#worse. and if I hadn’t looked into it I would probably ask for another increase.

[apotelesmaa]

I think the fact that u can just get prescribed ssris without being told about side effects to watch out for and then have your dose raised and suddenly have your mental health absolutely tank is. So funny. Absolutely incapable of feeling emotions to the point where all of my relationships are fucked (unable to feel affection/love) my academic career is fucked (unable to feel any sense of urgency towards assignments/attendance) my Everything Is Fucked (unable to gauge emotional well-being until things are actually hazardous) but at least I also can’t feel the Consuming Despair. Giving zombie realness. Going through the motions pilled. Apathymaxxing.

[notroosterbradshaw]

Heatstroke

rooster fam, avert your eyes. here’s some old-school Bucky smut. I didn’t think I’d publish Bucky stuff here, yet here we are again. Hope you enjoy x

18+, smut, fluff. Bucky wasn't much of a talker but when he puts his foot in his fat mouth, he has to make amends somehow.

He’d heard you – you knew he had. The serum increased his awareness and blah blah blah, everyone knew his story by now and why you’d found yourself hidden behind the wall leading to the kitchen while Bucky intently studied his tablet, putting God knows what together at the bench.

You should have just stayed in your bedroom and messed around online, kept your laziness to yourself. It was safer than the situation you were about to walk into - of that you were sure. You needed another shower but the heat in the apartment would coat you in perspiration the second you towelled off anyway.

He’d heard your breathing and your elevated heart rate, he could probably smell the sweat of flight taking over as you debated whether or not to just miraculously appear and pretend not to have ducked back around the corner when you saw Bucky there.

“I know things are weird between us, but you hiding when you see me makes it a hellova worse, kitten,” he muttered. You let out an inward sigh, shoulders slumping as you turned and walked in, wiping your clammy palms on your sundress.

“Hey Buck,” you said quietly, taking to a stool across from him.

“What’s happening, babydoll?” he asked casually, not looking up from the herbs he was chopping – he was remarkable with a knife, you noted as he sliced and diced without abandon faster than any chef and much more precisely (you tried not to imagine how and when he learned the art form). You’d always found it strangely sexy when he had a knife in his hands and the precision that came with it – on missions and funnily, now in the kitchen. The smell of whatever was cooking was incredible and you hadn’t even seen what he had in the oven or on the stove. At recollection, it wasn’t his night to cook. It was…

“It’s my night to cook, could ask you the same thing.”

“Well, I know you hate cooking for Steve and me, so thought I might cover for you.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you said, a little defensive though maybe a little touched.

He shrugged, looking up, a dark wisp of hair falling into his stony eyes and pushing it away with his flesh wrist. “It’s fine, sweetheart. I enjoy it, relaxes me. Consider yourself off the hook.”

Sure I will, you wanted to reply. Everything was tit for tat in the apartment the three of you shared. Bucky would find a way to get an inadvertent favour out of you at some point when you least expected it. “Well… thanks, I guess,” you said instead, finally raising your eyes. You blinked as you noticed the smirk on his features. “But in the interest of your safety, Buck, why are you not wearing a t-shirt under the apron?”

He was a dream in his beige canvas bib apron – it worked wonders against his fair skin and the silver of his cybernetic arm. His biceps, you were pretty sure, had you salivating. His shoulders were broad under the thin straps rippling as he moved his arms to prep.

You fucking loved Summer. Even if the apartment was a thousand damn degrees and usually hotter with the body heat of yourself and two super soldiers who always ran at boiling point. But if Bucky felt the need to parade around half-naked, you weren’t one to argue. It was a true sight to behold.

“Honestly? Felt liberating to be naked,” he licked his upper lip, squinting at the recipe again before humming to himself in thought.

You peeked over the bench and noticed his bare calves and bare feet and had to scoff a laugh. “For fuck’s sake, Bucky. Are you wearing anything?”

He shook his head. “Nope.”

“What if Steve comes home?”

“I’ll hear him,” he reminded you. “Just like I heard you.”

“And why did you think it would be okay if I saw you like this? You knew I’d come in here to start cooking eventually.”

He stabbed the knife into the wooden chopping back and grinned at you, his eyes locking with yours. “You’re the only one that has seen me in less, sugar. Shouldn’t be that much of a surprise,” he waved his cybernetic hand up and down his torso a little smugly.

You felt the heat rise from your toes to your hair, resting back on your chair and curling in on yourself. “I don’t think we need to bring this up now – ”

He rumbled a laugh low in his belly. “I’m wearing shorts, for fuck’s sake. What kind of deviant do you take me for?” he turned around and wriggled his toned bubble butt in his blue board shorts as you resisted a giggle. They were well hidden due to the length of the apron. “See?”

“Do we really need to go there?” you mumbled as he plucked the knife back up and continued his prep. He didn’t look up but you could see his cheekbones rise into a lurid smile.

“Anytime, anywhere, babydoll. You know that.”

You knew that very well.

You shook your head gently and started to push yourself away. “Righto – well, since it looks like you’ve got it all covered, I’ll leave you to it.”

Bucky hummed his disapproval. “Nuh-uh. You, stay. You’re not getting out of it that easily,” he paused to stop and point the knife at you. “I’m cooking and you’re gonna open this bottle of wine,” he said, handing one that was on the bench to you along with the bottle opener (you noticed it was one from Stark’s private collection). “And then we’re going to sit down to eat and talk. Clear the air,” he announced, opening the bottle still in his hands when you didn’t reach for it.

“We don’t have anything to talk about,” you said as he sighed and poured you both a generous glass of vivid Bordeaux red.

“Drink,” he repeated. “Then we talk.”

“Cheers to you too,” you muttered though credit where credit was due, Bucky had found a good one. He raised himself a glass and toasted you gently.

“Cheers, sweetheart,” he winked before heading to the stove to continue his assault on the kitchen.

“Where is Steve?” you asked, your second glass well and truly going down a treat, loosening you up considerably. You were in your usual seat as Bucky wandered in, now with a shirt and placed a plate before you and one for him at his usual place across from you.

“No idea,” Bucky shrugged.

You weren’t a complete idiot, he knew this. You assumed this is why he’d volunteered dinner and made sure the bottle of wine was on hand. It was discussion time and Bucky knew what you didn’t want to talk about.

You were resisting taking your relationship to the next level. He hadn’t pressured you, but everything had been pointing in that direction and it terrified you.

It was only supposed to be a joyous and mutually beneficial ‘friends with benefits’-type of arrangement. No harm, no foul to either of you until he mumbled that he loved you ‘so fucking much’ a week or so ago as he drifted off to sleep after a strenuous mission and recovery fuckathon upon his return home.

“It’s only us, isn’t it?” you sighed, taking the salad from the middle of the table and loading your plate up before continuing, “You made sure he’s out for the night.”

“Yeah,” he gave a small smile. “He’s at some bar with Sam and Natalia. It’s just us, babydoll,” he confirmed, taking a sip of his wine and watching your reaction through his dark lashes. He had to admit, he loved seeing you squirm. “I asked him to make himself scarce.”

