#whilst knowing the only thing that will happen is an increase in anxiety

[thoughtofadumbteenprotagonist]

“You should be acknowledging this!” “Um, you should all be reblogging this actually” “think about this thing!” “Be aware of this new awful thing happening half way across the globe that you personally have no hope of every impacting in any way whatsoever, but I will word this post like it’s your fault personally!” No, actually. None of these things are my responsibility personally. Yes they’re shitty, yes they shouldn’t be happening, no I’m not going to be guilt tripped into reblogging your inane rant about it all just so someone else can get guilt tripped too.

[elioslover]

Harry with his newborn baby, like their morning routine 🫂

Okay lets fuckin goooo!!

Word count: 1.5k (I got carried away, oops.)

Other writing

Admittedly, Harry may have been a tad on the cocky side in assuming that his years of experience in the art of packed-schedules and odd work hours would give him a leg up on most newborn dads.

He had failed to factor in the hours that would soon be dedicated to periodically interrupted naps and enough activities to keep a man busy for eternity.

Upon seeing his precious petal for the very first time- her face scrunched and the shade of a sweet red rose, she was so tiny that it seemed almost inconceivable, sleeping peacefully in the cradle of his arms, a perfect display of everything right in the world.

And though she was in an ideal slumber for long enough for Harry to start thinking he definitely had the hang of this, it becomes clear from the moment they walk through the door that this'll be harder than it looks.

She may not be a fussy little one, but she is still a demanding newborn, living for very few things other than sleep, snuggles, and food. On their first night home as a new trio, the couple tend to and tuck in Petal before crawling beneath their soft sheet but it feels like mere moments later when Petal starts to cry- Harry both dreads his choice not to sleep since the eve of her birth whilst sudden anxiety stirring beneath the surface of his skin at the cluelessness of what happens next.

Like a fresh breeze of favour, his partner has already shifted along the bed, their feet instinctively and sluggishly sliding along the carpet to reach the crib. With ease, his Petal expresses her hunger and just as quickly as it had started, she is silent and satisfied, instantationally lulling back to sleep.

Harry is in a state of slight awareness as his mind and body signal the safety of finally falling asleep. His thoughts are starting to slur into incoherence, welcoming the warm embrace of slumber when what sounds like the preparation of crying is coming from Petal's crib. Now Harry feels a little sick, stirring back to alretness with sharp anxiety sparking his heartbeat- she is surely not hungry, and Harry has regressed to a child taking a grammer test; all of the information he meticulously curated evaporating in an instant.

His mind is a blank, and Harry cannot think of a single thing that would be benefitial for his baby girl. Every detail, every tip and trick dissipates with the increasing fussy grumbles so near, Harry is out of that bed so fast, the sheets flung in his wake, as he hastily follows the instructions of little Petal, his feet padding along the carpet as she cooes and coaxes him closer.

And it's only after he has bowed over the crib, transfering Petal from her cave of a crib to the safety that is his arms and chest, pressing her neatly and carefully against his warmth- unknowingly soothing her with his steady heartbeat- Harry relaxes so suddenly that a wave of relief almost swallows him whole, perhaps his instincts were kicking in afterall.

Silence and the soft snores of his wife is the only sound to be heard as Harry finds himself swaying back and forth, left to right, gently turning a human-rocking chair as he stands in the middle of the bedroom, his attention entirely on the tiny, chubby-faced tot attached to his chest, her nose scrunched, brows furrowed in a focused frown, just like Harry knows he looks amidst slumber.

He doesn't know how long he stays in this position, it doesn't matter as eternity is easily deemed the amount of time Harry is willing to spend standing right here. Eventually, his muscles start to complain, begging him to come home to his comfy bed, but it's only when the throbbing in his calves and ankles becomes so unbearable that Harry knows it's time to put Petal back in her personal paradise- more than grateful when she does not stir and lets him transfer her with ease.

The evening continues on this way, and Harry wishes he could insist on tending to Petal in every way possible, but lacks the means of feeding her, so he resorts to keeping his two gals company, setting comfortably on the edge of the bed each time the newborn routine resets. He fights the temptation of deep sleep, fearful of missing out on even the minutest of moments.

Honestly, nobody can confirm as to when Harry finally falls into a lenghthier sleep but he doesn't care- still thriving off of the adrenaline, excitement, and newness of the past three days. He spreads out the desire to spend time and help out with Petal- he just wants to be with them, just wants to love up on his girls.

Trying his hardest to rely on his lengthy experience of fast-paced and often sudden changes in plans, Harry struggles but perseveres- embracing the fact that things may alter in an instant and he may be needed just as fast, he takes each second as it is and nothing more, prepared to move and participate whenever need be. 

On occasion, he still finds himself in a frenzy of not knowing what to do, but with the patience of his partner, their gentle words of reassurance and soft touches always encourage him to remain calm, reminding him that this newness is challenging, but so, so rewarding. 

At least once a day Harry definitely still regrets the fact that his certainty had been wrong, rueing the days that could have been used to prep more, but with a little reassurance, he knows that nothing can truly prepare you for the real thing. 

He tries his best to fit in and help wherever available, spending every opportunity admiring the soft, oft-sleepy baby who seemed extra tiny in her babygrow. Soon, he is even able to help feed little Petal and does his damnedest to perfect it, just like his partner had. And now, Harry is finally starting to feel like he's getting the hang of things- his worries are washed away and replaced with relaxation and excitement for all the things yet to come. 

And then... It's Harry's first time being alone- alone, alone- with his little one. It won't even be for more than a couple hours, but his throat is dry, his chest thumping, and forehead seeking to start sweating. He knew the day would come eventually, and just as before her birth, Harry overestimated his confidence and felt like a clueless clown once again. 

He dares not bring it up in the hours leading up to the moment the front door would shut- fearful that his nerves would only cause his worry to transfer, perhaps even jeopardising the plans for the day. Instead, he is quieter than usual, and stays as close to his partner as possible, nuzzling and loving on them until it is finally time for departure. 

Still, with his little Petal cradled in his arms, blowing little spit bubbles and blinking curiously, Harry follows his lovely all the way to the door, giving her three extra kisses before she has the opportunity to place a soft kiss to Petal's forehead, and, once she does, she is out the door, leaving a nervous Harry and a sweet, tiny, none-the-wiser baby in her wake. 

But, to his utter surprise, as soon as the trio becomes a duo, Harry discovers nothing is different than before. With such revelation, his unknowingly tense body relaxes, and his feet begin to instinctively rock back and forth- just like always. 

Petal is just the same as before, too snuggly and in her own little world to care, large eyes blinking up at him, cheeks rosy and chubby. 

When she is hungry, she lets him know, and Harry does exactly what he has for the past couple of weeks by warming up the stored milk, sitting himself down on his favourite lounger as his left arm cradles her with care and his right hand comes up to offer her the bottle. She seemed as satisfied as usual, cooperating with his task of burping her before the drowsiness rapidly kicked in and had her in dreamland before Harry could move her. 

He's comfy. He can't imagine a place he would rather be than in this very moment. His body sinks soothingly into the cushions, cosied up, and soon he finds himself struggling against the sleepiness inviting him to embrace and enjoy, something he can only escape for so long before the battle is lost and he is lulling into slumber. He knows the routine will repeat, and he knows that these have been the most challenging yet euphoric days he has ever experienced, but for now, he is falling asleep with his entire world wrapped in his arms, and it's hard to imagine a better place to be.

[after-witch]

Bluebirds [Illumi x Reader]

Title: Bluebirds [Illumi x Reader]

Synopsis: You loved Illumi.  You really did. But his obsession with your pregnancy, or lack thereof, was beginning to grate at you. Did he really care that much about it? 

Word count: 1570

notes: possessiveness, mentions of violence against reader, reader pregnancy talk

There was a routine to your life with Illumi. You slept in the same bed (you were married, after all); you would wiggle your way into his arms in the morning, enjoying the warmth of his body, a rare physical reaction that he could not control whilst he slept. When he finally woke up,  you would cling to him, annoyingly, cloyingly, until he peeled himself from your arms to begin his day.

You would get out of bed yourself when he’d woken up (Illumi was, all things considered, not a morning person) and refuse to let him leave without a plethora of affectionate gestures. A kiss--one for his cheek, one for his lips. A hug. A promise to see him later.

It was nice.

Of course, it wasn’t always nice. No, no routine present in the vast Zoldyck estate could be called entirely nice. There was training every day that ended with bleeding fingertips or broken digits or a heady combination of blood, sweat and tears.

But when it was nice… well,  you could enjoy it.

Lately, though.

Lately, something had begun to bother you. For all of your own affectionate gestures, Illumi rarely reciprocated. You didn’t expect him to coo and fawn over you, but was it too much to ask for him to hold your hand once in a while? To play with the edge of your shirt, absentmindedly? To open his arms for you, instead of you always snuggling into them first?

The only physical gesture Illumi seemed to initiate himself was flat-out sex, and… something else. Something that had begun to bother you as it increased in frequency and irritation.

Every night before bed for the past few weeks, without fail, Illumi would press his ears to your stomach and press down. Then he would ask you how you were feeling--nauseous? Dizzy? Unusual? And then… he’d take you to the bathroom to pee on yet another pregnancy test. And every day, the answer would be the same: nothing. 

It was like he wasn’t interested in you, only your pregnancy--or lack thereof. Why? You showed him enough affectionate, didn’t you?  You kissed him and stroked him, and let him know how much you enjoyed his company. You loved him, you did.

But he just didn’t seem to love you back. Not in the way you wanted him to love you. Not in a way that made you feel wanted.

And his damned obsession with your pregnancy was there for the ride, growing more and more agitating with each passing day. 

And this one particular evening, you just couldn’t take it any longer. You knew that the moment he pressed his ears down against your belly. But you weren’t going to yell at him--no, you weren’t that kind of wife, were you?

“Geez, Illumi,” you said, keeping your voice as lighthearted as you could. “You’re getting really obsessed with this, don’t you think?” You grinned, but it was thin and fractious, belying the anxiety underneath. “That’s not why you married me is it, I hope? What happens if I never get pregnant?”

At this, Illumi’s intense expression didn’t change. He merely glanced from  your stomach up to you.

“The purpose of any marriage,” he began, “is to produce heirs for the Zoldyck family. What use would you be, if you could not fulfill this basic purpose?” 

Just then, your heart cracked open. 

He didn’t notice.

He did notice when you flung the covers off your legs and left the bed. You couldn’t stop the words from coming, even as the well-trained voice of common sense inside you told you to shut your mouth.

“I’m just a womb to you? Is that it? You don’t even love me.” Your voice was tight and your chest hurt. Everything hurt. 

Illumi merely blinked at your huffing, teary-eyed form.

“You are being ridiculous. Come back to bed.” 

“No!” You practically screamed it, feeling some unknown tight coil inside you release with a sudden force. 

His eyes widened, then. Just barely. If you weren’t married to him, maybe you wouldn’t have noticed. But you were, and you loved him (still) and had come to know many of his physical and verbal quirks.

“Come back to bed, wife.”

Your body wanted to obey. Marriage to Illumi came with certain obligations, and obeying him--as his wife--was one of them. But your mind refused, replaying his words over and over, feeling the sting of it in your chest each time.

So you shook your head, suddenly feeling like a child. Salty tears stung your eyes.

“No, you… you don’t--”

“Wife.”

In his voice was the promise of training. Promises of whip-sore skin and hours with your arms up, dangling until your shoulders felt like they would rip out. Promises you didn’t want him to keep.

So you shuffled closer to the bed, hiding your face in the warm sleeve of your nightgown. You crawled back into bed but turned away from him, still sniffling.

“Good night,” you said. 

Before tonight, you would have given him a good night kiss. You would have snuggled into his arms, even though he rarely held you back.

But tonight, you simply stared at the window, glossy moonlight shining through the curtains, and cried.

--

Oh, how you’ve changed. It didn’t register as a change at first. No, at first, he merely assumed that you were having a tantrum. It was unusual for you, but not unheard of; you wouldn’t be the first spouse of a Zoldyck to become over-emotional because of some unexpressed lofty expectations.

But then you kept it up. The coldness. The slow, ebbing loss of your affectionate side. You didn’t pepper him with kisses before he left you alone for the day. You didn’t sneak your hand out towards his, even when you were in mixed company, seeking the familiarity of his fingers. You didn’t hold him hostage with your endless chattering about this and that and everything in between.

It was like someone had taken the real you and replaced you with a clone, bereft of your normal vitality and light. 

He didn’t like it. He didn’t like it at all.

Not only was it troublesome (he found that he missed the routine of your morning kisses, silly as it was) but worrisome, too. Were you sick? Or had you been so upset at his words (but why, he wondered, when it was only the simple truth) that it really had broken something in you?

Either way, he would need to rectify the situation. Because he couldn’t deny the thrill that went through him every time you stepped up to peck him on the cheek. The electric shock he felt in his fingers, when you intertwined yours with his. All these little things that you did, making him feel good. 

And you, knowingly or not, were robbing him of something he felt he’d earned. Something that he had grown accustomed to, after all these months.

Your love. 

-

You slowly, lightly chewed on the inside of your cheek, trying to pluck up the courage to ask. In the end, your courage came abruptly.

“I’d like my own room,” you blurted. 

Illumi paused, mid-crawl under the covers. Your eyes searched for any sign of irritation or anger, but saw nothing but calm, cool blankness. It worried you. 

“Why?” He asked after a moment. 

You’d run through so many answers in your head in the past few days. You knew he would ask why. But you didn’t know what you’d tell him.

Because you were tired of sleeping next to a man who saw you as nothing but an incubator, when you’d given him so much of your heart? Because it would be less awkward to stop pretending that you were a loving married couple? 

In the end, you settled for something more simple, more selfish.

“Maybe I’d feel like a person again, and not a womb with legs.”

Illumi adjusted himself under the covers and considered you, his gaze simple and penetrating.

“Are you quite finished with this behavior? It has grown tiresome.” 

You bit down on your cheek.

“Tiresome?” You breathed out a laugh. “What, would you rather I keep pretending that you’re my loving husband?” Your fingers clenched the blanket so hard that they hurt, needle marks under your nails from earlier today notwithstanding. “I can’t do that anymore.”

Illumi sighed. A slow, but impulsive noise. It made you turn towards him. He so rarely let out those types of unguarded sounds.

“It doesn’t matter, anyway. Your current emotional outburst, that is.” 

It was your turn to blink at him. 

“What do you mean?”

Illumi didn’t say anything, not right away. Instead, he reached into the pocket of his robe, and pulled out a sheet of paper. You craned your neck to see--it was a jumble of numbers, some diagnostics. On the top was your name and the date that the family’s private physician had taken blood from you--just a few days ago.

“I don’t understand,” you said. But you did--you did because the expression on his face had shifted. And again, it was something that only you might have noticed. The crinkling of his eyelid, the slight upturn of a smile. 

To someone who didn’t know him, he might look slightly amused. But you knew the truth: he was elated.  His next words confirmed what your gut had been screaming at you.

“You’re finally pregnant.” 

[shu-box-puns]

I never would have given you to them; not for anything (Tsu'tey x Reader)

Last Chapter <- Part 3 -> Next Chapter

If you prefer to read on Ao3, you can find the fic here!

Summary: It is said that Na'vi are defined by their actions. And oh boy, what a statement you make.

Word Count: 7832

Reader uses they/them pronouns.

NOTE: The term 'Zaza' is a gender neutral way to address a parental figure.

The Well of Souls was almost how Tsu’tey had left it a week ago. Eerie and quiet as if the Great Mother herself slumbered beneath the soft moss, her breath disturbing the glowing vines of her Tree with her every exhale. Today, however, the quiet was disturbed by the voices of the children, both soft spoken and respectful, but no less passionate.

<”Will they be okay, Kiri?”> Little Tuk asked from somewhere within the bowl, her tone laced with childish worry and hope. At Tsu’tey’s side, Neytiri’s ears perked as her steps quickened. Jake was no less eager as he increased his pace, rounding the cliffs to the sloping side of the Well of Souls. Tsu’tey followed. 

<”They will heal.”> Kiri finally said in that all-knowing voice of her’s. The one that imbued the wisdom of a Tsahik into her words. <”But it will take time.”>

<”We do not have time.”> Neteyam interjected, anxiety evident in his tone. 

Fluidly, Neytiri leapt over a fallen log as she came to the lip of the slope into the Well of Souls. She paused only long enough to scan the immediate undergrowth, an arrow notched and her tail flicking to and fro. Jake brushed past her, starting a calculated descent whilst his mate watched his back. Tsu’tey brought up the rear, soothed by the calm conversation happening below as well as the sounds of birds in the canopy above. For now, all was well.

<”It will be getting dark soon.”> Lo’ak interjected, <”if we’re taking them back to the clan, we should call the ikran.”>

None of the adults vocalised their presence, weary of Neteyam’s earlier reports of recoms lurking between the trees. Instead, like they had so many times before, the trio moved with quiet purpose. Conscious that surprise would be an advantage.

<”Mother told us to leave them here.”> Neteyam immediately argued.

<”Not everyone is like Dad!”> Lo’ak countered, <”and not every marine who stumbles out here is blessed by Eywa. If we leave them, they will die.”> 

<”Perhaps we should do that then.”> Neteyam bit back almost immediately, anger edging into his tone. The malicious words echoing around the silent cliffs. The older boy sighed heavily, and Tsu’tey could tell by Lo’ak’s silence that he was glaring hard at his brother.

A sharp inhale from Neytiri briefly drew his attention from the verbal sparring match. The huntress motioned with her notched bow to a booted footprint imprinted into an especially thick clump of moss beside her foot. The footprints led further down the slope and into the bowl. Together, the trio followed the trail.

They came across the body before any of the children responded. It was a recom, left crumbled where it had been shot dead and left to bleed its nutrients back into the earth from two arrow wounds cut into its torso. Tsu’tey smelt smoke lingering on the body’s clothes, and knew the soldier had used his weapon before he was disposed of.

<”Whatever these things are, they are unnatural.”> Neteyam continued, <”dead people should not continue to walk Eywa’eveng.”>

To Tsu’tey’s surprise, it was Spider who responded. 

<”Bro, you don’t mean that.”> 

<”You heard your Dad.”>

Tsu’tey winced. 

<”Yeah, well, obviously he got it wrong. He’s grieving, he’s going to jump to conclusions.”> Spider blurted, scrambling to get his words out before Neteyam could expand on his statement. He laughed nervously, <”it was probably just the shock. You know he’s been a bit on edge recently. I’m sure that when we take them home, he’ll change his mind. Yeah! He’s got to. Right?”>

The dead soldier was completely forgotten now. He stepped over the body, finding himself in the open space of the bowl with the graves tucked away in the far corner, guarded by the Great Mother’s tree. Which was where he found the kids, all perched upon Eywa’s throne, hidden between the coiling roots. 

He hadn’t even considered questioning where the recom was, despite them being the topic of the conversation, but Tsu’tey didn’t have to wonder for long. Not after he drew nearer and immediately realised that the children were crowded around a wounded body. 

Spider’s panicked words slammed into the side of his face as bile slid up Tsu’tey’s throat as he took in the state of the recom. The blood splattered clothes, the state of its feet, muddy and streaked with cuts and dirt. The limp way it had been arranged within the roots, clearly breathing, but only just. Kiri crouched above its torso, smearing a herbal paste over bullet wounds that Tsu’tey could smell even from such a distance. The body did not so much as twitch under her careful ministrations, its face the optime of calm. 

Spider was holding tightly onto one of their limp hands, his knuckles white.

<”Spider,”> Kiri sighed, wiping her messy hands on her thigh before taking some offered leaf bandages from Tuk with a grateful incline of her head. She let the name hang in the air whilst she carefully wrapped the wound. <”This isn’t of Eywa’s doing-”>

Spider’s face scrunched up under her careful words, before he promptly interrupted her. <”But what if this was Grace?”> He asked, something desperate brewing in his tone. <”What if it was your mum that found us? You would have fought my Dad to protect her, no questions asked. Regardless of whether her body was made by the demons.”> 

<”Spider-”> <”Don’t pretend to understand, because you don’t!”> Spider snarled. His raised his head from staring down at his Zaza, to fix the other children with a sharp look. Wisely, they did not try to interrupt him. <”Eywa, I hate this. I finally got my Zaza back and you’re all pretending like it’s a fucking omen or something.”> He paused, fury burning in his eyes. <”Which they’re not! They’re exactly as they’ve always been! Just like Dad and Jake described them! They didn’t fucking know us and they still protected us! TWICE NOW! Bad people don’t do that!”>

<”Spider.”> Tuk whispered, <”you’ll wake them up.”> Spider’s fury abruptly spluttered out. <”We’re not sure if they <i>will</i> wake up.”> He told her gently, to which Tuk let out a quiet little, “oh.”

Fuck stealth, Tsu’tey hated that tone on his son. He despised the anger, the wobble of his voice as emotion tried to get the better of him. He picked up his pace, growing closer by the second as Spider grew quiet. The grip he had on the recom’s hand became like the desperate hold of a survivor on a lifeline. 

Spider turned to look at Neteyam, who stubbornly held his gaze. <”If this was your Dad, if he had died and this was your only connection to him, you would be fighting just as hard as me!”> His gaze snapped to Lo’ak. <”No, fuck that, you’d be fighting even harder than I am.”>

Tsu’tey couldn’t hear anymore. He wouldn’t survive it. He hadn’t even noticed Spider was feeling this way. And what kind of father was he? To not notice his own son hurting. Regardless of his own grief, Tsu’tey should have been better. Should have been paying more attention.

Neteyam spotted him first over Spider’s shoulder, his pinned ears flying upwards in acknowledgement. This of course drew the attention of the rest of them, including Spider who seemed almost reluctant to acknowledge anyone else entering the Well of Souls. The words were trapped in Tsu’tey’s tight throat, so he allowed Jake to call ahead, asking if everyone was okay. 

Neteyam might have answered him. Or perhaps it was Kiri. Tsu’tey wasn’t listening enough to care. All of his attention had gone to Spider. To the tears pearling on his lashes, which his boy refused to let fall. To the way he clutched the recom’s limp hand in both of his, clinging tightly.

<”You better be about to apologise.”> His son warned him, eyebrows drawn tight. His posture screaming defensive. 

Tsu’tey’s own expression broke. He felt his icy bravado melt into something pulsing and raw. Something that encouraged him to drop his bow, to cast aside his arrows and drop into a kneel at his son’s feet. Words were still beyond him, but he knew Spider was picking up on his micro expressions. He knew from the widening of his son’s eyes that he could see Tsu’tey’s regret in the lowering of his ears, the thinning of his lips. 

<”Son-”> <”No!”> Spider jumped in immediately, his expression fierce. Tsu’tey noted how he reared up onto his knees, hovering over the recom in a position that could not have been easy on his thighs. An easily defensible position, another part of Tsu’tey’s brain provided. <”Don’t try to talk me out of this! I’ve been good. I’ve listened, and now you’re going to listen to me before they die, again!”>

That stung. Enough that Tsu’tey had to suppress a flinch. Lips thinning, he managed a disjointed nod. Despite himself, he felt a swell of pride inflating in his chest despite the tone the boy was taking with him. If Spider needed to feel in control for the moment, then he would allow it. There would be plenty of time for a proper conversation later, when it was safe. 

<”What happened?”> Tsu’tey finally pushed out, eyes flickering from Spider’s face to the body. 

<”Zaza, they-”> Spider swallowed loudly, <”they got shot.”> Tsu’tey wanted to reach out and put a steady hand on his son’s shaking shoulder, but restrained himself. Despite Spider’s posture screaming uncertainty, Tsu’tey knew it might not be what he wanted right now. Spider would ask for comfort, when he felt he needed it, and not a moment before. So although he clung tightly to the recom’s hand and shifted as if he wanted to curl into Tsu’tey like he always did when he was scared, Tsu’tey made no move to invade his space. Instead, he remained patient and quiet, allowing Spider to gather himself. 

