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a-jynx · 5 years

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A Family’s Matter |Part 1: Another Paradise

They fell in love, they moved away to California, they got hitched and had a shotgun wedding. A surrogate was kind enough to give them their daughter, Maxine. Billy got his dream job, along with signing up to take over his own mechanic garage... Their lives seemed perfect - well, almost perfect.

Pairing| Billy Hargrove x Steve Harrington

Warnings| Cursing, mentions of abuse, small amounts of drinking, smoking, physical fighting, blood {chapter will have warnings appropriate it!}

Taglist is opened and people can be added or removed! Just let me know!

Please, enjoy it! Feedback is the glue to my writing! 💕

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Have you ever found paradise? Not THE paradise, but… the paradise that belongs to - you? That holds you tightly in the middle of the night after a nightmare? Makes your coffee the way you like? Or, perhaps gives you a life that you believed you would never live?

Because Steve James Harrington did.

The cold winds and bone-chilling pasts that lived back in Hawkins, Indiana still haunted the back of his mind - scratching at his brain and thoughts as if trying to claw it’s way back into his mainframe. However, he escaped that. He escaped that cage that was made of homophobes and tall trees, the small town sitting pretty in the middle of fuck-ton nowhere. But, here he was. The California sky bright and blue, the practically white sun glaring down and easily - quickly - warming the Harrington-Hargrove apartment. Steve could live with a smile, a genuine one, almost all the time. He lived happily with his Billy Boy by his side… He couldn’t be happier.

“Steve! Have you seen my button-up?!” Billy called from their bedroom, the sound of his boots stomping around on the soft carpet made Steve smile to himself.

“Babe, it’s in the bathroom on the back of the door... Y’know? Where you hung it after you took your shower?” Steve couldn’t help but laugh to himself while waiting for the coffee to finish before turning to be greeted by the sight of his husband sautering in. He looked good - better than he had back in that hellhole. Billy Hargrove’s signature mullet had been chopped when they first arrived home, the long lush curls now sitting on top of his head while the sides and back were shaved. The greased white tanktop, the baby blue button-up that flashed his name stitched on. Then the dark denim jeans that hung around Billy’s hips loosely while his work boots squeaked against the small tiled kitchen.

“Find it?”

“Obviously,” Billy grinned as Steve took a step forward, meeting him halfway as their lips clashed sweetly. It wasn’t rushed, secretive… It was sweet, caring, and chaste. A squeak escaped Steve’s throat as Billy gripped his ass, his lips peeling into a shit-eating grin before Steve reached up, smacking his shoulder.

“Hurry up and get to work! I’m sure Andy and Matthew are already there and waiting for you,”

“Let them wait,” he mumbled against Steve’s shoulder, nuzzling his face into his throat with a gentle, opened-mouth kiss.

“Oh, yeah, that’s a good way to run your business,” Steve snorted, shouldering away his husband, who merely whined at the lost before standing back up. “I’ll swing by at lunch, okay? Hell, I’ll even make your favorite and bring it by.”

Billy hummed, grinning almost wolfishly before swooping in to gather another kiss before slowly moving towards the front door. He stopped short of the door, scooting around the pack n’ play, bending down and pressing a kiss to his daughters’ thick chocolate curls while swiping his rough thumb across her soft cheek, already feeling the warmth practically leaking from her skin.

“I’ll see you later, Max-a-million.” He whispered softly, careful to not wake the sleeping infant.

Steve moved towards the loves of his life, carefully stepping to stand next to Billy before pecking his cheek and gently tugging him towards the front door. “Y’ know if you keep staring at her, or kissing me, you’ll never make it to work,” he grinned as Billy snatched his backpack from the coatrack before pressing another kiss to Steve’s temple.

“This is very true, that’s why I usually leave earlier,” he smirked as Steve gently shoved at his back, grinning as he leaned against the doorframe with a smile. He stepped backward, closing the door with a soft thud, however… Maxine began to sniffle and squirm against the soft pad beneath her.

“Oh, my little, Maxi! I know, I know, I miss him already too,” he paused, lifting the squirming infant with a little shush, tapping his palm against her bottom as he held her close. “We’ll see him later, but you gotta be a good girl, okay?” Steve grinned to himself as the sour face that had covered his daughters’ face quickly subdued as he tottered from side-to-side, holding her against his heart.

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Hours pass, Maxine was asleep in her pack ‘n play again after finishing her early lunch, Steve was cooking away in the kitchen to get Billy and his lunch finished before having to pack up the Camaro to head towards the garage. Humming softly along to ‘Juice’ by Lizzo before a loud, frantic knocking came from the front door.

Peaking his head from the kitchen, he wiped at his hands before glancing towards Maxine, who was sleeping peacefully still. Swallowing at the lump building in his throat, gently tossing the hand towel onto his shoulder, before taking a few careful steps towards the door. He shouldn’t be afraid to open their front door for Christ's sake... Billy had made sure - a million times - that they were going to live in a good neighborhood where they could see the beach, walk to the garage, and raise their child… But that doesn’t mean nothing bad could slither into the happy home they’ve set up.

Gently opening the door and fitting himself against the frame and edge of the white door, Steve glanced up to meet the frantic and almost wild-looking eyes of a young woman. The thick waves of hair on her head were a little greasy and matted looking, the AC/DC shirt she wore was torn while the shorts around her thin legs seemed to almost fall off. He blinked before his vision settled on her face - Jesus - her left eye swelled black and blue while a bit of blood ushered from the corner. Taking a mental note of that…

“Can I help you?” His voice wavered as she audibly swallowed, licking her lips before shooting him a sheepish grin.

“Hi, uh… This is probably very, very strange but… This is the Harrington-Hargrove residence, right?” Her voice came out faint but rushed almost panicked sounding. Steve frowned, before sliding himself further into the little hole, blocking any way to see his sleeping daughter.

“Yes. Is there something you needed?”

“Oh, oh thank God! Uh, first off, hello, I’m actually your neighbor from apartment 12? My name is Y/N and I… I understand you’re married to Billy, the mechanic, right?” Her brows furrowed in worry as Steve blinked. Sure, he was used to people showing up to their door asking about Billy, but they usually could find the shop no problem…

“Yes… He’s working as we speak, I’m sorry but is there a reason you’re here or… Or do I need to call the police?” Steve’s voice wavered, but he held it as the woman’s - Y/N’s - eyes grew wide.

“No! No, please, you don’t need to do that, I just… Dammit, I’m terribly sorry, but I need some help. My car shit on me last week and I… My job is threatening to cut me loose if I can’t show up on time,” Steve’s eyes narrowed, searching the woman’s face for any sign of lying or fibs.

“I’ll pay! I’ll… I’ll pay whatever you want, hell, even the last couple bills I have to my name, just, please… I - I need to keep this job. I need the money.” She whispered the last part, her brows furrowed as Steve swallowed, flicking his tongue over his bottom lip before sighing.

“I’ll… I’ll have a talk with him later tonight, though, I can’t promise anything…”

“Yes! Of course, thank - thank you, really. I… I can’t show you how grateful I am for you even ask. As I mentioned, I live in apartment 12, my names Y/N L/N and I…” She paused, making Steve cock a brow as she stood straight, grinning gently. “I hope to hear from you two soon. Have a good afternoon, Mr. Harrington-Hargrove.” And just as quickly as she appeared, she was gone. The only sound being the small smacking steps from her bare feet hitting the pavement.

Gently closing the door, Steve leaned against it with his arms crossed over his chest. Blinking, he glanced at the clock and grew wide-eyed, he needed to hurry and pack everything for lunch - now. Quickly moving back into the small kitchen, he began to pack up small tuber wares of chicken alfredo with a bit of extra sauce in Billy’s because that’s how he likes his pasta - extra saucy.

Packing them away into his own bag, he gathered up a few extra things for Maxine to play with before gathering her into his arms and moving outside, locking the front door and moving downstairs with her snuggled against his hammering heart. His steps only faltered for a moment as he passed the apartment 12… It was eerily quiet. Like the forest back in Hawkins, the eery feel that surrounded his hometown somehow had wiggled its way into his paradise. Shaking his head, he quickly moved to where the Camaro was parked, sitting Maxine into her car seat before putting the food bag in the floorboard underneath her. Climbing into the old girl, he paused for a mere second, breathing in the leathery, smokey, and sweet scent that filtered throughout the muscle car. It smelt heavily of his husband and he was in another small paradise.

“Alright, Max-a-million, let’s go see papa!” Steve grinned as little grumbles came from the small car seat, making his grin grow wider as he put the car in reverse and took a steady stroll towards the shop. On the way, Steve tapped his fingers along to the radio, the salty scent from the ocean soaking into his nasal cavity, mixing with the imprinted scent of Billy - he felt almost dizzy. He felt good. Happy. But, his mind kept warping back to that girl, the creepy vibes that followed her to his homes’ door. It felt like the Upside Down all over again…

Shaking his head, he pulled into his usual parking spot, climbing out and only to be greeted by the other workers and customers he’s come to know and love. Gathering the food and his little girl, he quickly wandered inside, looking for his husband in hopes he could help keep his mind at ease… And the eery thoughts in the back of his mind.

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Ooo, part one of the Mechanic!Billy prompt I’ve come up with! I hope this makes sense and turns out as good as I hope/plan! <3

Taglists: @transbillyhargrove @trashmouth-hargrove @stranger-h @harrington-s @awickedplacethisis @may-the-moon-love-me-back @harringrovetrashh @supermegapauselouca @hargrove-billy @hargrovesharrington @harringhoe @greyspilot @flippyspoon @bakausagiwithwings @your-pretty-bambi @strangerfictions @myboyfriendsteve @marythemudblood @memes-saved-me

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countingwithturkeys · 4 years

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Contest Winner Fic!

Hi guys! Quite a long time ago (I know, I know, I suck sometimes) I had a contest, wherein the winner would get a request fic. The winner, @azkadelia-the-werewolf, made a very interesting selection: something fluffy for Tyrant and Bonnie. This proved an interesting challenge, not because Tyrant is no longer with us except in the most literal sense, but because by her very nature the Baddie lacks free will, and thus it’s arguable as to whether or not she’s even capable of genuine love, let alone to the one she’s in service to. Although I wrote and rewrote this story almost a dozen times since that choice was made it just never really felt right, so I had to put it aside until an opportunity presented itself, rather than present something I wasn’t proud of. An opportunity presented itself! Ultimately, I do personally consider this story to be canon to the Symphony Universe, but it did not flow where it should logically go within the story. As such, the chapter count for OA will be going up, and the last chapter will be this story as bonus content. It might be slightly edited in the meantime, but as my tumblr followers (and the contest winner especially!) have been waiting a long time for this story I wanted you guys to have it first. It’s possible I may do another contest in the future when we reach the next milestone (I’m thinking when I hit 125 followers?), because despite the fact that this thing took a billion years for me to finish I think it made me think more in-depthly about my own story, and it’s ultimately added a new layer I otherwise would never have thought of without being prodded to. In short, it was a challenge, and the challenge made me a better creative thinker. What do you guys think? Would you be interested in another contest? Have fun, and I (sincerely) hope it was worth it! Oh, slight content warning: Starts off with some feels, mentions of past character death, and hints of future lady-adult situations.

Where am I?

Wherever Bonnibel was it had a heavy atmosphere, oppressive and hazy, somewhere she vaguely remembered. Somewhere familiar, and not for positive reasons, somewhere she had been once before that she never hoped to return to. Recognition flickered across her consciousness, not enough to be useful but more than enough to frustrate her. What was worse was that while she may not have been aware of where she was logically the atmosphere couldn’t have cared less; somewhere in her, somewhere deep inside, something instinctual, recognized her location.

It hated it.

Her stomach soured, bile was in her throat. Rancid. Bonnibel reflexively closed her eyes before cursing her own absurdity, forcing them open, ignoring the mounting anxiety. Everything felt too surreal, and instead she focused on that. It was absurd, it was choking, but it was something grounding that she could tease reason out of. Yes, this was familiar as well. In fact it was a feeling she had felt somewhere before. And recently. Focus, Bubblegum. Figure out where you are. She started by glancing at her hands, feeling her fingers curl into lazy fists, then relax. Well, at least I’m in control of myself. Belatedly, the princess found that oddly reassuring and wasn’t sure why. Somehow that made everything even more uncomfortable.

What was worse was the outfit she was wearing. She wouldn’t have caught it had she not been so hypervigilant, so acutely aware of her surroundings in a comical and naive attempt to make sense of everything. Instead of answer she found that she was wearing the jacket, the same varsity letterman jacket Tyrant had given her just before she die- No. Before I killed her. Admit it, Bubblegum. Admit what you did, her thoughts hissed, malice bleeding through in the form of fine tremor in her hands. It was degrading, but then so were the tears stringing her eyes, tears which were expertly pushed back under the guise of clinical detachment. Yes, she was wearing the same jacket, the same sneakers, the same deep purple pants she had worn during her twisted and deranged adventure. But that wasn’t all that was the same.

Now she knew where she was. The yellowed and dead grass beneath her feet. The sky of dust above her head. The putrid lake littered with refuse from a deranged and shattered mind, rubbish that washed up on the shore only to be left to rot. There, over her shoulder, the approximation of the cabin she grew up in, before she was even a princess. It was intact, immaculate even. Well, except for the windows, covered in thick metal plates, bolted in snugly with screws thicker than her arm. That had been Usurper’s doing, Bonnibel remembered that as well. It had been before that awful day, when the deranged vampire had been eagerly awaiting her arrival and needed something to do with that pent up energy. Something besides planning her once-lover’s demise. Oh yes, Bonnibel knew exactly where she was now.

She was exactly where Tyrant had died.

But why? That was the real question, now wasn’t it? A quick survey of her surroundings confirmed for the young scientist that she was alone. No Finn, no Jake, no Marceline or any piece of her. It was just as quiet as she remembered, just as haunting. Was she actually back? How did she get here? Where was everyone? Was this some sort of punishment? Had she been killed in some laboratory accident and dropped in the deepest pit of Dead World and forced to relive her trauma as penance for her sins-

“Hey Bonnibel.”

The candy golem startled, glancing up at the voice, overwhelmed with the desire to find the source and confirm that she wasn’t imagining it. Where…? Bonnibel wasn’t looking for long, didn’t have to look far. There, on the cabin’s porch, hidden by the shadow of Usurper's handiwork. Bonnibel exhaled; exhaled the tension, exhaled the tremor, exhaled the apprehension. An unfamiliar serenity replaced it all and despite the surreal situation and the suffocating atmosphere new tears, happy tears, began to emerge and this time the princess didn’t try to stop them. She covered her mouth in disbelief, trembling anew at the unexpected visitor. At the familiar face. At the warm, understanding smile.

Tyrant?

The vampire was apparently as surprised to see the candy golem as the candy golem was to see her. Surprised, but repressing her own sheepish smile. She rubbed the back of her neck nervously, not meeting her favorite piercing green eyes as she smiled apologetically. “Sorry. I know you hate when I sneak up on you like that… but you were definitely doing that thing you’ve been doing since you bailed us out of here where you let your mondo mega brain destroy itself ‘cause it gets overactive and turns on you. Can’t let that happen, you know? It’s like… literally my job not to let that happen.” She stopped. Dropped her hand. Frowned. “Figuratively? Still no idea how that works.”

Yes, only Tyrant would have that self-deprecating glint in her eyes, only she would have been that concerned over something the pink-haired woman could never admit to anyone, least of all herself. It was strange, though, Bonnibel pondered. The musician was clothed in simple black shorts and a white tanktop, hair still shaven in a slight mohawk. Had that been what she was wearing when she died? Why can’t I remember? Why can I remember what I was wearing but not what you were? Oh, but she remembered that collar alright. That soft pink collar that declared the vampire her property, an accessory with no beginning or end, and no visible way to remove it. Even now, it seemed, that part of Marceline considered herself owned.

That bile again.

Only now, with their adventure over- is it over? -did Bonnibel truly appraise the woman before her, that submissive portion of her lover chewing nervously on her lip with just enough restraint not to piece the soft flesh. After all, I have rules, the princess bitterly mused. But she wasn’t responding, and she realized almost too late that not responding was what Princess Bubblegum did when she was displeased with the half-demon’s antics. When Tyrant released her lip and prepared to speak a brief spark of panic shot through the scientist where she knew her heart was meant to be, because if tradition held true-

“...Should I go? Sorry.”

It was a whisper, and only now, with their adventure over - if it was indeed over - did Bonnibel truly get a good luck at the Baddie, at one of the three strongest chunks of her mate’s psyche. Marceline had always been a master of disguise and stealth but she had never learned to prevent her eyes from betraying her feelings, and clearly the older woman knew it if how hard she was trying not to look at her was any indicator. Tyrant was powerful, just as strong as Usurper and Lady Evil, but Bonnibel was all-too aware now that she herself was the Baddie’s greatest weakness, that she was just as in love with the scientist as she was afraid of her.

Even now, her shirt was torn just above her heart. Exactly where the wretched silver dagger had found its mark and ended her Unlife.

She ran. Not away from the cabin or her crimes, but to her favorite person in the world, the one she loved above any and all others and else. The embrace was tight and warm and readily returned, Bonnibel’s fingers digging into the half-demon’s shoulder possessively knowing now just how fleeting their time together truly was, what she had to lose if she let go just a moment too soon. The noise she made into that shoulder was wordless, an expression of some emotion that had no name, and Tyrant held her, the dark wings of her void form coming to wrap around both immortal women. Bonnibel pressed herself against the older woman, a cool hand rubbing soothing circles against her back.

It worked. It always worked. Marceline just knew her too well.

“Sorry, Marcy,” Bonnibel began gently once her breath came under control and her dignity was restored. The wings retracted and the queen withdrew, just enough to give her princess space. Belatedly, the scientist realized that were she dealing with Marceline, Whole Marceline, the vampire would undoubtedly have already fled, too afraid of making some implied situation worse. But Tyrant would never flee because she was incapable of disobeying. And Princess Bubblegum had rules against Marceline interpreting her will for her. Every word will have to be chosen carefully. “I was just… surprised to see you.” Surprised, and so hap-

“‘Cause I got ganked?” A wry smile.

“Yes.” No sense beating around the bush. “Because I lost you,” Bonnibel clarified. That was important, emphasizing that Tyrant had been lost and hadn’t failed her princess. When her warm, pink hand came to rest on the other woman’s cool cheek Bonnibel couldn’t help but smile. How could she? Not when her lover relaxed, not when her head tilted into the touch, not when her eyes were sliding shut at such a simple gesture. It was just so endearing, and what remained of that fear, that anxiety that had taken up valuable real estate in her heart edged out to make room for the warm fuzzies only Marceline could inspire. “There. It’s alright, Marcy. I’m not mad,” she promised. “I’m happy to see you.” And she was, more than Tyrant could understand.

“...You are?”

She sounded so bewildered it hurt. Is this what I did to you, Marcy? True, the vampire had been her normal snarky self with Finn and Jake, but Marceline’s defenses were always lowered around her best friend. No. They’re all Marcy. You’re just the part I twisted most to suit my needs. Despite the stab of guilt Bonnibel gave the musician a soft smile, watching as her garnet eyes slid open again at the confession. Just like that, the stab of guilt gave way to something warmer, the princess’s self-pity no match for how beautiful that spark in her mate’s eyes was. I have so much to tell you. For now, it would have to not matter exactly where the pair were or how they ended up there, it would have to be enough that they were together. “Come here, Marcy.” The pink hand lowered, taking the calloused grey one. Tyrant didn’t resist.

When was the last time the duo sat on those steps and had a conversation as deep as the one they were about to? I suppose… when I abdicated my throne and you helped me with my varmint problem. How long ago had that been? How many lifetimes? How many failures? Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, Bonnibel lowered herself onto the cabin’s stoop, pulling her queen with her. Her queen who, though noticeably calmer, was just as skeptical, clearly uncertain of what was happening or what to believe. Of course, I did kill you. I wouldn’t trust me either. Green eyes briefly flickered to the torn shirt. There was a faded stain of maroon blood but no sign of an open wound and before Bonnibel could reconsider she was reaching out, touching the outline.

Tyrant tilted her head but didn’t flinch. “It doesn’t hurt.”

The candy woman gave her her own wry smile. Of course you would be able to predict my thoughts. You’ve always known me better than I know myself. Still, Bonnibel didn’t recall her hand, needing to know for herself if anything remained of her treachery. A scar, a scab, a pus-filled wound, anything. She traced the shirt’s torn fabric and over the vampire’s chest, but there wasn’t so much as a scratch or a wince. “...I’m sorry, Marcy,” she whispered. Even when she was satisfied that nothing remained of the dagger, Bonnibel kept her hand in position, too reluctant to break physical contact with the half-demon.

Tyrant scooted closer, closing her own hand around the candy golem’s for reassurance. “It’s alright, Bonnibel. You had to, remember? We had to go back-”

Now the bile was solidifying, mixing with its owner’s thoughts. “That’s not what I mean.” Her eyes closed as she took a deep, steadying breath, but when her eyes opened Tyrant seemed only quizzicle, absolutely nonplussed.

“...I don’t get it.”

No, you wouldn’t. You can’t. It’s not in your nature. “I was always the cruelest to you. You and Navigator. You’re the part of my Marceline that’s the most loyal and devoted. You trusted me, and look what I did to you.”

“Aw, Bonnibel…” The princess didn’t resist when the older woman pulled her back into her arms, letting her rest against her shoulder. “Don’t be like that,” she murmured against her lover’s pink temple as she kissed it. Against her better wishes the scientist smiled at the oddly tender gesture. “You know I accept you exactly like you are, right?”

Exactly. Therein lies the issue. Tread carefully, Bubblegum. “But… that’s the problem, Marcy,” Bonnibel whispered. “I took advantage of that. You began life as the whole’s sense of loyalty and devotion and I manipulated you. I turned you against yourself because it suited me. At my worst I practically controlled you, and at my best I was barely passable as a mate. I took loyalty and devotion… and I corrupted both into submission.”

“Mm.”

Bonnibel didn’t object when Tyrant pulled her closer. Did she deserve the embrace, that oddly tender affection? No. But the Baddie undoubtedly needed it, needed the younger woman’s warmth. Even in their brief time together, before her untimely death, the princess had realized that much. How could she deny the vampire now? How could she stand to be so cruel? No. Not now. Never again.

“But… you’ve always been the dominant one between us.”

Bonnibel laughed humorlessly, almost argued the point before her Common Sense stopped her from making a dreadful mistake. Ask. Don’t tell. “Do you prefer it that way, Marcy?”

“Yes.” It wasn’t the answer that stunned Bonnibel. It was how quickly it was offered, how very certain Tyrant sounded. There was no hesitation, no reluctance, it simply Was. “It’s… better this way, Bonnibel.”

For you or for me? A fair enough question. “For you or for me?” The candy golem kept her tone conversational, centuries of experience in controlling her emotions around foreign and potentially hostile dignitaries suddenly invaluable. Tyrant more than any other part of her Marceline was attuned to the younger woman’s body language, her tone of voice, all of her little tells. Any lie, any omission and Tyrant would see right through it, and unable to flee to protect her own sanity, if she sensed something amiss, if she even thought for a moment that she was causing the young scientist distress, she would run the risk of self-destructing. Bonnibel Bubblegum knew all about self-destructing.

“Both?”

Bonnibel laughed, this time affectionate humor creeping in. Tyrant just sounded so adorably bewildered, as if she had not never truly thought of the implications of her assertion that this arrangement was in their mutual best interest. With a kiss to her cold cheek the younger monarch pulled away, letting her hand rest on the vampire’s. “Are you asking or are you telling?” It was risky, she knew, to tease this particular Marceline- but maybe the semblance of normalcy will be good for her, reassuring even.

Tyrant blushed slightly, rubbing the back of her neck with her free hand. It was the second time she had expressed her nervousness with that gesture. “...Both?,” she repeated.

Now Bonnibel’s smile was genuine, and not purely for the Baddie’s benefit. Perhaps she sensed it, because the sight eased some of the tension away from both the musician and the tension between the two immortal women. Yes. I can work with this. You might be corrupted by my own hand, but you’re still Marcy. “You wouldn’t feel comfortable otherwise, would you?”

“Not really.” Nervousness passed, Tyrant dropped her hand. “I guess it’s kind of a security thing? I’ve never really thought about it, to be honest,” she shrugged.

Interesting… Although Bonnibel had long suspected that was the case it was a different matter entirely to hear confirmation from the one part of her lover incapable of lying to her. It does make sense, though. Even whole she’s unable to harm me. I suppose when you’re terrified of what you’re capable of it’s reassuring to know you can be stopped. When she squeezed Tyrant’s hand Tyrant squeezed back. If she can say it, so can you. “I… know what you mean, Marcy,” she whispered. “We’ve always relied on one another for accountability. If it came down to it…”

She trailed off, closing her eyes as a new onslaught of unpleasant memories commenced. Tyrant made a noise of understanding, of concern, of recognition, before pulling her princess back into her arms. “...Guess I’m not the only one who’s had those thoughts, huh?,” she murmured as the younger woman settled her head back ontp her shoulder.

Bonnibel shook her head, arms snaking their way around her vampire’s waist. “...No,” she admitted. “I know what I’m capable of, Marcy,” she muttered around a blush triggered not by embarrassment, but by shame. “I’ve… become much more introspective since bringing you home. I’ve had to be, in order to improve myself and be worthy of my status as your mate.” She sighed, head turning so she could bury her face in Tyrant’s chest. “How did you put up with me? With what I put you through?”

Even muffled, the Baddie could hear the heartbreaking sound of her lover’s voice cracking, and she kissed the shell of her ear to stop whatever track the princess’s train of thoughts found itself on. “You know the answer to that, Bonnibel. Besides, there’s always been good stuff too, you know? I know Nav told you all about it.”