“Of course you did,” you focused on your (argh, perfectly cooked at medium rare, fuck it) steak and piled it into your mouth as gracefully as you could. Bucky watched you, humoured.

“Well, at least you haven’t bolted yet,” he noted jovially.

“Don’t confuse me sitting here without me wanting to do that,” you sniped, ticked off he’d lulled you into a false sense of security.

“Look,” he delicately sliced his steak and took a bite, chewing as he continued, “I know I threw you, I’m real well aware I should have kept my fat fuckin’ trap shut. I just thought I wasn’t comin’ home to you, okay?” his voice suddenly low and eyes were paying very close attention to his food.

You sat up straighter at his confession and he sighed while your eyes widened. “Bucky… what happened?” you put your wine glass down and pushed your plate away with a clang.

He tried to brush the thought away. “It’s not about that – ”

“Buck, it’s exactly like that,” you stood up and walked around the table. He moved his chair back as you lifted the loose skirt of your dress and crawled onto him to straddle across his lap. “What happened?” you begged, lifting his chin for his stony eyes to meet yours, keeping his jaw in your soft palms. “Look at me.”

His cybernetic hand reached for his face and rubbed his eyes, suddenly he looked exhausted. “Was ambushed,” he said quietly. “I’m not telling you the small details – you don’t needa know – ” he held a hand up to your mouth that was open and ready to protest. “By the time Steve got there, I was the last one standing. Don’t worry.”

“Who?” you asked quietly, your warm hands rubbing against his stubbly cheeks before settling on the back of his neck and massaging his smooth, warm skin, twirling soft hair around your fingers to calm him. He moved to rest his forehead on your shoulder and wrapped his arms around your waist, clinging to you for dear life - it was uncommon for Bucky to react this way and it terrified you.

You had to remind yourself all you wanted to do was comfort him. That is what you had agreed to in the very beginning when this mess started. Comfort, familiarity, fun.

Not love.

“They tried the triggers,” he whispered, not looking up, the shame evident in his rough voice. “I know they don’ work any more, but babydoll, I just…” he looked up and inhaled sharply. “I thought I was a goner. I didn’t think I was coming home.”

You kissed his hair, only to imagine his fear as he set the scene for you. The devastation your heart was feeling for him to have to go through that - knowing it was something he’d been through for decades and it constantly repeated for him.

“You’re okay, Buck. I’m right here. I’ll never let anyone hurt you. Not again,” you cooed on repeat, hoping he knew and understood.

He nodded, pulling you closer. You heard a sniff and he tightened his grip again, knowing how intensely he needed you. “I’m sorry about what I said. But I can’t apologise for how I feel, baby,” his voice so low you almost couldn’t hear it. “I love you.”

You nodded. “I know, Buck,” you replied quietly.

“And as much as you deny it,” he said. “I know exactly how you feel too, sweetheart.”

You raked your hands through his long dark hair hoping to relieve some tension in his body and pulled his gaze back to yours.

“You don’t owe me anything. It’s fine.”

“Don’t be like that,” you begged. “Bucky, I do – ”

“I know, I told you,” he said with a small smile, grasping your sides under his strong hands. “You’ll tell me when you’re ready and I promise I won’t be surprised.”

You couldn’t resist the scoff that bubbled to your lips as he brightened considerably, a playful smirk now on his lips. You slid off his thighs and returned to your side of the table, stuffing your mouth with salad, the aura in the room changed for the better. “Times like this make me really not wanna say it,” you huffed.

“Times like this make me really want to bend you over the table and have my way with you,” he retorted as you choked on a piece of cucumber and he took a sip of wine, completely cool and collected. You swallowed hard and had a sip yourself to calm yourself. Resolve set in.

“Then what are you waiting for, big boy?” you challenged as the table lurched and he stood, his predatory stalk around the dinner table as he hitched you from your seat, his breath heavy down your neck as he took you in. “What am I waiting for? I’ve been waiting for you my whole life and now you’re here. You’ll rue the day you asked, princess,” he hitched you over his shoulder and made his way to your room, slamming the door closed with his foot as the walls rattled and he tossed you on the bed, his hungry gaze telling you to you were in strife.

And you couldn’t wait.

The next morning, the other side of your bed was empty. Cool, Bucky must have been up for a while. You sighed, rubbing your tired eyes. You hadn’t gotten much sleep and your tummy was rumbling after missing most of your dinner the night before for other more extraneous activities.

“Buck?” you called quietly, finding your discarded underwear and throwing his t-shirt from the night before on. You ran your hands through your mussed hair and pushed it off your face before padding quietly back to your room to retrieve your dressing gown in case Steve was home. While he was supportive of whatever it was he thought you and Bucky had, he had announced it was only fair the bedtime behaviours weren’t thrown in his face, to which you and Bucky agreed.

But apparently not this morning.

You burst out laughing as you entered the kitchen. “Are you serious right now?”

“What?” Bucky looked back over his shoulder. “See something you like?”

“Clearly Steve isn’t home yet,” you noted as you approached him and wrapped your arms around his waist from behind, sneaking your cold hands under the apron he wore over the stove and touching his scorching skin. He let out a slight shriek at your cool touch. He never was fond of the cold.

Bucky laughed quietly. “No, Steve didn’t come home. Guess he stayed at the Tower.”

“You told him to stay at the Tower too, didn’t you?” you sighed. Poor Steve. Relegated to the Tower from his own apartment so his roommates could do… well, a lot to each other.

“Yeah,” he snorted.

“Gotta say though. A bit of a fan of this naked chef caper you’ve got going on right now,” you gave his body an appreciative once over and weren’t overly surprised to find your body going back into overdrive for him.

“Naked as the day I was born, kitten,” he confirmed as your hands travelled from his broad, muscular shoulders and traced down his bulging biceps (one warm, the other cool under your touch) through to his delts, lats and descending to grab a handful of bare ass that was begging to be groped. He chuckled darkly, wriggling his butt again. “My junk is very close to the hot plate, sweetheart. Don’t get too frisky. It won’t be a desired result for either of us!”

You stifled a giggle. “Never,” you replied, kissing rippled scar tissue on his left shoulder blade. A visible shudder shot through him as he melted like butter under your lips.

“That feels fuckin’ amazin’,” he crooned, his usually well-concealed Brooklyn accent seeping through due to his increased desire, head lolling back a little. His loose dark hair shimmied across his shoulders softly.

“So, what’s cooking here, chef?” you held his hips and loosened the straps to the apron. You felt him pause.

“Uh, pancakes, baby. What’s cooking back there?” he replied as you raised the strap of the apron over his head, letting it pool at his bare feet and leaving him completely undressed. He swiftly turned the burners off. You turned him to face you as he took a step closer and thankfully, away from the stove and loosened your dressing down, curious as to what may be hiding underneath. “I see you dressed yourself again. Musn’t ‘ave got my memo,” his tone a little miffed as you giggled into his skin. “Nice shirt though. Have one similar. Looks better on you, I gotta admit,” he smiled, running his tongue across his gleaming teeth. “Think you should lose it.”

You nodded as he lifted the shirt over your head, tossing it somewhere over your shoulder as he hitched you up and sat you on the bench, spreading your knees wide so he could stand between them.