Spider stayed put, so so did Tsu’tey. 

<”They took a cartridge of bullets defending Lo’ak. We need to get them home.”>

Tsu’tey nodded, slow and steady. That was the plan before coming here. If anything, this simply cemented what Mo’at had been trying to tell him. He looked at his son now. His boy, and knew Spider already felt it. That thin, fragile connection between parent and child, however strained. Neytiri’s shadow passed over Tsu'tey, her steps quiet and respectful as she rounded the body to crouch at Kiri’s side, her eyes flicking over the bandages. <”Are they stable?”> She asked, glancing briefly at Spider, who dipped his head in a nod, before leaning in to check for a pulse.

Her eldest daughter told her they were, before leaning back to allow her mother to work and offer a second opinion. Despite being only fourteen, Kiri was well versed in the practices of a Tsahik thanks to Mo’at, but Neytiri had countless more years of experience and learning on her hands. 

<”Eywa has kept them from drifting far.”> Kiri offered as Neytiri worked. Clicking her tongue, Neytiri withdrew her hand. <”Indeed.”> She agreed, pausing to squeeze Kiri’s knee in ‘well done’, before reaching up and pulling the recom’s kuru free from the Tree. The braid fell with a soft thump to the roots, but the body did not stir. Tsu’tey held his breath, knowing, even with his severe lack of spiritual and medical understanding, that that was not a good sign.

Spider clung even tighter to the recom’s hand. His other slipping down to cup the back of it, his little thumb idly tracing circles into cool skin.

<”Strange.”> Neytiri rumbled aloud, leaning over the still body to peel back its eyelids and peer into its lax pupils. Their eyes did not move. The pupils hardly contracted from the glow of the Tree. Neytiri clicked her hand on either side of its head, checking for a reaction, a flick of their ears or a wince. The recom breathed but did not wake.

<”How bad is it?”> Jake asked, standing upon the moss at the foot of the throne. He had one hand on his gun, whilst Tuk had at some point slithered away from Kiri’s side and gotten herself picked up by her father. She was tucked into his neck now, watching the scene with large, thoughtful eyes. 

<”Not good.”> Neytiri said simply, <”the Tree should have offered enough energy for them to resurface. But they are not. The connection was not strong enough.”>

<”What could possibly be stronger than the Tree of Souls.”>

<”The bond.”> Neytiri said simply, then turned to Tsu’tey who called on every ounce of pride he owned to not shrink back. His stomach somersaulted under Neytiri’s measured gaze, her expression all business as she seemed to look into him. Her tone was slightly softer when she continued, losing some of a professional sharpness. <”I am sure you do not need me to explain it.”> He didn’t, but that didn’t mean he was tripping over himself to do what was needed. 

His stomach was trying to twist itself into unpleasant knots with the implications of it. With the idea that he would have to touch his kuru to the recoms in order to wake them. That it would emotionally mean nothing beyond survival. 

Throughout his life, Tsu’tey had seen this form of healing performed before, after hunting mishaps or riding accidents that left Mo’at worrying whether the patient would wake again. Setting aside the complex spiritual and social beliefs about one’s kuru, the practice was practically undoubtedly reliable and used as a last resort. Borrowed from the early stages of a na’vi’s life when the child shared Tsaheylu with their parent, the bond allowed oxygen and nutrients to be passed from one body to another. Biologically, it helped rouse an unconscious patient, and in some cases, prevent death from coming to pass.

Tsu’tey could feel his family’s eyes on him, the silent concern of Jake at his back. The sharp, uncertain feeling of Spider’s gaze burning into the side of his head. The confusion of the other children. Neytiri’s eyes were steady and confident when he met them, a stark contrast to how Tsu’tey felt.

<“There is nothing else that can be done?”> Tsu’tey asked, just to be sure. He did not want to form a connection that was not necessary. Not if he didn’t have to. But if the bond would allow everyone to return to High Camp a little bit quicker, he would do it. The less time spent in the forest, the better.

<”Not here.”> Neytiri told him, and that was enough for Tsu’tey. 

He sighed quietly to himself before rising and shuffling around to the recom’s head, now that he wasn’t blinded by rage, he could see his mate more clearly in their features. He could study the patterns of their glowing freckles and could relax in the newness. Their shell may be different, but if what his son had said was true, then their mind would be familiar to him. It might even feel like returning home. 

<”Fine.”> Tsu’tey gritted out through tight teeth. 

Neytiri nodded, reached over the body to grasp his knee and offer a tight squeeze of comfort. Her eyes caught his and held, seriousness taking over everything else. <”You need only pull them to the surface with you.”> She instructed him, sounding so much like her mother. <”Do not probe and do not get lost.”>

He nodded. 

Spider had relaxed slightly throughout the interaction, something in him soothed now that Tsu’tey had made it clear that he did not intend to inflict harm. And as Tsu’tey pulled his kuru over his shoulder, his son shuffled closer to his side, as he always did when Tsu’tey prepared to disconnect from the world and get lost in Tsaheylu. Tsu’tey did not acknowledge the action, eyes steady on his own hands as Spider leaned more heavily into his side, seeking the comfort he did not feel comfortable asking for with so many eyes present. As compensation, Tsu’tey loosely curled his tail behind his son, not touching, but offering a makeshift border of security. 

Kuru in hand, Tsu’tey stole a moment for himself to breathe. In and out. Smooth and simple. He could feel his nerves within the braid thrumming in anticipation as he carefully reached for the recom’s kuru. The hair was recently washed and cared for, and almost soft beneath his finger despite the ordeal it had suffered after hours in the rain and the mud. The weight was like any other kuru, and had nothing alien about it. Tsu’tey took comfort from that as he brought the end close to his own; both sets of tendrils were already eagerly reaching for one another. 

The bond wrapped around him like an embrace, urging his eyelids closed and loosening the tension from his shoulders. Then it grew taught and dragged him mercilessly down, down, down. Tsu’tey allowed it. He could still feel the moss against his legs. The warmth of Spider now leaning fully into his side. He was still present, even as he spiralled. 

At first, there was no scene, only darkness and the throb of emotions Tsu’tey couldn’t name. He focused hard, opening his mind to the fog. Allowing it to enter him as he entered into it. He met no resistance, and for a moment, the entity seemed to hold its breath. Then it yielded to him.

His surroundings faded into existence slowly. 

He was in the Well of Souls still, but the entire clan was here with him, decked out in war paint and rallying weapons. Clans from all over poured into the bowl, whooping to passing ikran riders and hunters on pa’li. 

It was the night before the Battle for The Tree of Souls, Tsu’tey realised. But the recom would have no recollection of this night, so he must have pushed harder than he originally realised for him to be seeing his own memory within Tsaheylu.

Across the way, he saw Jake’s avatar with Neytiri, talking amongst themselves beneath the metal ikran. He saw himself there too, stood at the foot of Eywa’s throne, painted in yellow and navy and decked out in his war beads. His younger self had his back to him, but Tsu’tey could clearly see the proud sway of his tail, the way he held himself with the arrogance of a newly appointed Olo’eyktan.

On unsteady feet, Tsu’tey approached himself. This younger version of himself who was still so free of the burdens he was yet to shoulder. The version of himself still ignorant to the true might of the Sky People and would later be betrayed critically by one of his own people.

This version of himself towered over the human body of his mate before they became his mate. The human sat comfortably among the weaving roots of Eywa’s throne, wearing Sky Person camouflage armour and decked out in bright yellow war paint. The image was enough to jog Tsu’tey’s memory.

He often recalled this encounter fondly, as it was the first time he’d truly begun to respect his mate. It had also been one of the first times he’d realised just how much the infuriating Sky Person had really meant to him. 

Even now, he could recall the bitter sting of panic on the back of his tongue, when the metal ikran had returned with a wounded Grace and no Y/n. Within moments of Jake reappearing, he had been demanding confirmation they were still alive, to which Jake had assured them that Trudy planned to return to Hell’s Gate by eclipse to retrieve them, since they had unfinished business to tie up before making an escape. He had grumbled his displeasure and sulked until his not mate had returned to the People. 

This image before him, with his not mate seated proudly upon Eywa’s throne whilst Tsu’tey stood confidently at their feet, had been their first conversation following a brief reunion. It had been a rocky period of their relationship, with betrayal pushing a wedge between them, after HomeTrees destruction. Tsu’tey had felt raw and explosive. Annoyed by the infuriatingly neutral face they constantly wore beneath their mask as they cleaned and repaired a weapon Tsu’tey knew would kill a Na’vi with three shots, and obliterate a Sky Person in one.

The him of the present approached the duo, ears pricking at the tell tales signs of snarled conflict between these past versions of themselves. They were so young here. So unaware of what trials were yet to come.

“-you are a Demon!” His younger self spat, to which the human soldier drew themselves up tall. Their expression smoothed out to something similar to what Eytukan usually wore when he was conducting crucial business. “How can I possibly trust you after everything that has happened?” 

His not mate took their sweet time responding, essentially leaving Tsu’tey’s younger self to wait in line for their attention. They took their time, drawing it out, testing whether or not Tsu’tey would stay or storm off in a huff. As he knew he would, his younger self remained where he stood, impatiently waiting for them to respond.

And when they did, it was as slow and deliberate as a palulukan stalking its prey. Their expression held poorly suppressed fury, something roiling and barely controlled. It had Tsu’tey’s younger self shifting on his feet, but he did not step back. 

“Trust my rage.” They told his counterpart simply. “Trust that and nothing else, if you must.”

The yellow war paint smeared across their brow and dotted along their cheeks beneath their mask beautifully complimented their skin, Tsu’tey thought to himself. His heart twinging at this young, fiery version of his mate. The human held his younger self’s eye, and Tsu’tey watched himself visibly stiffen, before his ears lowered ever so slightly. 

He remembered coming to a conclusion at that moment. A realisation, that he had never trusted them more than he did when they looked at him like that. Perhaps it had been the certainty of their tone. Or the familiar narrowing of their eyebrows. Both of which contributed to the look they always wore when they had set their mind on something and would burn the world to accomplish it. 

He remembered they had worn that same expression weeks prior when Tsu’tey had goaded them into what was essentially a pissing contest. A stupid competition, so petty that he could barely remember it. It might have had something to do with archery, or perhaps climbing, he wasn’t sure, but whichever it was, they had sent him on his way afterwards with his tail between his legs, and his cheeks blazing in shame. 

“Okay.” His past self accepted, before carefully climbing upon Eywa’s throne until he could crouch beside them.

Tsu’tey’s brows furrowed at the action. He did not remember doing that. After his not mate had told him to trust their fury, he had nodded and walked away, his stomach tightening with butterflies. He certainly had not ventured closer, nor had he taken a seat beside them.

His past self completely ignored what Tsu’tey hadn’t done, and continued to stray. “Why did you remain behind within the demon’s compound?” He asked his not mate, who seemed to soften ever so slightly at his curiosity. 

That look sent alarm bells ringing through Tsu’tey’s body. At this point, their relationship had been rocky, almost a rivalry rather than a friendship. They certainly hadn’t looked at him like that until months after this, but even then, they had tried their hardest to hide it. “We needed more concrete information, so I got it.” They told his younger self simply, “do you want to See?” 

Tsu’tey jumped as their head abruptly lifted from their gun and pinned him in place with serious, unblinking eyes. He took a startled step back, watching the memory watch him with a knowing look. 

<”You can see me?”> He breathed, panic creeping into the back of his throat. <”How can you see me?”>

<”You have not done this before, have you?”> His not mate mused, their resulting smile bittersweet. <”I See you.”> They told him, <”and yet, you do not.”> <”I do not understand.”> 

<”You will.”> They reassured him before rising to their feet. <”But only if you trust me.”> They extended a hand, palm facing up, as small and innocent as they had always pretended to be. Tsu’tey knew from experience that their palm would be calloused, their fingers short but strong. 

He barely spared his younger self a second glance as he slowly approached. Eyes flickering from their outstretched hand to their sure expression and the war paint adorning their determined little face. Slowly, he raised his hand to grasp their’s. The size difference was comical, but somehow, it worked for them, like it always had. 

<“You wish to See, do you not?”> They asked him one last time, as if to offer him a chance to back out. Tsu’tey looked at them, really looked at them. Up into the face he had loved and lost. <“I do.”> He admitted.

And for a moment, nothing happened as the world seemed to have lulled to a halt as he spoke. His younger self frozen with his eyes still trained on the side of the human’s face.

In contrast, his mate moved freely, their little fingers grasping his a little tighter. <”Good.”> They praised him, then they changed. 

Before Tsu’tey’s eyes, his not mate grew into their recom body. Startled, he tried to retract his hand, but their grasp was firm. Before his eyes, they towered over him, still dressed in the military attire of their counterpart, which had grown and shifted to accommodate their larger body. The exomask had disappeared, but the yellow war paint remained. Beneath Tsu’tey’s palm, their callouses had disappeared and their skin was now soft and smooth, as if this body had not yet spent enough time handling a weapon to have need of them. 

For some reason, here, in this setting, with the Tree as their witness, and the clan frozen in time, Tsu’tey felt like the recom’s presence was familiar, as if he had sensed it before. But the feeling was dream-like and distant. Small and jumpy as a small animal. Unwilling for him to catch the thought to properly understand it.

As if hearing his thoughts, the recom’s lips quirked upwards into a knowing smile. <”Now you’re catching on.”> They mused.

<”What now?”> Tsu’tey demanded, his patience beginning to wane.

<”Now, you will See.”> <”You keep saying that.”> Tsu’tey reprimanded, <”but you do not deliver.”> They smiled. <”So impatient. Come along, Olo’eyktan.”>

They pulled lightly on his arm, causing him to stumble forward and put a foot up on one of the lower roots to keep his footing. Tsu’tey glared up at them and they chuckled lightly, tugging again so that Tsu’tey was forced to step properly up onto the throne. From there he was led to the summit, where the Tree itself poked through the dirt and arched overhead.  

<”Where are you leading me?”>

At first, there was no response as he was led around the circumference of the Tree and pulled out of sight of the rest of the camp. Then the recom paused before a metal door that should not have been part of the Tree. Tsu’tey’s eyes narrowed at the sight of it, having seen something familiar attached to the human compounds. 

<”Go through here.”> 

The recom no longer sounded like Tsu’tey’s mate, and it startled him. The voice that spoke to him could only have been described as naturally powerful; as effortlessly knowing. It was neither male nor female; old nor young. It just was. And somehow, it made sense.

<”Search through the ghosts of your past and find your other half.”> The voice instructed, <”each doorway is a chance. Be thorough and open, only then will you See.”> <”Thank you.”> Tsu’tey breathed as the being dropped his hand and stepped back. They did not turn to face him as Tsu’tey reached for the door that only came up to his midriff. And somehow, he knew they no longer carried the face of his mate upon their alien features. If the being looked at him now, he knew he would not recognise who his eyes flickered up to meet the gaze of.

<”Make me proud.”> Prompted the voice, and Tsu’tey could do little but obey as he opened the door and slithered through.

>_<

He emerged into a corridor of Hell’s Gate, as it was before the humans had left. The tight, greyscale space was flooded with Sky People, all dressed in contrasting uniforms with places to be and determination in their strides. 

Immediately, his gaze was drawn to the living ghost of Colonel Quaritch, who commanded a path through the teeming crowd with nothing but his presence. The people heading in the opposite direction to him split around his muscular figure like river water would pass around a mossy rock. The colonel was flanked by two people. One Tsu’tey did not recognise, but one he did.

Here, his mate was human again, dressed in the military attire they wore into the Battle for The Tree of Souls, but with no yellow war paint. They carried a tablet, and easily kept pace with the colonel’s swift strides whilst remaining a step or two behind. The image of a good soldier.

Tsu’tey was not fooled however. He noticed the dangerous glint in his mate’s eye. The smooth way they shifted files around, flicking a couple into the digital bin and others being uploaded to an external network. Normally, Tsu’tey would not know hide nor hair of the Sky People’s complex internet, but the bond must have filtered some of the words over, because somehow, he knew the functions of each button that was pressed as well as the names of everything that was around him. 

What he could not place however, was the origin of the undercurrent of energy in the air. It was electrical in nature, and yet could not be traced back to the flickering lights or the electricity pulsing through hidden wires. It was subtle, but powerful. Boiling hotter and hotter like a forest fire that was rapidly getting out of control.

His eyes flickered to his mate’s face as they passed him by, and then it clicked. He noticed the narrowing of their brows as they glared holes into the back of the colonel’s head. He saw the tightening of their grasp on the tablet, the way the metal and glass groaned in protest. Their rage, he realised, had tainted the memory somehow. Had shifted the very air into something tense and dangerous.

“- have the native scuttled off to then, now that their main tree has been blown to shit?” The colonel asked without looking back.

The human walking beside Tsu’tey’s mate responded, all bravado and wonky teeth. “The Well of Souls, sir.” He reported diligently, whilst Tsu’tey found amusement in the way the artificial lighting shone on his hairless scalp.

“Good. Then we can knock out two birds with one stone.” The colonel returned triumphantly, to which the bald one nodded along.

“Excellent idea.” Tsu’tey’s mate replied, although the look on their face suggested it was anything but. “What artillery would we require for such an assault sir?”

The colonel, with the confidence of a man who knew his worth, immediately began listing off numbers and divisions, all of which Tsu’tey’s mate diligently noted down. Judging by the ripple of triumph that passed within the undercurrent of rage, Tsu’tey could tell this information would not remain strictly confidential. 

Fondness flared to life as Tsu’tey gazed upon them like this. So confident and full of life. How utterly in their element they were. He could vaguely place the date of the memory, solely based on the Omaticayan style necklace he saw peering out of the collar of their shirt. A begrudging gift from his younger self in an attempt to bridge the gap and form a truce. He now wore that same necklace beneath his wrist guard.

With a lopsided smile, Tsu’tey recalled why exactly he was here in the first place. His task was to pull the recom out of the past and out of their head. In passing back home, he had heard the most common method in Tsaheylu for this was to grab their hand and pull. And with little other ideas to try out, Tsu’tey did.

His phantom form had to stoop to weave around the light fixtures of the tight corridor, but with his long legs, it was effortless to catch up with the trio who had just walked past him. For some reason, the other Sky People in the corridor automatically parted and wove around him as he moved, leaving his path to his goal unobstructed. Tsu’tey almost grinned with how straight forward this was becoming, Neytiri had made it seem like it was going to be harder than this.

And with that in mind, and the distance closing, he reached forward for his mate’s hand. Unsurprisingly, it was tiny compared to his, but warm and solid. Shocked, the human started, leaping to the side as their head whipped up to find the source of the touch. 

Their eyes locked with Tsu’tey’s, widened, and then promptly vanished. There was no flicker of the light. Nor was there a dramatic breeze that whisked their particles away. It was simply a case of one moment they were there, and the next, it were as if they had never existed in the first place.

Tsu’tey triumphant grin melted into an open mouth gasp of horror. 

Up ahead, the colonel kept striding along as the anger tainting the air promptly dissipated, leaving behind an anxiety so thick that it made Tsu’tey feel physically sick. To the man’s right, walked the bald one, now sporting a tablet and diligently tapping away on it. Neither so much as glanced backwards.

The memory blurred then, drawing Tsu’tey’s attention to another door which was somehow still in focus. Upon first glance, it appeared identical to the one that had let him into the corridor, but Tsu’tey knew it was warped somehow and wouldn’t lead into another room in Hell’s Gate.

>_<

The second door opened out into the belly of HomeTree. The main fire roared in its pit as the clan assembled in the back chamber before Eytukan. Hesitantly, Tsu’tey moved further into the chamber, emotion clogging his chest as nostalgia crept up on him. 

His attention was immediately captured by the commotion occuring by the spiral staircase. Unnoticed by his fellow clan members, Tsu’tey wove through the assembled clan, surprised to find Jake stood near the front adjacent to a distinctly human shape decked out in camo gear and an exomask.

<”And this one can be trusted, Jake-Sully?”> Mo’at asked carefully, prowling around the human, who stood dutifully before her, all neutral mask and motionless ears. Her tail swayed in apprehension, 

<”Yes.”> Jake insisted, the cummerbund wrapped around his waist signalling that this memory was a few weeks before HomeTree’s destruction. When Eytukan was still Olo’eyktan and the chemistry between Jake and Neytiri was edging towards undoubtable. Vaguely, Tsu’tey even saw himself tucked away on Eytukan’s right, bow in hand and his eyes narrowed in mistrust.

Eytukan nodded in acknowledgement of Jake’s claim before glancing to his mate who continued to circle the soldier.

“What are you called?” She asked in heavily accented English.

At the direct address, the human glanced up. In a clear, respectful tone, they gave the Tsahik their name. Mo’at nodded. “And why do you come to us?” “I seek knowledge for myself.” They told her simply. “The Sky People wreak unnecessary destruction, on both your clan and your home. In exchange for your help, I offer information which you can use to stop them.” The Tsahik hummed thoughtfully. “And what exactly is it exactly, you seek in return? We have learnt that your people do not offer kindness without a price.” Jake shifted uncertainly on his feet, eyes casually glancing down to his friend before he snapped them away to look anywhere else. In contrast, the human remained unphased.

“I want to learn how to fire one of your bows.” They told her, their tone leaving little room for mockery. 

Mo’at tilted her head in amusement. “Why?” “All skills are valuable for surviving, even more so on Pandora.” Mo’at nodded thoughtfully at this, a subtle smile creeping onto her otherwise schooled expression. Tsu’tey could tell from the playful prick of her ears that the human had unknowingly pleased her. With her mind made up, Mo’at turned to her mate who had not yet looked away from her. And with a sharp nod, Eytukan lost some of his stiffness. 

“Provided that your information is sound,” Eytukan explained firmly, his English rustier than Mo’at but clear enough in Tsu’tey’s opinion. “We shall instruct you in our ways.”

The human dipped their head in thanks, almost too quickly for Tsu’tey to notice the genuine smile creeping onto their features.

The scene warped suddenly as it remade itself, causing Tsu’tey to lurch on his feet. He blinked and found himself no longer in HomeTree’s main chamber, but instead standing in Mo’at’s current tent that sat nestled in the protective hold of High Camp’s mountain cavern.

He held his knife in both of his hands, the blade raised high above his head as if he were planning to bring it down with all of his might. At his feet knelt the body of a recom, shivering in fright with their head bowed respectfully. 

“What purpose do you serve? Why have you returned to haunt me?” His own voice spat even though Tsu’tey’s lips hadn’t moved to form the words. “WHY?!”

The recom flinched. Slowly, they lifted their head, peering up at him sheepishly through glittering lashes. Tear tracks marked the apples of their cheeks, causing them to shine too in the jumping flames of Mo’at’s fire.

“I couldn’t stay there.” The recom explained shakily, but all Tsu’tey heard was that the Sky People had thrown out their own, demonic puppet. Had deemed this monstrosity as useless as the rest of their hideous creations. The recom gathered itself and made its voice stronger as it repeated, “I couldn’t stay there, with them. I wanted to come home-” “THIS IS NOT YOUR HOME!” Tsu’tey’s voice that didn’t come from him shrieked, sounding wrecked with grief even to his own ears. “LEAVE!” He commanded, and the recom curled in tighter on itself, a shadow of its former identity. It made no move to get up.

“I’m sorry.” The recom whimpered.

Tsu’tey felt his muscles bunch, the knife rising just a fraction higher like it would before he delivered a lethal blow. Preparing now to bring it down on the kneeling recom’s head. 

Across the fire, Mo’at stood motionless, her expression unreadable as she simply watched. Unlike what had actually happened, she did not pace or attempt to discourage him. She simply watched. Ominous and silent. 

Unlike the scene before, Tsu’tey did not sense rage in the air. Instead, what truly caught his attention was the deep rooted despair that tinted this memory. The heavy, suffocating feeling of grief and regret. It made his arms shake with the effort to keep the knife aloft, and his heart physically hurt with how harshly hope was twisting and turning like a thing trapped, within the heavy folds of panic. 