The inconsistency prompted the death spiral that was Bonnibel’s sense of self-worth to halt, at least for the moment. Though she didn’t pull away she did turn her head, glancing up to catch the singer’s eye. It was true that Navigator had gone well out of her way, moments before her death, to reassure her best friend that everything would be alright. However- “Yes, that’s true… but that conversation happened in Lady Evil’s Citadel, shortly before her death. You were already…” Pause. Unpause. “You weren’t around to hear it. How did you know?”

“Mm.” Tyrant pulled back slightly, not enough to break the embrace but enough to lift her left arm. “Same way I have this.”

Raising a skeptical eyebrow, Bonnibel shifted her position, turning to see what it was that apparently gave the Baddie insight into events that happened after her demise. What she saw caught the breath in her throat and threatened not to give it back. She opened her mouth to speak, but words failed her and instead she settled for reaching out, hand shaking. How did I miss…? But there it was, and the princess would know the sight of it anywhere, the feel of it anywhere. “...My offering..?” she asked in quiet awe.

Tyrant chuckled. Now it was her turn to wiggle, to give the younger woman the opportunity to confirm that she was indeed seeing what she thought she was seeing because there it was, hugging the fallen Baddie’s arm: sheer black with gold streaks of demonic text, impossibly strong, warm to the touch, and crowned with a piece of Bonnibel’s very soul, embedded in the royal gem that had once been her own. Unable, or perhaps simply unwilling, to do otherwise she consented to the younger immortal turning her arm this way and that, finding her perplexity rather adorable all things considered. “Yeah. Remember? The forest where we found The Morrow’s Egg? You gave it to me? It was kind of a big deal.”

Bonnibel laughed. She couldn’t help it. There was just something about Marceline’s lop-sided smirk, about the mischievous glint in her eyes, that made any awful feeling fleeting. Instead it was replaced with a foreign but welcomed warmth blossoming in the candy golem’s chest, something that drowned out her self-doubt and chased away her melancholy. She couldn’t help it. Marceline simply had that effect on her. “You’re such a butt,” she mumbled playfully, smile growing when Tyrant snickered her agreement with the assessment. “Am I to presume I’m dreaming, then?” Although that made the most logical sense Bonnibel found herself hoping she was wrong. If it is, then I still can’t apolog-

“Eh… kinda?”

“Kind of?” She settled back in her lover’s arms for what she hoped would be a good or at least entertaining excuse. It didn’t escape Bonnibel’s notice that when Tyrant held her once again she wrapped her right arm around the younger woman, but allowed her left arm - vambracer included and especially - to be held against the candy scientist’s chest, directly over her heart. Tyrant was quiet, but Bonnibel knew better than to press her question, both because she knew it logically impossible for the Baddie to disobey or ignore her, and because the older woman finally seemed at ease. What right do I have to rob her of that sense of peace merely because I’m impatient? Even the thought caused her nose to wrinkle in disgust, but she kept the sentiment to herself. They were having a nice time. Why ruin it?

When Tyrant did finally answer her voice seemed far away, not from melancholy or detachment, but as if she were reliving some fond memory. “I had something like it happen too, way back in the ol’ days when my soul first chose yours. I dreamt about you.”

“What did you dream about?”

A wince, but it quickly settled, too swiftly for Bonnibel to draw attention to. “I was bloodlusting. It was like some mondo-weird out of body experience. Like… I could feel all the rage and anxiety and stuff, could feel junk breaking in a bajillion pieces in my claws, could feel how good it felt to gank things and rip heads off, but I couldn’t stop it. I mean I can’t really stop it anyway, but this was super not being able to stop it.”

“Like you were stuck?”

Tyrant nodded, tensing at the memory of her dream, but one kiss to her cheek and she relaxed once more. “Yeah, that’s a pretty grock word for it. I was just stuck in ‘wreck everything up’ mode. Then… you were there. And I kinda freaked out, ‘cause you’ve seen me bloodlust. You know what I’m like. It was a dream, though, so I didn’t know if I’d be able to keep my prom about not hurting you if I was stuck like that. So… I was pretty scared, you know?”

Bonnibel nodded. She may not be a demon, but she had seen her paramour in that state of mind before, had even held her, whispering soft reassurances of love and support as she tore herself apart in contrition for those she harmed without intending to. “I know, Marcy.”

“You… weren’t afraid, though. You just went right up to me and hugged me. Held me? You told me to relax, and… I did. It was like a switch. I was back in my body, I was calm. Like nothing had happened. It was freaky, but in a good way. I felt like me again. Wasn’t even bloody anymore, it was all just… gone.”

Just like that? “What else did I do? Anything?”

“You told me that it was time to go home.” Tyrant shook her head to clear whatever emotion was starting to make itself known and Bonnibel held the arm against her chest tighter. “So I woke up and I felt… pretty rockin’ actually.”

Bonnibel allowed herself to indulge in a smile. “Is that when you knew? That your soul had chosen mine?”

“Yeah,” Tyrant sighed, not uncomfortably. “I knew. I could like… feel my soul looking for yours? Kinda hard to explain, sorry.” She offered a sheepish grin. Bonnibel returned the gesture with a kiss.

“Perhaps, but I understand,” she started gently. “I suppose it was your mind making logical sense of what happened with your soul.”

“I guess. You’re the brainlord, Bonnibel.” An affectionate tease. Yes, Bonnibel could definitely get used to that from her Tyrant. “Not sure why I dreamed about that, though. Mondo weirdness.”

Now the train of thought was on a better track. “Mm. Perhaps not,” she mused. “Perhaps it was the manifestation of one of your greatest fears.”

“...Bloodlusting? ‘Cause that actually feels pretty good.”

Bonnibel chuckled, both at the statement and the confusion inherent within it. “No, silly. You’ve always been terrified that you’ll hurt me.”

A sharp intake of breath. “Oh. Yeah. That,” Tyrant muttered. “I mean… I can’t, but…”

“But whole you theoretically could.” The embrace tightened, becoming a mixture of affectionate and protective. Perhaps enjoyable from Marceline as a whole, but from this one in particular? A slippery slope. “Shh…” Bonnibel stroked over the fingers held against her chest, reminding their owner through her warmth that she was alive and unharmed. I’m safe. See? “You’ve never harmed me, Marcy. You’ve always taken your vow with deadly seriousness. You’re the reason I’m here still, and I mean that quite literally.”

“I guess…”

So you say, but you sound uncertain. You’re not even aware of it, or you wouldn’t be able to- The pieces clicked. “I think, Marcy… that your dream was a way of reassuring you that everything is alright. You’ve always been afraid of what’s inside of you, but I’m not.”

“...Yeah. I know.” The protective edge to the hold abated, leaving only the original affection. “You rock.”

Debatable. But not a debate worth having. Not now, not with Tyrant, not here. “I suppose this must be a similar situation for me. You, the Whole you, accepted my offering this evening. I may not be a demon, but I devised a method for my soul to artificially choose yours. I don’t believe it to be a coincidence that I’m facing my demons - no offense intended, Marcy, please don’t look at me like that - when you faced your own after your soul chose mine.”

Tyrant tilted her head. “So… what are you facing?”

You. But that wasn’t entirely accurate. It wasn’t Tyrant herself that Bonnibel feared. How could she? How could she ever fear any part of her queen, the woman who loved her unconditionally, who had stood by her through everything, who had accepted her exactly as she was? Even Usurper defined me as her mate in the present tense, and psychological torture not withstanding she never harmed me directly. Even she was bound by the promise. No, it wasn’t Marceline Bonnibel feared above all else. It was- “Myself, Marcy.”

“...Bonnibel?”

The candy golem turned, letting the arm she was using as a security blanket return to its owner. Instead she caught Tyrant’s gaze, needing her to see the sincerity and understand why Bonnibel was there. Now is the time for me to confront my demons. This may be a dreamscape, but my emotions are real. You taught me that. “We share many things in common, Marcy, but one thing we never intended on sharing was our mutual fear of hurting the other. I never realized how destructive a force I was in your life until I acted as the catalyst to your mind shattering.”

Tyrant frowned. “But… I mean, like I just said, Bonnibel, you’re the reason that I’m… you know. Trying and junk.”

Bonnibel gave her a soft smile, cupping her cheek. “I know, Marcy. I ground you. But you also ground me. I hold you when you inevitably fall apart, but you protect me from myself… and I never realized that until I-” say it say it say it “-killed you.”

“But… you had to. To bring us back.”

“Yes. That doesn’t make it any less… traumatic.” Now it was time for their positions to reverse, for Bonnibel to pull Tyrant against her and allow her to listen to her favorite sound in the world: her princess’s steady heartbeat. It elicited a soft purr from the Baddie. That and the fingers stroking down her mohawk. “You made me realize what I had turned into, and what I had sacrificed to do so. For the privilege of being the most powerful monarch in Ooo I sacrificed my best friend. I know better now, but…” A humorless chuckle, but it didn’t get far: Tyrant pressed herself closer. That was a much better feeling. “...I’ve been using your death to torture myself. I’ve always been so focused on punishing unconscionable failure that I never really considered that… how do I put it...”

“...I don’t want you to?”

Bonnibel laced their fingers, curling her hand around the cool thumb stroking her palm reassuringly. “Yes. You’ve only wanted to build up, whereas I’ve been focused on being punished for my crimes.”

“...Think that’s why you dreamed of me? Like, specifically?”

The candy golem settled her cheek on the demon’s forehead. “Yes. You were - are - such a large part of Marceline. You’re self-deprecation, you’re submission… but you’re loyalty, too. You’re still so loyal, even now, and I think…,” she took a deep breath, exhaling her reluctance and trepidation, “...I think that the best way I can move forward with you is to let go and stop beating myself up for who I was. I need to respect that you wouldn’t want me to suffer, let alone inflict it upon myself. Indeed, that would go against everything you’ve ever strived for, both individually and as a whole. It would be an insult to what happened here, at this cabin, for me to look at this opportunity and see only a way to harm myself with it.”

Tyrant chuckled, holding up her left arm. “This isn’t meant to be a cage, you know?”

Bonnibel took the Baddie’s hand with her free one, kissing the knuckles. “Yes. It’s freeing in a way I never imagined it could be. Now I can grow into a better person. A better ruler, perhaps, but… first and foremost, a better person.” The hand was released so that she could tilt the vampire’s chin up so that their eyes met. “You taught me that. You showed me how. Thank you,” she emphasized wholeheartedly. “I understand now. I was a monster, that is inarguable, but I’m not that person anymore.”

“Except to peeps all up in your biz?”

Bonnibel pressed her mouth into a thin line and Tyrant snickered. “...I amend my statement. I was a monster, but I’m not that person anymore. To you.”

“Just to the lessers?”

“Precisely.”

Now the snicker was actual laughter, which in turn became a devilish grin. “Rock. I’m proud of you, Bonnibel.”

For some reason, that made the candy golem blush. Instead of confronting that bundle of curious emotions she instead reached up, tapping the soft pink collar. “Do you want me to leave this on?,” she asked one last time.

“Yeah.” No hesitation, no nervousness. It still Just was.

Bonnibel gave her a soft kiss, letting her fingers trail from her cheek to her neck, resting over the collar. “Very well, Marcy. If you feel better not altering our dynamic, I can certainly respect that desire.” It wasn’t like she disagreed with it, after all, and with one last reassuring tug her hand, and the matter, were dropped.

“Thanks, Bonnibel. I gotta ask, though. What are you gonna do when you wake up? This is nice, don’t get me wrong… but you gotta wake up sometime.”

That was an interesting question. The princess hummed in thought, resting her hand over the vambracer. It’s so warm. Her expression brightened into a devious smile. “I think, Marceline, that you and I have a lot of lost time to make up for.”

Tyrant grinned. She’d know that smile anywhere. “Cool. I’m sure I’ll love rebuilding my trophy collection.”

“Mm. And do you plan on healing them this time?”

“Eh. See how the day goes. Why rush art?” Bonnibel chortled, finally breaking the embrace to stand. When she offered her hand, Tyrant gladly took it. As the Baddie rose to her full height the cabin door slid open, and both royals glanced over it. “Pretty sure that’s your cue that you’re waking up, Bonnibel.” Despite everything, there was still a twinge in the candy monarch’s chest at the idea of leaving Tyrant behind. It must have read quite easily, because the half-demon squeezed the hand that lay so comfortably in her own. “It’s alright, Bonnibel. I’m not gone. Remember? Still me. And when you wake up next to me? Still me, too.”

Bonnibel breathed a sigh, perhaps of relief, perhaps of hesitation. In the end, though- “Yes. You’re right, Marcy. Walk me out?” Tyrant nodded, leading the way.

“Come on, Bonnibel,” she smiled. “Let’s go home.”

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sserpente · 6 years

Photo

A/N: Request from @alpaca-obsession and @bubblesbeemily. Have fun! <3

Words: 2484 Warnings: (angry) smut

For as long as you could remember, Eric and you had kept your relationship a secret. It was long before the aptitude test that he got involved in Janine’s questionable schemes to overthrow Abnegation and take over the government. But just because you had been raised in Erudite, that did not mean you agreed with what they all pretended to be or not to be.

The day had come on which he had broken up with you, announcing that tomorrow at the ceremony, he would choose Dauntless and leave your faction forever. Salty tears had rolled down your cheeks and then, after one last, passionate kiss which resulted in heated sex in his soon former apartment, he had left.

You had never heard of him again until the day it was your turn to choose a faction to live in.

The results of your aptitude test had indicated one thing—you did not belong in Erudite either. Whether it was your loose mouth that you were not afraid to use or the fact you despised learning and doing research, the one faction that had rather appealed to you was, for so many (and some of them inexplicable) reasons, Dauntless.

You had convinced yourself that you had no other choice. This was not who you were but it was what you wanted to become and when you sealed your fate by letting a drop of your warm blood spill on the steaming coals representing Dauntless at the Choosing Ceremony, your decision felt right—deliberating. Not once when you jumped on and off a train did you think about the one person who had broken your heart so long ago. A person that you would, undeniably, meet again soon… and sooner, than you thought.

Your injured yourself on your left knee when you landed on the hard gravel ground. The blood was running down your leg and calve, wetting your socks and shoes. Well… from now on, you would have to get used to pain and the red liquid.

“Listen up, initiates. I am Eric, one of your leaders.” But it was then you froze. His voice had not changed. Stern, commanding and slightly arrogant it echoed over the rooftops. Had he said he was a leader? Nothing less had you expected from him. You almost didn’t dare to look up—when you did, it almost felt like a fist clenched around your heart, making you gasp for air.

Eric’s curious and mocking blue eyes roamed over this year’s yield curiously. Most of them wouldn’t make it, they were too tender, too soft and lacked ambition and toughness. He did not need to train them to know this already. Eventually, his gaze wandered over a young woman with (Y/H/C) hair and (Y/E/C) eyes. Funny. She reminded him of you.

It took him a second to realise that his mind wasn’t playing a trick to him. You really had come to Dauntless.

The other initiates around you were still bickering and chatting happily. Soon, he would teach them proper respect and punish anyone who stepped out of line but for now, all he was able to percept was you. Gnashing his teeth, he turned to his colleague.

“Get them under control,” he mumbled grumpily. His speed surprised you. Within a second, he had reached you, wrapping his hand around your arms so tightly you winced in pain as he pulled you away from the rest of the initiates.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing here?” He hissed.

“Becoming Dauntless? Let go of me!” You demanded, attempting to free your arm. Apparently, Eric’s muscles had turned to steel.

“Let go? I make the rules now and you don’t get to make requests here. You should have stayed in Erudite or even better, transferred to Abnegation.” The coldness in his voice was fake—it had to be. Surely, Dauntless had not turned him so… cruel?

“Eric… I know that we used to be a couple, I don’t think I’ll ever forget this. But that is no reason to treat me like vermin.”

The Dauntless leader scoffed. “This is how I will treat all of you, so you better get used to it.”

“Eric! Come on, I wanna get this over with!” His colleague called out, still attempting to calm the initiates.

Angrily, you glared at him. But what made it even worse was that you still had feelings for this crude and severe boy who had turned into a dangerous man in your new home.

He avoided you like a particularly contagious disease. He came by every day to watch the initiate’s progress but left the actual training to Four. During “Capture the flag”, he picked the weakest boy over you and even though you quickly managed to secure yourself a spot among the top ten in the rankings, he never bothered to exchange even a word with you.

And it hurt. It hurt so incredibly much you started to suffer. During fights, you got distracted easily, losing you points repeatedly and then, when the second half of training started, testing your mental durability and perception, you barely made it through the final test.

It was the day you were all supposed to celebrate becoming true members of Dauntless while all you wanted to do was curl up in the apartment you had been assigned to and cry yourself to sleep. Perhaps it had been a bad idea to come here, after all.

When Eric and you had broken up, it had not ended in a fight that had destroyed your relationship. In fact, you had fucked like animals before his departure and now you were supposed to believe that these feelings he had had for you never existed?

Loud voices erupted around you, music playing faintly in the background. There was a feast, with lots of alcohol and muffins and most of all, cheerfulness. The cafeteria was huge. The chances of spotting Eric were low and yet, when you got up to leave for you couldn’t bear the happiness around you anymore, it was him you ran into in the hallway.

“Congratulations,” he choked out dryly.

“I wasn’t sure you were going to let me pass, given you seem to hate me so much.” Like we never even mattered. Even though Four had warned you several times, you still hadn’t learned to keep your mouth shut. Talking to one of your leaders like that was a serious offence of Dauntless politics.

Eric took a deep breath. You were prepared for him to lash out and scold you but what he replied instead made you swallow.

“I don’t fucking hate you, (Y/N).” It was probably the nicest thing he had told you since your arrival in Dauntless.

He had looked like he had wanted to say something else but chose not to. You pondered over what it could possibly be when you suddenly heard the loud noise of footsteps in the hallway. An escort, maybe? Not at this hour, possibly?

Curious, you rose from bed. Overnight, your apartment had gotten rather cold. You were freezing in your panties and tanktop, still, you decided to peek out of the door only to find masses of Dauntless members heading to the pit to arm themselves. You could barely recognise them, for it was dark both inside and outside your apartment but their empty glances made you uncomfortable.

Something was wrong—terribly wrong, you could feel it in your very veins. Your heart pounding, you quietly closed the door again as to not raise any attention. Mere seconds later, you heard a ferocious knock on your door.

You swallowed thickly but before you could even decide whether you would open the late and probably unwanted visitor, he opened the door and started at you like a predator.

A hand clamped over your mouth to keep you from screaming, making you flail and attempt to scratch or bite your attacker. Where was your self-defence now that you needed it?!

“Stop struggling.” A familiar voice growled into your ear. Eric?! “Not one fucking sound. We’re gonna move through the opposite hallway so no one sees us.”

What was this supposed to be, a kinky roleplay, of some sort? You had done these quite a lot back when you had dated, only now the threat felt real. You realised with a start that Eric had the strength to kill you with his bare hands only when he dragged you across the hallway like a ragdoll, only to then push you into another room.

It took you a moment to realise that it was his apartment.

He shut the door close with his foot aggressively before releasing you. Gasping for air, you stumbled into the dark studio flat, muttering under your breath.

Your heart was beating like a steam hammer. You didn’t want to admit it but you were afraid of him. Eric had changed so much over the years you were unsure you still recognised him. But for now, it was anger that boiled in your stomach. It hurt how he treated you—it wasn’t like you had been in love, after all.

“What the fuck is this, Eric?”

“The tracker, were you injected?” He started without answering your question. His blue eyes were cold, like daggers twisting in your heart.

“What? What tracker, what the hell are you talking about?”

“That’s what I thought. You left earlier.” Was this what he had wanted to tell you? What was this all about? “It’s a serum. Erudite and Dauntless are working together to attack Abnegation, that’s where everyone’s going. They’re being mind-controlled.” And you had escaped this fate. Forced to kill innocents…

Swallowing thickly, you looked up at him, your fear returning with a start.

“Please don’t tell me you are part of this.”

Eric glared at you with his lips pressed together. There was no need to reply. Your heart skipped a beat.

“And now what? You can’t just keep me here!”

“Yes, I can. It’s either my apartment or death and I’m pretty sure you have a preference. At least I hope that you do after everything you’ve put yourself through during initiation.”

“For Fuck’s sake, just admit it! You still love me! Eric, you just kidnapped me and intend to keep me a prisoner in your own fucking apartment so Janine won’t kill me, tell me to my face that you don’t have any feelings for me anymore!”

“Fine! I do. Why do you think I tried to stay away from you? I’m not right for you, (Y/N). Neither are you for me. We have no future. You might even be a Divergent.” Divergents. You had heard about them in Erudite. Individuals who threatened the faction system and the government. You doubted they were as dangerous as Erudite made them out to be and yet, when you spotted the hatred in Eric’s blue eyes, you swallowed thickly. But there was more than just that. There was lust. Tension.

“Take your clothes off,” he suddenly commanded. Your eyes widened. He sounded like he always had during training, allowing no contradiction. Only this was different and, even if your common sense disagreed and begged you to resist, you could already feel your body reacting to him. Wetness pooled between your legs, along with the familiar tingling spreading in your entire body.

Your skin longed for his firm touches he used to pamper you with…

“Excuse me?” You choked out indignantly. “You haven’t properly talked to me in weeks! You treated me like shit and now you expect me to—“

His lips landed on yours before you could finish your outburst and even if you had wanted to, despite your training you were barely strong enough to stop him from tearing your clothes off your body. Your panties and tanktop were gone in no time. Greedily, Eric pushed you against his black leather couch, his hard body pressed against your naked skin. His hands came up to explore your curves, groping your breasts and cupping your buttocks with a growl, his lips never leaving yours.

His dominant kiss had you melt way too fast. The way his tongue slipped into your mouth to claim you never ceased to enchant you. By the time you felt his aching hard member against your thigh, you had already fallen into some kind of delicious trance.

You both knew this wouldn’t take long—this was going to pose a vent to your sexual frustration, the cure for all this time you had spent apart.

Eric pulled down his trousers hastily, lining himself up with your dripping cunt. Instinctively, you spread your legs wider to give him more access as you hovered in the air leaned against the couch. His body was all that kept you from falling; you had to claw your fingernails into his back when he thrust forward, burying himself deep inside you.

A pleasured moan escaped your lips. You had missed him so much…

Wasting no time, the Dauntless leader began to move frantically. His pace was all but calculated, he was as desperate to fuck you as you were to fuck him. Again and again, he slammed his thick cock into your pussy until he turned you into a moaning mess. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, silent whimpers mixing with hearty screams.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he announced out of breath.

“N-not yet…” you chirped, unable to control your shaking voice. Eric understood. Never stopping to thrust inside you hungrily, his right hand travelled down to where your bodies met. With skilled and strong fingers, he began to fondle your clit like a marble, massaging, circling and teasing until you almost couldn’t take it anymore. Thrashing wildly against him, you came undone screaming his name, your walls convulsing around his throbbing member as he emptied himself inside you in the very same moment, twitching and spilling himself until he was utterly spent. Fireworks seemed to erupt inside you.

Panting, you both stilled after riding out your orgasms. You flinched, not expecting Eric would be so gentle as to rest his forehead against yours.

“Bedroom?” He whispered.

“Uh-huh.” You whined when he pulled out, his warm seed dribbling down your inner thighs.

He scooped you up in his arms like a bride, carrying you through his dark hallway. Yet, as soon as he had tucked you in tenderly, you felt something cold around your right wrist—and then, a suspicious click.

“Eric, what the fuck!” You exclaimed when you realised that he had handcuffed you to the bedpost.

“You’re my prisoner, I kidnapped you, remember?” He grinned, rolling back onto his back in a relaxed manner. “I know you too well, (Y/N). I won’t have you running off while I’m sleeping.”

“I hate you.” You spat, not meaning a single word.

The Dauntless Leader chuckled.

“I kinda missed you too.”

A/N: Guys, you can help me publish my first novel! It’s easy, it’s anonymous, you can do it from all over the world and it’s just 3€! Your help counts too, I’d appreciate it so much if you helped me fulfil my dream! ♥ ko-fi.com/sserpente

#eric divergent #eric divergent imagine #eric divergent x you #eric divergent x reader #eric divergent smut #eric coulter #eric coulter imagine #eric coulter x you #eric coulter x reader #eric coulter smut #divergent #divergent imagine #dauntless #dauntless imagine #jai courtney

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youandmeandlife · 6 years

Text

Your “honeymoon” (b.b)

Summary: On a spontaneous trip to Europe, spontaneous things happen... Like, spontaneously getting married.

Warnings: Smut, Fluff (so much fluff!)

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word count: 6099

A/N: I’m getting married soon and I started getting real honeymoon vibes.... So I wrote a little thing, you can thank me later.

You smile as you feel arms snake around your waist, the the coldness of the left one can be felt even through the tanktop you’re wearing. You lock eyes with him in the reflection of the glass and drop one arm to rest on top of his flesh one. Bringing the glass in your left hand up to your lips, you take a sip of your wine

“You know,” You begin, twirling the tiny drop of red liquid still in your glass. Bucky hums in your ear.

“Yeah?” He breathes, his breath fanning the side of your head. You sigh and close your eyes. His arms tightens around your waist, pulling you until your back is flush against his chest and you can feel the heat radiating off of his body.

“This is what I imagined our honeymoon to be like,” You tell him as he leans down to rest his chin on your shoulder.

“Our honeymoon?” He questions. You nod, opening your eyes again and turn your head to look at him.

“Yeah,” You say. “You know, take off somewhere, stay at a fancy hotel, fuck all night and day, eat good food, bathe in the sun,” You smile. The corners of his lips twitches.

“You wanna get married?” He asks you and you shrug.

“It’s not like we can,” You tell him. “You’re what? A hundred years now, pretty sure they would give you looks if you turn in your ID-papers,” You laugh. “ And aren’t you technically still recorded as deceased?” You joke. He hums, but doesn’t answer. You sigh and lean further into his warmth, watching the city lights flicker against the dark night.

“Do you want to though?” He asks. You think about it for a moment. If someone asked you a few years ago, before you’d met him, the answer would have been yes. You had always dreamed about the perfect marriage, having a loving husband to come home to, maybe children one day. The idea of marriage excited you, just having that special someone you could actually call yours. But you loved Bucky so much now, and things with him were beyond complicated. You somehow made them work. You didn’t want to mess them up. You were happy with the way things were now and you had gotten used to it, which is why you were both surprised and excited when Bucky offered you a spontaneous trip to Europe with him.