“Fuck, you look good enough to eat,” he licked his full, plump lips predatorily. The heat of his gaze eyes screamed passion, lust and maybe a little danger. Humming, he ran his calloused hands from a tug of your hair to the seam of your undies. He forced your gaze to him as he used his cybernetic hand to push them to the side, eagerly sliding his finger between your warm, slippery folds. 

It embarrassed you that you were always on for him. Your breath hitched at the coolness his touch brought and goose bumps cascaded across your body. 

“This may be the only place in the apartment that I’ve never had my way with you,” he muttered before sinking his teeth into the soft skin of your neck, your scent as well as his cologne on your skin from the day before grounding him.

Resting your forehead on your shoulder, you wrapped your arms around his chest in hopes to keep upright.

“You okay?” he whispered, his tongue tracing the rim of your ear and his thumb drawing patterns on your clit, your reply incoherent. “Should I keep going?” he whispered as he took one of your hands from him and repositioned it around his eagerly awaiting cock.

“You should definitely keep going,” you insisted, your hand with a mind of its own as you swirled the pre-come around the tip of his straining head and put your palm to work, twisting and tugging as his hips started to move off their own volition. 

“We eat here,” he grunted. “You pretty little hand tho...”

You gasped as a current ran through your body. “We’ll just make sure we disinfect,” you shuddered before you could finish the sentence. “Really well,” you finally managed as his fingers sent shockwaves through your system. “God, that feels good,” your head fell back as he smiled wickedly, pleased. “But I want you.”

He took a step closer, released your grasp on him and used his hand to slide his cock in just enough before he used his hands to hold your cheeks, he licked your lip and kissed you wet and wildly, his tongue forceful against yours as he moved within you and thrusting gently. Slow to the hilt, knowing exactly how you liked it. It was perfection how well he could make your body succumb to his whim. 

“Jesus,” you managed against his mouth. “Bucky,” you breathed as your torsos meshed together.

“I know, baby girl,” he promised, his hips picking up a gentle rhythm, slow and turning you inside out. “It feels fuckin’ amazin’ to me too.”

“I feel it,” you told him, dragging his eyes to meet you. “I feel it,” you confided. The way your heart raced when you were around him, the lust, the need... the devotion to keeping him safe and desire to be all he needed. 

You loved Bucky Barnes wildly, madly, terrifyingly so. 

“I know, darlin’, I know you love me. I love you so much too,” he sealed your words with a softer kiss, though it seeped with so much passion. “You don’t have to – ” he groaned, unable to hold it back as his hips started moving again. “You don’t have to say it back.”

You managed to push him back at arm's length, his lustfully dark eyes fluttering open as he looked back at you, a little confused. “I do, Buck.”

He breathed, his hands running from your jaw, down the curve of your neck, between your breasts, tickling your belly lightly and resting on your thighs. “Then say it,” he dared.

“I love you, Buck.”

The grin that spread across his face looked like it may have hurt him, his stony eyes shining and the dimples on his cheeks making a rare appearance. “Well, there ya go,” he teased, moving closer again, his lips moving to yours as he returned your affirmation. “Wasn’t so bad, was it?”

You sighed quietly and he shut you up with a firm thrust, reminding you both where you were and the task at hand. You wrapped your arms around his neck, dragging him close as his mouth left wet kisses against your skin. He grasped your thighs, getting closer as your head fell back in pure ecstasy. “Need you. Make me cum.”

“I’ve got you, baby doll,” he whispered. “Lemme make you feel real fuckin’ good, okay?” he begged as he moved his warm fingers to your centre again.

“Christ,” you muttered, your gaze dropping to where your bodies met, the sexiest sight and allowing your body to tighten as suddenly all you could see was white, your body quaking as you came undone and collapsed backwards on the bench as he caught you with a humoured huff.

All this power he had over you and the three words said aloud made it even better.

“Yes, baby,” he chuckled lowly, his movements starting to get a little erratic, taking absolutely everything you had to offer to him, not much longer before his hips sped up, bringing him to his climax as well and crashing into you like a freight train as he came, harsh and ragged, desperate. “Jesus, fuck,” he panted, pulling your body impossibly closer. “I love you,” he whispered again, taking your face in his hands and kissing you deeply. “I fucking love you so much. I’ll never let anything happen to you.”

“I love you too, Buck,” you said again as he gave you a softer kiss, his phone pinging across the counter. “God, that’s not work, is it?” you asked him. You knew your luck was running out, he’d been home for a few days and knew time was dwindling before he was to assemble.

He sighed. “I dunno, sweetheart,” he gave you a meek grin as he gently pulled out, your thighs crossing quickly to avoid a sticky mess across the counter. He sighed and checked his phone. “Worse.”

“Unless it's aliens or robots back to fuck shit up again, it cannot be worse. So, where are you off to?” you sighed sadly.

“Nowhere,” he chuckled. “Steve complaining about livin’ it up in the Tower while we made house here,” he winked. You gave Bucky a shy smile as he rolled his eyes and replied to Steve before picking up the apron and discarded clothes. “Come on, let’s get you showered, love,” he tugged your hair and gave you another gentle kiss. “Then I’ll make you lunch.”

“Dressed?” you asked, hoping to hide the disappointment in your voice.

“Probably best,” he sighed, taking your hand and leading you to the bathroom to clean up a long night and another leisurely round against the cool shower tiles. “Grumpy old bastard will be home at some point.”

[lovelylusts]

cloud nine // csb // 07 - bunny

summary: a group of friends form on nsfw twitter, and hijinks ensue. but when jisu starts catching feelings for soobin after filming with him, she has to grapple with her feelings while assuring her close bond with him doesn’t die.

general warnings: choi soobin x oc (moon jisu), smau, smut, fluff, angst, crack, the rest of txt is here too, aespa is also here just bc they serve, no relationships or events in this story reflect real ships and are just for the story, this is a pro sex-work story obv, lowkey probably gonna be filthy as hell considering it’s a sex work au, vague relationships lmao, she/they oc because i’m projecting, genderfluid yeonjun agenda, oc has a not-so-secret thing for soobin’s hands, they use fake names on twt :)

chapter warnings: another written chapter :3, intentional lowercase lol, sub!soobin, dom!oc, same warning abt jisu’s pronouns as before, sex toys as per usual with me, rigging (rope bunny soobin <3), blindfolding, begging, handjob, praise, humiliation?, two instances of premature ejaculation :(, multiple orgasms, degradation/slut-shaming, oral (m receiving), anal fingering (m receiving, and also mentions of soobin fingering himself), pegging (in missionary), minor dacryphilia, squirting, very very brief aftercare

word count: 4.1k

series masterlist // general masterlist

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jisu was certain she was a masochist, because why would she suggest putting herself in more situations that would make her feelings for soobin worsen? she was yet again at his doorstep with everything they would need for the filming session of the day, this time matching the different themes of the video. they had spent the days prior discussing ideas for the video which, this time, would be featuring jisu as the dominant one, and during these discussions she learned a lot about soobin that he had previously only reflected in something as unnoticeable as his liked tweets - which, surprisingly, she hadn’t gone through until the first night they talked about their second video. she knew he could be submissive at times, but she didn’t know how far he could go with the video.