“I’m sorry.” The recom repented, and Tsu’tey felt the guilt settle like a cloak on his shoulders, making his chest heavy and his throat tight enough that the muscles strangled any words of comfort he attempted to offer.

I’m sorry.

The recom whispered again in English, but somehow, Tsu’tey knew their lips were not moving as his hadn’t. Instead, the words felt like they had been spoken directly into his mind as one would send and receive words through Tsaheylu. 

The words now were spoken barely above a whisper, almost unrecognisable in their quietness. They were spoken again, just as softly, if not a little more desperately. Then again. And again. Faster and faster. Louder and louder until it felt like the desperate begging was banging around inside Tsu’tey’s skull. Desperately thrashing, searching for relief, but trapped regardless in an eternal purgatory. Deafening him with their desperation.

I’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorry.

He scrunched his eyes closed at the sheer volume. Simultaneously trying to stave off some of the dizziness from the speech in which each desperate word was being uttered, until they bled together. New ones piled onto the last before they had even finished being uttered.

I’m sorry

Their voice shook with remorse, and Tsu’tey knew they meant it with every fibre of their new body. He knew they regretted ever turning up on his doorstep. He could feel it. Could taste the regret on his tongue, sharp as the tang of yovo juice.

I’m sorry I’m sorry

I’msorryI’msorryI’msorry

I’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorry.I’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorry.I’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorry.I’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorry.I’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorry.I’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorry.I’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorry.I’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorry.I’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorry.I’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorry.I’msorRYI’MSORRYI’MSORRYI’MSORRYI’MSORRYI’MSORRYI’MSORRYI’MSORRYI’MSORRY!I’MSOR-

Abruptly, it stopped. 

Everything just stopped.

Slowly, Tsu’tey peeled his eyes open. His hands felt sticky, similar to how they felt after he’d just skinned and prepared an animal for the clan meal. 

The recom swayed on their knees, staring at the ground. Tsu’tey shifted on his feet, they did not flinch. Nor did they look up. He swallowed audibly, only the crackle of the fire punctuated the silence as he waited. Knowing, deep down, that something was about to happen. 

Predictably, it did.

Mo’at, who had been silent up until that point, tutted once, the simple sound wreaking of disappointment. Tsu’tey glanced at her, but she only had eyes for the recom. The recom, who was slowly tipping to the side, like an old tree bowing against a strong wind, its ancient roots losing the strength to hold it up any longer. Further and further until they collapsed onto their side and sprawled out across the floor. There, they gurgled weakly, but said nothing more.

Distantly, Tsu’tey heard his knife collide with the floor mats, spraying red in its wake. His hands shook at his sides, warm and sticky. He didn’t have to look to know they were streaked with blood.

Before his eyes, the recom had reverted back to its human form. To the body Tsu’tey had buried in the Well of Souls with his son strapped to his back, catching up on some desperately needed sleep. As he stared down into big, yellow eyes, all he could see were the glassy, lifeless eyes of his mate. His other half who had been ripped from him too soon. 

The similarities of that memory with this image lying dying before him now, spurred him into action. He ignored the blood, ignored the uncomfortably steady gaze of Mo’at, and dropped to his knees beside the body. Panic slid up his throat like bile, causing his hands to shake as he reached for the recom. His fingers outstretched for their limp hand in search of a pulse.

And as before, the moment his skin made contact, they disappeared. 

Only the blood remained on the rug.

>_<

When he felt well enough to move, he stumbled through a new door that appeared to him the moment they disappeared.

This time, he emerged into the forest. Rain soaked his braids in seconds as Tsu’tey glanced aimlessly around the tightly packed trees that glowed in the gloom brought on by a sudden storm.

Somehow, through the dense foliage, he noticed a squad of recom soldiers, each holding a na’vi child hostage.

“It protected the children.” Neytiri had told him, back at High Camp, and now, it seemed Tsu’tey would bear witness to the evidence behind such a claim.

In his peripheral, Tsu’tey watched the unmistakable silhouette of Jake picking his way through the undergrowth, his axe glinting faintly. Movement in the treetops drew the hunter’s attention to Neytiri sticking close to the trunk of a sturdy tree, seamlessly blending in with it as she rounded the circumference. He watched her take a breath, pull back her bow string, and fire. Following the path of the arrow, Tsu’tey witnessed it find its mark and send the recom squad into a frenzy. 

Easily, he located his mate, who had Lo’ak by the kuru. Both watched the chaos as the other soldiers scrambled for cover. Neytiri notched another arrow, and the gunfire began retaliating. 

As the fight began to gain heat, the recom released Lo’ak and smoothly stepped back into the undergrowth. He watched them wave him away and slip further into the shadows, which Lo’ak promptly took advantage of to find Tuk and urge her away from the fight.

Spider tearing past Tsu’tey’s hiding spot, promptly pulled the hunter’s gaze from the recom. His son, who was still cuffed, had Kiri by the arm and was dragging her from the scene. Together, they kept each other on their feet as they found a sloping tree trunk and hauled themselves up off of the forest floor.

The scene shifted with them, and Tsu’tey found himself standing motionless on a wide branch, looming behind his niece who was kneeling over the edge, yelling down to Spider. Stepping closer, Tsu’tey followed her panicked gaze to find his mate hauling Spider up into their arms. 

Soaked and exhausted, the kid held onto whatever part of them he could get ahold of as they fought to hold him and get their shoes off. Somehow, they did it though, and within seconds they were messily trying to scale the hillside. Within seconds, the recom was breathing hard, cursing and wincing as they tried to grasp onto unstable branches and loose plants. 

They were barely within reach, but Kiri didn’t care as she leaned dangerously forward, bound arms outstretched to lend a hand. Her arms were just a fraction too short. 

Far below, torches flashed as the rest of the squad swept the undergrowth. It would only be a matter of glancing up to find their target.

Stupidly, Tsu’tey dropped to his knees beside his niece and leant across the distance. With ease, he caught one of the recom’s wrists and heaved hard. They slid up the slope, grabbing uselessly at anything within reach. They were almost there.

And then they vanished.

Without warning, Spider plummeted down through the trees with a terrified shriek, straight into the waiting arms of Miles Quaritch.

>_<

Another corridor. Another puppet. Another unavoidable similarity.

>_<

Another door, this time leading to an unfamiliar cave, which led to another phantom that disappeared under Tsu’tey’s desperate touch. 

>_<

Another door. Another camp long forgotten by the world and only loved by memory. Another shadow of the past. Over and over again.

Last Chapter <- Part 3 -> Next Chapter

[jossambird]

Rooted in your love - P3.5: Terzo and the Stages of Grief

Cardinal Copia × FIReader, Platonic Primo, Secondo and Terzo × F!Reader

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: The beginning of the end, flagrant pain and the 7 Stages of Grief, Hanahaki Disease and all that comes with that (choking, being sick, acceptance of death, etc), Eventual Smut, Eventual 18+ acts, Angst, Unrequited Love.. or is it.

Summary: You couldn't pinpoint when exactly you had fallen in love with the newly arrived Cardinal, but one was certain: you had Hanahaki disease.

Chapter Summary: Its during an Evening Mass that Papa Emeritus III, also known as Terzo, notices your presence. Meanwhile, realization of events unfolding before him finally hits Secondo as he begins the 7 Stages of Grief.

Part 1 🌿 - Part 2 🌿 - Part 4 🌿 - Part 5 🌿 - Part 6 🌿

AO3 LINK

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It was easy for Papa Emeritus III, also known as Terzo, to remember the first time he had spotted you with Primo.

There he had stood on a beautiful Thursday afternoon, preparing to speak to his brother before noticing the man speaking so casually with a singular Sibling of Sin, an elder hand gingerly pressed to your lower back as the Papa led you throughout his private gardens.

Primo? The eldest Emeritus son, inviting a random Sibling of Sin within his private sanctuary? Terzo had chalked it up to Primo being lonely; yes, that was surely it, he had most likely sought out a random Sister, deciding to show her all of his little plants… but he had been wrong, each day watching in muted disbelief as Primo continued to remain by your side as much as his schedule allowed him to, day in and day out.

Then, when he’d witnessed il Cardinale speak to Secondo one afternoon, he had not expected the conversation to lead to his brother’s angered footfalls scaring half the Abbey. However curious he might have been to know what had angered his brother so, he had, infact, not wanted to garner his foul mood, instead choosing to take a Sister to bed for the day, determined to avoid problems altogether.

Had he followed Secondo, would he have known the cause of their sudden infatuation with you, or would he have succumbed to the same fate?

But the very first time Terzo had recollection of seeing both his brothers at your side? It had been during an evening Mass, days after witnessing Secondo’s angered retreat.

The raven haired man had always considered it difficult thing to do, to startle a Papa during one of their sermons but you had achieved it, a sudden sound ringing out loudly within the chapel, startling him mid sermon whilst equally scaring the many Siblings of Sin and Ghouls in attendance. In no time had his eyes found the originator of said sound, mouth set to demand what had prompted such disrespect… whatever words he had prepared to say had dissipated as he’d taken in the bizarre scene.

Your wide fearful eyes had been the first he saw, staring back at him with such anxiety, followed by the serious (albeit amused) gaze of his elder brother by three months, Secondo, silent and menacing, as if challenging him to speak. To further his surprise, there at your other side, sat his eldest brother Primo, exasperated eyes rolling, visibly sighing at whatever had just occurred.

Terzo, ever a woman’s man, had done the only thing he’d thought would save you as much face as possible while he took in your shaking form, lips curling upwards as he whispered into the mic, a gloved hand poised towards Secondo’s person.

“Do not worry Sorella, his ugliness also scared me when we were little children.”

Secondo’s glare had increased tenfold, scaring any Sibling or Ghoul who had thought of speaking, the only sound present being Terzo’s chuckle.

But you? Oh, you had nodded, eyes filled with what Terzo could only assume was immense gratefulness, slowly nodding your head before bowing in apology.

The friendship you had evidently built with both of his elder brothers had shocked him, if he were to put it mildly. When had it happened? How had he not noticed such a thing happen? Oh so swiftly had both his brothers gravitated towards you like a moth to a flame… Were they unaware of your seemingly hypnotic pull, far too into it to realize or to care?

Try as he might to wrap his head around it, he could not, so instead, Terzo did what he was most skilled at: extracting gossip out of Siblings Of Sin.

“Bella, your Papa would like to hear your opinion of the Sister today, the one at mass? He has heard rumors you see, and you know how your Papa likes to hear you speak for him, hm?” He had later found himself asking a Sibling of Sin he had brought to his room to fuck, hypnotic eyes trailed upon her face as he kissed down her thigh.

“You mean Y/N? I haven’t heard much; I think Sister Mara mentioned seeing her seated with Papa Secondo at Mass this last week, and with Papa Primo the week before.” She piped up with disdain, eyes inflamed as she continued to speak, unaware of the man between her legs having stopped his veneration of her skin.

“That little act of hers is honestly getting old, coughing like that during today’s Mass to gain everyone’s attention.”

Y/N. Curiosity had flowed within his mind since that moment, deciding to get to the bottom of whatever it was you had going on with his brothers.

———————————————————

“It almost looks like a rope burn, as if he were hung.” Primo whispered at the sight of the hickeys adorning Terzo’s throat, eyes to the front but body relaxed as he remained seated to your left. With how far back the three of you sat, Primo worried little of the possibility of being overheard, knowing full well how Terzo commanded the attention of everyone present. Well, everyone except the three of you.

“Well, is he?” You grinned, eyes twinkling to see if each Papa had understood your quiet quip.

For a moment, only the sound of Terzo’s steady and dominating voice could be heard, your heart beating rapidly as you wondered if you had just crossed a line. Sure you Siblings of Sin gossiped amongst yourselves, everyone trading stories of their previous experiences with the Papas or the Ghouls… Oh unholy god, why had you thought it would be funny to joke about their brother's dick? Mortification quickly began to crawl up your spine as Primo cleared his throat, turning his head in your vicinity.

“Bambino, are you aware that-“ Papa Primo had begun to say, quickly cut off by the middle Emeritus son.

“Not as hung as I, dolcezza.” Secondo whispered back, an uncharacteristic smirk gracing his lips as he chanced a glance back at you.

“Secondo!” Primo barked out in a quiet tone while you, entirely taken off guard by Secondo’s comment about his own dick size, let out a singular surprised laugh, a hand quickly slapping up to cover your lips as the sound of your laughter echoed within the chapel. Heavy silence followed whilst heads turned towards your trio, and even worse, as Papa Emeritus III’s sharp eyes found your own.

Oh, what had you just done? You had just disrupted Evening Mass by laughing while Papa Emeritus III spoke, loudly cutting him off as he spoke praise of the Dark Lord you all prayed to. Fuck, you couldn’t even find it in yourself to attempt to gaze at the two Papas seated beside you, fear coursing through you at the thought of having insulted them.

A distinct sound of ringing filled your ears, mind wondering if this would be the last time you ever spoke to the Papas beside you, your last words together being about Secondo’s dick. If you had been in any other situation then you were now, that very thought would have made you laugh but it did not, dread pooling inside of you.

You could practically see the wheels turning inside Papa Terzo’s mind before watching him smirk, a steady gloved hand lifting to gesture at the stoic Papa beside you. A thinly veiled insult pointed at his brother was all that he said before winking at you, continuing on with his Sermon as if nothing had happened.

The instance Evening Mass ended, you were out the doors, face burning hotly as you raced to your room. Fuck fuck fuck, how would you ever face Papa Primo and Papa Secondo again following such an act of disrespectfulness-

All thoughts ceased as you turned a corner, colliding quickly with what you assumed to be another human being, a strangled sound exiting the man as he tried to keep the both of you standing but failing, bringing you down with him as he fell onto his back.

Time slowed, a beautiful hue of vivid red seizing your attention.

“Sorella Y/N! O-Oh, I am terribly sorry! Are you alright!?” Cardinal Copia spoke hurriedly, eyes alight with worry, his beautifully gloved hands gripping at your body... Hands.. You were becoming vaguely aware of.. There were hands on you, one hand grasping at your hip and the other at your waist, the pose far too intimate should someone happen upon the both of you like this in the middle of the Abbey’s halls. Had he not noticed your position? Had he not noticed the way he had pulled you down onto him, almost as if he wanted you there.

“I-I am. Are YOU alright?” You breathed out, leaning forward ever so slightly to verify you hadn’t hurt the man. Your heart betrayed you, unfairly beating faster as you took in his smudged lip paint. Had you done that while running into him? Would he return to his chambers to reapply it? Or would he remain like that until bedtime, removing both it and the feeling of you from his body? Prickles of pain clawed at your throat but you ignored it, praying the daffodils and jonquils to calm.

Slowly, without your full consent, your hands rose, gripping at the fabric of the Cardinal’s cassock. Heat bloomed along the skin of his visage, face and neck quickly turning red like the cassock he wore.

“Y-Yes!” Copia tried to whisper, voice appearing far too strained whilst hurriedly pushing you to the side, hands leaving the place they had grasped oh so tightly at.

“Er, y-yes.. Here, allow me to help you stand..”

The pair of you remained silent as he helped you, the cacophonous sound of people exiting Evening Mass reaching both of your ears, reminding you of the crime you had committed mere moments ago.

“I er.. noticed your absence, Sorella Y/N, during the afternoon sermons I held this past week.” Copia spoke after clearing his throat, hands fiddling together as if asking the very question gave him anxiety.

Fuck, you couldn’t-

“Il mio Bamb-“ Came Primo’s worried tone, words cutting off as he rounded the corner, taking in the way your pained eyes pleaded for help. Ever the observant man, Papa Emeritus I advanced to your side, a gentle hand finding it’s way to your back, a method of comfort he knew you had come to adore.

“Cardinale. I thank you for keeping Sorella Y/N company but I believe you are late for your meeting with Terzo, hm?”

Quiet were you as Copia excused himself, practically bumping into Secondo’s wide frame as he too rounded the corner. Apologies fell from Copia’s lips before the man you so painfully loved left, leaving you to-

“Dolcezza.” Secondo spoke behind you, tone far too tender for a Papa about to punish a Sibling of Sin for having disrespected tradition-

Perhaps it had been by unholy miracle that no one passed by the hall you occupied; you weren’t sure how you would have explained the sight of Secondo softly holding you to his side, your tears staining his Papal robes as you continuously apologized for interrupting Mass.

Primo, ever the worrying Papa, hushed your worries, instead shifting all blame onto the man that had caused such a reaction, earning a laugh out of you as the man in question grunted, clearly disagreeing.

———————————————————

Later that day, books laid scattered on the floor, haphazardly thrown left and right in the blind rage that had consumed him.

Try as he might to forget the sharp ache in his chest, Secondo found that he could not; even as he thrusted into a Sibling of Sin who’s name he could not remember, it remained, pulsing angrily within him. With a roar of frustration and barely contained rage, Papa Emeritus II pulled out of the whining Sister below him, painting her behind in his hard-fought release.

“Leave.” He found himself whispering, voice hoarse as the Sister scrambled to redress herself, practically falling over herself in the process. Secondo did not move, knelt on his bed like he had been moments ago whilst between the Sibling’s thighs, feeling naked in more ways than one.

“I hope you do not greet Sister Y/N the same way.” Came a voice from behind him, a voice he knew well, a voice that had chastised him like all elder brothers did but… no more words came as heat rose along Secondo’s skin, climbing it’s way up until labored breaths left him.

“Is this…” Primo tried, hand waving at the mess that had become Secondo’s chambers before walking further into the room, uncaring of his brother’s naked state.

“Fratello-“

Primo watched as the middle Emeritus son inwardly began to crumble, frozen on his bed as the weight of your illness finally sunk into the very fabric of his being, hands shaking where they remained.

“I.. I will command her as Papa to go through with it.” Secondo’s words came out in a choked whisper but Primo knew it felt anything but to the man before him.

He felt for his brother for he knew of the pain that came with caring for you, knew of the pain that came with being at your side… knew of the pain that came with watching you die.

Too many nights had Primo found himself wide awake, listening to the soft breaths you took as you fitfully slept. Many times had he too thought of using his power as Papa to make you go through with the surgery, reassuring himself that it was for the best because you would yet live…

But he could not. The eldest Emeritus son found he could not bear the thought of betraying the trust you had placed within him, no matter how painful it be to watch you fade.

“She would come to hate you-“

“I would rather she hate me for eternity then die!” Secondo finally let out as his knees gave out from under him, body slumping forward. Far was the man so prideful and confident in his movements and words.

“It is not your choice to make, Secondo. Do not force upon her something she does not want. Arduous as it might be, fratello, you must accept that this…” Primo spoke softly, hand poised at the scarf you had forgotten on Secondo’s bed post, muted red staring back at both men.

“She has chosen it, Secondo. She has chosen not to forget the man she has fallen in love with. You cannot take that away from her.”

Silence once more fell over the room for what felt like the hundredth time, swallowing whole the unsaid words both men craved to say.

“The day I found her in that classroom… He came searching for her. He could barely stand up, stumbling constantly over his words..”

Primo waited, patient as he watched his brother’s chest rise and fall, watching as his emotions threatened to overflow.

“The damned Cardinale was drunk beyond belief! Drunk and mumbling about inviting her to orgies-“

“Secondo.”

“What?!” Secondo found himself barking out, attempting to redress himself, even as the mist within his eyes blinded him.

“Yet she lit up at the sight of him, did she not?” Came Primo’s silent whisper, lips tight at the scene unfolding before him.

There, in the privacy of his chambers, the second Emeritus son allowed himself to crumble, finally understanding the pain that resided within his eldest brother's eyes.

Tagged: @starbentfool @moonlit-masquerade @sirianisrock @arniouss @nikolaiology

[doodledork01]

Fucked around; tried seeing what would happen if Kenny and Knifey somehow had a child, and here we are! I made the little ankle-biter in Gacha Life 2. You can draw her in your style, if ya want! (if you don't know what to do with her; you can make something where she meets her grandma; kenny's dad, for the first time?)

Name: Sydney

Age: [Unknown; you're allowed to make it convenient to the storyline ya got goin]

Species: Gatlian Cross-Breed (currently unknown to me whatever the hell Knifey is)

Gun/Gatlian Variant (currently undiscovered; until now): Grappling Hook

Personality: Skittish, and rather talkative; once you get her to open up. She has crippling anxiety that her friends might ditch her at the slightest mistake she makes. She's rather optimistic; trying to see the bright-side of things. However; due to one of her fathers being from a species biologically equipped for murder; she's extremely volatile! A ticking time-bomb, if you will. She's actually really nice, and it's easy for her to tell if something's wrong; a good companion if you need someone to talk to.

Use; if she was present in-game: Makes getting around dense forestry much easier, and the hooks can actually pierce a material if it's soft enough. Can't really pierce more than flesh or cardboard; due to Sydney still being young. If equipped; she increases the range at which enemies can be heard; you can hear chittering, when she hears a potential threat; warning the player to tread carefully. Her hooks can clasp together; forming a spear-like thing, impaling the enemy, and drag the enemy closer; whilst eliminating half of their health; if they're just a grunt. She'll often spew random facts about the local Flora and Fauna; which'll actually come in handy later. Some plants can be used to heal the players & gatlians involved, possibly upgrade the suit, and even aid in weakening mini-bosses/legitimate bosses.

Extra Information: She fucking hates how people will think she'll be nothing more than a ruthless killer; merely because of who one of her parents are. She's actually scarily intelligent for her age, and she's friendly! However; one of her fathers (knifey) tries to encourage her to embrace the killer instinct. She (respectfully) rejects that, and she's trying to be peaceful. Sydney has a habit of being jittery when she's nervous, and being talkative.

Academics (Social Life, and Grades): She's socially awkward, and gets really happy when someone doesn't pick on her for not being a pure-blooded Gatlian, or is just willing to listen to her rant about exotic plants. Her interest in plants is why she took her school's Agricultural Program up! However; speaking of her getting picked on... She doesn't want to tell her dads; because she knows that Knifey might turn a school-day into a fucking masacre if anyone hurt his baby. She actually pulls A's and B's; except in math, as her math teacher is a little bit of a bitch (and math sucks for me to).

She only has one close friend; the person she's friends with is actually fairly well-known; due to them winning multiple art competitions.

This is really good! I’m not doing any free requests right now, so I probably won’t draw it, but you did a great job creating the character, keep it up!