“I don’t need to marry you to be happy with you, Bucky,” You tell him, eyes meeting his in the reflection of the window again.

“Are you sure?” He asks and you nod.

“Of course,” You say. “I love you,” He smiles and leans in, his head resting completely beside yours. You turn your face, meeting his awaiting lips with a sweet kiss.

“Tell me more,” He says and you chuckle.

“About what?” You question. He unwraps his arms and settles his hands on your hips, dragging on one side and pushing on the other until you turn around. Your arms wrap around his neck, careful not to spill your drink.

“Our honeymoon,” He clarifies. “Tell me how you imagined it,” A wide grin breaks out on your face.

“Weeeeeell,” You start, swaying from side to side, starting a rhythm of an awkward dance. He catches on and sways with you. “I don’t know honestly. Just like a normal honeymoon, I guess. A nice champagne or wine from the room service, maybe chocolate covered strawberries or some cliché shit like that. Slow and sweet sex before passing out from exhaustion and jetlag,” You smirk, hoping the light in the room was dark enough to hide the slight blush covering your cheeks. You hadn’t been too big on romance, but a honeymoon had always been an exception. You’d always imagined how passionate it would be, full of newfound love and emotions.

“Slow and sweet sex, huh?” He asks, eyebrows lifted in amusement. You nod, biting the insides of your cheeks. “Am I too rough with you?” He suddenly frowns as the thought seems to strike him, and his face falls.

“What? God, no! Bucky, no,” You tell him, bringing a hand up to the side of his face. You stroke it, his stubble pricking against your thumb. Bucky had never hurt you. He was a huge man, heavy with muscles and metal. He looked dangerous, you had to admit, with the rough look he always had on his face. But truth was that he was just a huge teddybear. He always made sure you had everything you needed, always getting up early in the mornings to brew a cup of coffee for when you’d wake up or run you a bath when you need it.

Even in bed he was caring. He was never rough, not ever, and more times than not he’d let you take control. You knew he was scared of hurting you, and no matter how many times you told him he never does, the thought always seemed to scare him out of being anything but careful.

“You sure?” He asks and you nod.

“Yeah, of course,” You smile, your thumb finally stopping the stroking. Leaning up on the tips of your toes, you press your lips against his. “I love you, James Buchanan Barnes. You’re my sweet and caring little hero, and you’ve never hurt me,” You tell him seriously and a small smile finally breaks out on his face again. You peck his lips once more and step out his arms. You walk over to the table and put your glass down.

“I love you too, you know that right?” He asks.

“You only remind me of it every single day,” You chuckle. “I never get tired of hearing it though,” You look over your shoulder and wink at him. He smirks.

“Well, in that case; I love you. I love you, I love you,” He repeats the words as he comes up behind you again, nuzzling his face in the back of your neck. You laugh, his more-beard-than-scruff tickling your skin.

“Okay, okay!” You say, stepping away from him once more. “I love you too. Now do you want some wine, or something else to drink? Or can we just go to bed already? My feet are killing me after all the sightseeing we did today,” You chuckle.

“We can go to bed,” He tells you and you feel grateful, your feet so used up that it feels like they’re actually itching. You head towards the giant bed in the room and you sit down on it. You lean down to open your suitcase and roam around it for toiletries. Once you find your toothbrush, you start looking for deodorant, hair brush and make-up wipes.

“Babe?” You ask, turning to look at Bucky. He was kneeling down beside his own suitcase, looking nearly lost in thought. “Bucky, babe?” You call out again and his eyes snap up to meet yours.

“Huh?” He asks. You laugh.

“Do you have any toohpaste?” You ask, apparently having forgotten yours at home. It’s not like you traveled a lot so forgetting some things were kind of obligated for a spontaneous trip.

“Oh, yeah,” He says, roaming around his own suitcase for a moment. “Here,” He says, throwing a tube your way. You catch it single handedly, feeling a little proud of doing so.

“Thanks,” You say. Gathering up your stuff you head into the bathroom. You start by removing what little make-up you were wearing and then starting the rest of your routine. Once you had finished and also done your business on the toilet, you walk back out to Bucky who is sitting on the bed. His hands are folded together, left leg shaking up and down as if he’s nervous or thinking very hard about something. You clear your throat and his head shoots up.

“Can I talk to you about something and you promise not to overthink?” He asks. You frown.

“Um, yeah. Of course,” You say, walking over and taking a seat next to Bucky. “Talk to me,” He sighs a little.

“So, you remember last month? When Steve and I went to Germany for awhile?” He asks and you nod slowly. You knew it wasn’t a mission, because he’d told you it was something else he had to take care of. He had never really told you specifically what he had done there, but you’re feeling he’d about to now. “We tracked Becca down, my sister…” He tells you. You nod slowly in understandment.

“Yeah?” You say, urging him to continue.

“Or, actually since I broke away from HYDRA I’ve kinda always known where she was, I just never visited. I didn’t know what to say… And then she died,” He tells you.

“Oh no! Bucky, I am so, so sorry,” You say, hand immediately coming down to rest on top of his that were still folded together. “I had no idea,” And you didn’t. Bucky wasn’t the most open person, and even though he was slowly crawling out of the shell he’d been hiding in, he was still always telling Steve the hard things, afraid to draw you into messy situations. You couldn’t blame him, he’d known Steve a long time when they were younger.

“It’s fine. That’s not why I’m bringing this up,” He says, and he actually seems fine. He’d always been good at hiding his emotions, but there was no shakiness in his voice, no sniffle or indication that it bothered him to talk about it. “Um, anyway. I went to the funeral and I went through her stuff… And I found this,” He says, pulling his hands away from yours and unfolding them. Inside the flesh palm that he outstretched towards you was a beautiful diamond ring. It was a thin line of gold with a slight pattern, a single diamond at the top. It looked old, vintage and antique.

“Wow!” You breathe. You’d seen all these fancy rings, huge rocks and breathtakingly designed, yet there was something about the piece of jewelry in Bucky’s hand that was calling out to you. It was simple, yes, but you could somehow also tell it was old.

“It was my ma’s” Bucky tells you. “Rebecca got it after she died, and when Becca died…” He explains, trailing off. “It’s the only thing I have left of either of them… And I’d like it to be yours,” He says and you look at him as if he has two heads. That ring… was the only thing he had that reminded him of his family, and he wanted to give it to you.

“I can’t do that, Bucky,” You tell him, feeling so honored, but it was wrong. It was his.

“No,” He shakes his head. “I want you to have it… No court will ever marry us, no church. And I know that no matter what you say, marriage is something you’ve always wanted. I would give you up, let you go and marry someone else, if that makes you happy… But I think you can be happy with me. I wish I could give you the world, and I will if you allow me. I want the privilege of calling you my wife, Y/N, so marry me. Right here, right now. Marry me?” He says and you’re too shocked at his words to even cry. You would have, if you could. You’d always imagined this sweet proposal, at a nice restaurant perhaps, making a huge deal out of the simplest and sweetest thing Bucky just did. And now that he sat there beside you, ring still in the palm of his hand, suddenly all those scenarios you’d imagined seemed like the worst possible ways to propose.

“Are you serious right now?” You had to ask, you just had to. You’re not even sure if you’re awake anymore. Perhaps you’re dreaming. But Bucky nods and suddenly it all seems real again.

“Unless you don’t want to… if you don’t want to, then let’s pretend the last few seconds didn’t happen,” He chuckles, but you can tell he’s doubting.

“Yes, of course!” You grin. “A thousand times yes, Bucky!” You shriek out in joy, throwing your arms around his neck and knocking him backwards on the bed. He chuckled as you hug him tightly, moving to straddling his hips. You kiss him, pressing pecks all over his face until your lips meet his. You kiss him slowly, pouring all your emotions into the kiss and you can feel him doing the exact same. When you pull away you smile at each other.

He sits up again, and you let him. Sitting in his lap with his metal arm wrapped securely around your waist, you grin wider as he brings his hand forth again. You hold your hand up, fingers noticeably trembling as he moves to grip the ring between the pads of thumb and forefinger. He slowly slides the ring onto your finger and you have to hold your breath.

“I do,” He says, breathing the word against your lips that are mere inches from his own.

“I do,” You repeat his words, grinning.

“I guess you’re my wife now, then?” He says, his lips stretched so wide you’re not sure you’ve ever seen him smile that hard.

“Well, you kinda still have to kiss the bride,” You tell him smugly, and he does. And fuck how he kisses you. The air gets knocked out of your lungs, leaving you lightheaded. But that’s okay, because if you pass out and die from lack of oxygen then at least you’d die happy. Oh, and married.

Bucky’s hands both settle on your hips, holding you tightly against his body as his lips move against yours. He tastes so good, like heaven with a hint of the dinner he’d eaten hours earlier still on his lips. You moan as his hands snake under your shirt, pushing the material up so he can stroke at your exposed skin. You need to pull back, feeling on the verge of passing out if you don’t get some air down your lungs. You pant, looking at him with hooded eyes. He stares at you with the same heat, hands moving to tug the tanktop further up.

“What are you doing?” You ask, feeling like nothing seems real anymore. But in a good way.

“What does it look like?” He grins, pushing the shirt up past your breasts. “I’m getting you naked,” He says as if it was obvious. You laugh and let him remove the shirt from you completely. Your hands fall down to his own, and you lift it over his head. Reaching behind you, you unclasp your bra, letting the straps slide down your arms.

“Are you gonna have sweet and slow sex with me?” You tease and he give you a serious look.

“Of course,” He answers and there’s no indication he’s joking. “Hop off, baby,” He says, patting your thigh. You do and pull your jeans down your legs. “Underwear too,” You do as he says and he stands up from the bed. His hands settle on your hips again, and he all but throws you back on the bed. You laugh as you bounce on top of the covers, hair all over your face and legs spread in the most unsexy way possible, but the look Bucky gives you tells you otherwise.

He kneels down at the end of the bed, hands coming out to rest on your inner thighs. He spreads you wider, pushing your legs down on the mattress and you’re suddenly grateful that you’re flexible. He lays down in between your spread legs, his head on level with your pelvis. You bite your lips, resting your head on your arm. Your free hand come down to stroke his face, making him look up at your face.

“I love you,” You whisper. He smiles. Leaning forward, he licks a fat stripe up your slick folds, skipping all teasing and foreplay. You shudder.

“I love you too,” He says. “Wife,” The word falls from his lips in the most sinful way and you can’t help but think this is something he’s going to refer to you as. His wife. Sure has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?

He leans forward again, tongue licking at your core. You moan softly. He shifts, grabbing your legs and shoving them over his shoulders. He brings his arms around your legs, circling them and holding your hips pressed to the mattress with his metal arm across your stomach. He’d done this so many times now that he knows how much you trashed when he gives you oral. You could never help it. He was just so talented and he always knew how to make you see stars.

His thumb and forefinger of his free hand spread your lips for him, giving him a full view of your glistering core. You bite your lip as you watch him, hand snaking into his hair, pushing it out of his face. You want to tell him he doesn’t have to do this, that he doesn’t even have to fuck you at all, that you two can just fall asleep and it’d make you just as happy. But you also know Bucky loves this as much you do, if not more. There are hardly any nights you spend together that doesn’t involve him going down on you. It was weird. He grew up decades ago, in another era. You’d expected that he’d be used to simple intercourse and that was about it, but he sure seemed to love eating your pussy out. And he’s so damn good at it, you don’t really want to stop him. So, you don’t.

Bucky starts licking at your folds, the warm heat of his tongue lapping at your labia and around your clit, never really touching it. He licks all over you, switching between the pressure he uses.

“So good,” You praise him, combing your fingers through his hair. He hums, the vibrations hitting you to the bone. You moan loudly, knowing he likes to hear the pleasured noises you make that he causes. He leans further down, flicking his talented tongue against your hole. He circles it a few times before dipping his tongue into your opening. You breath out shakily, legs already trembling on his shoulders. He licks into you, the shallow trusts of his warm muscle feeling so good. He does this for a while until he runs his tongue all the way from your hole up to put pressure on your clit. You let out a pornographic sound, something in between a moan and a whimper. He lifts his head and grins at you.

“How many times do you wanna come tonight, baby?” He asks and you stare at him. You know what he’s asking. If you say one, he’ll stop it right there, discard his clothes and push his cock into you, make you come around him. If you say two, he’ll continue to eat you out until you fall apart, then fuck you. If you say three, he’ll lick and suck on your clit until you’re a moaning mess, then finger you until you’re seeing stars, and then make you come again as he’s inside you. If you say more than three… Oh boy, you’ll spend the entire night having sex and the first hours of daylight the following day to sleep it off.

“Put your fingers in me,” You breathe, hand tugging at his hair. “Please, Bucky,” You beg him. You didn’t want this to end, but you also needed sleep. You couldn’t drag this out forever.

“Okay,” He says, his hands switching. His metal fingers now spread your pussy lips open. He pulls his arm from around your leg, gripping your thigh and pushing it up. “Hold it,” He orders and you do as he says. Holding your left leg against your chest, your right still over his shoulder, you’re giving him more space.

He brings his hand down, running his fingers up and down your folds a few times, coating them in the slickness there. You try to control your breath as a single digit dips into your opening, sliding all the way in and curling once, twice up against your g-spot oh so perfectly. Then he pulls them out, only to return with two fingers. You moan. His lips return to your folds, licking over them before wrapping his lips around your clit. He sucks lightly and you feel the heat start to grow in the pit of your stomach. You wouldn’t last long, you never do when Bucky uses a combination of fingering you and eating you out like he does now.

He switches between intensely sucking on your clit and flicking his tongue against the nub that’s revealed by his metal fingers pulling the hood back. His fingers never stop stroking your insides, and before you know it your walls clamp down. You moan.

“I’m close, Bucky,” You say, wanting to warn him because that’s what you always do. Your legs shake as his tongue flicks hard, catching and dragging along your clit. He sucks on it against, putting an intense suction for a few seconds before pulling away and raising his head.

“You gonna come? You gonna come for me, baby?” He asks and you nod desperately. “Let go, I got you,” He says, and as cliché as it sounds, that’s all you need. Your muscles stiffen, walls clamping down completely around his fingers as you come.

“Oh!” You moan, feeling tingles travel throughout your entire body. Your toes curl, but you can’t really feel it, the soles of your feet numb from walking around the city just half an hour ago. Bucky fingers you through it, his fingers pressing not as harshly as before up against the spongy part of your pussy. He ignores your clit though, which you’re grateful for because you’d be oversensitive if he kept giving it attention.

He pulls his fingers out just at the right time, just after you’d have time to come down from your high, but before you’d be shaking with overstimulation. He always knew when that was, he knew your body so well by now.

“Come here,” You whisper, dragging at his locks so he’d get the hint. He smiles, dropping your leg from his shoulder and crawling up the bed until his pelvis is on level with yours, his head right above your face. You finally let go of your leg, letting it rest against the mattress again.

“You okay?” He asks and you grin. Your hand is still in his hair and you drag him until his lips meet yours in a short kiss.

“Always,” You promise him. He smiles, leaning forward to nudge his nose against yours.

“You think you have one more go in you?” He questions, never wanting to pressure you.

“I don’t know?” You say innocently, dropping your hand from his hair to stroke his cheek lovingly. “You think you can handle me? I mean, we’re married now, I think it’s a good time to tell you I can be pretty wild sometimes,” You joke. He throws his head back and give out one of those deep laughs you hardly get the chance to hear, but still love.

“Oh, trust me, baby. I know,” He says, leaning down to peck your lips again. You grin as you taste the essence of yourself. He hops off the bed, starting to undo his pants. You get a glimpse of his muscled torso as he undress before you, having not had the chance to admire his abs yet tonight, even though he’d been shirtless for the past five minutes. It’s so unfair really, how no matter if Bucky spends countless hours in the gym or goes weeks without even lifting a finger, he can still look so good. It’s like he’s sculpted by some God, his muscles always bulging even if he’s not flexing.

He takes his socks off as well and you have to look down to see if your wearing yours or not, head still cloudy from the mindblowing orgasm he’d just given you, but then you remember that you had been wearing flats on your sightseeing trip, socks never present on your feet. He slips his boxers down his legs and bite your lip as you eye his erection, hard and even in the low light you can see the tip glistering with pre-cum. It always amazes you, how he can get so hard just from pleasuring you, not even touching himself.

He crawls back on bed, positioning himself between your spread legs and he gives you a look as if to ask if you’re sure. You just nod. He smiles, his hand grabbing your leg and pushing it up to your chest again. You don’t even need him to tell you anything, you just hold it there. He pushes his hips against yours, rolling them forward so his cock slides between your slick folds. You moan, whimper quietly as his tip catches on the hood of your clit. He gives you a look, stilling his movements and you shake your head.

“I’m fine, just fuck me, Bucky,” You tell him. He grins. Grabbing his cock in his hand, he drags it up and down your slickness, covering the tip as well in your natural lube. If the muscles in your neck weren’t stiff, you’d lift your head to watch, but you couldn’t. You’re too tired, head resting against the mattress.

“I’m not gonna fuck you,” He says. “I’m gonna make sweet and slow love to my wife,” He says and you resist the urge to roll your eyes, the phrase straight out of some romance movie. Still, the thought excited you more than ever so your couldn’t complain.

You don’t say anything as he pushes forward, his tip sliding in as he slowly presses more of himself into you. Your mouth falls open in a silent scream, before you sigh as you concentrate the friction he creates as he pushes in.

“Fuck,” He breathes, clearly feeling the same as you. He holds still, his hand coming down to your leg again and he pushes your hand away. He hooks your knee around his waist before leaning forward, all the while never moving his cock an inch in or out. Resting his weight on his elbows, his face just above yours as you watch each other. You smile, reaching both your hands up to tangle with his hair, running through it and untangling some knots created by the wind outside.

“Move, baby,” You tell him, whispering the word the way you know will egg him on. He smiles, lips connecting with yours as he slowly pulls his hips back before rolling them forward again. You sigh against his lips, and even though his form is ridgid from holding himself over you, you can feel him relax. You hadn’t even realized he was tense, but then again you should have figured; new place, lots of people, Steve and the rest of his safetynet gone.

You moan as he starts going deeper, the rolls of his hips slow yet hard enough to hit that spot deep inside you that isn’t really your g-spot but still felt good. He was so good at this, making you feel good in all ways possible without even seeming like he was trying.

“I love you, Bucky,” You whisper, feeling afraid you hadn’t said it enough yet.

“I love you too,” He replies, his trust and pace never faltering and it feels so good, that you for once could just lay back and let him do all the work. Bucky was always scared of hurting you, that he’d somehow cause you pain, which is why sex with him usually resulted with you on top. It’s not like you hated it, you liked it very much actually, but sometimes it was just nice to relax and enjoy the things he did to you.

The longer he trusted into you, dragging the minutes out, the more you started to realize you really, really liked this slow sex thing. You’d expected it to be dull, boring, but you had also wanted to try it for your honeymoon because you expected that’s what newly wed sex should be like; slow, passionate, glances, desperate stares and lips that barely separate. It is like that right now with Bucky and so much more. With his slower-than-usual pace, you could feel everything. You could feel the veins and bumps along his cock. You could feel the way his foreskin stretched and compressed as he moved, his pace and your tight opening not allowing you or him full friction. But that was okay, because usually after sex with Bucky you’d be sore the next day, the friction essentially ruining your pussy for hours. You could feel the way the thick hairs of his thighs tickled your skin, rubbing against your asscheeks and legs as he rocked against you. You could feel everything.

You arch your back and suck in a breath as he angles his hips differently for a second, spreading his arms wider and leaning more down on you. The change in the angle of his hips makes him nudge your g-spot, just teasing it and leaving you wanting more. Bucky seems to notice because he leans down, pressing his lips against yours in a slow and passion filled kiss. He pushes his pelvis further down, almost laying down on the bed as well, which resulted in his cock pushing upwards instead of back and forth. As he thrusts his hips again, he rubs against your g-spot perfectly with each roll. You close your eyes, tearing your mouth away from his to breath.

“Fuck, Bucky. That feels good,” You let him know, feeling the knot start to form in your stomach again.

“Think you can come like this?” He ask and you nod desperately. Hell, you’re already close again. Your hand go down to wrap around his neck, the other gripping his bicep and feeling the muscles there shift.

“Yeah,” You breath, forcing your eyes open. You look up at him, your eyes hooded and you know there’s hardly any color left other than white and the black of your dilated pupils. “I’m close,”

“Again?” He questions and you nod again. “Fuck, me too, baby. Touch yourself, come with me,” He all but begs and you do as he asks. Bringing your hand down from around his neck, you start rubbing harsh circles on your clit, having had enough time to recover from your previous orgasm by now. Your fingers brush against his cock a few times and you feel the muscles in his abdomen tighten from where his stomach is pressed against your arm. You moan, loving all the sensations you’re suddenly becoming aware of. It was like slow sex, or making love or whatever you’d want to call it, was really opening your world, letting you experience things you never before knew possible.

He shudders a breath and you feel him twitch inside of you. You know he’s about to blow so you clench around him, making him hit your g-spot even harder. Rubbing on your clit even more fiercely, you feel the warmth in your belly slowly start to travel with your blood, heating up your entire body. Before you close your eyes in pleasure, you catch a glimpse of the ring on your finger, the gold matching Bucky’s tanned skin so beautifully where your hand is clutching his arm. You stare at it in awe before you can’t help yourself, closing your eyes shut as the coil finally snaps completely.

Bucky’s moaning in your ear, quiet grunts that vibrate throughout his chest that’s pressed against yours. You can feel his trusts falter just the slightest, his hips jerking a few times and you purposely squeeze yourself around him.

“Fuck… Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He shants and your rub harder at your clit, finally feeling the pleasure spread through your entire body once more. You throw your head back, wrapping your leg tighter around his waist to pull him closer. You bare your neck to him and he takes the chance to place a single, wet, open mouthed kiss on the middle of your throat. You moan loudly, knowing he loves to feel the vibrations of it as he turns his head to bury his face in your neck.

You slowly come down, still feeling the tingles wreck your body again. You can feel your pussy pulse in time with your rapid hearbeat, fitting so snugly around him as you’re tight from your orgasm. He eventually stils his jerky trusts, hips flush against your pelvis as he breathes heavily against your neck. You sigh, dropping your hand from your throbbing clit.

“You okay?” You ask after you’ve taken a few shaky breaths to calm down. Bucky hums against your neck, his lips brushing your skin and making you shudder. You move your hands up and down his back, stroking the skin there with pressure to assure him you’re still awake and still there. He sighs happily, before lifting his head. You grin up at him.

“Hi,” He whispers, breath fanning your face.

“Hi,” You laugh. He leans down, pressing his lips to yours in a series of sweet pecks. “I love you,” You whisper against his mouth, breathing the same air as he does.

“I love you too, my beautiful wife,” He says and you actually roll your eyes this time. He pulls out of you slowly and you wince, already starting feel a little sore.

“You’re never gonna shut up about this, are you?” You laugh as he kisses you one more time before getting off the bed.

“Of course not,” He says. “You are my wife now, and what kind of man would I be if I don’t brag about that?” You laugh and watch as he disappears into the bathroom. You spot your neglected glass still on the table where you left it, a little bit of wine covering the bottom and can’t help but smile, thinking about how fast the events of the night turned.

Bucky returns minutes later, a wet washcloth in his hand and a toothbrush dangling between his lips. He throws you the rag and you start cleaning yourself up as he finishes his nightly routine in the bathroom. About the same time as you for the most part finish getting his cum cleaned up, he walks back out, still in all his naked glory. You throw the cloth in the direction of the bathroom and crawl under the covers as Bucky turns off the lights. He gets into the bed as well, hands immediately reaching out to pull you against his body for some snuggling that he’ll never admit to actually loving.

“I’m so tired,” You breathe against his chest and his arms tighten around your waist. “Sorry,” You apologise. You usually spend a lot of time in bed together during the night, having endless conversations about nothing and everything before falling asleep. It seemed to calm Bucky, making his troubled mind settle down enough to give him a decent night's sleep.

“It’s fine. I think I tired you out,” He says. You chuckle tiredly. You watch as his metal hand reaches for yours that are resting on his chest and he carefully twists the ring on your finger, straightening it so the diamond is pointing upwards. You smile. “You’re not regretting this, are you?” He asks.

“Of course not,” You tell him. You didn’t. You weren’t technically married, but given the circumstance, then this is the closest you’ll ever get. And it feels right. You don’t know how being married is supposed to feel, but you’re pretty sure this is perfect. “I love you and I wouldn’t change this, I wouldn’t change us for anything in the world,” You tell him honestly, turning your head to look up at him with parted lips. He gets the idea, because he ducks his head down, meeting your lips in a slow, sensual kiss full of passion.

“I love you too,” He whispers, rubbing his nose against yours and you smile. You lean your head more into his chest, nuzzling against it. His heartbeat is calm, so much more than your still racing one and it soon lulls you into a deep sleep, but not before reminding him once more that you love him.

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troubledinkbeing · 6 years

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Batim: Hunter’s Story

Chapter one “Moving Pictures.”