soobin was no stranger to making submissive content. while he was more known for being dominant, his fans were always excited when he posted content that didn’t necessarily fall in that category. every time he reached a milestone in followers or subscribers, soobin would ask his followers for what celebratory content they wanted, and somehow it was always content where he took on a more submissive role. but what his fans didn’t really know is how much of a sub he could really be. the last time he filmed with jisu, although he was supposed to be in control, when he felt her lips around his cock, he felt himself slipping off, barely able to keep himself together enough for his viewers.

he was excited to finally be able to let go this time.

jisu was equally excited. seeing him fall apart beneath her as she went down on him filled her ego like never before. her mind was wandering as she waited for him to answer the door, her desire for him increasing as she imagined him tied up, tip leaking precum as he begged for her to touch him. or him crying sweetly as she entered his tight hole with the toy she brought. or-

“hey, jisu,” he said, knocking her out of her lustful trance. he pulled her in for a hug, a smile creeping onto his face as the sweet vanilla scent of her perfume filled his senses.

fuck, he thought to himself. why am i already so hard?

jisu could feel it too, his member poking her stomach - they were both aware of its presence, but whether it was nerves, awkwardness, or the comforting fact they had done this before, kept either of them from commenting on it. if anything, the feeling of his hard member through those damn sweatpants made the throbbing feeling between her legs even worse.

“you ready?” she asked, her chin resting against his chest as she looked up at him.

it should be illegal for somebody to be this cute while asking me if i’m ready to be destroyed, he thought to himself.

wait, what?

shaking off the intruding thought, he led her into his apartment, through his living room and into the bedroom that he had been setting up when he heard the knock on his door. the main camera was positioned by the foot of the bed, just as it had been last time, as well as the secondary camera. the comforter was different, this time monochromatic grey plaid, and it looked like he was able to fill in the gaps of jisu’s own selection toys that she brought.

“we should film now before i explode,” soobin said with a cheek smile, already taking his shirt off.

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soobin looked so pretty with his wrists tied to his headboard and a lace blindfold adorning his face, a blindfold that matched her lacey lingerie, it made jisu feel breathless. she now understood how he felt last time - even being in the position of power, he just looked so amazing that she would fold and do anything he asked her to. his lips were red and swollen from intense kisses, his distinct collarbones covered in bruises and teeth marks, his nipples hard from her manipulation. and, of course, his member was pink- nearing red, precum dripping down his veiny shaft.

“aww, look at you,” jisu said as she traced his abs with the tip of her pointer finger, chuckling as he flinched beneath her. “so hard for me and i haven’t even touched your pretty cock yet.”

“all for you,” he sighed out. his voice was strained, breathless, filled with need - he was about to cry and she had barely started. “p-please touch me. please.”

“i am touching you, onyx.” she continued tracing her blunt nail around the outlines of his abdomen, entranced by the way his chest heaved with her feather-light touches. his eyes were covered with lace that, in her own experience, he could only barely see through, thinking to herself that she would probably take it off later so she could watch his face as she entered him. “if you want me to touch you, you’re going to have to be more specific.”

“my cock. please touch my cock. it hurts, jiu.”

his words sent a new, stronger wave of arousal to jisu’s core - yeah, this definitely isn’t helping me. she very slowly, very lightly, dragged her hand down soobin’s abdomen, admiring the v-shape of his hips before pulling her hand away and reveling in the whine that slipped out of him.

soobin could feel the intense heat in his cheeks, and the embarrassment of sounding so fucking needy was definitely not helping. it was already rare that he act submissive alone, but with another person? he was sure it was only two or three times with an experimental fling in his final months of high school, but that was forever ago, and he couldn’t recall it making him feel anything close to how he felt when jisu was touching him. in fact, as her hand slowly wrapped around the base of his sensitive length, he was sure he was about to start sobbing.

jisu looked down at him in adoration as his stomach caved lightly as he choked out shallow breaths, precum dripping from his tip onto her hand.

she took her time stroking his sensitive length, her movements slow so as to draw more needy whines from his lips.

“please, more, please,” he begged. soobin was well aware of his large stature - he was tall, had big hands, and a massive dick - but he had never felt as small as he had at that moment, in the best way possible. he was slipping into a bliss he had never felt before, his hips jerking as she teased him. he couldn’t even form a proper thought. how pathetic.

“more what, baby? use your words, pretty boy,” she spoke softly.

pretty boy. the words played over and over in his mind until-

“no fucking way,” she muttered under her breath as she watched him unravel beneath her unexpectedly, small ropes of cum covering her hand as he groaned out. “you’re so fucking hot.”

soobin didn’t even have time to feel embarrassed because of her words. yet he thought to himself, my ego is never going to recover from this. holy fuck.

“more, jiu, please,” he cried out, his cock twitching and still painfully hard as he came down from his first high of the session. all shame was out the window now. he was gone. he was all hers for the time being, no questions asked.

“you’re such a little slut,” she started as she once again wrapped her cum-covered hand around his throbbing member and began stroking, only a little faster than before. “but i bet only i can make you act like this, hm? you cum that fast for anyone else?”

“n-no, only you.”

this was getting to her head way too much to be good for her, it was as if she were slowly forgetting that this was for the camera. it felt like it was just the two of them, just like last time. like it wasn’t a performance. jimin was right, their video felt too real, and this time she was just falling more. he just looked so perfect under her. so disheveled, but maybe that made him even more appealing.

“good boy.”

with what remaining thinking abilities were remaining within his foggy brain, he was convinced he was about to cum again. this was just too good - better than last time, and she hadn’t even put her mouth on him yet. subconsciously, he was thrusting his hips up towards her hand, only making her slow her movements again and making him whine in frustration.

“is there something you want?” jisu asked him while leaning forward, putting pressure on his hips with one hand to try to keep him from moving. in any other situation, he definitely would have overpowered her with no effort; but he simply didn’t want to. he could only give into what she asked of him.

“your mouth. please, i need to feel your mouth.”

“will you be able to control yourself this time or are you gonna cum early again?” she teased.

soobin whine in embarrassment, but ultimately decided that it was better to nod and ask for forgiveness later. “yes. i promise. please.”

“well,” she started, “i don’t particularly believe you, but you look so cute when asking, so i guess i’ll have to give in.” with no moment for him to take in what jisu said, her lips were wrapped around the tip of his cock as she gently sucked, hand still stroking the rest of his member.

he knew he was already being noisy before, but now he couldn’t control any of the loud whines coming from his lips. just like last time, she started taking his impressive length down her throat like it was nothing. this is heaven, he thought to himself, and even his internal monologue sounded as desperate as he did physically.

“ji-jiu, i’m gonna cum,” he cried out in an attempt to either get her to stop or let him cum again - the latter was definitely more embarrassing, yet he chased his release so desperately that he could not bring himself to care in the moment. that was for not-so-future soobin to worry about.

jisu did care, however, but she didn’t stop. she was basking in the power she held over the boy who had been occupying her thoughts over the past couple of weeks, and for some reason she had never thought about before, there was something so satisfying in seeing him turn cherry red from embarrassment. her sense of satisfaction increased tenfold when he cried out one last time, louder than his other sounds, and the slightly salty taste of his release filled her mouth before quickly swallowing it down. she pulled off of him slowly, looking up at him expecting for their eyes to meet, only to see him staring at the ceiling over his heaving chest, the sounds of him trying to regulate his breathing pattern filling the otherwise quite room.