[mandyjane-lifedesign]

6 Things The Most Productive People Do Every Day

In case you are just recently visiting Earth, well, things have slightly changed since 2019. Whilst we discussed the mental health ramifications of the first lockdown (view post here), the second lockdown brought with it new challenges. More specifically, I'm talking about working from home. In the span of roughly two weeks in March, the number of people in the US who had ever worked from home doubled. This same study found that 59% of those people wanted to keep doing it post-pandemic. I mean, it can definitely have its benefits. Prior research has shown that we, as individuals, are 11-20% more productive on creative tasks whilst at home. Cool, huh? However, that same study also indicated that we’re up to 10% less productive at home while work on uncreative tasks. And most work? Decidedly uncreative. Uh-oh.   I don’t think I need to explain how working from home during a pandemic might reduce productivity even further. As many of us have probably experienced, it can lead to some deeply cringe-y changes in behavior and a lack of showering that culminates a dignity-free lifestyle (I really hate when I put on 20 pounds for a role until I realize I’m not actually even a movie star). Spend enough time not leaving the house and you’ll see more terrifying things than a private-mode browser window. And lets not forget about the emotional challenges all this has created, like an increase in anxiety and depression. We went from normal life to lockdown so fast we were like professional drivers going around bends.   Unfortunately, while we may be living in the Epidemiological Land of Misfit Toys we still need to get things done. And not soon, but now. Sorry to sound so serious and preachy, posting my thoughts to the digital door like some 21st century Martin Luther, but if you want 2021 to be cool, fun and cuter than a puppy’s yawn, then we need to find a better way to work. Luckily, this is easier than you think. This doesn’t have to be a productivity apocalypse. This can actually be an opportunity. Things are going to go back to almost-kinda-semi-normal eventually and when it happens, we can be ahead of the curve instead of behind it (if we’re smart). So how do we do a productivity reboot? Well, here is my most pro of protips:   Be proactive, not reactive. Judge results, not hours. Most of the time at the office you’re reacting. Following. But working at home, you don’t get credit for just showing up and looking busy. People only see what you’ve accomplished. Merely ‘reacting’ is not how the most productive people work. They know that, in the end, nobody pays you for your time but for the things you get done. Now that working from home has given you more flexibility, use it to focus on what is important. Do the things that move the needle. Most of us get 80% of results from 20% of the work we do. So focus on that 20%. Whilst at home, this thought process can apply to life outside of your career as well. People talk about “spending more time with their family” but thinking in terms of hours is silly. Its about what you do. I’ll take half the time in meaningful, precious moments vs twice as much time staring at our phones together.   “Know thyself” is more important than ever. You have more freedom now more than ever - so we need to get rid of that immediately. A lot of the context, systems, and habits that used to unconsciously contain and direct your behavior are now gone. So we need to replace them with new processes - ones better tailored to you. Studies show that 2.5 to 4 hours after waking up is when peoples’ brains are at their sharpest. But that's only true in general. When are your ‘magic hours’? Are you a morning person? A night owl? Great, protect those hours and use them for what matters. And this isn't just true for when you work, but also how you work. More productive after a nap? Cool. That’s now an option. Knowing what works for you, in the best and worst ways, is critical. You now have a multitude of ways to procrastinate that weren’t an option before. Gotta head those off and outsmart yourself.   Create your new tailored CEO system. Systems beat goals. People who have a goal to lose 10 pounds regain the weight whilst people who have a system of eating right and exercising everyday sustain the weight loss. To succeed over the long haul, you want ‘process goals’ not ‘outcome goals’. Your process goals will be your daily activities, so put them in your calendar. Think about what moves the needle, know when you’re at your best, and then schedule everything accordingly. A schedule is like a to-do list that takes time into consideration. That’s how you know if you actually have the hours for all that stuff and it forces you to prioritize.   So you’ve got priorities, magic hours, and a new schedule. Great. But subconsciously you are very much affected by the concrete world around you. So you’ve gotta adjust to that as well…   Manage your environment. Bars are loud and energetic to unconsciously let you know its time to have fun. We need the opposite. The office used to trigger the mindset that ‘its time to get things done’. We need to engineer the same effect at home. You want to recreate the boundaries of the office in a new and improved way. You may not have a home office, but now you do. Create one even if it involves working in a refrigerator box like you’re seven years old. And this isn't just true for your locations. Separate computers, separate browsers - anything you can use and customize to trigger the mindset of ‘time to get stuff done’ vs ‘fun time’ will help. And then, after you’re done optimizing your zone of productivity, look at the rest of the house and do the opposite. How can you structure the other areas of your life for more relaxation? For a feeling of comfort and togetherness? Build the contrast.   Plan communication and feedback. I live alone so in darker moments my pandemic life feels like a supervillain origin story. This is not good. I have to be proactive about connecting with people if I want it to happen. If you don’t already have regular check-ins planned with the boss, do that. And have a list of all the awesome things you’ve accomplished ready to discuss because its even harder for them to know what you’re up to. Ask about appropriate response times now that things have changed. The other issue is feedback. A lot of things that get mumbled to you in person will never be put in an email. Gotta be proactive here. Ask for feedback on how you’re doing and where things are at. And with delicious irony let me add that now all serendipity must be planned. Bouncing ideas off people, casual networking, and other less formal activities take a serious hit when you work from home, but their absences will create negatives over time.   Motivation is mood management. Sometimes I'm sitting here writing with all the enthusiasm of a photocopier. Finishing things feels more like a kidney stone than a milestone. Research shows that so much of motivation is about mood. How you feel. When we’re positive, we’re not only more productive, we’re more effective. And why do we procrastinate? That, too, is all about how you feel. Studies show you procrastinate most when you’re in a bad mood and think you can improve it with something fun. So what's the most motivating thing of all? The answer goes right back to our focus on the tasks that are most important. Studies by Harvard professor, Teresa Amabile, show that nothing is more motivating than making progress in meaningful work.   In collaboration with Barking Up The Wrong Tree Photo by Minh Pham on Unsplash Read the full article

[off-duty-rmt]

The curse of being an only child with anxiety

I honestly do not know where to start. If you're reading this and you're in you late twenties like me, then say hello to childhood trauma. I've made this into a list to keep everything organized. I think the key here is to arrange each one in numerals and then add more. Whatever. No one is gonna read this blog post anyway. Be grammar Nazi if you want to. It doesn't matter anyway.

1. Wanting to be alone, CONSTANLY.

Because we're used to doing things alone. I would constantly beg to spend a lot of time by myself doing things that I like. Most of us are introverts. I have a plethora of hobbies and would always find time to learn more. One day, I want to be an interior designer, and then the next day, I'd want to be a music producer. And I tell you what, it is costing me a lot of money. There's just too many things to do whilst being alone and non of it (in most cases) includes socializing. Maybe I need to find a different that's actually gonna help me pay my ever increasing credit card bills lol.

2. Wanting to be alone while also craving human interaction and strong friendships.

Now I'm not saying I don't have friends because I do. I really do. But you can only count them by hand because trust me, even with social media and all, I really don't have a lot. Actually, I struggle with this one. It's as if I don't know how to be friendly. It's as if I feel that no body really wants to be friends with me. I would have these thoughts. Maybe I'm not friendly enough. Maybe it's my RBF. Maybe I'm not cool enough or maybe I am too cool that I become too intimidating. That, or I'm just a horrible person. I don't know.

3. Then the anxiety comes in.

I feel that nobody really wants me there (a lot of times). I don't feel this way around my closest friends, whom by the way are thousands of miles away from me. I feel hurt when I'm not included, parties, group chats, dine outs, etc. This has got to be one of my darkest ghosts. This drags me down all the time, the feeling of not being in the circle, the feeling of being left behind. Whenever there's an event wherein this happens, I would just crumble. All my demons suddenly becomes alive, and suddenly I'm this 4 year old child again, pushed to play with kids who treats me differently, who doesn't want me there because I'm not part of the family.

4. I feel alone with my demons.

It feels like I'm trapped with my thoughts and my demons when it becomes too quiet, or after I get triggered. And I have learned the hard way to never let people around me know about me feeling this because people can easily use this weakness against me and I wouldn't even know how to get out once I'm in that hole again. As a child I would just go into hiding whenever they would bully me, child or adult, I would always hide. My parents weren't really around most of the time because of work and so I have learned to go into defense mode all the time when people would threaten to hurt me. And so I would be in my own little box where I could escape them and feel safe. My only companions were my toys, the TV, and my grandma.

5. Saying goodbye.

I didn't have a lot of nice things whilst growing up, when I do, I protect them and treasure them. Same with people. That's why I would feel a sense of grief after losing something, or someone. I did not take it easy when my grandma died because that's where the depression started back when I was in my second year of college. I was around 17 at that time and boy was I depressed. I was in my lowest that I started to fail my classes and had to transfer to a different university. I had to say goodbye to my closest friends in at uni. And when I finally got transferred to a different university, that was one of the moments wherein I felt so lost and indifferent to almost everyone. I did not fail my subjects but I wasn't doing great. The only good thing about transferring was that I escaped from distraction by overly surrounding my self with a lot of people.

[hwselect]

How to Secure IT Jobs in London?

Securing well-paying IT jobs in London isn’t an impossible dream.  There are endless opportunities of well-paid IT jobs in London even if you're only just entering the jobs market as a total newbie, with little, or no experience in the IT industry. The need for high caliber professionals in different areas of IT expertise, has increased by 28% due to significant investment in technology within the city, and this coupled with positive reviews from various IT employees in many different leading technology companies, has provided endless life-changing opportunities for candidates looking to secure well-matched IT support jobs in London.

However, there are several things you should consider when trying to find IT support jobs in London. The incessant increase in the demand for IT experts had indeed been coupled with a surprisingly increased rate of IT personnel looking to be employed in quality positions in the booming IT sector. Securing IT support jobs comes with a lot of competition, so there's a need for you to stand out from the crowd.

You're probably starting to weigh up your chances of actually being able to gain the opportunity of accessing IT support jobs in London, the good news is your quest for IT jobs should prove to be a positive one and hopefully without too much stress, if you take the right steps and use the correct methods.

Perhaps you're thinking that good college, or university results are the answer, as well as gaining some related experience is all you need, to land an opportunity to secure an interview for related IT support jobs, well you're wrong, although your experience might give you an edge over other fresh applicants without any, it’s not the only thing you need to think about, in fact it’s a lot to do with about yourself and how you come across at an interview than just depending solely on your academic record, or experience.

Partnering with a reliable IT recruitment agency helps improve your chances of getting access to available IT jobs in London, they have knowledgeable and experienced staff who completely understand the workings of the IT jobs market and are competent enough to know which job role is in line with your qualifications and preference, consultants have a wide range of connections within the industry and registered talent which makes them a perfect route to linking you up with the ideal IT job offers and for companies looking to recruit.

Moreover, the duties of a good IT recruitment agency don't stop at helping you get an interview, they can if advised by the candidate, keep in touch, even after getting you that dream job and will advise candidates to stay registered with them and keep their account profile up-to-date and even check up on them from time to time to see what’s happening.

When it comes to searching for a job in the IT sector, trust me two heads are better than one, why would you want to go through the endless anxiety of submitting your CV and resumes when you can easily partner with a good and reliable IT recruitment agency, that does exactly what it promises and eases many of your concerns and worries, whilst offering opportunities at securing you a job offer.

It's very important that you select a reliable IT recruitment agency to partner with. In the current demand for IT jobs in London, this has paved the way for unqualified and sometimes unprofessional recruitment agencies to be formed, it's, therefore, crucial that you chose an IT recruitment agency with a good track record of being very proactive and excellent communication when working with applicants, looking for IT support jobs.

Read More:

Yes! An IT Recruitment Agency Helps Both Companies and Jobseekers Simple Ways to Build an IT Recruitment Agency Relationship

[povlvr]

The Nanny Pt 2

Pairing: DILF Bucky Barnes x Nanny

Summary: Bucky hasn’t touched his philanderious wife since he first laid eyes on the new Nanny Amelia, after 6 months of tension things take an interesting turn.

Word Count: 6k+

Warnings: 18+ NSFW, Smut, extra marital affairs, masturbation, slight breeding kink, porn with a plot.

A/N: I can only apologise for the length of this!! Thank you for all your feedback for part 1, i appreciate it more than you could know!! I have a teeny tag list going if anyone wants adding & if you want a part three shout!

Part 1

The anxiety of having FaceTime’d her boss whilst touching herself & watching him jerk off hit her as soon as her alarm sounded the next morning, surprisingly she felt little guilt, she justified it to herself that Mrs. Barnes played away so her husband should be able to partake in the same extramarital activities. Her worries felt more like overwhelming nerves & anticipation of what was to come, she constantly wondered if Bucky would acknowledge what happened if so would he act on it, or just completely ignore the wholly inappropriate phone call?

Amelia decided the best way to deal with her racing thoughts was to stick to her usual routine, she arrived at the Barnes residence after a particular stressful commute, seriously, how are people so inept at driving at 7am?? the house was still sleeping so she let her self in the property with her key, she quietly prepared breakfast & headed upstairs to wake the little sleeping beauty.

Nestled amongst the white closed doors along the long beige corridor stood a baby pink glitter covered entrance, it had only taken some mild puppy eyes & a few fluttered lashes to persuade Bucky to let her decorate it after showing Ellie a picture from Pinterest one morning. She was about to wake the 5-year-old, hesitating momentarily as she looked down the hall towards the master bedroom, the temptation to wake her boss up with a smile crossed her mind but she didn't want to presume he didn't feel guilty or regret the night before or would even want her mouth around his cock for a wakeup call. Instead she knocked lightly & woke up the ray of sunshine behind the door, she would never tire of the pure excitement each morning when the adorable child insisted on telling her about her dreams & what she was going to do that day whilst getting her washed & dressed.

Having not seen her father the previous night Ellie bounded up to Bucky & practically threw herself in his arms when she saw him sat down at the table, he had already brewed his morning coffee & started his newspaper in the time Amelia had been getting his daughter ready for the day.

'Morning honey, did you sleep well?' his gruff morning voice affected Amelia more than she would admit most mornings.

'Uh huh' she managed to mumble as she attacked the food place on the table in front of her, with the other plate in her hand Amelia passed behind Bucky's chair making sure to lean over his shoulder & press herself against him with her chest as she served him his breakfast.

'Thank you, and morning Amelia' he reached out to touch her hand as she was moving away from him to her place at the table.

'You’re most welcome, Mr. Barnes.' his eyes shot up to meet hers with a somewhat playful smirk plastered on his face.

As she sat down next to Bucky he reached for the cafetiere he had prepared, 'Coffee? You like it tall & dark if I remember correctly' he almost sounded cocky which she loved.

'Just how I like it Mr. Barnes' She had no idea she was capable of this level of flirting before 8am on a Wednesday morning but she was determined to give it as good as she got. He may have been her boss, but she held all the power between them & revelled in it.

'Oh, I know how you like it.' His voice deeper than its usual tone, the reverberations hit her all at once making her shift on her seat, the affect his words had on her was noted as she squirmed for some relief from the throbbing that increased dramatically when he raised his brow. He knew exactly what he was doing to her.

The nerves she was feeling dissolved when she realised that he didn't regret a thing, quite the opposite because now his flirting wasn't quite as subtle & it left Amelia feeling like she needed a cold shower to temper the heat rising between her legs.

Bucky quickly turned his attention towards Ellie to stop himself from saying anything inappropriate in front of his daughter, as Amelia sipped her coffee she observed the doting father making sure all the food was eaten & no mess was made. The spiralling thoughts of consequences, repercussions & what would actually happen if anything happened between the two were slowly rising now that she knew he wanted her just as much as she did him, so she missed Bucky asking her a question.

‘Ellie, honey go put on your jacket & shoes.’ He softly instructed to a very receptive little girl, she toddled off in her own world to do as she was told by her dad & his eyes immediately focused on The Nanny. He reached out his hand to hers seeing that she had zoned out.

‘Sugar.’ Bucky teased in a low drawn out manor.

Her head rose & their eyes connected as her focus came back to the room.

‘Sorry Mr. Barnes, clearly need the coffee this morning?’ chuckling to herself she began clearing the table as he sat back & observed her, she seemed apprehensive & nervous, he wondered if she regretted what had happened the night before. Bucky wanted to test the waters, knowing Ellie was occupied he quietly approached her at the kitchen skink.

He stood behind her tentatively wrapping his arms around the nanny’s waist, lowering his head to her ear.

‘Did I not tell you to call me Bucky, Sugar.’ His voice was low, dripping with sweetness.

‘I didn’t want Ellie to pick up on anything.’ She moved her head back to rest on his shoulder, his scent was all encompassing hitting her with spice, vanilla, pine all at once, the gesture far more intimate than two people who hadn’t so much as kissed should have.

His lips grazed her neck as he spoke sending a kaleidoscope of butterflies to her stomach & a familiar dampness in her underwear ‘So, I was thinking of leaving the office on time tonight, how about we all have dinner, watch a move, hang out with Ellie? Then once she’s asleep …’

‘… You hang out of me?’ she teased glancing back at the man she had fantasised about for 6 months.

‘Fuck.' He let out a breath against her neck, his head dipping to her shoulder, the sensation hit her right in her pussy, she couldn't help clenching her thighs together as he practically growled in her ear.

'You really have no idea what you do to me.’ He pressed his erect length up against her, she couldn’t help but let out a moan making him rut his hips in her backside.

She began unwrapping his arm from around her waist to connect their hands, tracing them down her stomach down to the hem of her skirt, Bucky couldn't resist stroking her inner thigh with a stray finger as she moved their intertwined fingers underneath her skirt where his hand cupped her mound, finally his fingers padded over her soaked panties as she let out another stifled moan, he pushed them to one side & she jolted in his grip as he stroked her clit working his way back to her sodden core, collecting her wetness before returning his way to her bundle of nerves.

She angled her head back to ghost her plump lips against his ear with a whispery breath ‘.. and that’s what you do to me.’

As quickly as it started, it was over, his hand retreated as they untangled their limbs hearing the patter of feet making their way back to the kitchen.

‘ ’meeliaaaa, I’m ready.’ She really couldn't be cuter at times but for once Amelia was hoping she would take longer finding her coat.

‘Ok, honey one second.’ The flustered Nanny managed to shout out.

They both looking fucked out having barley made contact, eyes locked in lust for a moment. As Amelia swayed past her boss to the hallway, her fingers traced the bulge in his trousers & she couldn’t help bite her lip looking up at him, the sight of him taking his fingers into his mouth stopped her in her tracks.

‘Mmm sweet as Sugar. I’ll see you tonight ‘melia’ he taunted with a devilish look on his face.

‘Have a good day Mr. Barnes.’ Batting her eyelashes feigning innocence as she turned the corner where the 5-year-old was battling the zip on her jacket.

'Come on sweetie let’s get you buckled in your seat.' She bent over to help with the jammed zip knowing Bucky was watching & getting a show, he enjoyed every second knowing he would have his face buried between those sweet folds tonight.

...

After graduating 8 years ago Amelia felt taking a summer job as a Nanny would be ideal to earn some money & look favourable on her applications for teaching graduate positions in Fall. It was her life dream to become a kindergarten teacher, she loved working with children & helping them reach their potential even when they were young, that was until she fell in love with a family assigned her to by her agency. Her plans were quickly shelved being content with helping to support two busy parents in raising their three wonderful children. She didn’t prepare herself or heart for the inevitable flying of the nest so to speak & after 7 glorious years when the children she cared for outgrew the need for a nanny her services were deemed ‘surplus to requirements’, those cold words were seared into her soul.

Some would say it was a teachable moment, to Amelia it was a harsh slap in the face to remind her that she was not part of the family or any family that she worked for, she was an employee, nothing more. She should have thought twice about accepting another position immediately, but the Barnes’ family offer was too good an opportunity to pass; great pay, one happy child who seemed as good as gold when they met & minimal working hours, meaning she could further her studies & get her career goals back on track.

She thanked the higher powers for the assignment she needed to write in order to keep her distracted, without it her day would have been torture just waiting around for the afternoon school pick up. The morning’s events were repeating in her mind the entire car ride, his touch, his smell, his heat. It felt so wrong to be thinking about him in his child’s presence before dropping her off at school but the absolute magnetism she felt towards Bucky was unlike anything she had felt before; it was pure unadulterated lust that had consumed her for months.

Having gathered some supplies on the way home she hunkered down to get stuck into her essay, where words usually stalled at her fingertips they flowed freely today. Her eyes glanced at her phone on occasion to check the time which was a total lie she kept repeating to herself instead of allowing herself to be disappointed by the lack of texts from her boss.

Across town Bucky paced in his office questioning whether he really needed to be in the office that day, he wasn’t getting any work done so reasoned that being buried in his daughter’s nanny would be a more productive use of his time than wearing a hole in the carpet. He had been playing a dangerous game of text roulette all morning, type, erase, type, almost send, erase & repeat.

He had zoned out half way through a marketing presentation daydreaming of her coming into his office, locking the door then getting down on her knees in front of him & sucking him off with her beautiful lips, once the meeting was over & he was finally alone he pulled his thick heavy length out of his suit trousers, he found himself stroking his painfully pink cock longing for her to relieve his ache. As a grown man & a father he was mortified at himself by how many pictures he had taken & almost sent to entice her into fulfilling that particular fantasy. He was a volcano on the precipice of eruption but quelling his urges was a skill he had acquired over the last 6 months & he didn’t want to settle with a quick office hook up sorely for his pleasure, he refused to disrespect her like that, he planned to worship every square inch of her, take his time, educate himself in her body’s needs. There would always be time for risqué quickies if she wanted that later down the line, for now he put himself away & sent a succinct message.

I’ve never tasted anyone so sweet, it’s all I can think about, I’m looking forward to burying my face in you tonight x

After that text she wasn’t getting any more of her assignment done so Amelia ran herself a bath thinking that shaving, exfoliating & moisturising within an inch of her life would be time well spent knowing his hands would be roaming her body soon. It took all of her strength not to touch herself whilst thinking of him, she could still feel the weight of his cock pressed against her & from the little she did feel earlier she knew she would feel him the next day. After soaking in the tub scrolling on her phone she decided to wet Bucky’s appetite, what better way than a picture, the lighting was sensual, she was in a bubble bath, a hand carefully placed between her legs, it was like the stars aligned. Before overthinking it, she typed a quick message & pressed send.

You’re all I’m thinking about right now.

Bucky hadn’t ever looked at his phone as quickly when he heard the ping, his eyes were wide at the sight. He figured she sent the first picture so surely, he could now, he chose one of the many he had saved in a hidden folder, triple checked the recipient & gave her a taste of what was to come.

Fuck, I’ve been hard all day.

---

Like the morning Amelia let herself into the Barnes house but this time she had a buzzing 6-year-old in tow talking in detail about her day. Unlike the morning she was confident with how her evening was going to pan out, she didn’t presume she would stay over so a few choice items were ready in her car if the need arose for her to take her makeup off & brush her teeth, fail to prepare, prepare to fail.

And a total fail is what it was, sat waiting in the kitchen in all her glory, Jessica Barnes. Fuck. Amelia felt as though she had been slapped in the face by the glamorous brunette, a dose of reality that Bucky wasn’t hers, despite the sham marriage he was still married. She froze momentarily before regaining some composure, ‘Hi Mrs. Barnes, you startled me, I didn’t expect you’d be home so soon.’

‘Well I thought I’d come back & spend the afternoon with Ellie, you can have the rest of the day off.’ Gesturing to leave with her hands, it infuriated Amelia, the dismissive tone & waving her off like she was a fly in her face.

‘I don’t mind staying to help with her, Bu… Mr. Barnes will be home soon.’

‘I can handle her, that will be all Amelia.’ She sauntered off to the lounge, she hated leaving Ellie in her mother’s care & felt guilty for allowing it to happen knowing the effect she had on her daughter.

‘I’ll see you tomorrow Ellie’ Amelia crouched down to her level making sure to make sure she was ok with her leaving her, she whispered ‘Your dad will be home really soon so just play in your room until he comes home. Ask him to watch a movie with you tonight, ok?’

‘I wish you were staying ‘melia.’ She whined, making Amelia feel even more guilty for leaving.

‘I know honey, but I’ll be here bright & early tomorrow. I can make you the unicorn oatmeal for breakfast, how about that?’

‘Yesssss, glitter sprinkles too??’

‘Of course! It’s not unicorn oatmeal without glitter sprinkles.’

That was all it took for the sweet little thing to skip off to her bedroom out of her mother’s way, taking a second to re-adjust her head Amelia let out a long sigh & left.

---

Bucky arrived home within the hour, he had picked up a few snacks for the movie night & couldn’t help himself from buying some flowers for Amelia, as he walked into the house he spotted his wife’s handbag on the counter & her obnoxious fur coat hung on the back of a chair. His stomach dropped.

‘Ellie, Amelia. Anyone home?’

‘What’s with the flowers?’ her voice almost made him shudder as her heels clicked on the tiled marble floor towards him.

‘They are for Amelia, a thank you for watching Ellie last night after you fucked off.’

‘It’s her job’ she sniped back dismissing his criticism for her handling of Amelia entirely.

‘No, it fucking isn’t, I’m sure she has a life & doesn’t need to be staying here until I get home from work.’ He stopped himself from acting like he cared too much, she would pick up on it & he wanted the interaction to be as brief as possible.

‘Why are you home so early? She said you were going to be here soon.’

‘It’s only fair, she worked late last night so I said I’d come home early tonight & she could leave earlier than normal seen as I don’t have a clue where you are most of the time.’

‘Well I already sent her home, so she already got her early finish.’