A gentle knock came upon a door with the number 1929 pasted on it. “Hunter….? Sammy sent me….He wants you to start getting up…” A lost one said meekly. “*But what if I don’t wanna get up…?*” Hunter asked. “He won’t be happy…..” The lost one said meekly. “*Sounds like a personal problem to me.*” Hunter said. The lost one sighed and shambled off. “*Sweet silence….*” Hunter sighed happily. About half an hour passed and Hunter was starting to fall alseep again before-A loud BANG came on her door. “RISE AND SHINE, HUNTER!!” Sammy called. “*BENDY ALMIGHTY, HECKING WHY?!?*” Hunter yelped, jumping out of bed and falling onto the floor. “Lilly informed me that you were not getting up at my request so I decided to wake you up myself!” Sammy said. “Now get up!! We have work to do!!” Sammy ordered. “*Yes, DAD.*” Hunter growled. “What was that, sheep?” Sammy asked. “*Yes sir! Be out in a moment, sir!!*” Hunter corrected. “Better. Now hurry up, you’re holding everything up.” Sammy said, walking off. Hunter pulled on her usual attire of a light gray tanktop and some dark gray sweatpants. She’s worn them since she arrived, no point in changing now. As she grabbed her backpack, she heard the sound of a door opening and two pairs of footsteps walking overhead. “Huh….Someone new must be here….” Hunter thought, walking out of her room. She got lost in thought and accidentally tripped over something. “Oof!” Hunter grunted. The searcher jumped slightly and slinked over to Hunter, concerned she was hurt. “Sorry, Jack, just got lost in thought.” Hunter apologized. He shook his hands around dismissively and apologized silently. “Okay, I guess I’ll let ya off the hook this time, buddy!” Hunter said jokingly winking. Jack silently laughed and the two parted ways. As Hunter boarded the elevator to go up to the music department, two miner searchers boarded as well. “Going up?” Hunter asked. They nodded. Hunter pressed the up button and waited. The miner searchers stopped the elevator where they needed to go and then resumed it for Hunter when they got out. “Thanks guys! Have a good day!” Hunter said cheerfully. Soon, she reached her destination and stopped the elevator and left to go to her spot. Oddly, Sammy wasn’t in his office or where he usually waited for Hunter to show up. She searched all over the music department, finally reaching the orchestra room and noticed he was in there, holding a meeting. “Sammy? What’s-What’s goin’ on?” Hunter asked. “Haven’t you heard?” Sammy asked. “No, I don’t listen to everything goin’ on, I’m afraid.” Hunter said. “We have two new visitors!!” Sammy said happily. “So that’s what I heard…” Hunter mumbled. “Hmm? What did you say?” Sammy asked. Hunter shook her head. “Oh, nothing!” Hunter chuckled. “Just rambling again!” Hunter explained. “Of course. Don’t worry, we all do that on occasion.” Sammy smiled. Most would see his smile as sincere, or calming. But Hunter knew that smile. She knew it didn’t mean either of those things. It meant malice. It meant he was plotting something, or he had a plan. Or-Bendy forbid-He was about to hurt you. The sound of a pipe bursting out in the hall was heard. “CRAP, CRAP, CRAP!!!” Hunter said, sprinting out. She halted as she was about to fall into a large puddle of ink. “No, no, no!!!!” Hunter sighed. “Don’t you realize what this means?” Sammy asked. “I have an extra chore….?” Hunter asked half-heartedly. “No! The machine above us has begun to be activated!” Sammy said, sounding excited like a little child on christmas. “Oh no.” Hunter sighed. “That means we have visitors!!” Sammy said, grabbing Hunter by the shoulders. “Oh no.” Hunter gulped. Sammy pulled her closer, his pupils shrinking in excitement. “This means I have a higher chance of meeting My Lord!!!” Sammy said, grin changing from happy to something more creepy. “Sammy, listen, maybe it was an accident. The lost ones DO like to wander.” Hunter said, shooting down Sammy’s idea. “No, no, no! I’m CERTAIN we have visitors!!” Sammy said, starting to shake in excitement. “If it WERE visitors, wouldn’t your all powerful and loving Lord have rescued you from that inky, dark, abyss you call a body already?” Hunter asked. “SILENCE!!!!! YOU KNOW NOTHING OF HIS POWER AND MERCY!!!!” Sammy snapped. “You’re right, I don’t know anything of his mercy, that’s because he doesn’t HAVE ANY!!! YA WANNA KNOW WHY?!?” Hunter snapped. “Hunter…..” Sammy warned. “BECAUSE HE’S A STUPID CARTOON CHARACTER WHO DOESN’T EXIST!!!!! HE’S NOT REAL, AND WON’T EVER BE REAL!!!!! SO JUST GROW UP AND ACCEPT THAT YOU’RE STUCK HERE UNTIL THE DAY YOU DI-“ Before Hunter could finish, Sammy slammed a hand against her neck and held her against a wall. “STILL YOUR TONGUE!!! HOW DARE YOU INSULT MY LORD?!? HE WILL SET US FREE SOMEDAY AND YOU HAVE THE GALL TO INSULT HIM?!?” Sammy yelled. “Sammy-please-I’m sorry-!” Hunter choked. “OH, YOU’RE SORRY!! THAT INSTANTLY TAKES EVERYTHING YOU SAID BACK!!!” Sammy yelled. “S-Sammy……Wouldn’t our Lord wish for you to forgive your assistant…? She said she was sorry…” Lilly said meekly. Sammy growled and sighed. “You’re right, Lilly. As always.” Sammy said, dropping Hunter. “Go upstairs, Hunter. See who it is up there.” Sammy ordered. “Y-Yes, sir!” Hunter said, running upstairs.

“Are ya sure about this, Henry?” Alex asked. “Positive. Now then, where was that valve…” Henry trailed off. “I hope my sis is okay…” Alex said, fidgeting with his hands. “I’m sure she is. She’s strong. She was strong enough to survive a beating from Sammy, back in the day.” Henry said. “Wait-really?” Alex asked. “Oh, yes!” Henry laughed. “Golly-she was brave!” Alex gasped. “That she was!” Henry laughed. As Henry walked out of the relic room with Alex and rounded the corner, a Bendy cutout peeked out from behind the corner and surprised them. “YIPES!!!” Alex jumped. “It’s just a cutout…..They’re everywhere here.” Henry said walking up to it. “Isn’t that right, fella? You’re just guiding us, ain’tcha?” Henry said, scratching its horns as if expecting a response like from a puppy and smiling. Hunter crouched behind it, hoping they wouldn’t come around it. “Come on, I think I saw the record somewhere around here.” Henry said, walking down the hall. When they left, Hunter kept following and using cutouts as hiding spots. When they turned the ink machine on, Hunter decided she’d seen enough and headed back down to the music department. Hunter hurried as pipe after pipe started to burst, barely dodging some bursts. She ran as fast as she could to the music department, just wanting to get back, and didn’t spot a pipe about to burst. The burst hit, and hit her back, injuring it. As it hit, she let out a cry of pain at the high pressure ink practically burning her back. She hobbled the rest of the way back. She hobbled back into the orchestra room and collapsed against a wall, waiting for everyone to return. Her vision slowly faded to black and all noise slowly became nothing but empty static. She faintly heard panicked talking and she slowly woke up, but not in the orchestra room, but rather, the infirmary. “What happened….?” Hunter asked, rubbing her head. “You’re alright!” Mousie sighed. “Yeah, just a bit sore and a small headache is all….” Hunter sighed. Hunter started to get up before a hand held her midsection down. “You need to rest.” Mousie said. “I’ll be fine.” Hunter chuckled dryly. “How much of your backside did the burst hit?” Mousie asked. “About……A quarter of my back, I think…” Hunter said. “No….It hit just about HALF.” Mousie said. “I could always be wrong.” Hunter shrugged, chuckling dryly. “This ISN’T a laughing matter, Hunter. If this happens again, it couldn’t be this fortunate-YOU couldn’t be this fortunate!” Mousie said, raising her voice. “I…………………..I know, Mousie.” Hunter sighed. “I just…..Worry about you, Hunter. What if you died? I couldn’t handle that!” Mousie said. “I know, I know…” Hunter sighed. “You’re one of the only people who keeps everyone happy and hopefull! If that light….Left due to being too reckless, I don’t know how they’d react….” Mousie said. “I know-“ Hunter started. “Don’t just say ‘I know’, show me SOME sign that you understand! Because I could full well keep you in here just to keep you safe!” Mousie said. Hunter sighed heavily. “I…….I understand, Mousie.” Hunter sighed. “I apologize for my reckless behavior, and I will try to never act that way again…” Hunter apologized. “Much better. Now then, Sammy was searching for you. At least ten groups of searchers were sent this way just for you.” Mousie said removing her hand from Hunter’s midsection. “Th-Thanks, Mousie…….” Hunter said, slowly getting up. As Hunter left, she reached into her backpack and held something she got on her first day on the job. A small Boris plushie from her friend, Shawn Flynn. She started to walk to the orchestra room to tell everyone what she found.

“What did you find?” Sammy asked. “Well…….” Hunter said. “I found that we don’t have a visitor.” Hunter sighed. Everyone sighed sadly. “WE HAVE TWO!!” Hunter grinned. Everyone smiled slightly. “And even better? One of them is an old worker from here!” Hunter grinned. “Who, pray tell, is this worker? Wally?” Lilly asked. “No, it can’t be Wally….He’s already here, remember?” Barry said. “Right….” Lilly sighed. “One of the best workers here. HENRY.” Hunter grinned evilly. “What?!?” Everyone gasped. “Ya heard me right, folks!! Henry’s back in town!!” Hunter smiled. “What about the other one…?” Lilly asked. “Some kid…..His nephew? I dunno, I didn’t recognize him.” Hunter shrugged. “Oh………” Lilly said. “Perfect~! I’ll send out a squashren of searchers immediately to search for him~!” Sammy grinned evilly. “I forgot to mention….He’s….Still upstairs…” Hunter winced. “Of course he is….Hunter, go upstairs and rig the entrance floor to collapse underneath them so we can access them easier.” Sammy ordered. “Yes, sir.” Hunter said. After finishing, Hunter ran back upstairs and rigged the floor to collapse under them. She then thought that it had a chance to not break under their weight, so she removed the flooring there entirely. She decided that the stairs would be too slow to get back down, so she decided to test out the hole she created. She jumped down and fell down about five stories to the music department. When she landed, she didn’t land properly, so she banged her head on the floor beneath her, messing up her vision, blurring it a bit. After a while, she got up and stumbled down to the music department. She almost tripped on the stairs down a few times, so she took a break and sat down on a bench on the way back. A lost one noticed she was alone, so they shakily walked over and sat next to her. “D-Do you mind if I join you…?” They asked nervously. “Of course not, go ahead!” Hunter smiled. “H-How’d it g-go?” They asked. “It went well, thanks!” Hunter smiled. “N-No trouble…!” They smiled weakly. “It looks nice on ya!” Hunter said. “Huh…? What does…?” They asked. “The smile, it looks good on ya!” Hunter explained. “I-It d-does…?” They gasped. “Yup! It’s nice to see a smile every so often!” Hunter grinned. “O-Oh…..Th-Thank you…” They blushed gently. Hunter laughed. “H-Huh….?” They asked. “You’re blushing!” Hunter said, pointing to the gentle orange glow. “O-Oh….Th-That’s what th-that is….” They said. “Ya didn’t know that?” Hunter asked, curious. “N-No….I forgot…” They said. “Don’t we all!” Hunter laughed. “How can you remain so optimistic about everything…?” They asked. “How? I just….Keep telling myself that I can get outta here…If not today, then, some other day! If not then, then I keep hoping that someday, I can go home! To my little brother….That’s how!” Hunter explained.

#sammy lawrence #My Art #My Writing #It's Here Y'all!!#Hunter #My OCs #Lilly The Lost One #Barry The Lost One #Jack Fain #Mousie The Nurse Searcher #Searchers #The Lost Ones #Henry Stein #Alex

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nephixii · 5 years

Text

some sort of tagged meme

Tagged by: @wildsecuritywolf

w/ Satan

1. What is your name?

“my name is Satan”

2. Do you know why you’re named that?

“When Lucifer created me he gave me one of his many nicknames”

3. Are you single or taken?

“single”

4. Have any abilities or powers?

“plenty, but to list a small handful, I can breathe fire, set you on fire, and teleport or create portals to places i need to go”

5. Stop being a Mary Sue.

"...”

6. What’s your eye color?

“blue naturally, but i can change them to red”

7. How about your hair color?

“dark brown”

8. Have any family members?

“not that i can remember if so”

9. Oh? How about pets?

“I have a hellhound”

10. That’s cool, I guess. Now tell me something you don’t like?

“ignorance”

11. Do you have any activities/hobbies that you like to do?

“I sing when i get a spare moment to”

12. Have you ever hurt anyone in any way before?

“... plenty of times”

13. Ever… killed anyone before?

“... plenty of times”

14. What kind of animal are you?

“I am a demon, but i have been told i am part dragon and cat”

15. Name your worst habits

“being too clingy and annoying when i don’t mean to be”

16. Do you look up to anyone?

“erm.. Gabe for some things, but other than that no not really”

17. Are you gay, straight or bisexual?

“Bi??? but i lean more towards men”

18. Do you go to school?

“no I’m too busy running Hell”

19. Ever want to marry and have kids one day?

“marry? yes. kids? hell-fucking- no”

20. Do you have any fangirls/fanboys?

“probably??? I think mostly they just want to cuddle. but theres always bound to be a cultist or 2″

21. What are you most afraid of?

“being forgotten or not cared about”

22. What do you usually wear?

“for work I wear a red or black dress-shirt, a black vest, black bowtie, and black pants. for casual, a black tanktop, purple t-shirt, black choker, and black shorts or pants”

23. What’s the one food that tempts you?

“souls. it is extremely difficult for me to resist eating a soul”

24. Am I annoying to you?

“eh.. you're fine”

25. Well, it’s still not over!

“kay...”

26. What class are you (low/middle/high)?

“high class in Hell”

27. How many friends do you have?

“a handful”

28. What are your thoughts on pie?

“disgusting. i think its a texture thing”

29. Favorite drink?

“I don’t have a particular favorite drink”

30. What’s your favorite place?

“I still don’t know”

31. Are you interested in anyone?

“as in relationship? no I don’t have anyone in mind that I’m crushing on”

32. That was a stupid question…

“you were curious”

33. Would you rather swim in a lake or the ocean?

“lake. the ocean sucks”

34. What’s your type?

“again, assuming what i look for in a person so... sweet, cuddly and comforting, and not always wanting to screw. like-- calm the fuck down, you won’t die without sex, believe it or not, my dude”

35. Any fetishes?

“none of your business”

36. Camping or outdoors?

“do you mean camping or indoors?? cause I’ll stay inside”

Tagging: anyone who wants to

#meme #i guess

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textsfromumbridge · 7 years

Text

sweet dreams are made of this (who am I to disagree)

Belated bday fic for the amazing @hihiyas, who asked for sharing a bed and mutual pining, and since I sometimes live in a bed-sharing fic myself, I had to do this.

Hon, I know it’s a week late, and maybe it’s a little all over the place, but I love you and you deserve all the fics because you’re an awesome friend and I’m lucky to have you. *HUGGLES*

ZERO

When she met Gabriel Enjolras for the first time, she never expected him to eventually become her friend, let alone the person she would secretly refer to as her best friend.

Neither of them made a great first impression when Marius introduced them. He was distant - not good with new people - which made her think of him as an elitist prick. It took them a good long while to get over those first impressions.

It didn’t help that they were both stubborn as fuck - neither was willing to make the first move towards reconciliation.

Marius once claimed they’d make him prematurely gray. As if, the dork would be a ginger forever, probably.

So, yeah, the so-called Enjonine friendship (thanks for that Courfeyrac) took a while to reach peak potential. They spent a few months hating each other’s guts - and then they all went to see a Thor movie and Eponine spent the next week talking about Lady Sif and Darcy Lewis. For some reason that made Enjolras realize she wasn’t all bad - well, she was kind of glad that her appreciation for seriously awesome female characters got through to him.

One group movie hang-out turned into weekly movie nights with just Enjolras on his couch, watching everything from PBS documentaries to cliched rom-coms. He always had something to say about everything, whether it was the underlying themes of LGBT+ rights in the X-men movies or an in depth discussion of the politics of girl world after watching Mean Girls (he had no idea how much realism was in that movie).

A few months went by just like that, and she started becoming comfortable with calling him her friend, instead of just referring to him as a friend of a friend. Azelma joked about being proud her big sister actually made a friend for once, and Eponine flipped her off.

That was real sisterly love, honestly.

She showed her appreciation for Enjolras’ friendship much the same way: by making fun of him all the damn time. Of his need to use punctuation and spelling properly in every damn text - honestly, abbreviations were just so much easier (and so much faster!). She teased him about his overly formal clothing - trying to goad him into wearing jeans and a t-shirt at least once.

Well, that one definitely came back to bite her in the (amazing, thanks so much) ass.

He showed up on her birthday in tight jeans and a fucking Hamilton t-shirt that appeared to be slightly too small on him.

She had her first naughty dream about him that very night. She tried to tell her lady bits about friendship without benefits, but they definitely weren’t having that.

And so the terrible, awful years of pining began.

ONE

The first time they sleep in the same bed it is purely convenience and about 99% awkwardness. Maybe even the full 100%.

A storm is hitting the city, and she is still over at his place at 11 PM. Public transport has given up on navigating through the pouring rain and hail and strong gusts of wind. She needs to get home, but there is absolutely no way that her dork friend is going to let her leave his apartment.

Yeah, the great Enjolras is also a grade A dork - she wants to tell all her friends.

“I’m sorry I don’t have a guest room,” he actually apologizes. “I really don’t want to make you uncomfortable, so I’ll sleep on the floor, or the couch.”

Oh yes, surely the tiny couch will be comfortable for this six feet tall specimen. He is going to fuck up his back so bad - she doesn’t want that on her conscience. And really, she’d sleep in the same bed as Cosette, so why would it be that much weirder if it’s Enjolras?

“Don’t be an idiot,” she tells him for the umpteenth time.

He waits patiently to hear what he’s being moronic about this time - she’s taught him well over the past few years. It’s weird, but here’s this guy who actually listens to everything that she has to say - even when she’s teasing him, but especially when she is completely serious about something.

She calls the shots most of the time - and he doesn’t get offended, and he even changes his behavior when she thinks he’s genuinely being an asshole.

“You’re not sleeping on that chair you call a couch,” she finally continues, rolling her eyes at him. “You will fall off in the middle of the night and hurt yourself. Just get in bed with me. It’s only weird if we make it weird.”

It’s so mature of her, honestly people might be surprised.

Enjolras however, is not surprised at all - well, he might be surprised they will be sharing a bed, but he’s never surprised at her level-headedness.

Oh, this crush is definitely getting way out of hand.

Minutes later, they lie awake together, side by side. She’s almost afraid to breathe too loudly, not wanting to bother him more than she already is - he’s probably half asleep already and she does not want to wake him.

So she stays completely still, muscles tensed, listening to the rain hit the bedroom window with an alarming volume.

“This is ridiculous,” Enjolras mutters in the dark of his bedroom. “Why is this so awkward?”

Eponine breathes out a little huff of a laugh. Thank God he feels it too.

TWO

The first time was weird and terrifying, he has to admit that much. Suddenly there was this person all up in his personal space. He woke up a few times that night because there was someone breathing next to him, and that one time she accidentally touched him he almost couldn’t go back to sleep.

It was just her leg bumping his, but it has been so long since there was someone close enough to touch. Has he ever really shared a bed like this, just sleeping?

And of course it’s Eponine. She’s started to mean way too much to him in a matter of months - and now it’s been years. If he were to talk about his feelings towards her with people, they might even call it pining. He hates that word, but he knows it’s accurate.

She’s funny, and empathetic, and so much smarter than anyone knows. And sometimes he just gets distracted thinking about what it would be like if he just leaned in and kissed her - she would probably hit him.

But still she lets him sleep in her bed.

This time the reason is less clear than the previous time - there is no storm, and it’s not even all that late. This time, he is just hanging out with her on a Friday night, and since they have standing plans for Saturdays, Eponine decides that he might as well sleep over instead of going all the way to his just to sleep.

He could never say no to that.

“At least we’ve figured out you don’t snore,” she tells him.

She’s changing into her pajamas in the bathroom, and he’s already in her bed, dressed in just his boxers - he’ll need his gym clothes tomorrow for the dance class they’re taking. He mentions one time how he likes to dance and she just runs with it.

“You get cuddly,” he blurts out.

Last time, he woke up with her arm wrapped around him - they have both been pretending that it never happened, but that can’t last forever. Especially not because he likes it a little too much.

“At least you won’t get cold,” Eponine steps out of the bathroom.

She seems to favor sleep shorts and a tanktop, and it is wreaking havoc on his nerves. Her long, bare legs possibly tangling with his under her soft sheets… And he’s only wearing boxers - he made sure to wear a shirt last time, even though he hates wearing clothes to bed. This is his normal sleepwear, and it’s scary.

“Won’t you get cold?” he makes it a point not to look at her too much.

“Says the guy wearing just boxers,” she responds quickly.

He runs hot, he knows that much, but any comment on it might take this night to a whole new level of awkwardness. So he just murmurs agreeably and pointedly does not watch her climb into bed next to him.

“Good night,” he whispers.

He knows he’s blushing in the darkness of her room.

“Good night,” she returns.

She sounds like she’s smiling.

THREE

It’s making them closer outside of the bedroom too.

He seems much more casual about his personal space, comfortable with her leaning into him a bit on his tiny sofa. She can poke him teasingly and he doesn’t even flinch away from her touch.

They have never been the touchy-feely kind of friends before, and people are noticing. Both Cosette and Chetta have asked her if she’s fucking him yet - she never even told them about the stupid crush and how hot he looks in just boxers.

She gets to see him in most states of dress and undress - he doesn’t bother changing in a separate room when she’s already seen him in his underwear. Maybe soon she’ll follow that lead, when she isn’t dreaming about how he’ll react when he sees her in her best underwear - she’ll be prepared next time so she’s actually wearing her best underwear.

Because once again she is not prepared to stay at his. Sure, she has a pair of emergency panties in her bag, but those are not made for him to see.

Once again she ends up wearing one of his gym shirts and no pants - the shirt is big enough and she likes the feeling of her mostly bare legs tangling with his in their sleep.

Her previously secret cuddling tendencies have become obvious to him, and while she is super subtle about untangling herself from him a few times each night, she’s sure he’s woken up with her wrapped around him at least once or twice. Still, he hasn’t said anything about that specifically - just like she has never said a word about those times when she was totally pressed up against his boner.

Friends keep awkward secrets from each other, right?

No one knows about their sleeping together, and normally she would be able to talk to her best friend about anything (even this weird relationship stuff), but now everything she wants to talk about involves him.

She knows what he looks like in the morning, the gravelly sound of his voice when he’s just woken up, and how he’s barely functional until he’s had a big cup of coffee. The usually so eloquent dork can barely form a full sentence for at least five minutes, and the full sleepiness only fades after a lot of coffee from his favorite mug (the one she gave him for his birthday two years ago).

It is getting so damn difficult to contain this stupid crush. She doesn’t want to fuck up her relationship with the best friend she’s ever had, but these feeling won’t go away.

The smart thing to do would probably be to keep her distance for a while, but nobody ever said she was smart.

Except for Enjolras.

Damn it, not helping.

FOUR

It’s gotten to the point where he sleeps better when she’s next to him, on her side of the bed, breathing softly and occasionally reaching out for him.

He used to sleep like a starfish in the middle of his bed, but now he sleeps on his side of the bed even when he’s alone, reaching for someone who isn’t there. When he’s alone, he fills her side with blankets and pillows so there’s something there at least.

Yes, he is fully aware of how pathetic he is.

It’s not just the loneliness - it’s her. It’s Eponine.

“It’s nice to have someone there,” he tells her one night when they hang out on his couch together. “It’s nice to have you here.”

Oh, any second now she is going to punch him in the face and walk out - he is getting way too close to revealing his stupid feelings for her anytime she’s around. This is not something that is usually said with completely platonic intentions.

His intentions are platonic, they really are. His dreams, the ones that will never ever come true, are the things that are far away from platonic. Sometimes he wakes up blushing, with her right there only miles away from where he wants her to be. She can keep cuddling him whenever she wants.

“I know what you mean,” is all that Eponine says.

And now his heart is about to pound right out of his chest, because she understands. But does she really? Or is she just scratching the surface?

But then she leans into him, curling up against him on his tiny little couch, and he no longer cares how much she understands. He just wants her to stay just like this.

He slips an arm around her shoulders and she slings her legs over into his lap, her head almost leaning on his shoulder. They are almost entirely wrapped around each other now, and while his body is screaming out at him to just make a move already, his heart is perfectly content for once.

Later that night, when they go to bed early even though neither of them appears even the slightest bit tired, she resumes her cuddling right away. Her bare legs tangle with his, and her arm is slung casually over his bare chest. She can probably feel his heart pounding underneath her fingertips.

“We always end up like this,” she whispers in the darkness. “We might as well own up to it and start out like it.”

He murmurs in agreement, too afraid that words will ruin this perfect bubble of happiness.

FIVE

It’s been a month of cuddling almost every night. Either he is already at hers, or she lets herself end up at his at the end of the night - sleeping alone has never looked worse when she has the option of sleeping in his arms.

People are starting to notice - Chetta showed up to her apartment a few times, and she either found no one there or both Eponine and Enjolras. And in those cases they’d barely managed to untangle themselves before Chetta barged in - if they made it in time at all, so Chetta had some things to say to Eponine.

Things that do not bear repeating - because obviously Chetta picked up on her stupid crush right away.

She still wants so badly, wants even more than she’s been lucky enough to get from him. Really, she should have learned by now never to ask for more, never to need more than she’s getting. She is Eponine Thenardier - she doesn’t deserve any of this. She doesn’t deserve a best friend who cares for her this much, who holds her through the worst parts and doesn’t mind her being all over him all the damn time even when the paint on her skin has barely dried.

Sure, she understands why that stuff makes Chetta think that the stupid feelings are mutual, but Eponine knows better than that. They’re just really close best friends - platonic soulmates or something. They are not a couple, no matter how often she dreams about that at night. Dreaming about something does not make it so - she has to remember that.

It’s just really hard to remember when they’re wrapped around each other and his hand has once again made its way under her top - he’s halfway to second base with her and he’s still sleeping! She only wishes he’d make a move like this when they are both wide awake.

The fact that he never will is what is keeping her up at night - the clock on the bedside table reads 2:43 AM. She is perfectly comfortable with his hands where they are, but her mind will not stop racing and making her read into this.

