heard the muttered curses through the thin peeling walls. She didn't sleep at all that night. 

Bucky huffed as he finished up the final stitch, “That was different.”

Anger pooled in the girl’s eyes, “Please explain to me how that is different. Enlighten me.”

Blue finally met green, both staring at each other intensely, “It’s different because you are the one that got shot. You should have let me handle the mission today.”

This time Florence did laugh, ignoring the searing pain it sent through her entire body, “You know what? Fuck you. We were sent here to do a mission, that’s what I was doing. Do not treat me like I’m glass.”

Bucky immediately regretted partaking in this argument, he should have stayed quiet, otherwise, right now his feelings wouldn’t be bubbling to the surface, “I never said you were glass. I should have gone with you, protected you.”

All bets were off, Florence’s nerves were fried- frayed and raw and he had just rubbed salt in the wound, “Protected me?! I don’t need protecting! I got shot, end of story.” This conversation sparked a fire in Florence, everything she had been bottling up threatening to explode, taking multiple casualties in its path with no mercy. They were both going to drown in the emotion flooding the air between them. 

That was Bucky’s final straw, his jaw ticked, eyes widened and suddenly he was yelling, voice bouncing of the confined walls of the dingy bathroom, “No! Not end of story! When I walked in, I saw a trail of blood and thought the worst, I thought I had lost you, Florence!”

Time froze, Florence’s brain malfunctioning as Bucky’s words sunk in, “You know my name.” All eight months, he called her soldier, never anything else. She silently prayed that eventually he'd recognize her, give her a dose of before, before all of this, and now it was finally happening. She watched as the soldier stood in front of her, his eyebrows furrowed and mouth parted like he had just gotten caught with his hand in the cookie jar. 

The two stared in silence before he spoke again, his tone significantly quieter as it trembled and shook with emotion, “I'll forget my own before I ever forget yours." Tears brimmed his eyes, "I remembered it last week. Along with a few more things I can’t place.”

Florence had been off the ice considerably longer than Bucky had before this mission, her memory had already come back to her in chunks. All of him. All of Bucky. Everything.

“What-,” Florence gulped, “What things?” Florence pleaded internally that it wasn’t what she was dreading. 

"A ring? All I remember was that it was emerald. I never see the girl I give it to, it’s too blurry. And a pregnant woman? That one is the most confusing.”

Oh fuck.

Fuck.

Florence now had a vendetta with the universe. 

Florence weighed her options of telling him the truth or lying to him, opting to tell him the truth. She settled on only one truth today, she couldn’t handle the other one, not now, “The ring was mine. You and I were together before this. We were engaged, you proposed right before you left for England in the war.”

Bucky only looked at her, a distant look in his eyes, “Oh.” That’s all he had to say, choosing to remain silent as he walked out of the bathroom, leaving Florence to fight the demons herself.

She twisted the lock on the door, slid down to the ground, and sobbed, not caring that Bucky could definitely hear her.  Screaming at the universe or any higher being, she begged them to listen, pleading for something, anything. Death, escape, to wake up from this nightmare. 

None of it was fair.

That night, Bucky and Florence slept through the night in the same bed for the first time, finding temporary peace in each other’s arms. 

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