Fuck

‘Ok well, I guess I’ll put them in some water or whatever you do with them. Where’s Ellie?’

‘In her bedroom I assume.’ With that she sauntered off to the orangery for a drink.

Bucky pulled out his phone on his way upstairs & saw her text.

FYI Jessica’s back, she sent me home. Make sure you watch Minions with Els, she’s really looking forward to it. See you tomorrow.

Bucky’s brain went into overdrive thinking of some way to fix the situation, divorcing Jessica would be a good start but for now he had a plan.

Her timing is impeccable as always. I could always tell her I’m heading back to the office & come to yours.

Don’t leave Ellie with her for whatever this is, how about after she is in bed?

I love how much you love my daughter. You’re making me a little weak at the knees if I’m honest.

She deserves to be loved. Come over once she’s asleep, I’ll send you my address.

I’ll see you soon Sugar x

Bucky had always had endless patience with his daughter, he enjoyed every precious minute with her but today the minutes felt like hours, he lost count of how many times he checked his watch but once she was tucked up in bed he quickly showered, changed & was out the door telling his wife there was an emergency at the office. She barely listened to him already texting her lover to come over.

Three firm knocks at the door woke Amelia from her nap, rushing to the door she checked herself in the mirror, drool wasn’t the most attractive look but she would have to make it work. Checking the peep-hole she saw Bucky shifting on his feet with a big bunch of peonies, he was dressed far more casually than she was used to, grey sweatpants, a dark grey sweatshirt & his hair un-styled & fluffy.

‘I can see your feet Sugar.’ He chuckled to himself seeing the shadow of his Nanny’s feet under the door.

She giggled as she opened the door, ‘Sorry, I got distracted by all this.’ She gestured to his appearance & the bouquet he was currently holding out for her, if hearts skipping beats was bad for you she swore her life expectancy would be taking a nose dive in his presence.

‘Here, I got these for you.’ She noticed he came across almost shy as he passed her the flowers, Bucky had a boyish charm at times which was incredibly endearing to Amelia because he looked like a man who would take anyone he wanted right there & then if he so chose.

‘Thank you Bucky, I love peonies, they’re beautiful.’ She guided him into her home, the entrance way they were stood in lead to an open plan living space, as she put the flowers in the sink & turned on the faucet Bucky sat himself on the stools at the kitchen island.

‘There’s a bunch at my house for you too.’ He said smiling.

‘Oh god, how did you explain that getting home?’ she giggled at the thought of him being questioned by his wife, she felt strangely comfortable mentioning Jessica knowing what was about to go down, but to Amelia you reap what you sew & she was the worst.

‘I told her they were for you … for working late last night.’ He raised a brow, he was proud of his quick thinking & it showed.

‘Oh, great save, can I get you a drink or something to eat?’ she was unsure of how to act, what to do, where to start so thought being a host & maybe getting buzzed would help the evening progress without being awkward. Bucky, however, knew exactly how to start, he had been planning this moment in his head for so long.

He moved from the stool he had been perched on to around the counter where she stood at the fridge , mimicking his actions from the morning, wrapping his arms around her, connecting his lips to her shoulder.

‘Hi’ he shyly whispered.

‘Hi’ she giggled in return.

Bucky manoeuvred himself between Amelia & the sink, so she was facing him, he placed a hand on her face stroking her cheek with his thumb & looking in her eyes before leaning in.

‘I’ve wanted you for so long. You’re so fucking beautiful.’ He whispered, their lips a hair’s breadth away from touching.

‘Kiss me Bucky’ it came out as a moan practically from the anticipation & tension that had been building between them.

He didn’t need to hear another word before he crashed his lips into hers, it should have been softer, more timid but their desperation for each other culminated in a fiercely passionate all-encompassing kiss. Their lips fitting against each other’s perfectly, their tongues exploring each other deeply as Bucky’s hands made their way from her face trailing their way down her body, she moaned into his mouth & pushed her fingers through his hair tugging on his locks. Bucky’s roaming digits cupped her breast & the other squeezed her ass, as she was pulling him as close as she possibly could with her hands still on the back of his head. He began retreating & softening the kiss moving his fingers back to her face stroking her cheeks, he couldn’t help smiling as he held her face taking every inch of her beautiful face.

‘it’s been a long time since I’ve done this so if I’m a little rusty, go easy on me.’ It could feel like a meaningless tryst between them but his touches & hesitancy, the lust & trepidation in his eyes suggested it meant more to him.

‘You seem to be doing fine, tell me what you want Bucky. What do you want me to do? You’ve had 6 months to think about it, tell me what you fantasise about when you’re touching your cock thinking of me at night.’ Bucky couldn’t believe his ears, he had to actually check he hadn’t died & gone to heaven with the words pouring out of her mouth.

‘Usually I don’t last past the thought of you on your knees with my cock in your mouth.’ As if on instinct Amelia licked her lips, she wanted to taste him, feel the weight of him on her tongue, smiling she reconnected their lips sucking his lip before releasing it with glee.

‘Your wish is my command Mr. Barnes.’ Spinning on her heels she reached back pulling Bucky by the string of his sweatpants guiding him through her apartment into her bedroom, he couldn’t help but press himself to her behind attaching his lips to her neck.

‘Fuck, you like to take charge Sugar?’ he couldn’t resist biting her gently as he sucked on her skin.

‘Yeah, sometimes, but sometimes I like receiving orders.’ She pushed him down on the bed, his torso was propped up by his elbows as he watched her slowly strip to her underwear leaving Bucky just a little to peel off when it was her turn. He was transfixed by her, from the look on his face Amelia felt like a pin up girl in his gaze giving her all the confidence she needed to fuck her insanely hot boss. Climbing on the bed she crawled over to where he lay hooking one leg over his thick thighs straddling him, his hands instinctively found her hips & he bucked up to meet her soaking mound. She couldn’t contain her moan when he sat up from the bed with her straddled on his lap attaching his lips to her neck & slowly grinding against her.

‘If you feel like taking over Mr. Barnes just give me an order.’ She moaned into his mouth, Bucky’s head rolled back in pleasure as she ground down on his hard cock pressing her whole body against him.

‘Suck my cock Sugar’ Amelia was nothing if not a good girl so didn’t need telling twice, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders & connected their lips in a messy kiss, he moved his lips to her chest desperate to worship her ‘Yes, Mr. Barnes.’ She moaned out, her whole body felt on fire from his touch, his lips igniting each spot they grazed.

Lowering them both down to the bed so their bodies were pressed together she began trailing kisses down his neck, stopping when she was hindered by his t-shirt, she concentrated her tongue & mouth gently sucking whilst her hands found the hem, pulling it up & only breaking apart to take it off over his head. He was sculpted like a Greek god she thought & couldn’t help running her hands over his body, she noticed how responsive he was to her touch, moaning & writhing beneath her. It was a mesmerising sight & she could feel herself getting drunk off the power she exerted over him.

Her trail of kisses stopped as she reached his sweatpants, the unmistakable bulge waiting for her, she figured he’d waited 6 months so a bit of teasing with kisses & touches wouldn’t kill him. Slowly she moved her kisses towards the waistband sat on his hip peppering him micro kisses & her tongue until she reached the other side, his hips in constant movement desperate for more contact, she couldn’t help ghosting her finger tips over his skin whilst he expressed himself in expletives & moans above her. Once she pulled down the grey sweats his cock sprung free & she took her time admiring the sight, he was big both in length & thickness, a beautiful cock if there ever was one, the tip glistening ready for her to taste his juices.

As her tongue ran down the length of his shaft he shuddered at the contact breathless, he could have cum right there if he had let himself go, once she reached the tip she struggled wrapped her lips around the sheer girth, he was the biggest she had & the weight on her tongue made her jaw ache, the noises Bucky was making spurring her on as she was taking his length down her throat.

‘Shit, fu-fuck Sugar I’ll cum down your pretty throat if you keep doing that. Feels so good, what the fu-fuck are you doing with your tongue?’

Amelia pulled him from her mouth with a pop, she was officially cock drunk & turned on more than she ever had been, ‘Cum down my throat, choke me with your cock til I’ve swallowed every. Last. Drop, I need to taste you.’ She continued, swallowing down his length whilst rippling her tongue along his shaft, he unclenched one hand from the bed sheet & gathered her hair holding her head whilst she sank up & down on his length.

‘Let me see your beautiful mouth round my cock. Fuck sweetheart, this is so fucking good.’

She reached out for his other fist, moving it to the back of her head, breathless her lips skimming the head of his cock she mumbled ‘fuck my mouth Mr. Barnes.’ Before taking his entire length, he couldn’t help thrust his hips making her gag.

‘Fuck, sorry.’ He stopped speaking when he saw the delight in her eyes & the debauched look on her face, he slowly thrust again, Amelia couldn’t help moaning spurring Bucky on to pick up the pace, she loved him using her mouth as his toy, the fire in her igniting with every gag leaving her a dripping mess.

‘Fuck, don’t stop, fuck, shit Sugar I’m gonna cum.’

Her mouth & tongue moving at lightening pace on his cock combined with his hips thrusting & hands on the back of her head had Bucky shooting his cum in the back of Amelia’s throat.

Without waiting a second, he pulled Amelia from between his legs like she was made of nothing & suspended her above his face, lips grazing on her heat, he lifted her up to speak.

‘My turn now sweetheart.’ She watched as he licked his lips looking at her dripping pussy, ‘You’re so fucking wet, you loved sucking my cock, didn’t you?’

Amelia couldn’t help but squirm above him, she needed his mouth on her heat, ‘Bucky please.’

‘What do you want Sugar, your turn to tell me.’

‘I need you to touch me. Make me cum on your face.’ Bucky raised his head to meet her mound, furiously brushing his nose & mouth over her soaking underwear as he lowered them both to the bed, once her knees were secure & holding her weight he pushed the sodden fabric to one side before latching on to her clit with his mouth, Bucky was like a starved man devouring Amelia like she was his first meal in days, like she was an oasis in the desert, she hadn’t ever been eaten out with such gusto.

‘The prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen Sugar.’… ‘fuck you taste so good.’ … ‘roll those hips sweetheart show me how you like it.’ He muttered the words into her folds as he lapped up all she had to offer, the vibrations quickly bringing Amelia into nirvana, she could feel her orgasm building with every flick of his tongue & every bit of filth uttered until she hit her peak of pleasure ripping though her whole body grinding down on his face as she rode out her high.

Still in a haze of bliss Amelia felt like a rag doll when Bucky lifted her from his face & placing her back straddled over his legs, instinctively their mouth’s met in a passionate kiss, ‘can you taste yourself Sugar?’ she couldn’t help running her tongue on his chin before running her mouth along his jaw line sucking & kissing as she went. ‘Fuck sweetheart’ he couldn’t help bucking his hips pressing his growing cock to her core, her hands found the sides of his face, as she looked into his azure eyes there was only one thing she wanted in this world, ‘Fuck me Bucky… please’ she didn’t care how desperate she sounded she needed to feel him inside her, to be filled by him, to feel whole. As he wrapped his arms around Amelia’s waist he thrust his length up to meet her entrance, raising his head he kissed her deeply both his tongue entering her mouth simultaneously with his cock inching it’s way into her pussy, swallowing her moans in the kiss.

Once he was fully seated he paused, looking deeply into her eyes he knew how much he wanted to never leave the room, stay buried in her, with her in his arms for the rest of time, he couldn’t help the smile that radiated as he kissed her, she reflected it perfectly on her face practically giddy with what they were doing.

‘Bucky, fuck me exactly how you’ve imagined it.’ He sat up, moving her legs with each hand wrapping them around her, ‘Well sugar I’ve always imagined fucking you against the wall so I think we’ll start there.’ Effortlessly he picked her up, his cock still nestled in her pussy, her walls constricting with the thought of what was about to happen, ‘oh you like that idea?’ she tightened her thighs around his waist as he walked them both to the wall, with minimal force he pushed her against it, she giggled by how careful he was handling her ‘harder Bucky, like you mean it’ he pulled her back & gently slammed her into the wall, ‘we’ll work on that, now please fuck me.’ He wasted no time moving his hips pulling his thick cock back from her pussy before thrusting the whole length back in. ‘Fuck Sugar your pussy is made for me.’

‘Do-don’t stop, fuck, feels so good Bucky, fuck’ she hadn’t ever felt so full.

‘Never gonna stop fucking this pussy Sugar, who’s pussy is it?’

‘Yours Bucky, fuck … it’s yours, need you to fill me’ hearing those words from her mouth did something to him, a primal feeling of needing to claim her, fill her, breed her. He was feral.

‘You want my cum dripping out of ya?’

‘Yes, fuck yes. Holy fuck, you feel so good’ she craved it, yearned to have him paint her insides with his seed & spill out of her with their combined juices.

Bucky could feel her walls gripping him as he slammed into her over & over hitting her g spot making her shudder in pleasure, he caught on to her responses & where they were being stimulated, he began to slowly push his cock over her spot almost caressing it with his thick tip.

‘Fucccckkk Bucky there, oh my fuck, there.’ Like an electric shock to her system each time he would run his cock over her spot her vision would flash white in sheer overwhelming pleasure.

‘Cum on my cock darlin’ let go, come on sugar need to feel your pussy clenching me’

The second it hit her Bucky knew, his hips felt like they were in quick sand from the grip her pussy had on his cock, he spun her around & dropped them both on the bed fucking her through her crescendo, pounding her into the bed sending her to experience her first ever back to back orgasm.

“Fuck sweetheart, you’re gripping me so tight, fuck’

‘Fill me with your cum Buck, fill me up, need to feel it dripping out my cunt.’

Amelia pleading for him to cum in her sent him over the edge & he spilled his load deep in her pussy, holding her tightly in his arms until every last drop had been spent.

As they caught their breath not leaving each others arms, still connected he lifted his head, she saw no regret in his eyes, their lips met before Bucky broke the post coital silence, ‘Can I stay right here forever with you?’ he was pretty sure the smile that had taken residence on his face was there to stay.

‘I don’t see why not? My boss might not be happy with me not showing up for work in the morning though.’ Amelia decided right there & then that Bucky didn’t laugh enough because him laughing at something she had said was her new favourite sound.

‘I’m sure I can have a word … oh yeah he said it’s fine.’ She burst out laughing grabbing his face & reconnecting their lips.

They fell into a comfortable blissed out silence, sharing occasional kisses & caresses, they had exchanged places so Amelia was lead on Bucky’s chest whilst he played with her hair, he was lost in his head with thoughts of what this all meant, what he was going to do once he left the haven he was currently experiencing, she was enjoying the silence, the feeling of being absolute content within his embrace.

‘I wish I could stay tonight; I’m giving her the papers tomorrow. So it will be you, me & Ellie, if you’ll have us?’

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

Let me know if you want a part three!!

Tag List (It's a lonely one)

@slutforsexyseabass

[tealeafsoda]

HYPERFIXATIONS AND HORROR

Pairing: Vil Schoenheit x reader (platonic or romantic)

Content: requested, gn reader (you/your), autistic reader, fluff, 570 words

Notes: me and the bad bitch I pulled by being autistic <- u and Vil

•Vil insisting on you becoming his main consultant during any horror-themed projects that the film studies club takes on. (Not only that, but indirectly introducing you to other students with the same passion as you in the crew/cast). Even if you have anxieties about messing up, him seeing far too much potential in you to just leave it alone.

•The club itself experiencing an increase in horror-themed short films (Vil insisting it's just because there are so many versions of one genre to explore, but expanding your horizons to work on more than just one type of horror film is a bonus).

•Vil also bouncing ideas off of you (whether you have time to reply or not). And valuing that you're straightforward in your replies (even if others would think its rude, to him it just gets the process done easier).

•Him not just keeping you to one specific job. So far, you've done assistant directing, scripting and costume/ character designs, and him having no plan on stopping there (lighting and set design look tempting for you next) (the 10 fussy members totally not being part of the reason, it's just convenient) (well, maybe a little). Which has given you a better understanding of your strengths and weaknesses.

•But if the set is too hectic, there always being an easy way out to breathe for a few minutes. As his intention is never to overwhelm you.

•Vil being open to any suggestions for making the experience less stressful, as art should be available to all.

•But the strict timetable when it comes to filming also acting as a reliable routine.

•If you're uncomfortable talking face to face, communication online becoming more common in discussions. Or at least talking whilst working on something else.

•Making mood boards together when designing characters and monsters. Hyperfocus coming in handy to get the smallest details down to a tee.

•Him always sending you behind-the-scenes pictures. But it increasing drastically when working on darker shoots. (In the time-lapses of his makeup process that the crew sometimes film for advertisement/ social media content, something that doesn't go unnoticed by fans was how much time he spends on his phone instead of inspecting his makeup in the mirror like usual. What they don't know is that he's sending you full paragraphs on what's happening, complaints and any other thing he can think of).

•When a director for a horror advert he agreed to film allowed him to take a prop from the set, Vil having to stand and hold it whilst you stimmed so hard it tired you out (after that, him trying to get you props more often).

•Vil appreciating it if you talk about the nuance of characters in horror films. Especially villains, as they're the ones he gets cast as (even if they're typically other-worldly beauties or breathtaking tempters, reputation and critical thinking are greatly valued by him when it comes to the approach of these characters).

•Going through films to find antagonistic characters/ villains who aren't just one-dimensional to watch together.

•But also watching the classic thrillers and you both pointing out the details and writing that have affected the horror franchise.

•Trying to find different ways to approach traditional horror tropes.

•Searching through indie films for more character-based horrors.

•Your enthusiasm influencing Vil's approach to horror films, and him finding that he always enjoys working with you (and subsequently becoming fonder of the genre).

[neoculturetravesty]

We met in online class - Part 6

Image adapted from here.

Pairing: Renjun x Reader Genre: College AU, romance, some fluff, lots of angst in this part Warnings: Strong language, descriptions of stress and anxiety, fist fight Word Count: 7.7k

Navigation: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | You are on Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Last Part

A/N: Buckle up for some angst.

They say when it rains, it pours and Renjun was about to learn the true meaning of this expression.

Throughout his college life, Renjun had heard his share of praise from his professors who would tell him that he was gifted in a way not many artists were. But now that the career drives and job fairs had begun, Renjun learnt that at best, he was average. In the real world, he wasn’t ‘golden hands’ or gifted or anything like it--he was just one in a line of millions. Because in the bigger picture, Renjun’s competition was not just people in his school; he was competing with even better artists from even better universities that had even better skills and even better means. His design professor had very plainly told the class one day that out of all of them, maybe one or two would ‘make it’ in the real world, if they got lucky. So Renjun knew that if had to shut up anyone who ever doubted him, compete with the best and place anywhere solid by the time he graduated, he needed to land a stellar internship.

Not that his current internship was going any better. Renjun learnt that even small studios were a handful and that an internship basically meant being an errand boy. When he had taken on the job, he had fantasized about meeting exciting artists and maybe even helping the chief curate his best work yet. But more often than not, he found that he was sweeping the place down, and if he got lucky, he got to make a few calls to potential clients (who would yell at him before hanging up). 

And of course, like any self-respecting college that thrived on the student body’s mental health deterioration, the professors weren’t going any easier on the projects, even with the impending exams. 

On top of everything that was happening, Renjun had developed a constant tension in his neck and shoulders. Jaemin reckoned it was because Renjun was hunched over his paintings all the time as he followed the perfect lighting all over the apartment. You, on the other hand, reckoned it was because of all the stress.

“You’re just carrying a lot of anxiety on these gangster shoulders, Huang Renjun.” you had said as you kneaded your knuckles into his hurt one day as you brought him food. Lately, you had taken it upon yourself to make sure that Renjun was eating and staying hydrated through these pressure cooker times. Because when he was left to his own devices, eating would be pretty low on his priority list, simply because he did not have the time for meals. So you’d bring him a snack any time you saw him on campus, and when you didn’t see him, you’d get something delivered to him and if you couldn’t, you’d text him a reminder to eat. But as one would have it during end-of-semester madness, Renjun had received your food more than your company. Because truth be told, you were just as occupied.

Renjun hadn’t seen enough of you in what he was sure was now going to be a good two weeks running because you had way too much on your plate as well. Like Renjun, you too were swarmed by assignments and exams. But other than that, any time he did see you, you were ‘interview dressed’ for all the on-campus drives that were happening in your department. Renjun had come to wish you good luck on one of them and had seen how distracted you looked because apparently, you had pulled some all-nighters to prepare for this. Donghyuck had been the one to tell Renjun about this little bit. 

Because when you weren’t studying or giving interviews or working on projects, you were preparing to throw an end-of-semester party with Donghyuck. He had to admit, there had been moments where Renjun had been irritated that Donghyuck would know more about what was happening in your life than did he. But then again, who was to blame for that?

Renjun knew it was no one’s fault but his own. Because that’s the dumb precedent he had set from the very beginning--that he wouldn’t get too close. He was paying that price for it because somewhere along the way, you had begun to confide in Donghyuck more than in Renjun, though this development was gradual and subconscious. He supposed that since you had met him, some part of you had learnt that she was walking into a wall anytime things got deep with Renjun. And there are only so many times that people were willing to walk into walls before they learnt their lesson.

Renjun knew that you were always ready to provide emotional support. But he also saw that when you were the one that needed it, you were subconsciously turning to Donghyuck rather than to him. 

And because you weren’t doing so consciously, Renjun couldn’t even be upset with you. Who was he to be upset with you over it in the first place? He had spent all those weeks skillfully blocking you. So, just because he had changed his mind now didn’t mean that he could earn your vents right away. It would take some effort on his part and he acknowledged that.

But it wasn’t you hanging out with Donghyuck that bothered him. It was someone else.

Wong Hendery, it appeared, was always around you these days and for some reason, that really bothered Renjun. You had a lot of friends. You were just the kind of person who made friends wherever you went. His own friends were an example. Lately, any time he ran into his roommates in the living room or kitchen (since all of them were buried in work otherwise), they would inquire about you instead of him. You just made a lot of friends and that was a fact of life that Renjun lived with. And whilst so far, Renjun had been okay with all of them, he had no idea why seeing Wong Hendery around you made him feel some type of way. 

And in the strangest turn of events, he had even found himself subtly voicing this to you a couple of times. It had bothered him even more that you had never taken him seriously any time he brought it up. You had either been distracted or disinterested whenever this came up. Or perhaps you had very tactfully been avoiding the subject. You weren’t exactly the scheming type, so Renjun was sure it wasn’t that. All he knew was that at the end of it, he would just end up feeling stupid, because, well… it was a stupid, baseless feeling to have, whatever this was.

All in all, Renjun couldn’t tell what matter it was from the pillage that kept his mood sour these days. His failure in the job fairs, his increasing workload, the impending exams, his lackluster internship, or something else. He recognized that a big part of it had to do with not seeing you enough. He wasn’t going to be the idiot that denied that anymore. Since the party at your parent’s house, he hadn’t had a moment with you where it was just the two of you and you could talk about… well, the two of you. Not seeing you enough was making him sour, he knew that. However, not seeing you enough combined with the fact that Wong Hendery was around you all the time was probably pretty up there as a reason for his bad moods. 

The only upside in the end-of-semester times was that the damn virus seemed to be under control. Students could now more freely move about and a lot more cafes and parks had reopened. So, at the very least, Renjun could get a change of scenery whilst he painted or studied because he was getting tired of his apartment and the library and the damn studio. 

Today, he had just grabbed his things and sent you a very persuasive text, because really, enough was enough. Yes, you were both very busy. Yes, you didn’t have any time today. But you could at least give him one study date out in the sun, and finally, for the first time in two weeks, he had felt that happiness in his chest when you told him you’d come.