She has a momentary lapse of judgment, a moment of weakness that makes her shift in his grip so that his hand slips even higher up her shirt. One more shift, and…

Wait!

The tension in his body increases suddenly, and she knows she managed to screw everything up. He’s awake and he is just about to take his hands off her and never touch her again.

“I’m so sorry,” they both start at the same time.

Then, silence. He’s sorry? She should be sorry, trying to make him grope her in his sleep just so she can believe the fantasy for a little while longer.

He pulls his hand away slowly, so slowly that it’s almost a caress. She just can’t seem to stop the wishful thinking - she wants him not to be sorry for touching her, she just wants him to want her a fraction of how much she wants him.

“I know I crossed so many lines just now,” Enjolras is brave enough to continue.

Not nearly enough, actually.

“Not really,” she shrugs, trying to keep casual.

“You didn’t,” he stammers. “I mean. Did I - did you?”

She could step in, she should step in. But watching him squirm like this in the dimly lit bedroom has a whole different kind of appeal. Because it’s starting to seem like he is just as scared as she is, for all the same reasons.

“Did you want me to move?” he asks then, bold again.

“Not in the direction you just did,” she admits.

His eyes will be wide, probably, but she cannot tell. All she can do is wait for him to respond, to push them both over the edge they’ve been dangling on for what seems like centuries.

Slowly, his hand moves back underneath her shirt, as if waiting for her to protest. He is inches away from his goal when he stops.

“Just kiss me already,” she can’t wait a second longer.

He listens to her, as he always does.

#enjonine #enjolras x eponine #you are my revolution #hihiyas #my stories #only slightly based on real events okay

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authorloremipsum · 7 years

Text

Goggles and Mask

A The Glass Scientists, Arcane Heros AU fanfiction

Words - 2409

Characters - Mr. Mosley, Mr. Griffin, and Ms. Ito

Summary: Ito runs into a newcomer to the Society and finds them incredibly suspicious. Griffin mentions a wager and doesn’t realize he’s not as stealthy as he thinks.

“Okay, focus, hydrochloric acid,” Henry Jekyll said in a calm, smooth voice. Virginia Ito nodded and raised their hands over the metal basin between them. There was a gentle sizzling sound as a liquid began to drip from their palms, falling and pooling in the basin. The bowl began to fill and Jekyll motioned for them to stop and they turned their hands over.

Jekyll picked up a device called a “probe and meter”, placing the long, silver probe into the liquid Ito had synthesized. They flicked off their hands and placed them in their lap, watching anxiously as he tested the liquid, reading the meter with a small frown. “PH level reading steady at, two-point-four. And the smell… Lactic acid.”

Ito sighed dejectedly, hanging their head.

“But hey! It’s only point-four away from being hydrochloric acid, and it’s a full point higher than what you managed to make yesterday,” Jekyll said optimistically, lifting the basin and pouring the acid into a funnel and then into a flask. Ito watched bitterly as he stopped up the flask and placed a new ring of green tape around the top, marking it with a mocking 2.4.

Ito stood without saying goodbye and stormed from the lab, shoving their hands into their coat’s ugly rubber-lined pockets as they did.

First, they make acid too strong and it burns through their floor, getting them nearly arrested and certainly evicted, but on command they can’t make anything stronger than bile. Sure, great for hurting people, but won’t do jack shit to get through locks and doors.

They were so furious, with themself, with everything, that they didn’t notice the stranger walking towards them with a notebook in hand until they crashed together. Ito cursed and stumbled back, “Watch where you’re going! I don’t know if you noticed but this place is full of dangerous, people…” They trailed off, staring at the individual before them.

They wore a grey scarf lined with red that covered their face, yellow lensed goggles that hid both eyes, and an odd grey cloth wrapped around their head like one would tie a bandana, dark hair tied up and poking out the back like a tail. Ito blinked in surprise and stepped back, staring with a shocked and slightly afraid look on their face.

The stranger tilted their head, “Dangerous people? Aren’t all people dangerous?” Ito stammered for a response and then scowled, “Yes! But especially some of us!”

It shocked them to hear this stranger chuckle. “I guess. We haven’t met have we? Though, I’m sure I’ve seen you around however, Mx. Ito correct?”

“Yes, though I don’t know your name,” they said stiffly, hands still hidden in their pockets. The smell of something burning was evident and Ito’s hands felt sticky. The stranger smiled and offered them a friendly hand, “Ethan Mosley, arrived last night.” His expression was practically unreadable behind the mask and goggles, it set Virginia on edge, though they couldn’t say why.

“I’d love to stay and chat but I have things I need to do,” Ito said sourly, striding past him. Mr. Weird-Mask watched them go before turning and walking off without a word. Ito glanced back and finally stopped frowning, brows still knitted together in a curious expression.

Mosley didn’t look human, that was the long and short of it, he looked intimidating and distinctly stranger than any of the other Lodgers Ito had met. If he’d just joined, how did anyone know they could trust him?

Someone like that, who didn’t show his face, what was he? Who was he?

Ito scowled, now determined to find out what was Mosley’s secrets. If he was new, he wouldn’t have a file yet, but they didn’t need a file to find out about him.

There was enough gossip in the Society to make a highschool student blush.

The next time they saw Mosley was heading out for home after stopping by the Society to change out of costume. He was sitting on a small patch of dusty earth just outside the warehouse, tracing pictures in the dirt, seemingly unaware of everything around him. Ito hid behind a wall and watched, frowning in confusion as he picked up a notebook and leaned back against the warehouse, sketching on the pages.

Ito had heard multiple rumors over the past few days about this new stranger. Apparently, Hyde had met him down at the park getting hassled by a bunch of gang members, only to watch him easily defend himself. Then again, they’d heard a different story where Mosley saved Hyde from the gang, and even another where they tag-teamed to fight some sort of mutated dog creature. None of the stories, however, had any clue as to who he was, or what he could do.

Or, as a matter of fact, why he was sitting in the dirt drawing.

“He’s weird isn’t he?” asked a voice. Ito nearly jumped out of their skin and turned to see Griffin appear out of nothing, frowning and looking towards Mosley with suspicion. He was in his suit and wearing the special goggles Lanyon had made to turn invisible with him. Come to think of it, that was all Ito ever saw him wearing these days.

They scowled, “Yeah, he is, but you don’t need to be rude about it.”

“I’m not the one spying on him dear Virginia,” Griffin answered, smirking knowingly.

“I’m not spying on him? I’m walking home and happened to pause when I noticed,” Ito answered stiffly, squaring their shoulders and looking Griffin in the eye. He wasn’t a tall man, barely an inch taller than them, and Ito knew she was more intimidating to him. “And if I was?”

“You could at least be a little more stealthy about it, it’s not like you don’t know how to sneak around after all,” Griffin said, rolling his eyes. “What do you think his power is?”

“What?”

Griffin smirked, “Oh wow, the great Flashbang doesn’t know something.”

“Griffin stop playing, does no one know what his powers are?” Ito demanded in a low voice. The invisible man shrugged, “Maijabi saw it, but he’s waiting for Mr. Mosley to tell us, keeping things private and all that. Kind of irritating that we don’t know what kind of threat this faceless weirdo poses to the Society.”

“You don’t trust him either then?” Ito smirked, “So you were spying on him too?”

“No I wasn’t!” Griffin snapped, suddenly irritated. Ito grinned wider, “You were, weren’t you! I knew you were a creep!”

“I was not!”

“Be honest with yourself Inviso-Bill, you were spying on him in hopes of finding out what his power is and winning the wager before putting your money is,” Ito teased, grinning devilishly.

Griffin’s glare could’ve cut glass, “It’s, Vanish.”

“Sorry No-Face? What was that? You have a bet on what his powers are going to be with Archer and Luckett?”

“We have a bet yes but I swear Virginia if you call me one more of those stupid names-”

“What? Like Invisibility Man? The most innovative name of all of them?” Ito chuckled and folded their arms, “Sorry, but it’s kind of humorous to see you get worked up over those names. What’s the bet?”

Griffin’s glare didn’t lessen, “Archer’s bet he’s got some kind of sight, Luckett thinks he’s got some kind of voice thing, I think he’s got one hell of a bite under that mask.”

“Sharp teeth?” Ito considered it and shrugged, while he certainly didn’t look human, he acted human enough. “I think you’re all quite rude for making a wager, but I’m almost certain it’s something earth related.” They looked around the corner again, where Mosley was sketching casually, and took note of his dust covered clothes. “Don’t put me in the wager, but you’re all wrong.”

Griffin scowled, “And how do you know?” Ito adjusted their bag and shot Griffin a look, “I don’t know, I hypothesize.” And they strode off.

Friday night, Virginia was in the gym.

They wore thick rubber gloves, the thickest, to prevent whatever odd chemicals that sweated from their palms from getting onto the equipment as they worked out. Their power necessitated close combat, because it was hard to throw liquids usually, easier to touch someone with it, but that meant being strong enough to fight them if things got violent. Ito was not a muscular individual, something they aimed to change, at least a little.

Two hours lifting weights of various sizes, and some time on the treadmill, less of a workout than usual but they couldn’t stay too late tonight, not with work tomorrow. So they were running, thinking, and planning at the same time, listening to some superhero movie soundtrack that Cantilupe had recommended, Iron Man maybe?

Over the music, they heard the door open and close, someone must’ve come in. A glance over the shoulder revealed that it was Mosley, dressed in a tanktop, a light jacket, and sweatpants, still wearing that ridiculous headgear of his. Ito rolled their eyes and returned focus on their jogging, subconsciously taking note of how he went to the weapons training mats.

Okay, after we get paid next week, we can deal with rent and groceries. If all else fails you can stay at the Society and- CLANG! Ito stumbled, their focus shattered as something clattered to the ground nearby, causing them to fall forward and nearly get swept off the treadmill.

Irritated, they slammed the controls and stopped it, allowing them to safely fall and sit on the stopped track, heart racing a mile a minute. They leaned against the side, catching their breath before looking for the source. A shout of surprise made them look towards Mosley, who had an invisible something pinned against the wall.

“Hey hey hey! I didn’t mean anything by it! Just put me down!!” Griffin’s frightened voice protested as he squirmed in Mosley’s grip. He was dropped onto the ground, barely a foot from crashing onto a rack of blades and he became visible. Mosley folded his arms and tilted his head, “You mean to tell me why you’ve been following me all afternoon?”

“I wasn’t following you,” Griffin snapped, getting to his feet and rubbing the back of his head with a scowl. Mosley’s unblinking goggle-stare made the usually-invisible man swallow hard, “Okay okay! Yes I was following you, but can you really blame me? No one has any idea what you’re capable of and I’m like one of the only people who can find out without being spotted.”

“They have a bet on what your power is,” Ito called bitterly, getting to their feet. Griffin made a shut up motion and Mosley looked back at them. “Really? A wager?”

They nodded and grabbed their towel, drying their face of sweat as they walked over. “Apparently! And from the gossip I’ve heard, no one has any idea. Not even a clue.” They met Griffin’s glare with an icy stare, “This invisible prick has been trying to find out what you can do by stalking you.”

“I don’t stalk people!” Griffin snapped, folding his arms and looking away stubbornly. “I observe.”

“In a court of law you’d be a stalker,” Ito countered, hanging the towel around their shoulders. They looked at Mosley with a raised brow, “I don’t suppose you’d want to dismiss the rumors about your powers and get it over with would you?”

His expression was unreadable behind the headgear, but his posture suggested he was thinking. And then suddenly, he laughed.

Not a chuckle, not a snicker or giggle or single guffaw, but a loud, hearty laugh with a full, open smile that they couldn’t see. “A wager, about plain old me? Really? Didn’t realize I was so special.”

“You look like a bloody serial killer with that mask of yours,” Griffin grumbled, gesturing with a hand. Mosley tilted his head curiously, a hand touching his goggles, and he giggled again. “A serial killer? Didn’t realize I was so suspicious.”

“Well you are! So forgive me for wanting to make sure you weren’t actually a murderer!”

“If the mask is what frightens you-” he pushed up the goggles and moved the grey cloth from his nose, revealing his face in whole, “I don’t mind taking it off. Only, people seem to be more likely to speak to me when they can’t see the scarring.”

Griffin’s normally pale face went white as a sheet and Ito found themself staring in fear and awe. They blinked in surprise, “How, how did that happen? Are you alright?”

Mosley shrugged nonchalantly, shoving his hands in his coat pockets, “The Detonation.” Simple, to the point, and understood by all of them.

“I’m sorry for saying the mask made you look scary,” Griffin mumbled, forcing himself not to stare by looking down at his feet. Mosley shook his head slightly and pulled down his goggles, “You could’ve just asked.” His voice was lighthearted and friendly, and it would’ve matched his face, if his face hadn’t been so, changed.

Both of them stared at him and he shrugged, “I don’t mind explaining, I merely prefer when people ask.” He pulled his scarf over his nose again, hiding the scars once more.

“You’ve never said a word to anyone though!” Griffin exclaimed, suddenly able to look Mosley in the eye again, “How do you expect people to think they can just walk up to you and say: ‘hey so what super power got you pretty much evicted from society eh’?” Ito glared at Griffin and he stopped talking.

Mosley thought about this, one hand on his chin, the other tucked in the crook of his arm. “You make a fair point, I haven’t been very social have I?”

“You’re new and rather intimidating,” Ito said coolly, half shrugging and still staring at the place where the scars were. “It’s understandable you don’t want to talk.”

He shook his head, “But I do, I would like to get to know the others, perhaps I should take a step to change that. And get rid of this ridiculous wager in the process.” He turned on his heel and strode towards the door, hands in his pockets, posture thoughtful.

“Wait! Can you tell us what your power is before you go?” Griffin called, sounding frustrated. Ito punched his shoulder for being rude, but to both of their surprise Mosley called back with laughter in his voice: “I can earthbend! Like from Avatar, cool yeah?”

And the door shut behind him.

#my writing #arcane heros au #the glass scientists #the lodgers #can you tell who my favorite lodger is?

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fourteenacross · 7 years

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Alex/John, Helpless

This is the genderswap #fem4ham story I’ve low-key been thinking about for a year and a half, mostly because I am D Y I N G for fic with my girlfriend Morgan as AHam. (If you are unfamiliar with #fem4ham, GO NOW you’ll be enriched.)

It’s also a soulmate AU, which is a thing I’m not always into, but I am weirdly fascinated by. Up until five or six years ago, soulmate AUs made me really uncomfortable on a “free will” kind of level, but I read a couple really good ones and my feelings/preferences changed, as they are wont to do. I still think that they can be used as a shortcut for sloppy storytelling, but that’s true of any trope, really, and I do find the mechanics of them fascinating in a world-building sort of way, but probably not enough to ever write one myself.

So, with that all being said, let’s jump into this fake fic.

eta: holy hell, this is long. This is basically real fic towards the end. Maybe I’ll write this one–I’m halfway there already.

Jo Laurens is a professional do-gooder. She’s spent the past few years drifting and living on her trust fund and trying to figure out what she wants to do with her life. She graduated college a handful of years back and in the time since, she’s lived in a bunch of different cities working for non-profits on a pathetically low salary to help causes that are dear to her. She doesn’t have the temperament to rise to positions of power in most of these places–she’s got a love/hate relationship with authority, her need to please warring with her discomfort at being told what to do. She doesn’t have a ton of skills–she’s brilliant and a fantastic writer and a great graphic designer and artist, but so are a million other people and she’s largely self-taught. She doesn’t need to find a job because she doesn’t spend enough to even put a significant dent in her trust fund, but she gets bored easily and when she gets bored, she occasionally does things like court arguments with drunken assholes and then punch them.

She’s been in New York for the past while because it’s big and easy to get lost in. Something’s always happening, and her sort-of-friend Gilly, daughter of a French diplomat and one of the only one of her mother’s friends’ kids she’s ever gotten on with, lives in town with her boyfriend. Gilly has a zillion friends and is always trying to introduce her to people, but Jo’s not interested in a relationship. A relationship will tie her down when she wants to ~*~be free~*~, or so she tells Gilly. In reality, she’s afraid a relationship will make her sit still long enough to confront all the parts of herself she doesn’t like very much and realize that she has no goals, no dreams, no worth, no future.

Jo’s lucky, too–her younger brother found his soulmate a few years ago and she was even from another wealthy family. Martin and Daphne are already planning on having kids, so her mom’s stopped harassing her about settling down, especially because Jo claims that she’s waiting to find her soulmate so it doesn’t make sense to get serious with someone else.

See, in this world, soulmates are a thing that are documented and exist and all that, but finding your soulmate is extremely rare. No one is sure if everyone has a soulmate and some people just never meet theirs or if only a fraction of the population has a soulmate to begin with, but only about one in a hundred people actually meet and discover their soulmate. There might be some people who pass them on the street and never know–you discover who your soulmate is almost entirely by chance. When you first have skin-to-skin contact, their touch leaves behind a stain on your skin and that’s really the only indicator. Once you meet them and talk to them you’ll feel that pull, that knowledge that this is who you’ve been looking for, that well of love and affection, but until you have that skin to skin contact, you’ll never know for sure.

There are people who go around brushing against as many people as possible. There are people who are completely buttoned up all the time, terrified of ruining relationships they already have by finding the person they’re “supposed” to be with. There are people who try to fake those stains with tattoos and dyes, but it’s always obvious–no tattoo ink or dye can be as bright and bold as these soulmate marks.

Jo doesn’t necessarily care about finding her soulmate. It’s an easy lie to tell her mother, an easy way to keep from having to form connections with other people. She’s honestly not even sure she has a soulmate. In her darker moments, she doesn’t know why the universe would burden another person with her. Plus, her brother already found his and the odds of two people from the same family both finding their soulmate is astronomically low. Jo moves all over the place, she’s traveled everywhere, the last eighteen months she’s spent in New York is the longest she’s ever been one place. She’s not going to find this mythical perfect woman and she’s fine with that. In fact, she prefers it that way–why should she fall in love with this woman just because the universe tells her to? What about free will? What about her own desires? What about doing what she pleases? She doesn’t need anyone. And certainly no one needs her baggage dumped on them.

It’s a Monday in early June and Jo is fucking exhausted. It’s hot as balls and New York is gross in the summer and Gilly and Adrian had a party the night before that has her hungover and tired and grouchier than usual. She’s between gigs at the moment, but she told one of Gilly’s friends, a designer named Hera, that she’d drop by mid-morning to do some work for a fashion event she’s putting together. Well, it’s a fashion event, but it’s a fundraiser for a local non-profit supporting immigrants and refugees and it sounds like the kind of bleeding-rich-assholes-dry-for-a-good-cause benefit that Jo likes best, so she was happy to donate her services.

Or, rather, she was happy last night at seven pm, one drink into the night. At ten am on Monday morning, she’s having regrets.

She slinks into a Starbucks in her neighborhood to order the largest iced coffee she can get, and as she goes to move from the line at the register to the clump of people waiting at the bar, she almost barrels into someone. The girl grabs her shoulders to keep from falling to the ground and Jo grabs her waist to do the same thing and she looks up to say something shitty about watching where she’s going, and–

Freezes.

There’s something about this girl that robs her of her voice and her brain function and her breath. She’s short and slight and has dark, choppy, asymmetrical hair and dark eyes and her lips are parted as if she was about to say something and…froze. Just as Jo did.

Jo recovers first. “Uh…sorry,” she manages to say. The girls blinks at her and closes her mouth and Jo realizes that they’re still holding onto each other which is–unlike her. Normally she shies away from contact with…most people, actually, but especially strangers. She lets go of the girl’s waist, of her smooth, warm skin, bared under a messy crop top, and takes a step back. The girl drops her shoulders and clears her throat, just as someone at the bar shouts, “Jo!”

“That’s me,” Jo says. The girl is staring at her with wide eyes. “I need to–” Jo turns to grab her coffee and get moving and the girl finds her voice.

“No, wait!” she shouts, loud enough that Jo startles and so do a few of the people around them. Then a few of the people gasp and Jo looks around at them and then looks back to the girl. People have backed up, leaving a ring of space around them.

“What…?” Jo starts to ask, and then she sees it–the spot on the girl’s waist, the place where she had her hand just moments ago…it’s slowly filling in a deep teal in the shape of her handprint. She looks quickly to her own shoulders and, sure enough, her upper arms are turning the same color, right up to the edges of her tanktop.

Fuck.

Jo’s never thought for even a moment that this would happen to her. She has no plan, no idea of what to do next. So she does what she always does when she’s faced with something she doesn’t know how to process–she runs.

“I…have to go,” she sputters, and takes off out of the Starbucks without her five dollar iced coffee, despite the noises of surprise and confusion from the people around her, despite the way the girl says, “Wait, please, come back!” at her retreating back.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

Fuck.

She sprints down the street until she can hardly breathe and calls for a Lyft, then calls Gilly.

“Jo Laurens!” Gilly says with mock surprise. “You must be trapped in a well to actually use your phone to speak with another human.”

“Gill, I just met my soulmate,” Jo blurts out. She’s still breathing hard. She might be on the verge of hyperventilating.

Gilly all but squeals. “Tell me all about her!” she insists. “I imagine she’s beautiful. She must be bullheaded to be matched with you, as well. Send me a picture!”

“I…I don’t have one, she’s not here, I…I ran away.”

A car pulls up to the curb in front of her and Jo pulls the phone away from her ear, Gilly’s shriek of disbelief and string of French expletives far away as she confirms that she’s Joanna Laurens, yes, she’s going to that address in Chelsea, and then slides into the backseat of the car. When she puts the phone back up to her ear, Gilly is still screeching.

“–leave the poor girl, she’s going to be heartbroken and rejected and I know you have your own issues, but that’s just cruel, Joanna!”

“I know, I know, I know,” Jo says, still gasping. “I know, I shouldn’t have–but I couldn’t. I just….”

She trails off, because she doesn’t even know how to articulate what went through her head, what’s always going through her head, what she thinks when she meets a girl’s eyes and they smile at each other and she feels that pang in her chest of wanting someone to hold onto for more than a night.

Also, she still can’t quite breathe right.

“I’ve told you a million times!” Gilly says. “We have discussed this to death, Jo Laurens–you need to deal with your issues if you ever want to be with someone else. And I warned you that you might meet your soulmate and your window for dealing with those issues would be up, but did you listen?”

“Gilly, shut up,” Jo says miserably. She sniffs and she can almost hear Gill’s mouth snap shut on the other end of the phone line.

They both sit in silence as Jo’s Lyft twists and turns its way downtown. Then, softly, Gilly says, “Was she pretty?”

Jo laughs, but it’s a choked, wet sound. “She was fucking gorgeous,” Jo says. “East Asian or maybe mixed?” They’d have that much in common then–she wonders if the girl has the same thoughts that Jo has after growing up with a white mother who was occasionally ill-equipped to educate her half-black children. Not that Jo should be thinking about that because she doesn’t want this, she ran away from this, she’ll probably never see that girl again. She refocuses. “Slight. On the shorter side. Shorter than me, at least. She had amazing eyes. And an amazing mouth. Fuck.”

Jo swallows against the lump in her throat.

“Maybe you’ll meet her again!” Gilly says.

“I don’t want to!” Jo says. She’s not sure if it’s a lie. “That’s the whole point of this dumb soulmate thing–I could pretend I was just waiting for the right person even knowing that person was not likely to ever come! It was supposed to be a way to avoid all of this bullshit!”

“Well,” Gilly says. “It doesn’t look like it worked out that way for you. You should find her.”

Jo’s arrival at Hera’s office ends the conversation, so Jo begs off the call and overtips her Lyft driver and spends a couple minutes outside the building pacing around, trying to get herself together. When she thinks she’s calm enough to look mostly presentable, she heads upstairs.

Jo’s only met Hera a couple of times, but she likes her. She’s small and blonde and fierce and she has this way of talking anyone into doing anything with a smile on her face, even if it’s not in their best interest. She knows everything about everyone and she’s refreshingly straight with her friends. Jo doesn’t know if they’re friends yet, but Hera seems to think of her as a friend by association, at the very least.

Hera waves her in and sends her assistant to get Jo coffee and shows her to the meeting space she’ll be working in, gestures towards all of the different offices and tables with various fashion projects half-finished on them. Jo listens to her talk and calms down further and is basically a human again by the time she’s setting up her laptop and drawing tablet in her temporary workspace.

Hera says, “Let’s chat a little about what I’ve got in mind, but we should wait for my friend from the NPO to get here–she’s gonna want input. She’s got a fucking opinion on everything, believe me.”

“Sure,” Jo says, and she starts showing Hera some stuff she’s designed before and asks questions to get a feel for the event and looks at some of their old marketing stuff and just as she’s about to start fucking around with some style ideas, someone shouts Hera’s name.

“You will not fucking believe the goddamn morning I’ve had, Hera!” the same voice shouts, stomping across the office and somehow, even though she barely heard the girl’s voice, Jo knows. Something in her chest, her stomach, seizes up and she knows. Her throat goes tight and the beautiful girl from Starbucks–her soulmate–stomps into the room and then stops dead when she sees Jo.

“I’m sure you’ll tell me all about it,” Hera says to the girl and then pauses when she sees how the girl and Jo are staring at each other. Then starts when she sees the teal handprint on the girl’s waist. “Alex, did you meet–”

“You!” the girl shouts, pointing at Jo. “You…you…asshole!”

Jo holds up her hands in defense, slides her chair back across the floor until it hits the wall. “Listen–”

“Fuck you!” the girl spits. “I’m not listening to you, you didn’t listen to me! You fucking left me in Starbucks in the middle of a mob of people who all saw what happened! It was humiliating! And I’m fucking hard to humiliate, sweetheart.”

The girl has fire in her eyes and she’s beautiful and Jo’s insides are twisting into knots and she’s normally so good at this! She’s normally so good at getting into people’s faces, at shoving them out of the way, at fighting back with her words and her fists. Her mouth is bone dry, today, and her mind blank of everything except for how beautiful this girl is and the panic that’s slowly seeping into her.

“What the hell is going on?” Hera asks. Fuming, the girl marches over to Jo and yanks her cardigan off of one shoulder, showing the matching teal handprint there.