“you did so good for me,” said jisu as she ran her nails through his soft, jet black hair. “are you ready?” she asked, aware she didn’t have to say what for. they had talked it through thoroughly, and it definitely awoke something within her - she would probably have never considered doing this with anybody else.

soobin, still trying to catch his breath, just nodded lazily. but as he came down, the feeling of nervousness he experienced in the morning came flooding back. this had always been a fantasy of his, but the most he had ever done is fit two fingers inside of himself. nobody else had ever touched him like that, and he knew he could trust jisu, but the butterflies in his stomach wouldn’t subside. the butterflies certainly couldn’t calm down now that jisu had grabbed the toy from the nightstand. even though they had split the cost of the toy in her hands, even though he had spent the entire morning hyping himself up for this, he still felt entirely underprepared. his dick, however, was having a completely different reaction, quickly hardening after again after his second orgasm and bordering painful.

she admittedly had never done this before, either, a fact that she had divulged to him as they planned the video. they were both oddly comforted that this was their first time in this situation, but just as nervous about it as well; but jisu couldn’t help but find the idea of being the first person to fuck his ass super appealing, and luckily for her they decided on a vibrating strapless strap-on, so she could be stimulated with him. she had spent the morning trying to master the toy, making sure it would sit comfortably inside her without slipping, and that the built-in vibrator was strong enough; and now, after slipping off her lacy underwear, she was sliding the short curve of one end of the toy in her wet heat, a small, quiet gasp escaping from her lungs.

jisu grabbed the bottle of lube that was placed next to the toy, squirting a bit on the fingers of her right hand before using the left to nudge soobin’s thighs apart and bringing her fingers to his tight hole, pressing them against the virgin rim and slowly drawing tiny circles, the cold, slippery substance sending a slight chill up his spine.

he tensed up subconsciously, the sensation of her fingers teasing his hole, although pleasurable and exciting, ultimately foreign.

“relax, baby. i promise i’ll be careful,” she said to soothe not only his nerves, but also probably her own. she waited until he visibly relaxed, becoming used to the sensation of being touched in such a manner, then slowly sliding her pointer finger inside of him, meeting some resistance as he tensed up again. “onyx. i need you to relax, baby.”

“i’m sorry,” he whined. he started tugging at his restraints a bit, desperate to touch something, maybe grab at the sheets or hold the hand that she currently had placed firmly on the underside of his right thigh. he tried to calm his breathing, slowing his breaths to calm down and relax himself, trying to fight the urge to stiffen as she continued to push her finger in. it was one thing to finger himself, but to give all control to somebody else scared him a bit… but it also felt so much better.

she just watched him breathe for a bit, rubbing his thigh with her left hand to soothe him while her right hand stilled to let him adjust to the feeling. “if you want me to keep going, you’ll have to ask.”

he took a short moment to compose himself, making sure he was truly relaxed, before softly saying, “please keep going. feels good.”

“yeah?” she asked, her tone becoming more playful now that she knew he was more comfortable, and while speaking she slowly began to pump her finger in and out of the hole, grinning to herself as she felt him little-by-little loosen up. “look at you. hard to believe that such a big, strong boy can be such a little bitch for me.”

it was a bit embarrassing for him, but he honestly could not have cared less as he felt her finger begin to slightly curve, just barely brushing up against his prostate. maybe it was a bit shocking that he could be such a baby, but he just couldn’t bring himself to give a fuck if it meant feeling this good.

“i’m gonna put another finger in, ok?” she asked sweetly.

“please,” he said, so softly he wasn’t sure the microphone caught it, but that was for them to worry about while editing later. “it feels so good.”

“i’m glad you think so, baby.” she pulled her one finger out of his asshole, only to immediately press it back against the rim, now with her middle finger, and slowly push them in. her fingers faced more resistance than last time, but his sounds of bliss increased as she pushed forward, until she ultimately bottomed out and stilled again, just as before, to let him adjust to the feeling. “still doing good?”

“fuck, yes, please move,” he pleaded, barely able to choke out the words because of how full he felt. he let out a low groan that shifted into a higher pitched whine as she began to move her fingers, this time angling them more than before to stimulate him more. his tip was leaking precum again, twitching at the sensation of her fingers curly against the sweet spot within. he was tired of this already; now that he knew he could handle the stretch, he had the carnal need for her to fuck him already. “jiu, please fuck me. i need it, i need it so bad.”

she chuckled a bit before answering. she wants to, she really did, but, “you’re just too tight. i need to stretch you out a bit more, ok?”

“i promise i can handle it, please. i need your cock,” he cried out. he was desperate to touch himself, but the restraints forbid him from doing so.

soobin’s words rang in her mind over and over. jisu really, truly never thought she’d be into, well, anything that had happened in the past… she had lost track of time completely due to how lost in the moment she felt. i need your cock. jesus fucking christ, she was so done for.

but she had to show restraint. the last thing she wanted to do was hurt him and ruin something that could be so good.

“you’re playing with fire,” she warned instead. “let me prep you first.”

he didn’t say anything, he just groaned in frustration, but ultimately let it go and instead relinquished control to her once again. she pulled out of him briefly, making him release another sound of disappointment, so she could cover her fingers in more lube, before circling his rim once again. he shuttered again at the cold sensation, but now he had more control over his body - he could relax now, not allowing his body to resist as she pushed three or her fingers into his entrance.

jisu set a quick rhythm of thrusting her fingers in and out of soobin’s ass, mainly because she knew that if either of them having to wait much longer was basically a fate worse than death. loose enough, she thought to herself as she pulled her fingers out. reaching over to the bottle of lube one last time, she drenched her fingers in the cold substance before spreading it along the pink dildo - wow, that’s really hot, she thought to herself, i could get used to this.

the sensation of a cold, stiff object felt different this time. the pressure of the toy pressing against his hole was definitely different from how jisu’s fingers felt, it sent a wave of excitement through his body. he gritted his teeth as jisu pushed her hips forwards, her hands gripping his waist firmly as she slowly moved her hips towards his own, his body feeling as if it had been set on fire in the best way. the stretch was deliciously painful, and the curve of the toy made it so that his prostate was being hit at just the right angle. he finally felt her hips meet his ass, groaning at the sensation of the entire length of the toy resting inside of him. so focused on the full feeling, he didn’t notice that she was reaching for the small remote on the nightstand until he felt the vibrations start.

“f-fuck,” jisu whispered to herself. her clit had been throbbing, aching since she arrived at soobin’s place, and her pussy had been so wet, just getting wetter and wetter as she pleased soobin - to finally get some stimulation was amazing. “want me to move, baby?”

“god, yes.” he gasped and nearly choked on his own breath as he felt her pull out slowly, dragging the toy almost all the way out before moving her hips forward again. “it’s so good. too good. fuck, please, please ruin me.”