The two of you sat by the river as Renjun sketched and made notes and you typed away on your laptop. Your hair was done up in a bun and you wore the campus hoodie and you didn’t even look up from your work when Renjun leaned over to feed you some rice. It had made Renjun smile. You looked like every boy’s fantasy of a college girlfriend but thinking about it also made his heart a tiny bit heavy. Because after all this time, the two of you still hadn’t had that conversation. Come to think of it, the two of you hadn’t even kissed ever since that afternoon in the strawberry fields. And maybe it was the fact that he hadn’t sat with you like this in a couple of weeks, or maybe it was seeing you share your time with other people. But Renjun felt that he had to address the some elephant in the room sooner rather than later. Because he didn’t want a some relationship any longer. He wanted more.

“No one’s going to be happier than me when this semester is over.” you mutter as you chew onto whatever Renjun had fed you.

“You and me both. Let’s celebrate our freedom together when it ends.” Renjun suggests as he sits up to stretch his neck. 

“Done deal.” You look up from your laptop to give him a fist bump.

“Hey, I was thinking…” Renjun hesitates. “Let’s go somewhere together. After the semester is over.” He feels butterflies in his stomach even as he asks you that. And he knows why. Because this is the first time he’s asking you for a real date, where he wants to take you out for your company, no opportunistic strings attached. But also, he wants to take you away from everyone else where he would have all of your attention and he could finally tell you how he really feels.

You smile as you shuffle your notes. “Where do you wanna go?”

“Anywhere. We could go to the beach and go mudflat fishing. If that’s not your thing, we could go camping instead.”

You finally look at him and smile an undistracted, attentive smile. “I’d like that.”

Renjun looks at you softly as he returns your smile. “My exams end before yours. Let’s go right after your last exam.”

“Oh, I can’t go then.” You say, shaking your head quickly.

“Why?”

“Haechan and I are hosting the end-of-semester, remember?” you remind him and Renjun holds himself back before he could exhale over ‘Haechan and I’.

“Okay, how about the day after?” Renjun asks.

“I can’t go then, either. Hendery and I have to go visit the tower.” you tell him.

This time, Renjun can’t hold back. Because ‘Hendery and I’ was way, way worse than ‘Haechan and I’. Before he could stop himself, he finds himself commenting

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with Wong Hendery, huh?” he hadn’t meant for that hint of accusation to lace his tone, but it had come out that way.

“Ughhhh, tell me about it. He says he’d basically be happy never seeing me again once all of this is over.” you say as you steal his bowl of rice and begin stuffing your face. Renjun feels that irritation again because as always, you seem to be blowing this topic off. But for some reason, he doesn’t want to let it go today.

“I just don’t trust him.” Renjun says and he finds himself clenching his jaw a little.

You look at him from above the rice and smile amusedly. “Why though? He’s a cool dude.”

“I don’t know. There’s just something about him. I just… I don’t know, I guess it’s a guy’s instinct.” he says, and like anytime he has brought up this subject before, he’s feeling incredibly dumb.

You raise an eyebrow and look away from him. You don’t seem very impressed by the comment. “Nah, he’s super cool and all of that. You can meet him if you like.” you say in a tone that is way too nonchalant for Renjun’s liking. 

He had met him before, of course. But he didn’t know Wong Hendery even if he did know Wong Hendery. So how could he tell you that the man was bad news based on just a feeling? ‘He’s using you! Why don’t you see that he’s using you!’ Renjun wanted to yell at you. But he says something else. 

“Just, like… I don’t know. He just seems mysterious and unsharing.” Renjun tries to explain.

“So are you.”

There is a moment of silence as Renjun feels a sting and you look at him with no expression. 

You were right. 

Renjun hadn’t shared anything about himself with you. The things you knew about him was information you had probably collected through his friends. The only time he had really opened up to you was that one night in his room. Suddenly, more than irritation, he feels angry with himself. 

What a stupid, stupid, stupid idea it had been to set those dumbass rules with you. How had he expected it would pan out? How did he think he could use you as a means to an end, but not learn anything about you or give away anything about himself? He hadn’t thought this through at all. Then again, he hadn’t expected for it to go on this long; and he most certainly hadn’t expected that he would end up falling for you.

“I just… I don’t trust him around you.” Renjun admits and this time, he has the decency to sound a little ashamed.

“I know how to take care of myself, Renjun.” you tell him quietly.

Renjun looks away because for the first time since he’s known you, you’ve spoken to him that way. He wants to scream and pull his hair because no. You don’t. You don’t know how to take care of yourself. How could he tell you that you weren’t the best judge of character? How could he tell you that you allowed people around you to take advantage of you? 

‘It’s why you’re sitting here with me’ Renjun thinks with another sting. He knew Hendery was up to no good with you because he himself had been one of those people that used you for their own gain. He had used your kind heart and your willingness to see the good in people for his own stupid plan. The stupid, dumbass, flawed plan that he hadn’t thought through in the slightest. He had thought he had, because Renjun always assumed he was smarter than everyone in any room. That was probably his dumbest yet most defining trait; as kindheartedness was yours.

As if to add insult to injury, your phone rings and Wong Hendery’s name shines cockily onto your screen, mocking Renjun in all its glory.

“Hey, are you here?” you say as you pick up. You look around till you spot him and wave at him “Okay, coming!”

Renjun looks to where you had signaled and sees Hendery in his bigass car. He notices Renjun looking, waves at him and smiles. 

Renjun’s eyes close and he takes in a deep breath as you begin collecting your things. He doesn’t know why he’s being this way. He had been jealous before; he was an openly bitter person, that much he knew about himself. He despised every other asshole that did better than him. But this was a kind of jealousy he had never really experienced before. He wanted to protect you, but he also wanted to keep you… because now, he could feel you slipping away from him. 

“I’ll call you, okay? Make sure you eat dinner.” your voice sounds a little resigned and suddenly, Renjun feels his heart drop. It’s a strange feeling, but there it is in the pit of his stomach. Renjun realizes that the feeling really closely resembled fear. And it’s because you’re leaving like this. 

Had this been your first fight? Maybe it had. It hadn’t felt like a fight, because Renjun has fought with a lot of people before, and this was nothing like that. There was no screaming, no gaslighting, no accusations. But it was the tone you had taken with him. Like you were disappointed. Like you expected better. You had never taken that tone with him before. So as you stand up to walk away, Renjun grabs your hand. He looks up from where he sits.

“Hey…” his heart is sinking, he has this awful feeling in his chest and now he no longer knows what to say to keep you. So he brings your knuckles to his lips and presses into them for a few moments before he looks back at you. “Are we good?” He wants to kiss you, he wants to take you in his arms and kiss you and know that nothing has changed. But he knows that Wong Hendery is sitting right there and he doesn’t want you to think that he’s putting on a show of jealous, testosterone fueled possession. 

He watches as your face softens. You crouch so your face is levelled with his. You keep holding your bag that’s slung over your shoulder with one hand. With the other, you gently hold onto his cheek and lean in to press a soft kiss to his lips. 

“We’re good.” you say and you smile and then you lift back up to turn around.

Renjun watches unmoving as you walk away from him and drive off with Wong Hendery. He keeps watching till the car makes a turn and disappears from view.

Though you had told him that you were good, that sinking feeling hasn’t left his chest. Because Renjun realizes that what you had done had felt a lot like a goodbye kiss.

Renjun doesn’t get time to dwell on his aching heart too much, because soon after, exams begin. 

It is as if a lull had taken over the entire campus. Everyone around him had their heads down as they studied and slept and slept to study. Jeno and Jaemin had taken over the living room table as they crammed and kept each other awake through their all-nighters. Jisung would try to take some motivation from them but the boy had never been too fond of studying, so he’d end up asleep on the couch whilst Jeno and Jaemin took the floor. Even Donghyuck--who had insofar made it through college based on pure intelligence--could be seen bent over his notes in the library. For a week, each student on campus had a similar schedule; like someone had hit the pause button on everything else in life.

Perhaps it had been the exam stress. Perhaps it was everything that was happening culminating in Renjun’s mind, but that sinking feeling hadn’t completely dissipated from his chest. He had no way to explain what it was or why it was. But if Renjun had to describe it, it was as if a sixth sense was warning him. What the warning was about, he had no idea.

But as fate would have it, Renjun’s hardships were only beginning. Because right before his first exam, he had received a call from his mother. 

He had picked up because this had been maybe her third phone call to him this entire year. But two minutes into the call, Renjun wished he hadn’t. 

Questions were asked as if out of duty: if he was still in school, if he was still living with his friends, if he was looking for a job. And though Renjun hadn’t even asked for it--how she couldn’t send him money for the next couple of months because the Covid situation wasn’t doing any wonders for their restaurant. Although the conversation hadn’t even lasted a full 10 minutes, Renjun’s mind was fully fucked by the end of it. Why the fuck did she have to play with his head like this, just when he was about to go in for an exam? 

He shouldn’t have been surprised. His mother had a way of sensing any time her son was emotionally strained, because she would always show up right on time to add to his burden. This is how it had been most of his life. She would appear usually when Renjun was at his lowest and remind him that he was a useless fucker that nobody cared about. And because she was his mother, she knew exactly what buttons to press to positively fuck him over. 

Fuck this. None of it was fair. It wasn’t fair that she had called him after months and months. It wasn’t fair that she didn’t even want to know how he was doing. A global pandemic had turned the world upside down and she didn’t even want to know if her son was surviving through it. She just wanted to call to give him another reminder that she couldn’t take care of him. Fuck that. Fuck her. Fuck everything. Renjun didn’t need her or his father or anyone else ever again. Fuck all of it.

Renjun had hung up bitterly and that should’ve been the end of it. But for some reason, she had kept calling after that, which made Renjun throw his phone against a wall. Fuck that. She doesn’t get to call him to rub more salt to his wounds. He wasn’t going to give her that satisfaction.

It’s funny how when you’re truly feeling fucked, you tend to isolate yourself from the people who really care about you. And that’s what Renjun ended up doing following that phone call. Almost as if in self-sabotage, he started avoiding everyone and hid himself away. Because no way did anyone really need him, anyway. Renjun knew that even in his friend group, he was the one the others could do without.

Jeno and Jaemin had one another. They would babysit Jisung well enough, and when they didn’t, Jisung had Zhong Chenle. His housemates didn’t really need him, so hiding from them was easy. Lately, he had also stopped hanging out with Yangyang because he was afraid he’d run into Hendery. Lee Mark hadn’t really hung out with him ever since he joined the 127s. And Donghyuck… well, he had you. 

So even you could do without him. You had been doing just fine without him these past couple of weeks. You had still been bringing him snacks, even after that study date. But Renjun wondered if that was because of your bad, kind habit rather than anything else. Truth be told, Renjun didn’t want your snacks anymore. Because each time he got them, it reminded him that he was nothing special to you. He wasn’t any different to you than Jaemin or Jeno or Donghyuck. He was just another guy that you were kind to out of habit. Fuck that. He didn’t need your kindness, or anyone else’s. He was fine on his own.

But on the night after his last exam, he finally picked up the phone he had thrown and read his messages through his cracked phone screen. Just to see if someone missed him. As expected, no one did. But there were some messages from you.

‘Hey shoulder gangster, remember to put on pain patches before you sleep!’

‘I ordered some chicken for you guys, eat well and study well.’

‘Hey, I tried calling you. I had gotten you coffee, but I couldn’t find you so now hyuckie is drinking it.’

‘Ayo. I hope your exam went well. Sending some Chinese food over, so eat before you study!’

‘Hey, Jaemin told me your phone is busted. Idk if you’re gonna see this message, but just wanted to know you’re doing well.’

‘I tried to see you before you went in for your exam but Jeno said you had already left.’

‘Hey… I hope you’re not still upset with me. I’m gonna stop bothering you so we can both study, but I’ll come see you soon.’

‘Okay, I guess i’ll see you after exam week? Meet soon.’

That was the last of it. After that, you hadn’t sent him anything at all. Even you had stopped reaching out to him. 

It seemed that when it came down to it, no one would ever fight for Renjun. No one would want to find out why he was in hiding, or why he hadn’t replied. When worst came to worst, Renjun was always left to fend for himself. He was all alone in this world. 

Jeno and Jaemin would always know what the other was feeling without having to use the words. Neither of them had to explain to the other what was on their mind. They just… knew. When one was in trouble, the other would come running. When one was down, the other would pick him up. Neither had to ask; the other would just sense it and be there. Jisung and Chenle had a similar connection. 

But no one ever sensed Renjun’s heart. No one just knew when he was sad or upset or angry or in trouble. No one would pick him up because no one loved him enough to know his mind. No one had ever paid any real attention to him to know when he was struggling. No one had ever held his hand and taken him out of his despair. No one would even notice that he was in despair. Because he wasn’t anyone’s special anything. 

He had been hiding away for an entire week and no one had even noticed his absence. No one had called in to check on him. Because no one really needed him. Not his friends, not his family. Not even you.

They say when it rains, it pours, and Renjun was about to learn the true meaning of this phrase. Because just when he is about to put his phone away, he receives a text from his mother.

‘Renjun, I didn’t want to tell you this way. But you’re not picking up my calls. Come see me. Your father and I are getting a divorce.’

Renjun had never really been a big drinker. He’d drink some with the boys every now and then. But that was it. But tonight was an exception. Tonight, it was okay to turn to the drink. Tonight, he wanted to forget.

After the kind of day he had had, he thought that even his demons could give him a break. He felt drained. Like his mind was slowly giving up and his body was doing all the heavy lifting. Putting one foot in front of the other. Making him breathe in and out. Keeping his heart beating. It would be doing his mind a favor, drinking. His mind needed numbing, then maybe his body could follow.

He walks into the bar a broken man. And he wonders if that’s how all men are when they walk into bars. Maybe that’s why men who walk into bars make such good punchlines for jokes. He certainly felt like one. Because the people that should love him seemed to treat him like one. Who was he to think any better of himself?

He had made peace with the fact that his parents never wanted him. He had accepted that they were happy to get rid of him. Then why did he still expect their love every single time? What was it that made him go running to them any time they asked? Why had he expected that somehow visiting them would fix everything? 

Had he expected that they would sit him down and peacefully explain why they were parting ways? Of course, he hadn’t. Had he expected that his mother would cry and apologize for putting him through this? Of course, he hadn’t. Had he expected that his father would own up to his mistakes and call him his son? Of course, he hadn’t.

But he also hadn’t expected that neither of them would want anything to do with him after they parted ways. He hadn’t expected to be the collateral damage of a failed marriage that neither party was willing to own. He hadn’t expected to be summoned just so his parents could have a screaming match about whose son he’d be after they divorced. And that both would want to shift that burden to the other.

It suited them, Renjun thinks as he downs whatever the bartender had handed him. It would’ve been more unsettling to have made the trip to find something understanding and amiable. This was on-brand for them. This is how it had been since he was a child. They’d fight and Renjun would be collateral damage. This was the perfect ending to their twenty-one year old saga. Renjun had expected it.

So, why was he feeling like he had lost everything?

“Huang Renjun?” he hears a voice call out to him as if from miles away. Was he drowning? Then why did he feel like he couldn’t breathe? Why did the voices around him sound like they were coming from far away?

“Yoo Jimin.” Renjun finds himself automatically answering. He looks up and let’s his eyes focus and there he finds her. He smiles. Of course. Who else would’ve been the guest of honor in his pity party?

“What are you doing here?” she asks him and Renjun finds himself making a face.

“Drinking.” he says as he lifts up his shot glass.

“Did you follow me here?” she asks cryptically. Typical. Of course everything had to be about her.

“How would I know you’d be here?” Renjun says, looking away as he downs another shot.

“I told everyone at the party I was leaving to be here.” she says and her eyebrow is cocked as she comes closer.

“Party?” 

“Haechan’s party? All your friends were there. Weren’t you there?” she asks cautiously.

Ah, yes, the party. The end-of-semester party. Here he was, drinking his pain away. And his friends, the people who should be concerned about him were partying. It was all very fitting he supposed. This perfectly fit into everything in his life at this moment. Including the fact the Yoo Jimin had been the one to find him when he was at his lowest.

“I didn’t feel like a party.” Renjun replies.

Jimin scoffs. “Typical. Of course Huang Renjun thinks he’s above a party everyone would enjoy.”

Renjun doesn’t answer. It’s an annoying remark and part of him wonders why it is irking him so. His heart was burdened by bigger things. Perhaps his mind thought that being annoyed at Yoo Jimin was an easier emotion to address. This was an emotion he understood. It was an emotion he could process right away. So he turns to her and finds her sitting on the stool next to him.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, because really. Why is she here, talking to him, sitting next to him?

“Oh, don’t worry, Renjun. I’m only waiting for someone.” she says, rolling her eyes and flipping her hair.

“You can wait for someone over there.” Renjun points to a place far away with his glass.

“Okay, you don’t have to be an asshole. I just came in to see why you were drinking alone while all your friends are at that party.” she says and now more than agitation, Renjun feels anger.

“Why do you care if I drink alone, anyway? You’re the one that broke up with me.” he spits out.

“Renjun, seriously, what is your problem? I’m only trying to be nice to you. You don’t have to come for me like that.” Jimin’s eyebrows are high on her forehead as she matches Renjun’s tone.

“Well, thanks a lot, Yoo Jimin. Thank you for your gift of empathy, but I don’t really need it. Not after everything you did to me.”

“Renjun! Seriously, what is it that I did to you? What did I do to you?” she raises her voice in agitation.

“Well, other than abandoning me? Pretending that you were happy with me then pulling the rug from under my feet and breaking up with me? Not even waiting a month before moving on?” Renjun spits venom right back. Who did she think she was, coming here and speaking to him like that?

“Jesus Christ, Renjun. Would you listen to yourself? Does it ever occur to you that you could’ve been the asshole in this relationship? That maybe I broke up with you because you were the jerk?” Jimin’s face is contoured as she yells at him. It’s good that the bar is relatively full, otherwise this could’ve been a scene.

“I was nothing but nice to you. I treated you so well and you treated me like dirt!” Renjun hisses.

“Renjun, that’s your problem! You only see the faults in others and never in yourself! But you’re not ready for that conversation, so let’s not have it!” she yells and turns away from him, crossing her arms over her chest.

“No, no, by all means, let’s talk about it. Let’s talk about all the times I mistreated you, please.” Renjun mocks. He was already too used to being gaslighted by his parents. Jimin could join that club. This was already the worst day of his life. It couldn’t possibly get any worse.

“Renjun, this! This right here. You never respected me. You never treated me like an equal. With you, I always felt like some stupid, airheaded trophy. I always felt like everything I wanted was superficial and shallow and not worth anything!”

“And whose fault is that.” Renjun laughs darkly.

“Renjun, you can’t even see what you’re doing! You just think you’re so much better than everyone else! You think everyone around you is a degenerate and that you’re the smartest person to ever walk this earth. I can’t believe I let you treat me that way for so long.” Jimin’s hands go from balling into fists to animatedly helping her point. “Renjun, I wanted to be a model for the longest time. But I didn’t, because of you! Because every time I’d post a picture on my Instagram, you’d tell me it was because I love getting validation from strangers. Every time an agent reached out to me, you’d tell me how showing off my looks wasn’t going to be a long lasting career. You just never respected me or my aspirations. Because all of them were so beneath Mr. Intellectual.”

Renjun turns away. He pours himself another shot and downs it. He didn’t want a lecture. Who was she to show up like this and give him a lecture unprovoked? 

“If it weren’t for Jongin, I would’ve believed everything you ever said to me. That people would only like me for my looks. That what I wanted to do was superficial and shallow and that I would never amount to anything if I followed my heart.” she goes on and Renjun has had enough.

“Save it, Jimin. We’re broken up now, so what does it matter?” he doesn’t look at her. She could yell at him all she wanted. He wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of a reaction.

“I only came to you because I saw you drinking alone. And I know that’s not like you. I just wanted to see if you’re okay.” her voice has lowered significantly, but the agitation hasn’t left her tone. Renjun wonders if she has more to say, because he certainly doesn’t want to listen to any more.

“Well, that’s very kind of you, but I’m fine on my own.” he says coldly, still not looking at her.

Jimin sighs. “Renjun, when will you realize that the whole world isn’t out to get you? I know your family isn’t perfect. But you’ve got friends that care about you. You’ve got people around you that love you. If only you could stop being an asshole to them for one hot minute and see that.”

Renjun still doesn’t turn. Because she doesn’t know anything. She doesn’t know his life. She doesn’t know how alone he feels. She doesn’t know jackshit about what he goes through, what he has been going through. Who is she to comment on his life and stand there like that and lecture him? She didn’t know anything. Fuck her for making him feel like he was the asshole. The world was taking a giant dump on him, and she was making him feel like he was the asshole. Fuck that.

She grabs her purse and gets off the stool. “I’ve got to go now. I just hope you feel better. Whatever it is that you’re going through. Please don’t go through it alone, Renjun.” she says before she walks away.

Renjun feels a lump in his throat. How could he not go through it alone? Who was going to be by his side? No one. So what use were his tears? He wouldn’t let them fall. He swallows that lump away, and when it doesn’t work, he takes another shot. He didn’t want to be here anymore. He could just go home and sleep. Maybe that would work. The alcohol wasn’t numbing anything. It was just making him more bitter, but for more reasons than what he had come in with.

So he finds himself walking home. Putting one foot in front of the other. Breathing in and out. Keeping his heart beating.

He felt so alone. Was he the loneliest man in the world? He could bet money that he was. No one knew what he was going through. And that’s what made him feel most abandoned. But then again. Fuck that. He didn’t need anyone. What good were friends anyway? Friendships really meant nothing. Renjun finally realized that what he had were not friends, but connections. Because at the end of the day, that’s what this goddamn college life was all about. Making as many connections as you possibly could, so you could reap advantages from them later on life. All of his relationships were opportunistic. And realizing this was giving him the worst headache of his life. Like all the alcohol was thrumming in his head and blinding him.

He arrives at his doorstep, punches in his code, walks in and freezes at what he sees. 

Jeno, Jaemin, Jisung, Donghyuck, Zhong Chenle and you were all in the living room, drinking and eating and laughing. None of them had even noticed that Renjun had walked in. Because they were all too busy bellowing together. 

Suddenly, Renjun feels his blood boiling hot in his veins. How dare they. How dare they look like one big happy fucking family right in front of him. Renjun pushes back all emotions he’d been feeling and holds onto one: red hot burning anger. He heads in.

“Hey, hey! Look who’s finally back!” Donghyuck says mid-laughter as he finally notices him. “Come join us because Mark is passed out on your bed, by the way.” he laughs but his smile slowly fades as he watches Renjun’s expression. 

“You okay, man?” Jeno asks slowly.

The others slowly start reading his energy as well because his demeanor has gotten everyone’s attention. Renjun wants to pick a fight. He wants to fight with all of them for not being there for him. But he looks around for an easy target. Someone he can direct all his ruthless anger towards. And his eyes zero in on you.

“What are you doing here?” Renjun asks you urgently. Like you’ve done something wrong. 

“I just got you some food. We all thought we’d eat with you since you didn’t come to the party.” you say and you get up smiling and take Renjun’s wrist “Come, sit.”

But Renjun roughly snatches his hand away from your grip, making you look up suddenly. Your eyes are round, but you don’t look angry. You perhaps look shocked, but mostly concerned. And that makes Renjun want to hurt you more.

“You can’t just show up here unannounced. I didn’t invite you here.” Renjun spits at you.

“Hey man, easy. We invited her.” Donghyuck gets up and puts himself between the two of you. 

“Well, this is not your house, either! You can’t just invite her without asking me.” Renjun scowls at the boy.

“Renjun, I just got you some food. I just wanted to make sure you had eaten.” you say gently, stepping up from behind Donghyuck to speak to him.

“Y/N, you are not my girlfriend. So stop acting like it.” Renjun snaps and he finally watches the hurt he wanted to see on your face. He also sees Jisung’s scared expression and Jaemin’s disappointed one.

“I…” you begin “... I know… I just… I came here with the guys… I…” you begin, but Renjun yells again.

“You need to leave. You can’t just show up whenever you want.” Renjun continues and takes a step forward but Donghyuck holds a protective arm in front of you. Whoop-dee fucking doo. Now his friends thought he was some sort of a savage. 