Hera looks back and forth between them, gaping. Jo was under the impression that Hera isn’t the type to gape, but apparently even she can be taken by surprise.

“Holy fuck,” she says. “What are the goddamn odds of that?”

“We met in Starbucks this morning,” the girl says, arms tightly crossed, and this close, Jo can see the hurt lurking under the firey anger, the way she’s holding herself a little too tightly. She feels even more like shit. “We bumped into each other and it started happening and–she fucking ran away.”

“I panicked.” Jo’s voice is small and hoarse when it comes back from wherever it had retreated to. “I didn’t know what to–I just panicked.”

The girl sniffs, arms still crossed. “Humiliated,” she repeats.

“I’m sorry,” Jo murmurs.

Hera clears her throat. “It seems as if you two need to clear the air before we get started. Imma get some coffee and a doughnut. You’ve got ten minutes.” She starts to leave the room and pauses in the doorway. “Don’t have sex on my table,” she says. Jo feels herself blush.

Hera closes the door behind her and the girl drops into the seat across from Jo. First things first.

“Jo Laurens.”

“Alex Hamilton. Explain. Are you like, super straight or something?”

Jo can’t help the bark of laughter that escapes her. “No,” she says quickly. “The opposite. I’m…really, really gay. But…it’s hard to explain. The whole concept of soulmates–I don’t like it. It feels…weird and awkward and I’m really shit at relationships. I don’t want one. Not now, probably not ever. I’m sorry I freaked out, it was just not at all how I expected my morning to go. Especially not pre-coffee.”

Alex smiles just a little and it’s even more beautiful than her scowl. “Yeah, I get that. The pre-coffee thing, I mean. You still shouldn’t have run, that was really fucking shitty.”

“I know,” Jo admits. “If it makes you feel better, I felt like an asshole on my entire ride over here and my friend verbally kicked my ass about it on the phone the whole way.”

“It does make me feel a little better,” Alex says, that smile widening a little more. Then she frowns and looks at Jo with her head tilted, like she’s studying her. “Are you ace or aro?” she asks.

“No,” Jo says. “I just…can’t do relationships.”

Alex is still staring at her thoughtfully. “You know, not all soulmates are romantic. Maybe we’re supposed to be platonic soulmates. Best friends or partners in crime or something.”

It’s not unheard of, but it is exceedingly rare. And Jo knows–she can feel that pull, that flutter. She wants Alex. Intensely so. But, god, she probably won’t even be in New York another six months. And who knows how long she has left to live before her past and her risky behavior catch up to her. Why should she listen to some weird quirk of the universe that says she’s supposed to be with this person, even if it’s just going to hurt them in the end? If she’s really supposed to fall in love with Alex, wouldn’t it be better to spare her the pain?

“Maybe,” Jo allows quietly.

“So, maybe we should at least be friends?” Alex says. “I mean, especially if we’re both gonna be working with Hera on this thing. Running away from each other all the time will probably get weird.”

“Yeah,” Jo agrees, smiling automatically. Alex smiles back and then they’re grinning at each other like idiots and this is…not a good decision. This is going to hurt Alex. It’s going to hurt her, too, but she’s used to that, at least.

“Best friends and partners in crime, then?” Alex asks, offering her hand.

“Yeah,” Jo repeats. She shakes Alex’s hand and doesn’t want to let go.

Fuck.

So, Jo and Alex exchange numbers and Hera comes back in with coffee and doughnuts and looks suspicious that they haven’t had sex all over the table. But they start working on this event together and it’s eerie how well their ideas coalesce. They’ve known each other for a morning and they already work together like they’ve been partners for years. By the end of their three hour planning meeting, they’re finishing each other’s sentences and laughing at stupid jokes and Jo is fucking smitten.

Gilly texts her at lunch and begs her to come over for dinner to spill, which she reluctantly does. She shows Gilly pictures (because they’re already Facebook friends and Twitter friends) and is unsurprised to learn that Gilly already knows Alex, that they’re met at a couple parties and always meant to hang out more but never got around to it. Gilly doesn’t believe that they’re just going to be platonic friends for even a second, no matter how hard Jo tries to drive that point home.

“You think being best friends with this girl is going to magically protect her from heartbreak if you do something awful?” Gilly says. “You think she won’t be crushed if you disappear if you’re ‘just friends’?”

She does finger quotes and Jo hates her a little.

“It’s easier this way,” Jo says, and Gilly huffs in a very haughty French way and Jo changes the subject.

But she knows Gilly’s right. She and Alex start texting all the time. They start hanging out all the time. They start talking on the phone all the time, which is…well. Jo barely even talks on the phone to her family, to Gilly. She hates the phone. And yet, night after night she finds herself talking to Alex until far past when either of them should be up, sharing their secrets and their pasts. Alex tells her all about her work at the NPO, about law school, about fighting her way up from nothing, about the ugly weight of the model minority expectations, about scraping by on her own. Jo tells Alex about how she’s directionless and vacant, how she doesn’t know how to be a person, how she can’t seem to connect to people the way other people do. She tells Alex a little bit about her family–Martin’s wedding and her mother’s weird expectations and her dead father whom she misses desperately and her little brother and sister who barely know who she is anymore. She even tells Alex a little about Jamie, though she doesn’t go into the aftermath. She doesn’t tell Alex is was her fault.

They go out and do things together, too, and Alex flirts up a storm with her, but she always laughs awkwardly and shrugs her off. Alex bullies Jo into dancing with her after she complains that no one at the clubs wants to dance when they see Jo’s handprint on her hip (and apparently Jo’s suggestion that she wear longer shirts is not the reaction she’s looking for). She hangs off of Jo and Jo allows it and pretends her entire body isn’t on fire the entire time. She sits on Jo’s lap, plays with Jo’s hair, holds Jo’s hand and Jo is too much of a coward to stop her. She’s also too much of a coward to let it go too far–she pulls Alex’s hand away from her thigh when it starts to creep up too high, she pushes Alex away when she tries to kiss Jo, even playfully.

“Partners in crime,” Jo reminds her.

Alex rolls her eyes. “Yeah, keep telling yourself that,” she says, and then twirls away before Jo can protest.

And, of course, they work together. At first, it’s just on Hera’s event, but their ideas intersect in too many ways. Soon, Jo is taking photos and making illustrations for Alex’s NPO and then Alex’s personal blog. Then they’re writing articles together–just quick things that go up on Medium or Alex’s site, but the number of views is a little humbling. One of the pieces gets so much traction that Jo gets a call from her mother out of the blue.

“Since when are you a political writer?” she asks casually after some very obvious small talk about Martin and Harriet and Michael.

“What do you mean?” Jo asks.

“There’s an essay making the rounds at work,” she says. “You and some girl–Alexandra something?”

Jo makes a mental note to tell Alex that their work has made the rounds in the South Carolina state legislature.

“Hamilton,” Jo says. “Alexandra Hamilton. She’s a friend.”

“You’re all over her Facebook,” her mother says. Fuck. She forgot that Alex’s Facebook is largely public.

“We’re best friends,” Jo says. “Partners in crime,” she adds automatically, and then winces.

“Mmhm,” her mother says and Jo prays that Alex hasn’t posted any pictures where Jo’s mark is visible.

So Jo and Alex become this weird power couple-who-aren’t-a-couple. Lots of people know them because Alex knows fucking everyone and drags Jo everywhere with her. Everyone assumes they’re dating, especially when Jo forgets to cover her shoulders. (Alex is fucking OBSESSED with crop tops and hi-lo shirts and all sorts of shit that flashes the edge of her waist. Jo thinks she does it just to drive her crazy because it does, it drives her out of her mind, she wants to put her hands there again, trace the mark she left behind. She wants to put her mouth there.) Alex doesn’t do anything to disabuse them of that notion and Jo doesn’t give more than a token protest. People invite them to collaborate on things as a couple. They invite them out as a couple. Gilly gives them an open invitation to her house out in Montauk and Alex buys three bikinis and Jo buys a very expensive vibrator. It’s torture.

And also fucking amazing. Because Jo is starting to understand why people are into this soulmate thing. Being around Alex is like being high–it’s better than being high. It’s all of that euphoria and love for the world without any of the side effects. It’s that carefree bliss, like she’s speeding down the highway going 80 with the windows down and nothing but miles of open road ahead of her. She still doesn’t have a future or a plan or much of a desire to keep going forward, but she has Alex and there are a lot of days–more and more as time goes on–where that almost seems like enough, all on its own.

So this goes on for the whole summer–all of June and July and August, through a long Labor Day weekend at the beach with Gilly and Adrian and all their friends, and into September. The end of September is Hera’s event, which means that not only is Jo spending all her downtime with Alex, but they’re working together all day every day as well. More than one evening ends with them both going back to the same apartment and passing out in the same bed and Jo really wishes she didn’t know what it was like to wake up next to Alex Hamilton. Jo is so, so tired from the long hours and the constant pining and her own stupid brain telling her that they need to stay best friends, they can’t do anything else, especially not now that Jo loves her.

Because she does. At some point over the summer, it became very clear to Jo that she’s deeply, unshakably in love with Alex. Love like she’s never felt, love down to her very atoms. Earthshaking love. And she knows that means she should act, she should tell Alex. She knows that Alex is in love with her and wants her all the time. But she can’t. She can’t let herself hurt Alex like that, because she still knows that’s what she’ll end up doing. She’s not sure how–the quiet urge to walk off the pier or step in front of a bus isn’t as strong as it used to be, but it’s still there in the background and, beyond that, Jo knows she’s no good. She knows she only hurts people, the way she hurt her best friend Marty who she knew was in love with her and led on anyway, the way she hurt Frances by pushing her away and claiming their relationship didn’t mean anything to her, the way she hurt Jaime by turning away at the wrong moment, by being more obsessed with her own stupid life, with talking to her stupid girlfriend on the phone, than she was with making sure her baby sister was safe.

Jo hurts people and Jo loves Alex and she can’t bring that all down on Alex’s head.

Hera’s event rolls up and of course, Jo and Alex get invitations without paying the $500-a-plate fee. They even mostly have the night off–Hera tells them to relax and let the admin staff handle things, to eat and watch the show and enjoy themselves. Jo knows they’re both shit at being hands-off and knows they’ll probably be running around all night asking for updates from the staff, but she pretends she’s going as a guest anyway. She puts on a dress that Hera got for her–something beautiful and intricate that Hera made herself–and heels and make-up and jewelry. She calls a car to the event space and stumbles out, annoyed at how second nature this all feels after years of political fundraisers. She’s on her way in the side entrance, away from the press, when she hears Alex call out, “Why, Joanna Laurens, you look ravishing.”

Jo rolls her eyes and turns to snap something to Alex about how Hera deserves all the credit, but she freezes when she turns around.

Because Alex. Shit. Alex looks like royalty.

Sure, Alex would get dressed up to go out dancing every once in a while, but this is…this is a floor-length gown and flawless make-up and heels that are high enough that she’s at least as tall as Jo. Her shoulder-length, choppy hair is pulled back and secured with a beautiful silver clip and Jo’s hands itch to pull it out and run her hands through Alex’s hair.

Jo wants to put her hands a lot of places, actually, from Alex’s bare back to the flash of thigh visible through the slit in her dress, the curve of her neck, her delicate collar bones, the swell of her breasts, the dip of her waist where Jo knows her mark is hidden. She’s honestly stupid with love and lust, fumbling for any sort of response.

“Um,” she says.

“Oh, hey, did Hera make your dress, too?” Alex asks as if nothing is wrong, as if Jo’s head isn’t exploding.

“Yeah,” Jo manages to say.

“I’ll never fucking understand the extent of that girl’s talent–your dress is perfect for you and it’s totally different from mine. You can’t even tell they’re made by the same person. Fashion is weird.”

“Uh-huh,” Jo says.

“Do you wanna go inside?” Alex asks when Jo doesn’t say anything else and Jo makes herself rally and not burst into tears and forces a smile and nod and follows Alex into the building.

And Jo sort of gets her wits back about her, but not really. She’s still constantly awed by Alex, who argues vehemently with people at their table about healthcare and makes shitty remarks about their least favorite admin who keeps fucking things up and grabs her hand to pull her around to check on the gift bags when they notice two of the staff losing their minds quietly in the corner.

Hera catches them halfway to the last one and shoos them away.

“You’re not here to work!” she reminds them. “Go dance or something!”

She winks at Jo after she says it, like she knows all about the meltdown Jo is currently having in her mind.

Alex drags her to the dance floor and it’s like a whole different experience than the dancing Alex makes her do when they go out. Yes, obviously, first off because it’s a formal dance at a fancy banquet and not drunken flailing at a club, but also because Alex is soft against her and keeps grinning like they’re in on a secret. It’s the same grin Alex always uses around her, their partners-in-crime grin, the one that she flashes after all of their weird inside jokes and quiet moments together.

More than all of that, though, they’re touching each other. And yes, they touch each other all the time, but not like this. Alex’s hand is right where it was that first morning, right over one of the teal marks on her skin. She’s never touched it since–they’re all over each other all the time, but she’s never more than incidentally brushed that spot. She goes out of her way not to touch it. Similarly, Jo’s hand is on Alex’s waist, right where she touched her that first day, right where she’s been wanting to touch ever since. She knows that’s where it is because she’s memorized it, where it falls on Alex’s body, exactly how the color sprawls out. There’s a layer of thin satin between Jo’s hand and that mark, but she knows her fingers are in exactly the right spaces.

Alex’s thumb rubs against her shoulder, right on the edge of her mark, the straight line where her tanktop started that morning.

“If I knew this was all it took for you to put your hands there,” Alex jokes, but her eyes are serious. Jo tightens her grip and they flutter closed and then open again. “Jo….”

“We need to talk,” Jo blurts out, hysteria tinging her voice. Because fuck this, fuck all of it, fucking hurting Alex, fucking hurting herself, fuck her spite for this system, fuck her refusal to let herself be happy, she’s sure she’ll die if she goes another day without telling Alex about all of these feelings building up inside of her.

“Okay,” Alex murmurs. “I thought we might.”

She steps back, lets go of Jo’s shoulder, and Jo immediately regrets it. The part of her skin covered by the mark feels warm, and not just where Alex was touching her–the whole mark. It’s throbbing pleasantly in time with her heart as she takes Alex’s hand and lets her lead them out of the main room and down a side corridor.

They know all the rooms in the building after weeks of setting up this whole show, so it’s not hard for Alex to find a side door that leads out to the center courtyard. It’s dark–they didn’t rent this part of the building for the night–but it’s never truly dark in the city and there’s more than enough light to see by as they sit down on one of the benches.

“So,” Alex says. “You ready to talk? Cause I’ve been ready since that first morning in Starbucks.”

“Alex,” Jo says, and she’s embarrassed by how her voice wobbles, but Alex closes her mouth and looks chastened, at least.

They’re both quiet for a minute.

“I knew,” Jo finally said. “From the first second I knew. From the first second I wanted this. But I couldn’t–I can’t. I couldn’t. I don’t know. I shouldn’t, but I’m going to.”

“Baby, use your words,” Alex says and Jo almost laughs with how much she wants to smack her shoulder in frustration like she always does when Alex is being shitty.

“I’m a disaster,” Jo says instead. “I always have been. I hurt people. Everyone. Everyone who loves me, I hurt them or worse. And I love you so much that I can’t bear the thought of hurting you, but I also can’t bear the thought of never having you. It’s awful. It’s selfish.”

“Honey,” Alex says softly.

“No, it is, I am,” Jo says. “I don’t deserve this, you don’t deserve to be stuck with me, but I’ve tried for months to ignore it and I can’t. I can’t trick myself into not wanting you and I’m not noble enough to keep you away any longer. I want you. All the time. Constantly. And I can’t be your best friend anymore without also wanting to kiss you and I can’t bear the thought of my life without you and I kind of hate that we slammed into each other that day, but I also can’t imagine trading a second of the past few months for a life without you. So.”

She exhales and looks up. Alex is smiling at her. It’s not the ‘I won!’ smile that Jo was expecting, but the soft, secret, inside joke smile. Jo nearly melts on the spot.

“Ditto, all of that,” Alex says, waving her hand dismissively. “Except all that self-hating bullshit that I’m gonna train you the fuck out of. I knew from the first second. That’s half of why I was so mad at your for leaving that morning–my stomach lurched and I knew, I felt it. I wasn’t in love with you yet, but I was halfway there and it felt like you ran away with half my heart.”

“Not far,” Jo says. “But I’m sorry.”

“I know,” Alex says and squeezes her hand. “I don’t know what I would have done if you weren’t at Hera’s that day. Probably torn apart social media to find you. But you were and I had you and I’ve had you ever since and I would have been your best friend for as long as it took, but I’m really, really fucking glad I can finally kiss you.”

Jo makes a sound that’s halfway between a laugh and a sob and then Alex does. Alex kisses her.

They kiss a lot. A lot. They don’t have sex in the courtyard, much to Jo’s consternation (”I waited fucking months for this, you can wait half an hour to get back to your apartment, jesus christ, Laurens.”) (Hera sees them on the way out and shouts after them, “It’s about time–and if you so much as fold either of those dresses the wrong way, I’m gonna fucking kill you both!”), but they do a lot of kissing and laughing and crying and then end up in a cab back to Jo’s place, because Alex lives in fucking Queens and if Jo has to wait that long, they might end up having sex in the back of the cab.

A few hours later, with Hera’s dresses neatly hung and the both of them pleased and fucked out, Alex hops out of bed and goes over to the desk and pulls a notebook out of one of the drawers. Jo vaguely recognizes it–Alex has dozens of notebooks, one for each of her projects, and at least half of them live at Jo’s place and have for weeks. Alex climbs back into bed and accepts a kiss from Jo and then opens the cover of the notebook.

“Okay,” she says. “Now that we’ve gotten that taken care of, we can move on to some other administrative matters.”

“Administrative matters?” Jo parrots. “About our relationship?” She doesn’t know why she’s surprised.

“Yes,” Alex says. She fishes her bag off the floor and finds her glasses. “I kept a list of questions about our future that I didn’t want to ask you when we were best friends.” She pauses. “I mean, we’re still best friends. Partners in crime. Just now we’re also this, right?” She gestures between the two of them. “Best friends who are in love and are going to get married?”

Married. Jesus. Jo nods mutely.

“Great!” Alex says. “That’s one of the questions.” Jo looks more closely at the notebook as Alex circles the Y on the line that says Marriage? Y/N

“You made a list,” Jo says on a nervous laugh. “Of course you fucking did.”

“Well, I didn’t want to make you anxious with questions about our future when you were still convinced we were just platonic buddies!” Alex says. “But I didn’t want to forget them. So. Marriage, yes. Marriage subquestion–how big? Like, a courthouse thing, an elopement, a real wedding? If we have a real wedding, how many people? Will your family be coming? Just your brothers and sister or your mom too? Extended family? Honeymoon, yes or no? Kids, yes or no and, if yes, how many?”

Jo starts to laugh so hard she can’t stop herself. Alex. Fucking Alex. Jo loves her.

“You’re such a nerd!” she says.

“Yeah, well,” Alex says, but she can pretend to be disgruntled as she wants–Jo can see her smile, hear it in her voice. “I’m your nerd.”

“You are,” Jo says.

“Always have been,” Alex says, and wraps her arms around Jo, kissing the mark on her shoulder.

“I think you have,” Jo agrees quietly, and then they forget about the notebook again until morning.

The end!

#not writing meme #fic by me #sort of #lams #john laurens #alexander hamilton #ish #genderswap #fem4ham #i've never really been super into genderswap before #but i am super into it in this fandom #probably because lin went and put morgan and jasmine in my head as alex and john #which is an attack on me personally

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lu-undy · 4 years

Note

Hi! 💘 Snipers hair has become pretty long, and Spy cant decide between braiding it or cutting it. -🐑💕

Well, when you give me a choice, I go for both ^^!

The summer was hot but the Australian was used to it. That Sunday, he was wearing an old tanktop and a pair of shorts. He was changing the oil on his campervan when a shadow appeared next to him.

"Hm… What have we here? A lightly dressed man in the middle of the desert?"

Sniper smiled as he had recognised the voice whose French accent sung beautifully in his ears.

"It almost looks like a fantasy. A half-naked man out of petrol in the desert…"

"I'm just changin' the oil, luv'."

"So much for imagination…"

Spy got closer to his lover and waited for him to finish. He noticed Sniper kept on pushing his hair back behind his ear. The Australian's hair had grown to his shoulder and it was flowing free.

"What are ya…?"

"I'm braiding your hair. That way it won't fly everywhere."

"Oh…"

Sniper stopped moving. He felt Spy's fingers through his hair and his brown locks waved. He found it relaxing and closed his eyes.

"Hmm…" He moaned low and slow.

Spy chuckled.

"Don't mock me… If ye had long hair and someone to take care of it like that, you'd love it too."

"So you love it?" Spy asked.

"As much as I do you."

The Frenchman stopped braiding for a split second and bit his lip. He knew his lover to be shy and not very talkative so on the very few occasions that he would signify his love, Spy would fall in his own mind, his whole soul collapsing to shambles. Melting. He was melting.

He smiled and continued braiding.

"Do you…" Sniper started. He frowned. "D'you like my hair being long like that?"

Spy's eyebrow twitched but he understood. Sniper had taken the opportunity of them not facing each other to ask him, so that he could ask, because otherwise the Frenchman's ice blue eyes would be too intimidating.

"I love it. You have magnificent hair. It's wavy, soft and still all brown, not a shred of grey… You are beautiful and your hair is too."

Sniper blushed and smiled.

"Voilà, this is done."

"Thanks, darl'."

"The pleasure is mine."

"There, now we're good. Remove yer fingers, careful… There!"

With a bang, the Australian shut the bonnet and turned to the Frenchman.

"I'm all yours now, Spook."

"Only now?"

Sniper smiled.

"Y'know what I meant… Come in…"

They both hopped in the van. The Australian sat down and his lover took a seat on his lap. Spy wrapped his arms around his lover's neck.

"Oh, w-what's all this about…?"

Spy's gaze was more than clear with his half-open, shining and dilated pupils.

"I am just under your charm."

"W-well… I uh, alroight."

Spy tilted his head and chuckled.

"You look adorable, even more so with your braid."

"A-am I?"

"Oui."

"I uh, I'm not sure about it, especially in this heat. I sometimes wish it was shorter but eh…"

"You can still have a haircut if you want. I like you hair short too."

"Yeah, well, can't really."

"Why?"

"Usually, I get my mum to do it for me."

Sniper looked distraught for a fleeting moment. Spy saw it behind his aviator glasses, on his lagoon blue eyes.

"If you want a haircut, I can do it for you."

Sniper raised his eyes to his lover.

"Y-you?"

"Oui. I have been a barber for a few years, as an undercover job. I still have a reputation in that field. But, mon amour, I won't force you. It is only if you want it."

Sniper's eyes darted left and right.

"Well, if you know how to do it, uh… Y-yeah, I'd like it. Long hair with this kind of summer is just tirin'."

"Right. Let me know when you want me to do it. I will just collect a few things from my room and we can start."

"Oh, uh, alroight, whenever you want really, I don't have anything to do."

Spy gave his lover a malicious look.

"Let's do it tonight… I have my little idea of how to do this. Also, I want to swim in your hair one last time…"

Sniper's eyebrows moved up and he opened round eyes. The Frenchman smirked as he removed his lover's aviator glasses. And then the tall man felt it. Spy was resting his arms on the Australian's shoulders and he was undoing the braid, their faces a mere inch from each other's. The tension one could seize and the attraction, magnetic. Their eyes went down to the other's lips. Spy pressed his forehead on Sniper's.

"Why are you undoing my hair?" The Australian whispered.

Spy smirked and closed his eyes.

"Shhh… Arrête de te poser tant de questions…"

[Stop asking yourself so many questions.]

Sniper was about to ask for a translation but a pair of soft lips stopped him and washed his mind blank. He felt his hair flow free and Spy slid his fingers through it, brushing through the wavy locks, going up and massaging the marksman's head slowly.

And it won him a moan from the shy man whose eyebrows sank, giving up their grip to reality. Sniper pulled the Frenchman's hips towards him as he laid back. Spy pushed him with his hands and his lips too and broke the kiss to whisper.

"I didn't know I could love a man and I didn't know I could love one with long hair, but mon Dieu, how much you make me want you…"

Sniper's cheeks turned as red as a brick.

"Ah, I mean-hm!"

The Frenchman didn't let him have any chance to speak…

About an hour later, Sniper was resting his head on his lover's bare chest. They were lying in bed and the Frenchman was playing with the Aussie's hair.

"Y'like it, eh?"

"Your hair?"

"Hm."

"Oui, I do… I find it extremely sensual."

"Oh, uh, so… You don't want to cut it?" Sniper asked.

"Non, non, you misunderstood me. I love it either way. When it's long, it feels like an ocean of softness sliding between my fingers, but when you have it short… It makes you look extremely more manly and dangerously attractive…"

Sniper turned hot under the description. Spy was such an intense man, so much more so than himself. He wasn't afraid of letting his emotions show and expressing them, with Sniper only though. On the battlefield, the man would have a heart of stone and a steel mind of focus. But the Australian now knew how romantic and even passionate Spy became under the sheets…

"It feels colder now. Let us go outside and I can cut your hair, shall we?"

Sniper raised his eyes.

"Yeah, sure. Uh, thanks."

"Thank me when the job is done."

They slipped on some clothes and walked out of the van. The sun was finishing to set.

"Let me bring a few tools, I will be right back. Meanwhile, place two chairs here and wait for me."

"Alroight."

A few minutes later the Frenchman came back.

"Bien. I see you have prepared everything."

"Yeah, like you did."

Spy unrolled his tools on the second chair and pulled his lover's back slightly, his hair flowed beautifully down. He kissed his forehead and asked:

"So, what shall we do?"

"I, uh, I don't know really. Just cut it nice I guess."

Spy rolled his eyes with a smile.

"Fine, I will sort it out myself."