“i don’t know if you can handle that yet,” she said. “i’m gonna have to train you to take my cock.” jisu really wasn’t sure what had gotten into her. the power of having a fake dick, i guess.

soobin also had no idea what had gotten into her. he had known her for quite a while and she always seemed really docile - there was no way he would have ever predicted she could be this domineering, but it made him briefly consider that he could spend the rest of his life being her little bitch. dude, what are you saying? he asked himself. this thought, however, did not last more than a mere second or two before she began increasing her speed out of nowhere, the sound of her hips meeting his bare ass filling the room, accompanied by breathy moans.

“god, i love fucking you like this,” she grunted to him, looking down to watch as the silicone penis slid in and out of his ass, his cock red and leaking precum everywhere. her hand quickly found its way to the member, slowly stroking it in tandem with the rolling of her hips. “i bet you love being fucked like this, hm? like a little fucking whore?”

“y-yes- fuck, hah. love it so much.” soobin’s head was spinning. there was not a single coherent thought behind his lace-covered eyes - that is, until he remembered the presence of the vision-obscuring material. “i wanna see you, please. wanna see you fuck me.”

“aww, so cute. since you asked me so nicely,” she taunted, balancing herself before moving her hand from his hip to snatch the blindfold off over his head, throwing it haphazardly on the floor beside his bed. his eyes were slightly puffy and a bit red, making it clear that he had in fact cried at some point - when, neither of them were quite sure, but the knowledge of it was enough to boost her ego further. both her hand and hip movement increased in speed at the sight. with each thrust of her hips, the base of the toy was knocking against her clit, which, mixed with the vibrations against the sensitive nub as well as her g-spot, was enough to bring her closer to the edge faster than she would have liked.

soobin was faring no better. his entire body felt fuzzy from the intense stimulation. being able to watch her didn’t help at all - she was covered in a light sheen of sweat, her jiggling tits slipping out of the black lacy bralette due to the rough rolling of her hips. he lowered his gaze to watch as their bodies met, her hand wrapped perfectly around his length as she jerked him off, and her hips seductively rocking against him. the visuals of the situation were only bringing him closer and closer to the edge. “i’m so close. fuck, i’m gonna cum.”

“can you wait for me? wanna cum at the same time,” jisu grunted breathlessly, her speed increasing to make him holding in his orgasm a little harder. she loved to see him squirm and beg for; but luckily for him, her orgasm was rapidly approaching. “fuck, i wish you could see yourself the way i see you right now. you’re taking my cock so well.” she finally felt the blinding pleasure reaching her, it was time. “cum for me.”

he didn’t need to be told twice. his thighs were shaking as white hot pleasure took over his body, ropes and ropes of his release shot out of his cock, covering her hand and abdomen. through the overwhelming feeling, he could feel her still rapidly fucking into him, making his orgasm way more intense. he didn’t notice but his eyes were watering again as he felt himself slowly come down.

the climax that hit jisu was equally as intense, riding her high by continuing to rock her hips, the sensations against her throbbing clit intensifying the warm fuzziness climbing up her spine until she cried out. she really tried to prevent this to keep up her dominant appearance, but she felt her own fluids releasing, soaking the (luckily waterproof) toy and once again ruining poor soobin’s bedsheets.

⋆⛧*┈┈┈┈﹤୨♡୧﹥ ┈┈┈┈*⛧⋆

it took a while, but once they had both calmed themselves, jisu helped clean up a very fucked-out soobin before they sat in his bed (of course, after she changed his sheets) and watched a random netflix show.

“so…” jisu trailed off. “did that live up to your expectations?”

soobin let out a soft chuckle. “i don’t think anything could have prepared me for that. if i weren’t worried about being able to sit properly for the next week, i’d ask you to do it again.”

jisu couldn’t help but laugh at him, commenting on how much of a dork he was.

yeah… she was in deep.

⋆⛧*┈┈┈┈﹤୨♡୧﹥ ┈┈┈┈*⛧⋆

[logarhythm-bees]

To Unearth and Back Again; ⛅Chapter 18

Chapter Seventeen | Table of Contents | Chapter Nineteen

See ronithesnail's absolutely wonderful art for this story!

I'm the one who sees you home But now I'm lost in the woods And I don't know what path you are on I'm lost in the woods

-Lost In The Woods, Frozen

Logan kept walking with the party in tow, careful not to trip over any plants. The woods they’d just left had been tame, with short trees casting shade over their heads as they’d run through dirt paths and flora. This new forest, in contrast, rang closer to a rainforest. The trees totally gulfed the ones they’d seen before, towering over the group. Where the woods had given them shade from the sun, these trees nearly blocked it out, letting patches of light through the canopy.

If this were a tournament between the two biomes, Roman would choose the first by a landslide. He found himself almost wishing he were still lost in the woods with Virgil. It was a struggle to find their way out, sure, but it barely compared to nearly crawling through the giant plants on the forest floor and struggling through the overwhelming smell of moss and water.

Something squelched uncomfortably beneath his feet, and Roman coughed out a “blegh” sound as he struggled to pull his boot out of the mud. That was another thing about this forest in comparison to the other that he preferred significantly less. The woods had damp soil, sure, but here the ground was soaked with water, like a sponge that had been left out in a hurricane. Every step made a wet sound as they walked, and it was really starting to bother Roman with overstimulation as they had to keep clambering through this forest.

Logan seemed to know where they were going, pushing ahead with enthusiasm; he hadn’t bothered to actually tell them where they were going though, and Roman was getting a little frustrated with the tumbling through the forest and blindly following behind him.

“Hey, Brainforest.” He called up to Logan, who turned to him inquisitively. “Where exactly are we going?”

“The bird said to head straight this way until we reached a body of water, from what I understood,” Logan explained. “Judging by the increasing saturation of water in the ground, I would say we are close.”

Roman grimaced at the implication that they would be in this mess of a rainforest for any longer and took to trying to slide his way forwards by shuffling his feet along the ground. This unfortunately just created some more, comparably worse squelching noises in the mud, so Roman returned to just walking normally. Or as normal as one can, when one is gay and also in an obstacle course that’s trying to pass itself off as a forest to evade zoning laws or something. Did this place have laws? It was being run by Remus, so probably not.

“We’re here,” Logan said. Roman looked up to see a small lake in front of them, water rushing into it from a small waterfall at its side. 

“So your bird told us to go to this lake. We’re at the lake. Now what?”

“I’m glad you asked, Virgil.” Logan replied. “The waterfall is bringing water here from somewhere, and as water follows the path of least resistance, we should be able to find our way out by going in the opposite direction of its flow.”

“So we just…follow the river?” Thomas asked.

“Precisely.” Logan smiled. “That should lead us out of the forest, or at the very least to higher ground, where we will have a better vantage point to find a way out.”

“Let’s go, then,” Virgil muttered, clambering around the lake and up to the waterfall. He helped Roman climb up with him, and the others followed.

Virgil started off up the stream. The ground here was certainly still wet, but it was rocky too, so it didn’t make as much noise. Roman was thankful for the break on his ears and brain.

After some more walking, though the river did lead them uphill, it led them to a small cutout in the hillside that the water was flowing out of.