“No, Y/N, you shouldn’t leave.” He says then turns to his friend. “Dude, what is your problem?” But Renjun keeps attacking you.

“These people are not your friends, okay? They are my friends. You’re crossing a line and you need to leave right now.” Renjun loves the reactions he’s getting. He loves that he has provoked every single person in the room. Because Jaemin has gotten up and taken your hand protectively whilst Jeno has joined Donghyuck in blocking you from his view.

“Hey, man. Easy.” Jeno warns. Jisung and Chenle watch this strange confrontation with worried looks on their faces, eyes darting between him and the others. Renjun can’t believe it. All his friends were protecting you. All of them. He was the fucking monster in this room, too. 

“Renjun, I just… I just came here to see you.” you say, but there’s no accusation in your tone. Just annoying, tiresome understanding. He fucking hates it and all his friends can see that he does.

After everything he had been through, after all his life was putting him through, he was the asshole, he was the monster once again. 

Well, then. If everyone thought him a monster, he should become it completely.

“Y/N.” Renjun laughs as he looks away. Then he looks at you with that sinister smile still on his face. “Y/N, the only reason I’ve kept you around for so long is because I wanted to get to your brother. So you can leave now.”

That did it. 

Because Donghyuck’s eyes have closed as he stands in front of you and Jeno’s eyes have widened. Jaemin just looks shocked as he holds onto your hand. As do Jisung and Chenle. But you.

Your face has hardened. He doesn’t see shock or disappointment or the kind of reaction that would’ve given him full satisfaction. He sees your stone face as you finally say something with a hint of venom in your tone.

“Well, in that case, Renjun, you’ve been wasting your time. Because I got you a slot with my brother right after our first date.”

Renjun stands speechless. 

He would’ve remained speechless if you hadn’t pushed past Jeno and him and headed straight for the door.

“Y/N!” Donghyuck calls out and goes after you. Renjun watches the others. Jaemin and Jisung have looked away and he sees nothing but pure disappointment on their faces. Jeno, on the other hand, is looking straight at him. Renjun looks back. Good. He wants everyone to hate him. This was exactly right. 

He hears Donghyuck barge back into the apartment as the door bangs shut behind him. 

“Dude what the fuck is wrong with you?!” He yells and Renjun finds himself shoving the boy, pushing him so he wasn’t in his space.

“What’s wrong with me? Please, Donghyuck. Don’t even pretend like you haven’t been using her the same way I’ve been. You’re not any better.” Renjun punctuates the last bit with another shove and Donghyuck grabs at his collar and roughly pulls him by it. Before it can escalate, Jeno and Jaemin rush forward to break the two of them apart. Jeno grabs onto Renjun, Jaemin onto Donghyuck, prying him off and creating some distance between the two. Jisung and Chenle look from the couch, mouths hanging open, visibly distressed.

“You didn’t have to do that, man. You didn’t have to be an asshole to her.” Donghyuck accuses as he tries to free himself from Jaemin’s grip and come face to face with Renjun again.

Renjun laughs bitterly. “Well, now that I have been, you can have her. Live your happy fucking life.” Renjun spits at him and he gets the reaction he was looking for because it makes Donghyuck lunge at him once again, making Jaemin tighten his grip and pull him back.

“What is wrong with you? You fucking asshole! Why do you think everyone’s out to get you? Stop acting like a little bitch and start acting like a man for once!” Donghyuck shouts and that does it. 

Renjun feels his headache blinding him. And yet, he doesn’t know how he frees himself from Jeno’s grip. But before he knows it, he has balled his hand into a fist and aimed it straight for Donghyuck’s face.

Copyright © 2021 NeoCultureTravesty. All rights reserved.

[americxn]

Confession (Colin x Fem!Reader)

a/n - I don’t know if Colin is only involved in missing person/murder cases but I decided to go arson instead because murder seemed way too serious for this scenario. Also, I’m not a lawyer, I have no clue what I’m talking about but we move

wordcount: 2.7k warnings: NSFW, kinda dom Colin (putting this as a warning bc I know some of you don’t like that), fingering, mentions of arson

Colin’s eyes were dark and unwavering as he pinned them on you, his thumbs tucked into the waistband of his work pants as he lounged against the back of his chair, his eyebrows slightly cocked and mouth a thin line. A portrait of increasing irritation. Your own head cocked slightly, waiting for him to repeat his question for the twentieth time in an hour. Sighing, he pulled his hands away from his waist, shifting to straighten on his chair as he leant forwards, levelling an utterly unamused look at you. His patience was wearing thin. Good. A small smile curved the corners of your mouth upwards as your chin raised slightly, Colin’s eyes flashing in agitation at your increasingly insufferable attitude. “I’m only going to ask you this one more time: where were you on the night of October 10th?” “At home.” You responded easily, the same answer you had given him with each reiteration of the question. 

His jaw clenched at your unrelenting impassivity, the muscles within feathering. He braced his elbows on the surface of the cold metal table between you, leaning forwards, his eyes never once leaving yours. You bit back your amusement, leaning in slightly to meet him in mocking interest, your arrogance spilling onto the metal before you, pooling about the detective’s elbows, dripping from the table onto the concrete floor.  “Let me repeat this once more,” he began, his tone dropping and becoming somewhat condensing, as if you were a child incapable of grasping the concept of the situation. “Several witnesses came forward and gave both your name and general description on the night of 10th, only several minutes after officials suspect that the fire was started.” Your amusement was momentarily doused as the image of the fire that you had ignited flashed, the memory of the pure ecstasy and sense of completion that had filled you the second you dropped the match onto the gasoline-coated floor of the large, abandoned building. Pulling your attention back to the man before you, you merely shrugged, leaning back in your chair and bringing a hand up to your face, examining your carefully manicured nails. “It was dark, detective. They could’ve seen anyone. As I’ve already explained multiple times, I was at home, not fucking around setting buildings on fire.” The lies came too easily to you. Colin seemed to be thinking the same thing as he tipped his head back to the brightly illuminated ceiling and let out a truly exasperated sigh. You quietly scoffed, folding your hands together in your lap and gazing at him with feigned innocence, allowing a patient demeanor to slip over you.  “You’re enjoying this far too much. This is serious, y/n.” He gritted out as he lowered his eyes back to yours. The small smile of indifference painted on your face as he surveyed you once more served as your second act of arson, fuelling his growing anger. He knew it was you. You knew he knew. Your smile only grew. “I know that you’re guilty.” He threw the words across the table at you, his voice low. “If you’re so confident that it was me, why am I even here?” You pressed offhandedly, the front legs of your chair lifting off the floor as you pushed back on it. “Because I need a verbal confession.” Colin stated firmly. “And you’re going to give me one.” You couldn’t help the snort that bubbled out of you at his overly confident words, your eyes alight with flickering amusement. His own eyes flashed in warning. “Of course you are. And how, exactly, do you plan on getting one from me?” You challenged, your chair falling fulling back to the floor with a dull thud. Colin’s eyes flicked down to the surface of the table, as if watching through the thick metal as you placed your feet back on the ground. His own feet shifted beneath the table, his eyes lifting back to yours as his foot appeared on the edge of your chair between your slightly parted legs. You stiffened in confused alarm but kept your eyes trained on his as he slowly pressed his foot into your pussy, the pointed tip of his leather shoe spearing onto your clothed clit, too-sensitive even through the protection of your clothes. A gasp ripped free from your throat at the sudden pressure, any amusement having fled from your features, now displayed proudly on Colin’s instead. “What’re you-” the tip of his shoe twitched harshly against your covered core, the rest of your words dissipating into the suddenly tension-filled space between you. “Talk me through your evening on the 10th.” He ordered, his eyes falling wholly dark as he tracked the movement of your lower lip catching between your teeth. Your hands fell onto the arms of the chair you sat in, clenching tightly onto the cold metal as a spontaneous inner conflict took place within you. Push him off or see where this goes. This ‘interrogation’ had gone on for far too long, you were beginning to get bored. And so, you settled further into your chair, pressing yourself slightly further onto the tip of his shoe, an almost inaudible groan working its way out of you at the increased pressure. “I’ve told you. I was at home.” He retracted his shoe ever so slightly before pressing it against you once more with even more persistence. When he didn’t reply, his jaw working in annoyance, you sighed softly, not allowing any anxiety to worm its way into you as he put you on the spot, creating a vague alibi in a matter of seconds. You knew that stalling for a moment too long would only raise his suspicions. “I came home from work at around five. I drove.” You added, reluctant to leave any room for further questioning, not as his shoe began to make small strokes up and down on your clothed cunt, dulling your vital concentration.  Your integrity lapsed at his increasing attention on your core, your legs parting more of their own accord.  “I, um, I showered for like fifteen minutes and then I went to make food.” The lie was weak; Colin’s mouth twitched, as if a smirk strained to formed on his thin lips. “You don’t live alone, do you?”  You swallowed but shook your head. “No. My roommates weren’t home.” “Oh?” He uttered, urging you to present him with an explanation. You bit down on the inside of your cheek as he pressed the tip of his shoe against you even harder.  “They stayed at the college library to study.” Your tone wavered, your eyes flicking down to your shamelessly parted legs. “Unfortunately, I spoke to two of your roommates earlier.” At his cruel contradiction, your eyes fluttered closed in defeat. “They were all home by four that night.” His chair creaked as he leant forwards, your eyes flying open with a low groan as his foot was forced further against you. “What’s even more interesting, is that they didn’t see you at all that night.” “What’s the point of this?” You muttered, lifting your gaze to his. “Why ask if you know I’m lying to you?” “Because I need to hear you confess.” He answered simply, pushing back his chair and standing. Your hips rocked forwards slightly on your seat, trying to subconsciously chase after his foot as he stood. Watching closely as he slowly made his way around the table, small ribbons of nervousness finally began to unfurl within your gut, your unease growing as he reached you, coming to a halt beside the chair that you sunk further into beneath his scrutiny.  The hand that he snaked onto your shoulder was a warm weight and you took a steadying breath as his other fell onto your side, Colin taking a step behind your chair. Looking straight ahead, you didn’t dare shift so much as an inch as his hand slid from your shoulder to the crook of your neck, his fingers settling onto your skin. You resisted the urge to cross your legs, waiting for Colin’s next words, the hand at your side beginning to run softly up and down the length between your ribs and your hip. Your breathing hitched as he stooped down, his own breath hot on the side of your neck. "What would happen if I was guilty? If I did confess?” You chose the words carefully but your true intentions behind the cautious question was explicit: What happened when you confessed? “Either I use the evidence I have against you in court and accuse you of being guilty. Or, you confess, and get a lesser sentence. Since no one was harmed and there were no malicious intentions, right now with no confession, you’re looking at a heavy fine and restitution.” Whilst he spoke lowly in your ear, his hand made a slow trail from your side to your abdomen and any information that he was providing you evaded your attention as all of your focus trained itself upon the hand that Colin was sliding lower and lower down your body. He drew swirling patterns across your stomach with the tips of his fingers, dipping tantalisingly past your belly button before straying back up your torso once more. Your eyes dropped to watch the smooth movements of his fingertips. A small part of your conscious scolded yourself for how wrong this was but the other, larger part sung with nervous excitement, willing his hand to fall even lower. You were going to have to give him a confession at some point or another. He already knew you were guilty, what would be the harm in getting some fulfilment from it?  “But it’s ultimately not up to me. Just know that a confession will lighten the consequences.” You merely nodded, your eyes never straying from the hand that leisurely explored the stretch of your stomach, Colin’s body a warm presence behind you, his hands roving closer and closer to where you ached for him, the sweet scent of your arousal filling the room. His lithe fingers made quick work of the buttons holding your pants together, your head falling back against his chest as he pressed his body further against the back of your chair. He hummed lowly in approval as his fingers finally delved between your folds, gathering the wetness at your entrance and smearing it up to your clit. His fingers made tight, messy circles atop it as he spoke lowly in your ear: “Let’s try one last time. Where were you on the night of October 10th?” You took a sharp breath, Colin’s fingers straying from your sweet bundle of nerves to your opening, poised amongst the wetness gathered there as he awaited your answer. “At home.” You whispered weakly, trying to lift your hips in an effort of bribing the finger that languidly circled your entrance. His fingers stopped moving entirely, drawing away from your cunt and simply resting in your pants. You groaned at his blatant denial. “Okay. I left work early, around three, and went home to change -”  He plunged a single finger deep into you, coaxing a low groan from your throat. You turned your face into the warmth of his chest as he twisted that single finger inside of you, trying to organise your thoughts and remember your actions of that evening as he began to move his finger in and out. “I was only home for about half an hour.” You whispered into the awaiting silence of the room as he slowly eased a second finger into your cunt, starting to pump them in a steady rhythm, the tips of his fingers curling to hit the spot within you that seemed to send shock waves throughout your entire body with each stroke of his rough fingertips against it, coaxing more information from you, using your own pleasure as a bribe. "I drove to the property. There was no one there when I arrived so I waited.” You continued, voice accented with whiny need, the expert curling of Colin’s fingers within you as you opened up to him sending more wetness gathering around his long digits, a pleasant warm sensation spreading throughout your stomach. “Why?” His voice was low in your ear and your eyes fluttered closed as his ministrations caused more pleasure to grow within your gut. You let out a quiet moan as he inserted a third finger into you at your silence, wasting no time in establishing a steady fast pace, Colin fervent to pull the confession from you. “Oh, shit.” You moaned out as his fingers thrusted relentlessly inside of you, seeming to reach deeper than you even thought was possible, his desperation to draw the condemning evidence from you apparent. “Why?” He repeated, your confidence faltering as you realised that you had given him enough information and that now all he needed to hear was your reasoning to why.  “Why, y/n?” A drawn out groan floated from your parted lips, tugging your answer out behind it. “I was bored. I wanted people to see, I wanted them to talk about it.” The heat within the pit of your stomach was fuelled with each stroke of his fingers and soon your legs were trembling and your toes were curling. The small triumphant smile displayed upon Colin’s face was evident in his tone as he asked you one final question, whispered lowly into your ear: “So you burnt the building down?”   Lifting your hips up slightly, you gripped onto the arm snaked around you body with both hands, trying to urge his fingers to go harder, deeper as your pleasure built and built, each thrust of his fingers ripping away a layer of the ball of ecstasy glowing in your gut, the orgasm hidden at its centre your only goal. “Y/n.” Colin prompted quietly, your poorly suppressed groan almost drowning his voice out completely as your pleasure mounted, building quickly towards release. The groan turned from one of satisfaction to one of dismay as Colin suddenly withdrew his fingers from you entirely, your hips bucking up pathetically as he rested his hand within your pants. His message was clear: no confession, no orgasm. “Yes!” You squeaked, your fingers tightening their grip on his arm, willing his fingers to resume their skilful exploration of your cunt. “Yes. I burnt the building down.”  Colin plunged his fingers back into your awaiting entrance, victorious as you shrieked in alarm and pleasure, his digits filled you suddenly once more. “Cum, y/n.” Colin encouraged lowly when he felt you clenching around him and he leant down further, his teeth latching onto the soft shell of your ear and biting down sharply. The slight pain pushed you over the edge and you came undone in his arms, your back arching off the back of the chair, your head pressing further against the hard planes of his chest, your head lolling to the side as you came, the unfamiliar scent of the man filling your nose, serving as a reminder of who was granting you your blissful gratification. Colin’s tongue traced over the small hurt that he had inflicted with his teeth, his fingers stilling their relentless thrusting to move within you instead, curling at the perfect angle and coaxing every last drop of cum from you before pulling out entirely. Your thighs jerked and trembled, closing around his hand as you came down from your high with a gasp, regaining control of your body once more, your back collapsing back against the chair.  Withdrawing his hand from your pants, he stepped away from you, your laboured breaths filling the small room, your wetness glistening on Colin’s fingers beneath the harsh lighting as he pulled away, walking slowly back around the table and dropping into his own chair. Your swallow was audible as he pulled his papers closer to him, taking up a pen and beginning to scribble messily formed words onto the blank sheet. His dark eyes flicked up to meet yours, triumph glistening there. “You can go now.” He dismissed, his attention settling back on the paper he filled out. “Go sit back in the waiting room, I’ll send someone to talk you through what happens next.” You rose from your seat in silence, your wetness smearing onto your upper thighs as you moved, your legs weak. With one final glance at the detective, you turned on your heel, trying to gather back some of your dignity as you left the room, Colin’s focus remaining fixed to the paper before him as the door closed behind you. 

taglist: @kitwalker02 @three-eyed-snail @forevercountess @kitwalkerangel @milly-louise @thecountessesglove @undeadcortez @kitwalker64 @samsassinparvismagna @xmaximoffic @divineruler @liandav @tatesweaterweather @evanmybeloved @tatelangdonsupremacist @ikkleroniekins @ananad1 @shlutnutt

[siriusmydeer]

Hey! Could you do a Regulus fluff with the prompt 17. “This reminded me of you.”

from a boy, to a man

regulus black x fem!reader

summary: regulus finds his way back to you after destroying the horcruxes.

word count: 2.0k

warnings: mentions of self harm (bleeding, scratching, scabs), insinuations of depression, mentions of anxiety, self hatred, poor mental health/not taking care of ones self, angst-fluff

a/n: amelia amelia i wanna kiss u thank u sm for helping me baby @fives-cup-of-coffee

dark stygian swirls. the infinite markings submerged in his pallid sickly flesh that had healed prolongingly into a lustre of peach. but the black branding lay delineated, every curvature, every edge lay as detailed as when it had first been cursed into his complexion.

the relevance of scrubbing his nails against the dermis until it scalded the nerve endings in his left forearm had become insignificant. the carmine scabs fading over time but the reminder of his baleful past prompting his memory.

the branding was the only thing that could make him clutch his arm in a bashful sense. yet the only talisman evoking his senses to remain his strong demeanour was the minuscule silver-plated band that lay on his thumb tightly.

jewelry. it was your familiarity.

necklaces, rings, earrings, they all somehow coordinated with you, your essence. something complimentary to you complexion, soothing important to your family as they were heirs.

when strolling the corridors you received the compliments, it was rather flattering. it was something people began to notice over some time, but you never had owned a bracelet. it was common to own bracelets such as heirlooms but you had never received such an entity until the age of eleven.

august 28th, 1971

the sun was fading into the familiar evening hues of feverish vermillion and a slow fading shade of apricot blending into the sky. the prelude to dawn at its beginning while you gaped at it intensely, the fresh pricks of grass hitting your bottom under the shell-pink dress you had been dressed in as well as the small gusts of wind looming through the air as a small reminder of where you had been rather than slipping into your mind into an abyss of daydreams.

the wind began to increase, hitting the delicacy of your skin. the little nips at your skin producing a small shiver from the curvature of your spine to the muscles in your legs. the moment was serene, like something you read about in fairytale books about a princess awaiting her prince, almost silent. until a faint boyish voice had interrupted the tranquillity.

“’ve got a gift for you.”

your body slightly sprung at the sound interrupting the deep prolonged silence. You began to crane your neck behind you, a short boy awaiting for you to glimpse at him, your eyes were met with deep aquamarine irises that swirled in the hues of virescent green and cerulean blue. a small twinkle found carved into his irises in them at your attention.

“regulus,” you muttered, viewing as the boy sat next to you with something particularly large clutched in his hand.

he held up a gold circlet with intricate detailing that had been engraved in the brass item. as well as an emerald gem placed directly in the centre. the main focus of the bracelet, if you will. your brows began to force together into a pronounced frown, your optics glancing from his digits clutched around the object to his features, his shell-pink lips fixed into a quirk as well as a small gleam of virtue flaring in his irises  

“what’s this for?” you began to query, taking the rather dense manacle into your palm and staring at it for a moment. “it’s a bracelet, i know that you don’t have any so i got you one.” he retorted faintly, a small sense of pride and adoration swelling in his belly. but he wasn't of age to particularly identify those feelings yet.

“think of it as a present, before school starts.”

your face steadily began to upturn at his endeavours, a scramble of letters trying to escape the cavern of your mouth in a enliven venture to thank him for his doting thoughts about you.

the memory becomes a slow fading blear as recollects his thoughts and narrows his eyes in a sneer at his maimed reflection. the caliginous imprint taunting regulus through the obstruct mirror, his hand beginning to clutch over the mantle flesh ensuing the laceration that had been flung under the downpour of searing water minutes prior.

he recollected every detailed moment of that night, the way your eyes glimpsed at the bracelet every couple of seconds in elation. even at eleven years old in a floral shell-pink dress, in the distance you looked so angelic. he didn't know as an eleven-year-old boy and now only loathed himself for realizing so much later in life.

following his departure, he had glimpsed down at the silver ring that was clung onto his thumb that you had gifted following the bracelet, a ring he had to move around several fingers till it fit perfectly again. this incident similar to a parallel between scenarios. the small band holding himself together in a way that couldn't be understood by another.

the girl he had loved, adorned, the girl that was now a woman who had let him weep into her shoulder, the woman who made sure that he would take care of his body to keep it in a healthy state, the girl that was now a woman that would cheer for him amid his quidditch games till her throat was raw, the girl who was now a woman whom he still had loved wasn’t there to clutch onto his arm and whisper to him that everything was going to be alright.

the subconscious that laid embedded into your skull was subsequently pivoting in rapid twists till it was firmly knotted without anymore pondering to be completed. the footprint of where the boy had once been subtly faded without a trace as to where, the boy who grew into a man with mangled black tendrils that sat in entangled twists, the man with a structured jaw whilst he was old enough to spew out curse words to his mother, the boy who was now a man who you loved had vanished beneath your fingertips without a trace.

the man that was once a boy had taken a vow that potentially concluded his life and vanished for, ‘your safety,’ as he pronounced before departing from your vapid figure. the last i love you escaping from his lips as a final message in case it would be the last time you would hear it from him.

then you became alone, all fucking alone.

he huffed whilst pacing almost becoming nauseated, crackling at his knuckles due to the submerging coarse of anxiety running thickly through his blood. it was enough to swivel into the crevices of his spine and sprawl into his brain like sporadically placed letters in an intense game of pool, his mind configuring ways on how to address you after almost a year of his blatant absence.

the minuscule of a second he had after the duration of his completed mission, regulus had ventured to find almost every piece of detailed information that had been absent in his mind for the last ticking days where he hadn’t spoken to you. almost as if he hadn’t played the recurrent memory of you laughing at his foolish jokes in the slytherin common room in the deep hours of the night following a few hushed whispers, in a recurrent loop to the point where he could recall every faint characteristic that you had worn with pride.

your thumbs were absentmindedly twiddling in an abyss-like daydream, similar to the ones you had as a young girl, the collision of decrepit wood and firm knuckles splintering the perpetuating silence that had sunken depressingly into your flat. a look of puzzlement contorted onto your features, you paused and speculated as to whom was at your apartment as you weren't used to having such visitors.

opting to leisurely trudge to the door in exhaustion, the door had revealed regulus arcturus black with an ivory box clutched in his hand and a nervous grin quirked on his lips. you stopped, taken back for a moment. a revelling thought peering into your conscious mind to ultimately shut the door closed and pretend this moment, the moment that you had dreamed of till the early hours in the morning wasn’t occurring. instead, grappling at his hand and pulling him into a close-knit embrace till you could feel like hast respires in his chest along with the palpitating beats of his trembling heart against your sternum.

he sighed in relief, his hands melding into the curvature of your waist. the tension in your frame gradually disentangling from the days that had surpassed without the boy who was now a man, a man with a sallow complexion and sickly carved features stood in front of you with now a tearful grin that was almost quivering awaiting forgiveness that he was frightful he would never receive.

“what have you done to yourself, regulus?” your hands melded into the sharp curvature of his cheeks, the balmy embrace of your hands warming his figure like a camper that had created fire without months of warmth. his optics began to gape at the floor of your flat, ignoring your question with the clearness of his throat.

“nevermind me, this reminded me of you.” he clarified while bringing the box into your viewpoint. “regulus.” you pardoned him but taking a grasp on the box and setting it down on the oak-wood table with a small ‘clink.’