"Sorry…"

"Don't apologise. Now, are you comfortable like this, looking up slightly?"

"Uh, y-yeah I guess."

Spy smiled.

"Clearly you are not, let me grab a pillow from the van."

Sniper blushed and a few seconds later the Frenchman came back and put his lover at ease.

"Fine, now you are comfortable. Shall I proceed?"

"Sure… Uh, luv'?"

"Oui?"

Sniper was looking up at Spy.

"C-can I uh… Can I have a kiss before you start please?"

The Frenchman gave him a sweet smile.

"You can for sure and you may too…"

Their lips met briefly between their grins.

"Thanks."

"Now look at the horizon and relax. You may close your eyes if you want."

"Oh, alroight…"

The Australian did as he was told and closed his eyes. He heard Spy's lighter and soon after, he could smell the smoke of the menthol cigarettes. Sniper heard the fast and precise clicks of the scissors and felt the comb tracing paths through his hair. Spy frowned to focus on the task at hand and the locks of hair fell on the orange now dark ground of the desert.

Click, click, click…

Sometimes Spy would push Sniper's head to tilt on the left or the right. But soon, he whispered a song to himself, just to fill the silence and the click of the scissors melted away. The only thing Sniper could hear was the suave voice of the menthol smoke.

"Quand tu me prends dans tes bras,

[When you hold me in your arms,]

Tu me parles tout bas,

[You whisper very low,]

Je vois la vie en rose…"

[I see life through rosy glasses]

It was mellow and soft, just like the Frenchman was outside of work and only for the eyes of the man with whom he allowed himself to be vulnerable.

The clicks of the scissors continued and Sniper felt that his head was tremendously lighter now.

"Hm… You may open your eyes, I finished."

The Australian did as he was told and saw the halo of the moonlight illuminating the Frenchman's silhouette.

"Look here, what do you think?"

Spy held a small mirror in front of Sniper's face.

"Woah… You got a talent for haircuts, luv'... I look good!"

He turned his face left and right to see the sides better.

"It's even better than when my mum does it."

"Short on the sides and behind and a bit longer at the top with a little tuft at the front. I think it suits your face, your age and your personality."

"You made me look amazing, I-I can barely recognise myself…!"

Spy dusted off his lover's hair from his shoulders and back.

"You need a good shower now, mon amour."

[my love]

"D'you… Uh… D'you think I could use your bathroom in the base rather than the common one?"

"I would love you to." Sniper's face brightened up. "Especially if I can shower with you."

#tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #sniperspy

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a-jynx · 5 years

Text

Lost in the Heart & at Sea; Chapter One: Love Letters & Shipwrecks

Summary: Sam and Nathan Drake finds themselves running in circles when they catch wind of a new treasure that was supposedly lost to the sea; the Diamond of the Pacific, a ring that was meant for Captain Jules wife. With enemies at every corner, they’ll need all the help they can get… Including, inside jobs. How will Sam and Nathan react when they figure out who Y/N really is? How will Sam react when she shows him sides of her no one else has seen?

Pairing: Sam Drake x reader; mentions Nathan Drake, Elena Fisher, Victor Sullivan, Nadine Ross, Rafe Adler,

Warnings: Cursing, blood/violence, gun violence, implied smut, angst, testing fate/loyalty, major injury,

Notes: This is the first Uncharted Series I have ever attempted, so, I apologize now if it turns out horrible :) I’ve taken a strong liking to the Drake boys once again, and I don’t plan on seizing up hopefully! However, I will still take request for SPN, and other shows/video games! Send an Ask and you’ll be added to my drafts to be written! :) 💖

Enjoy! Feedback is appreciated!

I woke with a growl, rubbing at the knot that had formed on the back of my head. “Dammit.” Glancing around, I noted that I was in a hotel room that I didn’t recognize as the one from Italy. Pushing myself up onto my elbows, I sat up fully with a huff as I cracked my neck, frowning at the stiffness that warped through my aching bones.

“Good to see Drake didn’t kill you, I would’ve had to shoot him,” Nadine spoke as I glance over, furrowing my brows as she stuck out a glass of water, sighing I thanked her and took a sip. “How’s your head feeling?” She asked, sitting in the desk chair as I frowned, rubbing a hand down my face with a scoff. “My head’s fine, I’m not dead. But... The cross,”

“Y/N, you tried... I know I usually want 110% from you since you’re my right-hand gal, but... You had it until Nathan Drake came barreling in like some bull in a china shop.” Nadine frowned as I shrugged gently, glancing down at my outfit to see my suit had been replaced by my pale tanktop and my army green cargo shorts. “Besides, Rafe found something better...” Nadine smirked as I looked up, frowning as I shook my head. “There can be nothing better than Henry Avery’s treasure, Nadine.”

“But, there can be.” She jutted out her index as I deepened my frown before pushing up from the comfortable bed, moving towards her as she turned in her seat and shoved a few books off to the side before showing a few pieces of old, torn papers that held something that resembled... Coordinates?

“Alright, I’ll bite, what the hell?”

“Since Rafe expressed his anger with the cross being stolen, he demanded that he got something to replace the thing... So, in return, the woman running the auction gave him this,” she paused, handing me one of the papers that resembled a diary entry.

My love,

I am afraid that your gift will never arrive and neither will I. I chose the wrong life, my sweet, for I should’ve chosen you. If this letter is to ever reach you then you shall know that I tried... I tried to give you the sea, but it only took me away from you. I do hope you know how much I love you, Merina... My God, I love you.

Your Jules.

“Okay, so, some pirate-”

“Captain Charles Jules,” Nadine added as I nodded, continuing.

“Right. Captain Charles Jules was coming home to give his wife something that related to the sea... But, it was lost just like his body was to the cruel waves.” I murmured the last part, thinking about the poor bastard’s wife and how she must’ve never truly known about her husband's death, or just how deeply he wanted to please her. So sad...

“Poor man, but the last thing he writes are the coordinates of where his ships sank, and that could lead us to the Diamond of the Pacific.” Nadine grinned like the Devil as I cocked a brow, dropping the piece of paper back in front of her as I frowned. “Diamond of the Pacific? Do we even know what that could be?” Nadine merely frowned.

“Not yet, but there are a few more mentions of this Diamond throughout his entries, and Rafe is stating that it’s most likely not a real diamond.” She sighed, flipping through a few more pages as I laughed, grabbing one of the stone-like paperweights and tossing it up and down. “Well, I guess Captain Jules never learned that diamonds are a girl’s best friend.”

“Ha! I’ve never seen you wear diamonds, not even when needing to play fancy.” Nadine scoffed with a snort as I grinned, twirling the paperweight in hand with a smirk. “I didn’t say they were mine, I’m more of... Sapphire or emerald type of gal.” Nadine nodded, smirking. She went to say something, only to be cut short as her cell rang, making me set the paperweight down and move away, thinking it was an important call.

My mind slowly floated back to the other night, it whirling as I thought of... Sam Drake. He had to have known something was off about me, especially when Nadine came running down the hall screaming my name like a madman. I couldn’t help but chuckle at the memory. Why was he so... Keen on knowing who I was? What was his motive of knowing my true name? Damn him, anyway, even if he was one of the more attractive men I’ve met in my field.

“Y/N! Pack your bags,” Nadine moved towards me as I turned, furrowing my brows as she smirked. “We’re heading on a little vacation.” She slipped her phone into her pocket, making me cross my arms over my chest as I sent her another look of ‘to where exactly?’

“I hope you brought your swimsuit, I hear Bora Bora is extremely lovely this time of year.”

I pressed myself against the door, tying my hair back as Nadine and Rafe discussed the diamond’s hiding place further, but I couldn’t help but push them out of my thoughts. The sun was shining bright above head while the heavy winds bellowed through the open windows, my bangs tangling and flying around my aviators as I couldn’t help but smile.

“Y/N!” Rafe shouted over the wind as I scooted forward, pushing the sunglasses down some on my nose with a grin. “Yes, Mr. Adler!”

“I hope you realize just how important this treasure is now, right?” He shouted as I swallowed, thinking back to Henry’s cross. He must blame me... “Yes, sir, I do realize this.”

“Then, you know that you must be ready to shoot, be shot at, and work until you’re sweatin’ like a pig!” Rafe laughed as I furrowed my brows, frowning some before stealing a glance at Nadine, who held an intense glare while keeping her head forward. “Yes, sir, I’m well-prepared for anything ahead of us.” I nod, puffing out my chest slightly as he glanced back at me in the rearview mirror. “Atta’ girl!” Rafe howled into the wind before pressing down on the gas, causing Nadine to hiss through clenched teeth and gather a death grip on her leather seat, I quickly do the same. This man is going to end up killing us...

“So,” I echoed as Nadine and I walked through the hotel hallways, attempting to find our shared room. “What exactly is our plan? I know you ended up bringing the Shoreline to help with this, but... I don’t think I’m ready to murder people in cold blood.” I huffed as she paused, humming before entering our keycard and pushing into the cool room. It held a more tropical sense, the walls were sky blue and fake palm trees tried to hide the few markings that weren’t supposed to be there. All of the furniture was a black stained bamboo wood that was accompanied by a deep red comforter -- it looked comfortable enough.

“I know you’re concerned with this job, Y/N, but... Rafe is promising enough money to give us both a nice life, along with landslides into retirement.” She grinned as I scoffed at the thought, but snorted at the thought of Nadine Ross entering retirement. “Please, I’m only 35, jerk.” I moved around her, throwing my bag onto the bed as she did the same. “Also, I don’t know about you but I’m going to go explore the market, care to join?”

“I would love too, but I need to get these coordinates figured out and which island I need to send the Shoreline and where that diamond could possibly be hidden.” Nadine murmured, reaching into her pack and yanking out books and maps that would’ve drove me mad ages ago. “Suit yourself! If you need me, you’ve got my number.” I called over my shoulder before exiting the room, pulling at my ponytail, and shaking it out before entering the small elevator; the silver doors slowly closing. “Hey, hold that ride down!” A gravelly voice shouted, causing me to thrust my hand out and stop the doors from closing.

A tall man came running, an old white tank top that was peeking out from the open Hawaiian shirt which was accompanied by light wash jeans. The light scruff and curly, yet unruly brown hair showed how late he was, along with the sunglasses hiding his dark circles -- which I may happen to be doing the same.

“Thank you, my dear lady,” he grinned, climbing in before pressing the lobby button before jutting his thumb at the buttons. “Different floor?” I shook my head. “Nope, the same place you’re going, flower boy,” I smirked as he furrowed his brows, only to what I assumed was glanced down and let out a chuckle. “Ha, flower boy, that’s a new one.” I grinned as the soft elevator music played, seeming to give us a soft atmosphere around us. I swept my hand through my wave of hair, allowing the thick mess to breathe as I gently sighed.

“So,” Flower boy tsked suddenly, making me glance at him over my aviator's lens. “What brings a girl like you to a place like this? Honeymoon? One-year anniversary?” He couldn’t help but smirk as I scoffed, puffing up the back of my hair once again. “Oh, please, like any man could handle this.” I rolled my bottom lip between my teeth as I crossed my arms, puffing out my chest as his dark eyes trailed up and down my body making heat crawl up my throat and into my face. “Ah, so... You’re a free bird? No cage to hold you down.”

“Not an iron bar in sight,” I smirked, reaching up and pushing my glasses to rest on the bridge of my nose. “What about you flower boy?” I glanced at his fingers that hung from his belt loops, a gold band sat neatly on his finger. “I see a cuff.”

“Ah, it’s not my cuff, some poor bastard lost it so I took the poor thing and gave it a home.” He flexed his hand, causing me to glance down at it again. How would it have fallen off someone if it fits so tight on his hand? “So, you’re technically married to some woman that doesn’t know you exist?” I giggled with a small snort, causing him to chuckle with a shrug. “I suppose so, though, I don’t think I’d make a good husband.” He murmured, making me frown as I slowly took off my glasses, brushing my hair to the side.

“Hey, flower boy, you can’t beat yourself up, alright? Besides, you seem like the type of guy that would have men jealous and the woman fawning over you.” I grinned as he chuckled, shrugging again. “I’m serious! Cut yourself some slack,” I paused as the elevator dinged, signaling that was flower boy and I’s stop. “Besides, maybe you just haven’t met the right girl yet!” I called over my shoulder as I exited the elevator, slipping my glasses back on as I moved towards the lobby doors, exiting into the warm heat of Bora Bora’s sunshine with a wide grin. The Diamond of the Pacific could wait a few more hours... I needed to get my exploring on.

After exploring the through the market a bit more, and a few canvas bags later, I couldn’t help but notice the sweet view of the ocean from one of the tents. Chewing on my lip, I couldn’t help but wander closer to the shore. Stepping carefully through the large rocks, I dropped my bags off by the side and slipped my sandals from my aching feet, also removing my glasses. I bit my lip as the warm saltwater crashed over my toes, making me sigh as I gently kicked up some of the soft sprays with a chuckle.

“What I would kill to live here,” I mumbled, taking in the heavenly view as the clash and clatter came from the market, keeping me well aware that I still needed to get back to the hotel. Inhaling the tropical air, I sighed, closing my eyes as I carefully listened to the waves rolling and crashing against one another, the slight slap as it crashed against the freshly muddied sand. I couldn’t help but wish I had chosen a different job...

“Hey there stranger,” I gasped, thrusting my elbow back into the person’s stomach, before swiping my leg beneath their own, before turning and growling, only to gasp again as I saw flower boy lying beneath my shadow. “Holy shit! I’m so sorry, I -- military training.” I leaned down, grabbing one of his large hands with both of mine and tugged him up, keeping a hand on his chest as I made sure nothing was actually damaged, before quickly stepping back as his gaze traveled down before meeting my eyes once again.

“Damn, Aviators nearly knocked me out.” He chuckled with a wheeze as I winced, squinting one of my eyes as I stepped forward with a frown. “I’m so sorry, it’s like I said, military training.”

“No, no, it’s my fault,” he wheezed again before straightening his back, he stood taller than me once again, making me feel small. “I shouldn’t have snuck up on you like that.” He coughed, reaching back and scratching his neck.

“I was just... Lost in thought.” I murmured, turning sideways and narrowing my eyes at the sea. Flower boy moved closer, standing next to me while stuffing his hands into his pockets with a low whistle, causing me to glance at him. “I can see why. It’s gorgeous once the sunsets just perfectly across the horizon,” he smirked, nodding to himself as I arched a brow, before turning back towards the ocean.

“It’s a mystery out there. It’s one that I want to solve one day.” I sighed, just a little bit above a whisper.

“So, you’re a marine biologist? That’s pretty cool.”

“Oh, uh... Not exactly. That was my dream job while I was growing up, but... My dad had different ideas for me.”

“So, he’s the one that sent you to military training, I take it?” He asked, pulling out a package of cigarettes, slipping one of the slender sticks out and snapping open his lighter and taking a hefty puff from it. “What made you guess?” I snarked, biting at my lip as I shook my head, causing my loose hair to fall into my face. “It was stupid of me to let him do it, but then again, when you don’t have anyone else to run too, you stick around with who you know.” I shrugged, kicking at the grains of sand as he turned towards me, offering me the cigarette, which I slowly went to accept, only to take a step back. “Can’t. Learning to quit.”

“Ha, you’ve got more willpower than I do, aviators.” He grinned, taking another huff of it as I frowned, turning back to the sunset only to narrow my eyes before going wide-eyed. Even with the heavy waves, the water was crystal clear, making it almost like a mirror. Narrowing my eyes again, my mouth formed a little ‘o’. Spinning on my heels, I quickly ran towards my things, slipping on my sandals, and grabbing my small bags before quickly trying to climb up the rocks.

“What’s with the sudden rush?!” Flower boy shouted after me, making me pause as I turned towards him, already standing on the pavement with small bursts of breath. “I... There’s just something I really, really need to take care of but... I want to see you again. So, meet me here tomorrow, same time.” I grinned before taking off down the sidewalk, my mind not registering that I had just told a stranger to meet me again, as I ran back to the hotel. My legs slightly burned as I raced up the hillside up to the hotel’s driveway, running through the lobby, causing my sandals to slap across the floor before I reached the elevator, frantically clicking the third floors’ button. Once I reached the floor, I quickly jogged towards the room and banged on the door, only to have Nadine appear with a shocked look.

“Y/N? What’s gotten into you? You look like a madman,” she slightly hissed, grabbing my wrists and pulling me into the room, peeking out before turning towards me and closing the door. I panted before dropping my bags and falling back into the desk chair with a grin. “I... I found it.”

“Found ‘it’? You’ll have to more specific-”

“The shipwreck... The shipwreck is just a few miles off the shore here. I... I was just standing there, and the water was so clear that I could just... See it.”

“Y/N, there have been million’s of shipwrecks near Bora Bora, we need to mark these coordinates down, then head wherever they are trying to lead us.” Nadine sighed, yet I could see the hope in her eyes as I slowly nodded before sliding down onto the floor. “I’m going to take a nap because it’s been years since I ran that quickly with that much weight.”

To be continued...

Well, here’s chapter one! It’s shorter than I anticipated, but I feel like as long as you guys enjoy it, I’ll still work on it. And like I said if this series flops than I’ll make reader insert scenes from this :)

So, hope you enjoy and know that I still will take requests and tags are still open 😁💖

#Sam Drake x reader #Sam x reader #Uncharted series #Uncharted #Nadine Ross #Rafe Adler mentioned #flower boy #aviator #chapter 1 #hope you enjoy #:)

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sserpente · 7 years

Photo

A/N: MAY THE FOURTH BE WITH YOU!

Words: 2768 Warnings: slavery

The planet you had been born on was anything but pleasant. With humanoid creatures trading humans like mindless animals, like obedient pets and an alien ruler who despised your race to his very core, your chances of survival were miserably little.

“Creatures” like you, they didn’t get to live normal in this rotten place. They were born into families whose owners had instructed them to produce offspring to ensure a never ending existence of unwilling slaves to then carelessly dispose of those they were fed up with or even worse, those who were unlucky enough to suffer from their demolishing anger. A natural trait of the humanoids.

Once in a while, however, something extraordinary happened to the human people on your home planet. Once, maybe twice or thrice a decade, they were born, unknowing of their peculiar fate. Force sensitives. And you were one of them.

You had found out by coincidence, the hot rage surging within you whenever you had to face your masters, those ugly humanoids demanding your loyalty. Light bulbs burst, lights flickered and then, when you had imagined squeezing that fat little throat of those disgusting aliens, you had choked them with nothing but the strength of your mind.

Force sensitives like you were valuable, priceless even. Your powers were beyond imaginable and they sold for a quite descent prize. So here you were. Rotting in a tiny cell and waiting for the next auction which would take place any minute and where creatures and humans from uncountable planets would come and examine you like an object. If you got lucky, the person buying you would show mercy, treat you like a person even.

All of your hopes were crushed, however, when you saw a bunch of soldiers enter, dressed in white armour. Even you, lacking of education and knowledge about the universe, knew instantly they were dangerous. And certainly, they would bring no good.

Followed by a figure clothed all in black, they respectfully stepped aside and made room for their leader—she… or he looked eerie, intimidating and powerful. Black robes and leather gloves and, what scared you the most, a black mask hiding… what? A face? A shudder went through you when you thought about what could be lurking under those very clothes.

“Commander! The First Order! To what do we owe the honour?” Your master bowed so low his nose almost reached his toes. The First Order. You had heard of it. A powerful organisation, by all means, a threat to the humanoids that held you captive.

“Spare me the false loyalty,” he spat in reply, making you flinch. He was male, his voice distorted by his horrifying helmet. “I have been told you habour force sensitives.”

“I- uh, uh, of course, we have one… but I’m afraid she is not… she is very expensive, you must know.”

“Is she?” Raising his voice a bit, the stranger tilted his head. Only the fraction of a second later, you could literally feel his burning gaze on you, even if you couldn’t see his eyes. Swallowing thickly, you shifted in your tiny cell.

What he did next surprised you at the very least. Terrified, you jumped when he pulled a metallic weapon from his belt and turned it on, drowning the auction room in a creepy red light as it crackled loudly and seemed to surge the air around him. Was that… a lightsaber? Was he a force sensitive too? Maybe that’s how he could tell it was you your master had been talking about.

The humanoid being screamed when he rammed the glowing weapon into his chest, turning and twisting it to his ear-piercing screams. Then, it was over. Silence spread in the room as the Commander returned his lightsaber to its rightful place and then clenched his fists.

Danger was radiating off him like heat and fire, making you breathe in sharply and recoil to the back of your small cell when he started walking towards you, your gaze fixed on the now dead body of your former master.

He knelt down in front of you and mutely ordered one of his soldiers to open the cell, which they did by simply firing a blaster at the lock. It shrieked when it fell open, broken, and eliminating the last protecting barrier there was between you and him.

Please don’t kill me, you attempted to say, but no matter how hard you tried, no sound would escape your lips.

It was then you heard a smooth and throaty voice in your head. His voice. Without the impact of his eerie mask.

I won’t. I came to save you.

Grunting, you turned around, burying you face in a pillow when you heard the doors to your quarters open to rouse you from your slumber. Other than the cleaning droids, there was only one person who could access your private rooms.

“Five more minutes,” your voice was muffled, dull from the sheets you had wrapped around your whole body.

Kylo’s footsteps got louder, his tread threatening and intimidating.

“No. Get up.” Usually, whenever the two of you were together, undisturbed and alone, the Knight of Ren would remove his helmet. Today, however, he seemed to be in a hurry. You rolled your eyes, turning once more to face him with sleepy eyes.

“Are we having a stare down contest, I can’t tell.”

“Get up, (Y/N),”

“I’m training every fucking day, can’t you give me a break? Just… five more minutes, alright?” It wasn’t like you weren’t respecting him—quite on the contrary. You were dedicated and grateful; not only had he saved you from slavery but also given you a home, a purpose and training to become a powerful force user.

He had taught you everything, from your enemies, The Resistance and the Jedi to Supreme Leader Snoke’s demands. The First Order was your family, Kylo Ren was… the man you could never have. You had been stunned the first time he had removed his mask. A beautiful face with even more beautiful dark eyes, full of pain and determination was what you’d been confronted with, causing you to do the one thing you weren’t supposed to do—fall in love. From that day forth, you had started practicing frantically, making sure he wouldn’t be able to see inside your head and sense your feelings.

“There’s no training today. You will join me on a mission.” He boldly interrupted your thoughts.

“A mission? Wait, are we… are we… I mean, are we actually leaving Starkiller Base?”

His answer was a brief nod, barely visible because of his helmet. A gasp escaped your lips. You nearly knocked him over as you jumped out of bed, careless of the fact you were wearing nothing but a thin tanktop and your panties. Despite the fact you wanted to pull off a show for him, that man right in front of you had been inside your head numerous times. Therefore, there was no reason to be shy about your body.

“Yes, we are. Get dressed, we’re leaving in ten minutes.”

“You seem particularly grumpy today, something the matter?” Innocently, you put on a black and long-sleeved shirt and equally black pants, followed by black boots. Kylo had insisted on dressing you in his colour so everyone would show you respect and know what you were capable of. Thus far, it had worked perfectly, besides, you liked black anyway—it was way better than the dirty grey you had had to wear as a slave back in the days.

“Hux will be joining us.” Kylo simply gave back as you walked into the refresher, his fists clenching angrily in the process. A silent giggle escaped your lips.

“I really don’t get how you hate him so much.” In fact, however, you knew exactly why he despised the ginger General. He fancied you—way more than a General should fancy an apprentice of Kylo Ren and despite the Knight of Ren himself had never approached you in a romantic way, he acted awkwardly jealous whenever the three of you were together. It was hilarious, really.

“You know very well why. Now let’s go.”

Grinning, you saluted. “Yes, sir.”

It was even better than you had expected. Although Kylo hadn’t told you what exactly the mission was about, you enjoyed the fresh air. The planet you had landed on was beyond beautiful, with billions of green plants, bushes and trees, despite it was inhabited by the very same humanoids that had enslaved you, only they had been quite friendly towards you thus far. Apparently, Hux was going to recruit their people to join the First Order, for that cause, the disgusting aliens had even offered you accommodation which you had rather reluctantly took. With Kylo by your side, however, you figured you’d be safe.

The best part of this though, was how Hux and Kylo were constantly quarreling. Fighting over the littlest things, it ended in your master force pushing the General into a nearby tree, inflicting a bleeding cut right on his forehead.

Screeching, you rolled your eyes.

“That’s enough! If I knew you brought me to be your babysitter today, I wouldn’t have come in the first place, damn it!” You rushed over to Hux, gnashing your teeth as you did, and pulled some clean bandages out of one of your pockets.

An injured General was a mad General and as much as you both hated to admit it, he was still in charge of your living conditions on Starkiller. For all you knew, he could make you sleep in a broom chamber.

You could literally feel Kylo tense and squirm as you patched him up again. First, you assumed it must have been your connection through the Force. Hux disapproved of that theory when he spoke up and caused all hell to break lose.

“What’s the matter, Ren, are you jealous?”

His response was a judging tilt of his head, a split second later you could hear the General choke. Frowning, you looked at him, watching his skin turning a light blue colour in his face.

“Kylo! Kylo, stop it, Kylo! Are you fucking insane?! Stop it. Grow up. Both of you.”

“Maybe…” Hux started, panting heavily. “We should call it a day so the Commander can cool down. You can join me in my tent, (Y/N).”

The Knight of Ren clenched his fists. “She sleeps in mine.”

“Ren, are you aware that…”

“She is my apprentice, she sleeps in my tent.”

“Guys…” Breathing in and out loudly, you massaged your temples. The tension between the two of them was tangible and what made it even worse was that one of them was awfully jealous, the other liked you more than he should. You were right in between a testosterone-driven kindergarten brawl.

Why can’t you fucking see I love you, Kylo Ren? Never had you been happier about the fact the Knight of Ren couldn’t read your mind anymore—unless you let him, that was.

“Is there anything we can do for you? General? Commander?” The humanoid interrupting you was a little taller than the one who had enslaved you. He was still ugly though and he didn’t speak English—his rough language pestering your ears like hot needles.