“How do we follow it now?” Thomas worried. “We can’t see it anymore.”

“We have to listen,” Logan emphasized. “We can still hear the water underground. It will be harder to hear now, though, so we have to be quiet.”

The group fell into a hush, climbing quietly up the hill with the distant sound of running water under their feet. The muddy terrain slowly became solid rock and grass as they climbed in quiet.

Roman was rather glad for the change in texture. The mud had been becoming far too much on his senses.

As the grass returned in full to the ground beneath them, the sounds of the water flowing became louder again. The uphill climb began to flatten out. The river reappeared next to them, a trickle flowing in a curved path on the hill, which made Logan smirk.

“As easy as that,” Logan hummed, pushing back a curtain of vines to reveal a clearing before them, and at the end of it a cavern with a river opening straight down the middle for them to continue forth.

[screechthemighty]

Hello, People Who Read My Resident Evil Fanfics, I'm back!!!! (May be back even more over the next few months, tbh. I don't want to make any promises, but Dracula Daily is hyperfixation-adjacent and getting back into RE4 Remake is up next on my content roster, so who knows?) AO3 link will be in a reblog, but here's the next chapter of catch me floating circles in my fish bowl!

catch me floating circles in my fish bowl - part three:

May 2, 2021:

“Zoe’s fine. She’s shopping at the grocery store like normal, at least.” Carlos showed him a picture on his phone. It took Ethan a second to recognize her. Her hair was all white, and she looked less desperately thin than he remembered. She was buying chips and standing next to a brick wall of a man with a serious case of resting bitch face. He looked familiar, but not quite familiar.

“Joe Baker?” Ethan guessed. “Glad to see she’s still got some family left.” Especially family like Joe Baker. If Chris was right, the guy had punched his way through the site to get to Zoe. He’s probably the only person in this mess more unhinged than I am. And he meant that as a compliment. “Thank you again for this. I know it’s probably paranoid, but with everything going on…”

How was he to know that the BSAA hadn’t gone after her? She could be just as valuable a resource as Ethan.

Speaking of…

“Still nothing from the BSAA?”

“Not that I’ve heard. I feel like that’s not gonna change until you leave. They don’t have a cause to investigate Blue openly and I don’t think they’d suspect Chris of bringing you here, so…” Carlos shrugged. “They’re probably keeping a closer eye on Terra Save. You have physical therapy today?”

Ethan’s mood soured instantly. “No,” he admitted. “I mean, I was supposed to, but I fell last time and they’re worried I fucked up my ankle, so we didn’t do much.” He hoped he didn’t look too petulant. “I know, if I hurt myself it could slow my healing down, I need to be careful…”

“Don’t forget it’s a miracle you’re walking at all,” Carlos pointed out. “You should still be bedridden.”

“Technically, I should be dead, but I get your point. Still, it’s just…”

Frustrating. It was all so damn frustrating. His self-appointed deadline was this month. He didn’t need to run a marathon or anything. He just wanted to walk on his own. Any patience he might’ve had for his body and its shortcomings had gone out the window now that the novelty of being alive had worn off.

“...to be clear, I’m asked this as a concerned friend, not as the guy responsible for you, but…they’ve got you seeing a therapist, right?” Carlos said. “Like…for your brain.”

“Yeah, they have,” Ethan said. “We’re still working on Dulvey. Turns out, almost being murdered under extreme bullshit circumstances is even more traumatic than just almost being murdered. Who would’ve thought?”

Carlos wince-laughed in a way that said he knew exactly what Ethan meant. “At least your guy has probably heard it all by now,” he said. “We didn’t have that when I was going.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I think the chainsaw scissors threw him off.”

“...the fucking what?”

Ethan probably shouldn’t have found that funny, but honestly? It was a little hilarious that he could one-up Carlos in the weirdness department.

Just a little.

.

Mia had been avoiding her therapist.

She knew, objectively, that avoiding her therapist probably looked worse than anything she could have actually said in therapy. She knew that whatever she said would stay in that room, that even her criminal past was safe to talk about. She knew this could be helpful, that it might let her sort out her thought spirals and fears and her increasing discomfort with being around Ethan.

But she couldn’t bring herself to go. Going meant actually admitting to everything–to all these dark thoughts, to all the shit she’d done. The thought of saying it out loud and having another person hear made her physically sick.

But she couldn’t stay away forever, so she finally went, with the intention of appearing as put-together and fine as possible.

She failed within five minutes.

“So, you’re concerned that Ethan is pushing himself too hard,” her therapist said. Doctor Reid was a no-nonsense sort of woman, the kind who cut right to the chase. It probably made her a great therapist, but these days, it mostly made Mia want to kill her.

“Ethan’s…” Mia tried to think of how best to phrase it. “...selfless to a fault. I don’t want him thinking about me right now. He should be focused on himself.”

Dr. Reid nodded and wrote something down. “Am I correct in assuming you’ve had this argument before?”

Mia tried to stay calm. It was difficult when visions of every argument they had since Mia learned she was pregnant started dancing through her mind.

We matter, Ethan! You matter! He’d been so caught up in protecting Rose, even before she was born. She’d known the lengths Ethan had gone to protect her. Known that he would go just as far for Rose, if not further. It was part of the reason she’d been so afraid to tell him what the mold had done to them. If he’d come to the same conclusions they had–that the BSAA had been deliberately negligent to unknown ends–who knew what he might have done?

The sound of pen against paper drew her out of her racing thoughts. Dr. Reid must have taken her silence as an answer. “Have you discussed this with him at all?”

Mia forced her voice to stay flat. “I’ve told him it’s okay to recover at his own pace,” she said. “He knows that we’re safe.”

“Maybe, but there’s more to the conversation than that, I think.” Dr. Reid put her pen down. “Are you frightened of what your husband might do?”

Damn this woman. “Why would I be? He protects us.”

“And he nearly died doing so, twice. That’s difficult to discuss. Objectively, he’s not wrong. Protecting those you care about is noble. But the survivor’s guilt you would’ve felt…” She picked back up her pen. “...and the guilt I’m sure you feel now are still very real. It could be easy for him to forget that.”

Mia felt her jaw go tense. “It’s not about that.”

“What is it about?’

“It’s my fault…”

Damn it. Damn it. Doctor Reid knew about the Connections, of course she did, but that didn’t mean Mia had to bring it up.

Doctor Reid glanced up. “You blame yourself,” she said finally, “because you think your time with the Connections is the reason Ethan ended up the way he did?”

The plan was not to reply, but Doctor Reid just sat there, waiting for an answer. Screw it. If this woman wanted an answer, she’d get her damn answer.

“I don’t think. I know. If I hadn’t been working for the Connections, I never would’ve ended up in Dulvey and he wouldn’t have had to save me. That’s where he got infected. That’s where the Rose got infected.”

“And if the BSAA had been honest, Ethan would’ve been cured, or his condition would have been managed,” Doctor Reid pointed out. “Maybe if they’d been honest, you two would have chosen not to have children. If Mirand had left you alone, or never learned about you, Ethan wouldn’t have had to save you a second time. Yes, your actions were one of the dominoes, but they were also just that. One of the dominoes. Why do you think you should shoulder all the blame?” Doctor Reid paused. “Why do you think Ethan thinks you should shoulder all the blame?”