“what’s happened to you— why didn’t you come back for me?”

“i was scared, i didn’t want to leave you. i promise you that, i just— i didn’t want to come back and you would hate me.” regulus confessed with a stutter, a mild nervous tic he had obtained when he was young. as well as when he ventured to drag his slender fingers between his swoop of curls but found it rather difficult as they were mangled together.

you frowned disquietly. the boy that had endured your whines, and your tantrums as to when a fifth-year hufflepuff had ticked you off rather irritatingly. the boy who was now a man, whom you had loved, and he knew you had loved. continued to think that you had hated him when that had been opposite.

"I don't hate you, reg. I never have, I don't think you can hate the person i love the most." his hands fell back in place to the contour of your waistline, the palms of his hands steadily dragging themselves in a comforting motion while your fingers delicately pushed into his hair.

“your hairs a mess, reg,” you observed with a sated smile, the smallest of a chuckle escaping his lips after his mouth had almost been sewn shut by voldemort himself. the thought of regulus laughing could’ve turned heads now because of how unusual and unfamiliar the sound was. but it was the same child-like giggle he expressed on the hogwarts train several years ago.

“yeah,” he chuckled again, louder this time. he felt the small indulging swirls coming up from his eyes, the downpour of tears almost cascading down his cheeks before he brought his digits to slide them across his sockets, “brush it for me? like old times?”

he wasn’t sad anymore, he didn’t feel dejected, he didn’t feel the urge to lay in a bed that was poorly made with creased sheets and never get up again, the tears threatening his face were delightful ones. they were tears of elation, that the girl who was now a woman had remainingly loved him.

he was home, an unfamiliar concept now wrapping him in an unyielding enclasp. regulus was home.

he sat upon a bench, looking at a reflection no longer splintered with guilt, or narrowing eyes. his eyes moved in an upward motion, his irises seeing the way you languidly dragged a brush through his tuffs and a small smile quirking at your lips.

“i love you, too. i didn’t want you to think i forgot.”

taglist: @fific7 @kittykylax @wisedreamcatcher @ronbrokemyheart @amourtentiaa @five-cups-of-coffee @serenitywilderness @i-love-scott-mccall @artemis1orion @miss-starkov @siriusbarnesslut @famdomhideout @hufflepogue @kirascottage @luvvninaz @miraclesoflove @black-like-my-soul @slytherclawbitch @90steaology

[oliviayamaoka]

The Roseville Murders (Chapter 2)

Hi, just wanted to say I adjusted the plot slightly and will go into more detail with the story next chapter! This was a bit experimental and I wanted to write the growing relationship / rivalry between Y/N and Danny. I also wanted to write Y/N as a girlboss and to be just as witty as Danny!

Anyways, please comment any ideas or suggestions you may wanna see in future chapters! I have this planned out but would love any ideas or stuff I can add into the story! Tysm for reading!

It rained softly outside as you took a seat at your workplace. The desk was a bit cluttered with your art, notes, junk, and your papers regarding your current investigation.

One of the drawings on your desk was a sketch of Ghostface’s mask, attached to it was a few notes regarding the origin of the mask. Did Ghostface care for the history of it, anyways? You already theorized he was a narcissist who took pride in his work. Perhaps, he admired Edward Munch and his infamous “The Scream” artwork? Or maybe he based his persona off of it? You weren’t too sure but you did research the distribution and the company that made the masks. It wasn’t a particular popular company but it only distributed to the USA, Canada, and Brazil.

Ghostface didn’t seem too caring when it came to where he stabbed victims. As long as there was a lot of blood and something only he could perceive as art. And maybe you too. You felt excited, you already had a three year timeline. Maybe, you could get ahold of other states and ask if there’s been similar killings. Maybe even Brazil and Canada? You had to pinpoint a location and see if you could find just one name, any name.

Three years. Three countries. A part of you doubted he was Brazilian. Maybe Canadian? You weren’t so sure, you were pretty sure he was American. Y/N would probably have to go to the library tommorow to do research and use the slowly growing internet. Your research was suddenly halted when you knocked your sketchbook over.

Our slid a page. You kneeled down to pick it up, holding it as you examined the dark sketch. On the paper was a sketch of claws? No, they also looked like tentacles. Ever since the incident, you had dreams of these tentacle claws grabbing you and pulling you away from life as you know it. It must’ve been a sign of trauma or maybe it represented what happened through the nightmares? You slid it back into your sketchbook, deciding not to dwell on it. It would only make your room feel more depressing.

Beside your sketchbook was your leather journal. Y/N wrote everything in there, for mental health reasons. You included the incident and what Jonathan did for you. Your previous therapist said journaling your thoughts helped the healing process. It worked but journaling about how you killed your abuser was hell.

Your thoughts were suddenly interrupted when your phone rang. It was a chunky, black mobile phone you got about a week ago? Y/N reached for it and answered.

“Hello?” You answered, using your other hand to organize your desk.

“Hello?” A voice answered, it was a male by the sound of it.

“Hi, who’s this?” Y/N asked, paying no mind to the phone call as she started to put some of her stuff away. Art supplies.

“Who’s this?” He replied.

“Y/N L/N, am I who you’re trying to reach?” You asked, sitting back down.

“Ah, you’re no fun, detective.” He chuckled as you stopped, furrowing your eyebrows in confusion. Who was this?

“My apologies but, this is my personal phone. Can I ask who gave you this number?” You questioned him.

“Why does it matter, gorgeous? I know it’s you now.” He responded.

“Please don’t call me that. And yes, I am indeed a detective but I’d feel more comfortable discussing anything with you on my work phone.” Y/N said sternly.

“Oh, yeah… Detective L/N, huh? Think you’re some sort of hotshot because you’re new? Where did you come from? Washington? Gonna take more than the feds to catch me.” He said to you.

You listened intently and stopped for a moment. Catch him? Must be a stupid prank. Although, not a funny one since he had your personal phone number. An eyebrow raised as you looked at your notes on Ghostface.

“You still haven’t told me your name. Let’s not be rude, yeah?” You responded, being a little more cocky since you were off-duty.

“Awe, don’t tell me you forgot my name. I’ll give you a hint… I’ve been quite famous lately. In fact, I think you’ve taken quite the interest in me, Y/N.” The man teased. It was 100% Danny.

“I asked for a name, not an alias.” You said.

“Maybe after dinner, hotshot.” Danny said to you as you furrowed your eyebrows.

“I’m not in Roseville to play games. Either verify you are who you claim to be or quit wasting my time.” Y/N spoke with a stern tone.

“My last victim had three stab wounds to the throat. It was going to be two but their scream wasn’t as satisfying as I thought it would be. And they had a tattoo on their upper thigh. Bella Smith.” He said as you froze for a moment.

It was true. The latest murder victim was a middle-aged woman named Bella Smith who worked at a convenience store. She had multiple stab wounds but it was pretty much impossible to see she had three wounds on her throat just looking at photos of the crime scene.

“Okay and how did you get my number? I imagine the infamous Ghostface doesn’t have access to these types of things. How do I know this isn’t some sort of elaborate prank orchestrated by my coworkers?” You questioned.

“Honey, I am Roseville. Also sounds like you have experience with these kinds of things. You ever get humiliated like that?” Danny asked, grinning widely.

“No, it’s just a very logical conclusion. And why would you be talking to me anyways?” You asked him.

While you spoke to him, you quickly wrote down what he said and what he sounded like. You quickly speculated what his age may be, maybe 25?

“I keep tabs on the cops who are investigating my work and to be honest? They’re all stupid, it’s pathetic. Although, I noticed something about you. You come from one of the big cities, don’t you? You’re actually smart compared to those other pigs.” He said.

“Those pigs you speak of have tried their best in pursuing you. They have families too.” You responded.

“Really, huh? You’ve only been here three weeks? I think you should just trust me on this one because those other officers really don’t know what they’re doing. If you actually find out who I am, are they gonna give you credit? The newbie? A woman?” He asked.

“I don’t understand why gender is an issue. And why would they try to steal credit?” You questioned.

“They’re stuck in this shit hole city and I bet they could just really use a promotion right now. They want so badly to be the hero that arrests me… but first, they’ll let the freshly graduated detective do the work. It’s so easy to overshadow women in this world.” Danny said.

“Well, I don’t care. As long as you’re put behind bars.” Y/N responded.

“The bars at this station? I must say, your desk is quite cute. A bit plain but I like your style… interesting files too.” He mused.

“Huh?” You responded, furrowing your eyebrows.

“Your lil’ office at the station, I like it. This place has always been easy to break into. You noticed it too, didn’t you? Their security sucks and their morgue is just too damn small.” Danny said as you frantically looked around, shoving your shoes on.

“I’m going to call them right now and tell them you’re there. That was a stupid move on your part.” You said, practically yelling.

“So young and naive. I’ll be long gone.” He responded, chuckling as you hung up.

“Fuck, shit!” You said, quickly dialling the number to the police station.

You practically flung your door open, sprinting down the hallway and out through the front doors of the apartment complex after three flights of stairs. Your heart rate increased as you continued running down the sidewalk, feeling more frantic when there was no answer.

“Answer…!” You yelled, calling the emergency number.

“911, how can I help you?” A staticky voice answered as you continued running.

“I’m Detective Y/N L/N! Please inform the police station that there’s an intruder! He might be armed and dangerous! Do not touch anything since there may be forensic evidence!” You instructed.

“Oh—yes, right away, ma’am!” The dispatcher answered as you hung up, continuing to focus on your running towards the station.

Back at your apartment complex, there stood Danny with his own mobile phone. It couldn’t be traced back to him since it was stolen and he didn’t leave any DNA on it. If anything, it had the previous owners. Bella Smith. Your apartment complex had fire escape stairs outside your window. Easy enough, he thought. His outfit was black and had some stuff hanging off it. Strings? Ribbons? Danny was quite quick and extremely quiet when it came to climbing the set of stairs.

He reached your window, pulling it open gently and hoisting himself through, landing gently whilst kneeled down. For precaution, he had his knife gripped in one hand. This was purely for investigation and to see what you truly had on him. His head tilted curiously as he noticed your desk. Your art and notebook. His gloved hand reached out to your sketch of him.

Danny was truly impressed at how detailed and good it was. He read through your sticky notes and theories. Other than the fact he was blown away, he knew you were a threat since you successfully guessed his age range and height. Wait, his height? You did a careful examination of the footage he was in, looking at objects around him and his boots to correctly guess a height.

“What the fuck…?” Danny muttered as he looked at your notes.

The Scream by Edward Munch and a costume company? He skimmed over your notes and the psychological profile you built on him. He felt somewhat panicked since you were indeed no joke. His gaze averted towards your leather notebook. Eagerly, he grabbed it and opened it. Most of it was your thoughts and causes of your stress and anxiety. He stopped flipping through when he saw a darker page. It was dark because of the writing and how crumpled it seemed.

December 23rd, 1992

I was walking down an alleyway two weeks ago. It was cold so I had a jacket over my uniform. I suppose that’s why the man didn’t know I was an officer.

At first, I thought that he was going to try and rob me. It took me a while to realize that my money and belongings wasn’t what he was after. I suppose it would be appropriate to say that I was in shock for a moment. He never finished what he started. Despite being in shock, I was able to feel everything and the adrenaline only helped my rage.

Why? Why did this have to happen to me? After getting him off, I pulled my gun out and he stopped. I still remember the look on his face after I shot him. He was scared and pathetic, as he was in life. I don’t regret killing him. I never will. I just feel utterly violated. Never once have I been touched like that so violently. Is this what this fucked up world has come to? What if I didn’t have my gun and training?

He definitely did this to other women… he deserved to die. And I would do it all over again to him and to other men just like him. Of course, I had to call the police. They were going to charge me with manslaughter but they said that they would push this all under the rug, just as long as I never tell anybody. Did I contribute to corruption in the police force? This getting out would ruin everything. I don’t know but I do know that this was my gift.

Freedom was my gift for killing that man. It felt oddly exhilarating. I hope nobody remembers him, I hope his family know what kind of monster he was. Anyways, I’m being reassigned somewhere. They said they’ll give me my first investigation. In a smaller city.

Danny’s fingers trailed over the page. He felt angry and sad for you. That this happened to you. But, something arose in him when he kept re-reading that paragraph. You… enjoyed it? Behind the mask, he had a soft expression on his face. He imagined your beautiful face full of blood with you and your gun. He smiled gently as he kept the notebook.

He did indeed feel bad for you but he wasn’t satisfied with his limited knowledge of you. Danny decided to use this notebook of incriminating evidence to hold some leverage over you. Not only that but he figured he’d get to know you better if they had something interesting to talk to you about. Danny couldn’t help but grin when he thought about your journal entry and the sketches you made of him. So smart yet so naive.

Danny quickly took a look around your apartment to see all points of entry. He took a peak into your bedroom, it was neat and tidy. He seemed somewhat paranoid so quickly went back to your living room window, making his swift little escape. Not without taking some of your notes on him and your sketchbook.

About two hours later, you rubbed your eyes in frustration as another officer came to talk to you. There was a forensic team still investigating your little office space. Apparently, there was nobody here and your office seemed untouched. For about thirty minutes, you inspected any points of entry and tried to look for out of place shoe marks since it rained outside.

“Detective, are you certain it was the killer who called? We get prank calls a lot.” He said as you nodded.

“Yes, I’m certain. It was him, he knows I’m going to catch him soon.” You said as he nodded a bit.

“Okay, well, we’ll take it from here. Come early tommorow.” He said as you sighed.

“I will but please, don’t miss anything. I’m starting to think he was lying. It was him though.” You said as you turned, walking down the hallway towards the exit.

It seemed to be evening at this point and the rain stopped pouring. It was slightly humid but the city looked oddly beautiful when it was wet? You couldn’t stop thinking about your phone call with Ghostface earlier. Y/N already had some tech professionals try to track the number he called from and all of the information regarding the phone company. You’d have to wait two days at the latest for the results to come back.

As you walked through light puddles, you felt more and more tired. All the running and frantically searching for him was enough to just make you exhausted. It was all last-minute too. Y/N stopped dead in her tracks when she felt her mobile phone ring. You pulled it out of your pocket and answered it.

“Hello?” You asked, tired.

“Hey, gorgeous. Just wanted to apologize for my little deception trick earlier.” He responded as your eyes widened.

“Ghostface…” You responded, shocked that he had the courage to call you again.

“God, hearing that from you…” He said with a slight husk as you took a deep breath quietly to calm yourself.

“You know I’m close, don’t you?” You questioned him as he chuckled.

“Of course, I do… only these hands of mine can do wonders for you.” Danny said to you as you scoffed.

“You’re disgusting.” You say to him.

“Don’t lose your temper now, detective. There’s… things we should discuss.” He cooed.

“Things? Seriously?” You asked him, already tired of his bullshit.

“Yeah! Like, this lil’ notebook of yours! Really deep stuff… Victor Houston, was it? The serial rapist? Must’ve felt real good to put him down, didn’t it? Did it feel as good as you said it did in this thing?” He asked as you froze.

You probably let out a small whimper of shock as your hands trembled. Your heart pumped hard and fast. It was all you can hear as you felt your face heat out of pure embarrassment and shock. He… read your journal? This wasn’t good, this wasn’t good.

“W-What…?” You asked as he cackled.

“God, you’re so hot when you sound scared. Don’t be offended though, babe. You still sound real sexy in your cop tone.” He said as he continued.

“Yeah, I read all about the guy you killed. And how it was all covered up to accommodate you. Are you a star student or something? It’s hard covering up murders… or has it always been easy for you?” He asked.

“I-I, um… how did you get that…?” You asked him, trembling.

“You see, Y/N… we’re the same. You and I are too smart for Roseville. It’s just that I got the upper hand this time. While you rushed to the police station, I took a quick trip into your apartment.” He said as you let out a light gasp.

“Yeah, that’s right! I know where you live, I know where you’re from, and your number. I know who you truly are, Detective Y/N L/N.” Danny said mockingly.

“And what are you going to do with it?” You asked him.

“Always so straight to the point. I might give that annoying little journalist Jed Olsen. You’re trying to work with him, aren’t you? You mentioned in one of these notes… you also think he’s handsome.” He said as you covered your eyes.

You fought tears.

“Why? Why would you do this?” You ask.

“I should be asking you that. I’m a bit jealous you find someone like Olsen… attractive. He’s so boring, so normal, so… ugh, I hate talking about him. Still though, nice to know I have another fan besides him.” He said to you.

“Where are you going with this?!” You snapped as he chuckled darkly.

“I won’t tell anybody. Just as long as you halt your investigation for a while. I still want to have fun in Roseville here and well… get to know you.” He said.

“Go to hell.” You muttered.

“How original… so what’ll it be? I kinda need to know now since I’m also on a bit of a time crunch.” Danny asked you.

“W-What the fuck do you want me to do? Sit back and watch as you kill more innocent people?! I won’t let you.” You said with a venomous tone.

“What are you gonna do? Stop me behind bars?” He asked mockingly.

“Fuck you.” You said.

“I’m sure we will. But first, I just want you to sit back and not do anything stupid. We’ll see each other eventually. I’ll call you from another phone soon.” He said, hanging up.

You held your phone in disbelief and quickly made sure you had your gun. How the hell could you have been so dumb?! It was genius, leading you away from you apartment and finding such leverage against you purely out of luck. Your breath trembled as you walked back to your apartment, having your gun ready in your pocket as you did so.

[fandom-imagines]

Illogical

Fandom: Death Note

Pairing: L Lawliet X Yagami!Reader

Words: 1.5k 

Warnings: Violence and death (but it’s death note :P)

Being Light Yagami’s sister was hard for both younger girls.

Y/N and Sayu were immensely proud of the older man, all whilst being envious. However, Y/N was less envious due to her own intelligence rivalling that of the older Yagami. That was one of the reasons that he chose her. In fact, that was the reason he had her help him create a new world, one of which they would both rule together.

Understandably the younger sibling was afraid.

She had noticed the genius changing during a short amount of time, but she had simply dismissed it, blaming it on teenage hormones. But it never got better, it got worse. Before he would spend time with the family, taking time out of his busy schedule to bond with them, but now he was constantly in his room ‘studying’.

“Light?” Y/N’s voice sounded from behind the door which was shortly followed by a knock. “Can I come in?”

A chuckle left Ryuk’s lips at Lights panicked expression that was simply caused by the voice of the younger girl behind the door.

Light had been so busy for the last few weeks that he had completely forgotten about their agreement to spend some time together whilst the rest of the family were away.

“Yeah, come in,” he called back, wincing at the sound of the door creaking open to reveal the Y/H/C-haired girl.

“What’s up?” A grin was plastered on her lips as she flopped onto his bed, narrowly missing touching the death note that he had carelessly left there whilst he took a short break from killing criminals.

“Be careful, Light.” The shinigami’s voice caught Light’s attention, eyes glancing to the tall figure, “Anyone who touches that notebook can see me, as well as hear me.” Another laugh left his lips.

As though it was planned, Y/N’s fingers reached for the book, “Hey, what’s this?”

Her eyes widened as she glanced up at the tall death God who simply gave her a small wave along with a ‘hi’.

“H-hello…?” Y/N’s shaky voice left her lips, something that Ryuk shook his head at. “Light? Wha…”

Unbeknownst to her, Light was already situated on the floor in front of her. He gently grasped her cheek, tilting her wide eyes to look into his own.

“Y/N, I am Kira. Will you help me create a new world?”

It had felt like forever since that day. Names no longer meant a thing to her, just a string of letters to write down to end somebody’s life.

Things got even more tricky when her and Light had been asked to join the investigation by L himself, someone that Y/N began to unwillingly develop a small crush on. Considering that he was searching to kill her and Light, she guessed that this crush was probably a bad thing.

Some may think that things could not get worse from there, but oh boy, they can.

“Y/N,” L’s deep voice brought the girl from her thoughts, bringing her back to reality.

He was seated beside her, cake placed on the desk in front of him, yet his attention was focused solely on her.

“Are you okay?” Those three words that left his lips shocked her, unable to make eye contact with him she decided to instead glance down at his lips, nerves taking over her.

Lawliet caught onto her anxiety immediately, placing his cold hand on top of the warmth of her own to calm her, something that he often did.

Not only did it get her to relax, but he also enjoyed touching her, not that he would ever admit that to anybody of course. Especially not when you remember that she was the sister of his main suspect for the Kira case. However, he had never suspected her of a thing. Too blinded by love? Perhaps.

“Ryu?” Confusion filled her Y/E/C orbs as she leant up to face him, only to see his own gaze on her lips.

She wasn’t stupid; she knew what that meant.

She heard a chuckle behind her, one she immediately recognised at Ryuk’s. Said chuckle only became louder as he witnessed the detective and the death note holders’ lips touch.

The entirety of the task force, including L, stood around Light, Y/N slightly situated to the side of him whilst he laughed.

“That’s right,” a smirk covered his lips, “I’m Kira. But I’m not the only one.” Light’s eyes darted towards his younger sister who stood as still as a statue, fear filling her body as she realised that her boyfriend would want to kill her, and she would have to kill her boyfriend.

“Y/N…” Lawliet’s voice held a hint of betrayal in it as he spoke, watching as she stepped towards Light who handed her a death note before pushing her to the side again.

“Do the honours,” Light grinned, glancing towards L, prepared to watch him fall to the ground from a heart attack.

Light believed that the relationship between the detective and his sister was fake, something she was using to their advantage to win the war. Little did he know that she loved him, she loved him more than she loved her own psychopathic brother.

An idea flashed into Y/N’s head as she nodded, feeling Ryuk stood behind her who was enjoying the drama unfolding before him.

She brought the pen to the page, ignoring everyone’s pleas for her to stop as she wrote. The look of betrayal and hurt on the raven-haired man struck pain into her heart, but she knew what she was doing was right.

“Goodbye, L. Kira will always win.” Light’s manic laugh sounded again as he spoke, ignoring Ryuk’s own laugh which everyone could hear also.

Light’s laugh came to a halt as he began coughing.

“Y-Y/N…?” A look of betrayal filled his face before being covered in anger as he glared at her. “Ryuk! Kill her.” He coughed again, becoming desperate as he realised what she had done.

She had written his name, not L’s.

“Sorry, Light.” Ryuk chuckled, “I always said I wasn’t on yours or L’s side, but Y/N truly wins this one.” Another chuckle left his lips as he patted Y/N’s hair in a comforting manner, tears falling down her cheeks as she watched the life leave Kira’s eyes.

Both the book and pen fell from her shaking hands, body dropping to the ground as she burst into uncontrollable sobs.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t want to.”

Nobody moved an inch, scared that this was all an act.

“Please, don’t hate me.” Hands reaching up to her hair, Y/N began to pull tightly to relieve, at least some of, her anxiety.

Matsuda had walked towards Light, checking his body for a pulse.

There was none.

“Y/N,” Lawliet was the first of the task force to speak, “breathe.”

Another sob left her lips as she desperately clawed at her hair.

L climbed up onto his feet, making his way towards her. “It’s okay,” he whispered, kneeling in front of her, “Light can’t hurt you anymore.”

“I killed him, Ryu. I killed my own brother.” Tears cascaded down her cheeks, body wracked with sobs that only increased as Ryuzaki pulled her into a tight hug.

“You did what you had to.”

The rest of the task force stood still in horror at what had just happened.

The girl they had never suspected was responsible for the killings. Not only her, her genius brother also. From what they could piece together, it was unwilling on her part, anybody could deduce that much. It was evident from the genuine remorse she showed that she regretted everything.

“I’m sorry,” Y/N’s hands left her hair to wrap around the detective, afraid that when she opens her eyes he’d be gone; afraid that he would hate her. “I didn’t want to hurt you; I didn’t want to hurt anyone.”

L shushed her, pale hands moving to massage her hair in a soothing manner, “it’s okay.”

The two remained like that for what felt like hours, both as afraid as the other to pull away in case this was all a dream, in case they would lose each other.

“I love you,”