“They’re fine, leave us!” You answered tetchily, feeling the sudden urge to wash your mouth for speaking in their tongue again. Trembling, he backed off, leaving both Kylo and Hux turning their heads to you, a confused expression on their faces. Well, on Hux’ face, for your tutor was still wearing his mask.

“How are you able to understand them? Hardly anyone speaks their language.” The General spoke up, almost disgusted all of a sudden.

“I grew up speaking their language, Hux. You seem to forget that English is not my mother tongue either.” You growled, sensing how Kylo sent waves of angry energy towards you.

“Yes. I tend to forget that a lot. Your language skills are beyond exceptional.” And that was a compliment? That wasn’t even worth a try. The Commander chuckled darkly in your mind.

“You tend to forget a lot lately, General. Perhaps it’d be wise for you to study your acquaintances more precisely.” He said out loud then.

Bloody hell, here we go again. You could practically see him frown behind his mask.

“You go to bed, now. Good night, General.” And with that, he firmly grabbed your arm and yanked you with him. His grip was so painful you yelped, hot rage washing through you as he pushed you into the tent and then reached up to his helmet to take it off.

“Are you mad at me now, what have I done?!” You complained.

“It’s the General. If it wasn’t for the Supreme Leader, I would have long pierced his throat with my lightsaber. He is into you.”

“Right, and you’re jealous.”

Having these kinds of conversations was always dangerous. Both you and Kylo knew that he liked to lash out on occasion, destroying everything and everyone in his environment. You couldn’t have that, not here. Not over you.

The Knight of Ren said nothing. Instead, his gaze was so menacing you felt the urge to take a step back. You could feel the Force gushing around him, drawing you even closer to presence.

“You’re jealous,” You repeated. “You’re jealous of Hux. God damn it, Kylo, I don’t want Hux, I don’t know why you’re so fucking worried. You’re the one who saved me, you’re the one who’s teaching me, you’re the one who gave me a home and you‘re the man I love!”

Stopping dead in your tracks, you tensed, swallowing thickly. You had not meant to say that last bit out loud.

Kylo frowned. His lips parted in confusion. For once, you could hear millions of thoughts tumbling inside his head. Your head was buzzing when he finally spoke up and started at you, stopping mere inches before your stature so you had to lift your chin to face him.

“You can’t love me. You’re my apprentice, I am your master.”

It was like he had ripped your heart out.

“Is that all you have to say? You told me the Force was all about passion and power. What stronger power is there than love? I fucking fell for you the first time you showed me your face. I fell for your eyes, the way they looked at me. You’re my hero.” You admitted. Biting back your tears, you settled for chewing on your lower lip instead.

I’m not a hero. I’m one of the bad ones, you heard his voice in your head.

“You’re a hero to me.”

“Am I?” You could feel his breath on lips, inviting you to kiss him.

So you did. You leaned forward, grabbing ahold of his hair so he couldn’t escape your assault and then pressed your mouth against his. It wasn’t a gentle kiss, nor was it a rough one. But it was passionate and it grew more so with every second that passed. It was like your power connected, mixing like blood and water and tangling in each other like dozens of thin ropes.

“Let me. Please. Just let me. Fuck Hux. Fuck everything else. Just let me.”

“Let… you… what?” Kylo whispered out of breath after you’d pulled away, pressing yourself against his muscly chest.

“Let me love you.”

His strong arms wrapped around your body. You could feel the cool leather of his gloves on your back as he held you close, resting his chin on your head. His eyes were closed, you could tell.

“If I do, then will you promise me that it won’t hurt? Ever?”

“It won’t. It won’t. You’re everything I have, Kylo.”

You didn’t need a response, for you could feel it, sense it in all of your cells. Your body was linked to his, like it couldn’t exist without his presence.

Maybe that stupid mission had been a good idea after all. Maybe Hux’ scornful remarks augured well in the end, for after as long as you had known the restive and stubborn Knight of Ren with a bad temper, he was lonely and lost. You had been inside his head, you had felt the pain that he had felt. Maybe there was no one else who understood him, no one else who could comprehend his actions. But you could. You were there for him and he was for you. To hell with all those who thought him evil.

Kylo was good, you thought peacefully. He was whenever he was with you.

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laceyeb · 8 years

Text

The Next Day - Part 2

Part 1

There will be at least a third and maybe fourth part yet.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Sharna said as they made their way inside and she flicked on the light. She dropped her bag inside the door and took off her shoes. James immediately fell onto the couch and closed his eyes, looking as though they found themselves together like this every night. It made Sharna feel uncomfortably giddy.

“Don’t tell me that,” he told her. “One minute I’m making myself comfortable and the next I’m fast asleep on your couch.”

Sharna laughed. “You deserve it. I’m going to go change real quick and grab my laptop so we can look at some dances. If you start snoring, I’ll let you know.”

James smiled, though his eyes were still closed. Sharna’s gaze lingered on him for longer than it should have before she disappeared down the hall. She didn’t know why she had told him she was going to change. She had already changed her clothes after the show. But she found something more comfortable to wear and put it on. Gray sweatpants and a dark blue tanktop. Simple, but she liked the way it looked when she froze involuntarily in front of her mirror. She stopped to get her laptop from where it sat on the kitchen table and then she found James in the living room again. He had taken off his shoes and was now lying across the entire couch. Sharna laughed when she walked in and saw him like this.

He opened one eye just enough to see her. “Your fault for telling me to get comfortable.”

“Scoot over.” Sharna sat down after James swung his legs back out in front of him and sat up again. “If you think you’re tired now, just wait.”

James watched Sharna as she opened Youtube on her laptop. But he stopped her before she could get any further. He pointed at the screen. In the “Watch It Again” section, they saw links for their own foxtrot, cha cha, and tango.

“You just can’t get enough, can you?”

Sharna rolled her eyes. “I always watch them back several times. I want to find ways for us to improve. We may have to do one of these dances again at the end of the season and I want to be ready.” She clicked on the foxtrot video. “But watch this. Look how much you’ve already improved.”

They sat together and watched their very first dance. They had both seen it already. They rewatched their dances together every Monday night or Tuesday morning. But it had been a while since they watched this one and it felt different now.

“Look,” Sharna interrupted as they watched, pointing at the screen. “Look at that right there. You’re so much better than that now.”

“In other words, I sucked then, but I don’t know.”

“Exactly,” Sharna joked.

James elbowed her in the side and she nudged him back. She tried to focus her attention on the video instead of wondering if he was flirting with her. She tried to remind herself that of course he wouldn’t be flirting with her. But if she didn’t know any better…

“We have to watch the cha cha again now,” James said excitedly when the first dance finished. “I can’t believe I survived that one.”

“I think this has to be one of my favorites I’ve ever done. It was just so much fun. Look at that!” she shouted, pointing again. “Look at you move! And you said you couldn’t be sexy. Look!”

“Oh, stop,” James said, pretending to be bashful. “You’re making me blush.”

When that danced ended, Sharna immediately started their tango without either of them saying a word. They were quiet as they watched this dance. Sharna loved seeing the smile on his face as he moved.

“That one was so beautiful,” Sharna said quietly when it ended.

“I love that song,” James whispered. He said it so quietly, it was almost as if he hadn’t meant for Sharna to hear.

“What?”

“Oh. Uh, that song. I just… I love the message. It’s the right time right now. That’s just so… You know? So powerful. Live in the moment. Don’t hold back. No regrets. You know what I mean?”

Sharna watched him as he said this. She saw the way his eyes lit up as he spoke. The way he shined when he thought about living in the moment and never holding back.

“Absolutely,” Sharna said a bit breathlessly. “It’s the right time right now. Just… go for it. Reach for what you want. Don’t live with any regrets. It’s beautiful.”

“That’s how I want to be,” James said softly, turning away from Sharna’s eyes now and looking down at his own hands. “I want to live like that. Especially now. And I feel like I do. But I could do better. Sometimes I still live in fear. Fear of not being good enough. Fear of losing something. Someone. That scares me.”

Sharna was stunned into silence. For the second time in only an hour, she had seen a new side of James. She felt as though she had looked right into his soul. If it was possible, she thought that maybe she was falling for him even more now.

Sharna reached out tentatively and placed her hand on James’ arm.

“Can I ask you something?” she said to him.

He turned to her, but didn’t speak. He simply nodded.

“Who are you afraid of losing?”

“You.” He said it so clearly and so immediately. It was as though he had been waiting to tell her this for years.

“Kiss him!” Jenna shouted. “If you were looking for your moment, that was it!”

“Jenna! Shut up! I haven’t finished yet.”

“Obviously. I’m still waiting on the main event.”

“I’m almost there. Now keep your voice down! Someone will hear us!”

Sharna looked into James’ eyes. His response was somehow both exactly what she had expected to hear and a complete surprise.

“James.” She whispered his name into the rapidly disappearing space between them. “James, we -.”

When he crashed his lips to hers, anything she might have said became completely irrelevant. She could have stopped him. She should have stopped him. But she didn't. She didn't want to.

The feel of his lips on hers sent happiness and relief washing over her. She couldn't believe she had gone her whole life not knowing what it felt like to kiss him.

She felt his hands gripping at her desperately. Pulling her closer. Refusing to let her go. And Sharna melted against him. She had essentially spent two months in his arms, but she had to spend all that time pretending she didn't want this. There was no pretending anymore. There were only hands and lips and beating hearts.

But she had to be sensible, if for only a moment.

“James,” she said breathlessly against his lips. “James. Wait.”

He was breathing heavily. “This is what I want. Is - Is this what you want?”

She wasn't about to hide from him. Not now. “Yes,” she told him. “Yes, this is what I want. But you -.”

James cut her off, shaking his head sharply. “But nothing. This is right now. This is just you and me. But if it's not something you want, tell me now and we can go back to normal. Pretend this never happened.”

Sharna knew what the right answer was. She really did. But she said something else instead. “No. I want this.”

“Good.”

He moved just far enough away from her to pull his shirt over his head. He tossed it across the room, not taking his eyes off Sharna. He gazed at her, holding still for only a second, then kissed her again. It was even more passionate and desperate this time. His lips burned like fire. She felt his fingers now at her hips, sliding under her shirt. There was no hesitancy in his movements. No reservations. His hands slid around to her back and they fell together against the couch, James on top of her, supporting himself on his knees on either side of her.

“Stop me if this isn’t what you want.” His lips were at her neck now and his breath was hot against her skin.

“Don’t stop,” she moaned. “Please don’t stop.”

“Alright,” Jenna said abruptly. “I think that’s my cue.”

Sharna rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t going to give you the play by play. But you get the idea.”

Jenna had been almost giddy throughout Sharna’s story, but now her expression turned serious.

“So… What now?”

“Honestly?” Sharna shook her head. “I have no fucking clue.”

Jenna gave her a sympathetic smile. “Did he sleep there last night?” Sharna nodded. “What did he say this morning?”

“That he wasn’t sorry it happened. But that it probably shouldn’t happen again.”

Jenna nodded. “Well, that’s good, right? So, it’s not going to happen again?” Sharna grimaced and Jenna gasped. “You did it again this morning, didn’t you?!”

Sharna looked into her wide eyes for just a moment. She nodded.

“Wow,” Jenna breathed, shaking her head. She checked the time on her phone. “I have to go, but find me later if you need to talk more, okay? And talk to him about this. Don’t let this bring down everything you’ve built. Promise me, okay?”

Sharna nodded again. “I’m going to talk to him as soon as he gets here. And thanks.”

When the door closed behind Jenna, Sharna immediately sank to the floor, sitting down and pulling her knees up to her chest.

“What have I done?” she whispered to the empty room. She felt guilty. She shouldn’t have let it happen. But the feelings of the night before flooded over her again. The way he held her. The way he kissed her. The way his body felt against her own. And she didn’t regret that. She couldn’t.

#james and sharna #jamesandsharnafics

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justjdm · 8 years

Text

You Scared of Me Now, Babydoll? (Part 6)

Pairing: Negan x Reader

Summary: Negan has a surprise for you, but things don’t go the way you planned

Word Count: 2,791

Warning(s): Language A/N: Finally a lengthy chapter to thank you all for waiting patiently! I wanted to have a little mentions to the reader’s past in this chapter so it just ended up kinda long. There is also quotes from the show in this chapter, but I didn’t quite make it go the exact way it happened in the show, so I apologize for continuity errors! Masterlist is here. Enjoy!

Three loud knocks rapped on your door.

You sat up, incredibly confused because there was no light streaming through your window. No one normally came to wake you up this early and you began to wonder if something was wrong.

You sat up quickly and approached the door cautiously. You took a deep breath and held it before opening it.

“Hope I didn’t catch you in the middle of a wet dream, darlin’.”

You let out a sigh of relief.

“Jesus, Negan. The sun’s not even up yet!”

He smirked, leaning on your doorframe.

“So this is what you wear to bed...gotta admit, I was kind of fuckin’ hoping it was nothing.” He looked over you in your tanktop and underwear. You suddenly felt self-conscious.

“What do you want?” Your tone was growing impatient. It was way too early for this.

“Get dressed and meet me outside by the gates, but don’t take too fuckin’ long.”

He gave you a final wink and left you standing at your door, still reeling in bewilderment.

The air outside was close to freezing and the thin jacket you were wearing wasn’t really cutting it. You started to wonder if Negan’s ‘surprise’ was really worth getting up this early.

When you reached the front gates, you saw Negan talking to a group of men standing in front of several vans that looked packed and ready to go. His eyes quickly darted to you when he saw you approaching.

“Well, well, there’s my girl! You ready to head out?”

“Where are we going?” you frowned.

“Seeing if you can fuckin’ handle a run. Now, come on.”

Negan whistled at his men to disperse and waved you over. They all climbed into the trucks and you followed Negan to one.

Your heart began racing. Finally you were getting a taste of the outside world again. He trusted you enough to come with him, or rather he was seeing if he could trust you. He was finally giving you a chance.

You climbed into the passenger seat, almost grinning from ear to ear. Negan entered on the driver’s side and glanced over to you as he buckled himself in.

“Well shit, if I had known this would make you this happy I would’ve done this a long time ago.”

“I didn’t think pleasing people was your strong suit.”

“Darlin’ you wish you could see the pleasing I can do.”

You leaned back into your seat, quickly turning to the window so he couldn't see your blushing cheeks.

You heard him chuckle to himself and start the engine, the truck roaring to life. You watched as several vans pulled out of Sanctuary and your van followed them past the gates and down the road. You drove down the dirt path for a few minutes and you watched as it slowly began to get lighter outside. It was nice to see the sunrise again and it had been several months since you had taken a ride in a vehicle.

“You're sure fuckin’ quiet. You nervous or something?”

Negan finally broke the silence, taking his eyes off the road to glance over to you.

“No, I'm fine. Just glad to get out that's all.”

“Well I'm sorry to keep you cooped up like some caged bird or something. It's just that I've had a lot of runs go wrong with a lot of different people, so I'm a little fuckin’ cautious about who I send out.”

You nodded quickly. “No, I totally understand...I really do appreciate this Negan.”

“It's nothin’ darlin’. Just don't fuck it up, that's all.”

You both drove in silence until the sun had fully risen and you wondered how much longer it would take. You stared out the window, watching the trees roll by. Despite more than half of the entire population being dead, you were surprised how beautiful nature still was. The leaves and flowers still bloomed, the birds still sang, and the sun kept on shining. It was just the humanity that had died. Along with civilization itself.

Just when you had about nodded off, you felt the truck come to a stop.

“You ready, babydoll’?” Negan smiled, opening his door and jumping down from the truck. You followed, quickly unstrapping your seatbelt.

Negan swung Lucille over his shoulder and you followed him to a set of large gates. A group of men followed you, including another rather scary looking woman with dark curly hair, tied up and dyed blonde at the ends.

Negan approached the entrance and ran Lucille along the iron gating, much like a child running a stick along a fence.

“Little pigs, little pigs! Let. Me. In!” he called.

You all stood for a few minutes with no response.

“Not a way to treat your guests, now is it?”

After what seemed like forever, the gates shrieked loudly as they opened. A tall man with brown hair and stubble stood at the gates, practically glaring at Negan.

“Um, who are you?”

Negan took a dangerous step closer to him and gripped Lucille tighter. An amused smile curled his lips.

“Oh, you have got to be jokin’. I’m Negan, this is Lucille.” He gestured to the barbed bat on his shoulder. “I know I had to make a strong first impression.”

The man frowned, sighed, and stepped aside to let you all in. You followed Negan and were immediately in awe of the large neighborhood. It almost looked untouched from the apocalypse and it reminded you of what suburban life was like before everything went to shit.

“What is this place?” you whispered.

“Alexandria. I’m actually really thankful I ran into these sorry shits. This place is fucking great. And not to mention, they’re fucking terrified of me. They provide for us.”

You nodded, following Negan to the center cul-de-sac that served as the center of the camp.

“Alright, you guys go check out houses and see if they’ve brought us any more supplies. Don’t be afraid to bust the fuckin’ doors down if they don’t answer,” Negan directed. “Y/N and Arat, you two come with me.”

You and the girl with curly hair stepped forward and followed him.

You were really surprised how well whoever ran this camp kept up the place. The security was impressive, and you hadn’t even heard walkers outside the giant metal walls. Staring at the way the rays sunlight splayed across the vinyl sidings of all of the houses...you could see yourself living here. Or at least living here before the End of Days.

You came to a house with a large set of stairs and another set leading down into a basement.

“Ladies, if you could go down and check out the inventory.”

You and Arat nodded, heading down the steps into the basement.

A larger woman with glasses and dark hair was already inside, checking off things from a blue notebook. She jumped when you two entered.

“C-Can I help you?” The woman had a sweet voice and seemed rather panicky.

“Yeah, by giving me the damn clipboard and letting me do my job,” Arat spat, approaching her and taking the book from her hands.

You frowned. That was completely unnecessary. You hadn’t even known Arat for more than two seconds and you already thought she was a rude bitch.

The woman retreated to the other corner of the room, watching you both intently.

“Y/N,” Arat started, not even looking up from the notebook, “you’re originally from the armory right? Get to checking these guns and see if they’re all here.”

You approached the first rack, calling out the names and makes of each weapon out to Arat. She placed a check next to each item that was in inventory. After you told her the last rifle on the rack, you heard her hiss quietly. She quickly turned to the woman in the corner.

“Really, lady? Was it that hard to do your fucking job?”

“What are you talking about?” the woman stuttered.

“Well then, you can tell the boss why you’re so incompetent.”

Arat walked over and grabbed the woman roughly by the arm and dragged her towards the stairs.

“Jesus, Arat!” you called after her, following them both back outside.

Arat pushed Olivia towards Negan when she reached the top of the stairs. The woman stuttered ‘please no, I don’t know’.

Negan gave a stern look to Arat.

“Arat, we don’t do that unless they do something to deserve it.”

“Yeah,” she shrugged. “We went through the inventory. The guns in the armory, the guns that are out on the walls...they’re short. A glock 9 and a 32 bobcat.”

She handed the notebook to Negan and the woman watched him nervously as he flipped through the pages.

“Is that right?”

“Yes,” the woman swallowed nervously, “The inventory is correct.”

“Good...but not so good, too.” Negan took a step closer. “You see, what’s in here...isn’t in there. You’re two handguns short. Do you know where they are?”

The woman shook her head quickly.

“That’s disappointing. This shows that someone’s not on board and I can’t fucking have that.”

He glowered down at her. She continued to cower in fear.

“I don’t enjoy killing women. Men, I can fucking waste all the live long, but the end of the day, Olivia my dear, this was your responsibility.”

“Jesus Negan, just stop it!” you finally piped up, surprised at the tone of your own voice.

Negan stopped and turned to you, a glare in his eyes.

“Do not tell me what to do right now, Y/N. This shit’s life and death around here.”

Olivia gave a quick look to you and back to Negan, who was still incredibly close to her.

You swallowed, taking a step forward.

“I know, but there has to be another way. Please don’t kill her, we will find those guns.”

Negan sighed, regaining his composure and leaning back from Olivia, “I’ll let this one slide. For now, only because I’m in a good mood today. Be thankful that my wife must fuckin’ like you, Olivia.”

Olivia nodded quickly, looking over to you with a thankful look in her eyes.

“Now what do you suppose we do about finding those guns, Y/N?”

In all honesty, you didn’t know. You didn’t know these people at all. For all you knew, someone could have stolen them or went on a run and took them with them. All you knew was that you had to think of something quickly.

“What the hell is going on here?”

A voice broke your concentration and thankfully the situation you were in. You all turned around to a man quickly approaching you.

“Rick, my fuckin’ man! ‘Bout time you got out here.”

Your heart almost stopped beating in your chest. You were surprised you didn’t become a walker right then and there.

“Rick?” you breathed, your voice barely an audible whisper.

Rick stopped cold in his tracks and stared at you.

“Y/N.”

“Woah, am I fucking missing something here?” Negan stepped forward and stood beside you.

An awkward silence hung in the air because neither you or Rick knew what to say. What was there to say?

“Do y’all fucking know each other?”

More silence filled the air as Arat, Olivia, and anyone else passing by stopped and watched you three intently.

Rick finally nodded, his eyes still wide in shock.

“May I ask how?”

You looked down to the ground, thousands of memories flooding back to you.

“I um, used to be part of their group.”

Negan leaned back, a dumbfounded expression spreading across his face.

“No fuckin’ shit! You’re telling me that out of all the people left in the goddamn world, you know this motherfucker?”

“Yes.”

Negan gave a hearty laugh, even slapping his knee a few times for comical effect.

“That is really rich! I can’t believe you used to be apart of these sorry shits. Boy, you’ve changed, Y/N!”

Rick finally took a step forward. Even he looked terrified in front of Negan. Rick was one of the strongest people you knew.

“Negan, can I please speak to Y/N in private?”

Negan calmed down from his laugh, wiping a tear from his eye.

“And why do you think you can speak to my wife in private?”

You could see Rick flinch at the word from the corner of your eye.

“Negan, please. It’s okay.” you reached out and touched his arm gently, giving him a pleading stare.

He looked down at you, sighed, and waved you away.

“Fuck, darlin’. I’m not happy about it, but if you really want to...bring Arat with you. And make it fuckin’ quick, we’ve still got shit to do.”

You wanted to roll your eyes at the thought of Arat listening to your conversation but you nodded. You and Arat followed Rick down the street while Negan and a group of men headed towards another group of houses.

You approached a large house and followed Rick up the porch. Arat stood at the front of the stairs facing the street.

You were both quiet, staring at eachother. He almost looked the exact same as you had seen him last. His beard was kept trim and his brown curls ended just below his ears. But God, he just looked so tired. As if he had seen so much more loss. More than he already had.

You wanted to say something. Anything.

“How’s Judith? And Carl?” You started, the only thing you could muster up saying.

He nodded, barely skipping a beat.

“They’re fine.”

“Good.”

That uncomfortable silence hung over you both again before Rick finally stepped towards you.

“Y/N, how could you be with him? Do you know what he’s done to us?” his voice was low, his southern drawl rolling out like crumpled velvet.

“Honestly, Rick, no. I haven’t heard a thing until we came here today. I didn’t even know you were here. I mean, this place Rick! This is so much better than the prison.”

“I know, we’ve done pretty well since you left.”

You closed your eyes, feeling the pain you had put behind you so long ago.

“Rick, I had to leave. You know that.”

“But you didn’t just leave us, Y/N....you left me.”

You sighed, and you could feel tears begin to well up in your eyes. Rick could’ve been dead this entire time for all you knew. You never thought you would be standing in front of him again.

“I can’t do this right now.” You turned to leave but Rick reached for your arm.

“I thought you were dead, Y/N. And now you’re, what, married to the son of a bitch who did this to us? The reason we’re all living in fear? As if it wasn’t enough for us to be running for our lives from walkers...now we have to be afraid of him?”

You spun around, staring into his gorgeous blue eyes.

“I’m not married to him...it’s complicated. This whole thing is complicated, okay? I was doing fine on my own until I was sort of kidnapped into this. The Saviors don’t mess around when it comes to letting people join them. It’s either join or die, you know that Rick.”

He softened his grip on you, looking down to the ground. You felt that he understood what you meant. You knew Rick was a leader. You just wondered how Negan had broken him.

“You look good, Y/N. I’m just glad you’re alive.”

“You too Rick.”

He closed his eyes, and you could see the pain across his face. You wondered if being dead would’ve caused him this much pain, and if this pain you were causing him right now was any better.

“Well, um. I probably should go. I’m so sorry, Rick.”

You muttered quickly, not even turning to look at him again. You walked down the stairs, past Arat, and all the way past Negan, who was waiting at the cul-de-sac. You approached a group of men who were lifting boxes into the truck and began to help them load up. You didn’t even look over to Negan.

~ ~ ~

Arat approached Negan, her attitude growing as she was impatient and ready to leave.

“Well what the fuck was that all about? What happened?”

Arat shrugged, crossing her arms.

“Sounded like they used to be a thing or something. It sounded pretty pathetic, to be honest.”

Arat had never seen Negan’s face turn into a scowl so fast. She was sure a vein was going to pop out of his temple. He clenched his fists, swinging Lucille over his shoulder.

“Days over, everyone pack the fuck up!!” he bellowed.

Taglist: @haley-the-human @certifiedtwdtrash @elinyaes @e-jupiter-s @finally-clean-in-wonderland @namelesslosers @frobert20 @miiraal @lilablauerhimmel @negans-network @littlemisscaptainfandom @girlmeetsbullshit @meanandshallow @ashleygryan @completelymarveltrash @jmackie1983 @trinswhimsys @gallifreyansass @morganpierce @kaitlinlexieporrini @me0wsarah @queen-leo-1999 @michaelslkitten @jaylaelizabethw

#YSOMNB #negan #negan x reader #the walking dead #Jeffrey Dean Morgan #negan imagine #negan fanfic #fanfic #the walking dead fanfic #twd #twd fanfic #rick grimes #andrew lincoln #carl grimes #arat

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