“I don’t think that. I…”

She didn’t know. And that was really the worst part. So much of her was convinced that he wouldn’t blame her, which was bad in its own way. But the anxiety, the guilt, had her convinced that he would. There was no version of the story where this ended well.

“If I may,” Doctor Reid said. “You worry about Ethan pushing himself too hard and you worry about him getting into danger again. I assume this worry is compounded by the fact that you blame yourself for everything that’s happened, which in turn makes you feel that you’re not worthy of that protection. These are very strong emotions that are going to impact your interactions with Ethan, especially since you’ve had these disagreements before. Do you think I’m wrong?”

“...no.” It was a miracle it hadn’t impacted things already–or, at least, that it hadn’t in such a strong way that Ethan had noticed and started asking questions.

“Have you tried communicating with him about what’s been bothering you? You said Ethan had been keen to talk in the past. Perhaps if you had some mediation…”

“You offer couple’s counseling, too?”

“Actually, I’d find a third party, but we do have those.”

Of course they did. Nothing like a viral outbreak to put a strain on a marriage, right? Mia nearly burst out laughing at the thought, but managed to keep it together. Barely.

“I’ll think about it,” Mia said.

And she would. She just had a feeling she already knew what her answer was going to be.

.

May 5, 2021:

“You’ve got to be absolutely shitting me.”

Credit to everyone in the room: they were really doing their best not to laugh, or were treating it just as seriously as Ethan felt. Because he was taking this seriously. Because it was bullshit.

“Everything I’ve been through,” he said, staring down the cold compress on his arm, “all of that bullshit. And I’m still…” The only thing that kept him from swearing was Rose being in the room, staring him down with a slightly concerned look. “...I’m still allergic to bees?!”

“It would seem so, yes,” Doctor Marshall said calmly. “Do you want to hear something reassuring?”

“There’s something reassuring about this situation?”

“Your body is having a normal reaction to the sting. Not an exaggerated one, and it hasn’t triggered anything else in your healing. That’s a good sign.”

Damn it, he had a point. “I guess,” Ethan grumbled. Then, “Bees?!”

Jill finally broke the no-laughing rule with a barely muffled snort. “Sorry…” Her pale blue eyes were lit up with amusement as she tried not to make eye contact. “...no, it sucks, it really does…”

That probably should’ve pissed him off more, but…okay, yeah, it was funny-not-funny now that someone was laughing. Ethan deflated a bit, a bemused sigh escaping past his lips. “Just please don’t tell my wife,” he said. “She worries about me enough as it is. You’re telling her I’m fine, right?”

“I’m giving Mia medically accurate information,” Doctor Marshall said. “Unless you want to withdraw her as your-”

“No, no, it’s…” Great, that just means that either she’s misreading the information Marshall’s giving her or the results are worse than I realized. He wasn’t sure he liked either option. “It’s fine,” Ethan said. He peeked under the cold compress again. “Does the medically accurate information include that this bee sting isn’t gonna kill me?”

Ethan thought he felt a shift in Jill’s mood after that comment. That feeling was confirmed as she wheeled him out. “Everything okay with you two?” she asked. “I don’t want to be nosy, I just know this kind of thing puts a strain on…everything.”

“It’s…” Ethan sighed. “Complicated. Conflicting support needs, I think.” That was what his therapist had said when Ethan tried to describe the disconnect between how they’d handled Dulvey. Ethan wanted to talk. Mia wanted to forget. Neither was wrong, necessarily, but it did contribute to why they’d been butting heads on and off before the village. They hadn’t started couples therapy yet. Ethan wondered sometimes if they should move that up the list.

I basically died on her. That can’t be good for her mental health.

“That’s always tough,” Jill said. She had that tone, the one that said she and Carlos had been through the same thing. That was so weird to think about. They seemed rock solid, the two of them. Then again, they’d been together for a while, and lived through a lot during that time. Nothing like practice to improve your communication skills. “The give and take of it all. You’ve got to be supportive without giving up your own needs.”

“And hers,” Ethan added, tilting his head towards Rose as she grabbed at his coat collar. That was definitely a complicating factor. “I keep trying to tell myself that all couples have these problems, but…they don’t. You can say it’s the same thing, but it’s not.” Maybe that wasn’t fair, maybe he was playing the trauma Olympics, but he’d kill for regular problems. He’d kill for so many of their problems to not be tied up in dumbass crime syndicates and undead werewolves and potentially world-ending bullshit. If he could swap places with the Ethan who’d lost an arm to a car accident, he’d do it in a heartbeat. Zero hesitation.

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Jill said. “I think that’s why I was never able to make normal friends. Almost everything feels minor compared to…” She gestured vaguely. “...everything.”

Everything was a pretty good summary of things. And that really summed up how shitty things were for the both of them. “How did you two make it through things?” Ethan asked. “I mean, if you’re okay with sharing.”

“Couples’ therapy,” Jill said without hesitation. “It helped with everything. Even the mundane stuff. And we talk to each other, as much as we can. It used to be a monthly thing when we were active duty. There was a lot happening and we wanted to make sure we had the time.”

That made sense, but it didn’t make Ethan feel any better. How were they supposed to do this when Mia still didn’t want to talk? He couldn’t force her. He’d tried, if he was being honest. It had only made things worse.

How much longer could they just let things stew again?

.

May 15, 2021:

Apparently, at least another week and a half.

Maybe the mounting anxiety had been a warning.

She’d known from the second she opened her eyes that today was going to test her. Mia hated to blame Ethan, because it wasn’t entirely him. She’d been slipping towards a shitty day for a long time.

But opening her eyes to see Ethan standing upright didn’t help.

“What are you doing?” Mia yelped.

Ethan nearly fell over. Fortunately, he’d been clinging to a chair to support him; it was the only thing that kept him falling down. “Shit!” he yelped back. Then, quietly, “Shh!”

Mia’s gaze darted guiltily to Rose. Fortunately, she was still fast asleep. “What are you doing?!” Mia hissed once she was sure her baby hadn’t woken up.

“I was cold,” Ethan replied. “I wanted a sweater.”

“I could have gotten one for you.”

“You were finally sleeping, I didn’t want to wake you up.”

“What do you -” Mia took a deep breath. “Please sit down. I will get you a sweater.”

Ethan nearly protested. She could see it in the way that his shoulders went tense and his eyes met hers directly. But just as suddenly, he looked away, his shoulders slumping, as he sat down. Crisis averted, she allowed herself to think as she got up to get him a sweater.

That was stupid of her to think. She knew Ethan better than that. She should’ve known. Ethan only stayed quiet for as long as it took to get him the sweater. But once he was holding it…

“I don’t want to do this again,” he said.

Oh, no. “Do…what…?”

“It’s just…” Ethan sighed and rubbed his eyes. His fingers seemed to linger over the scar tissue across his nose. “Back in Europe, it felt like every little thing was an argument. But we never really got at why we were fighting. I don’t want to keep doing that.” He met her eyes again. “It doesn’t feel like you’ve been sleeping well. I haven’t always, either, and sometimes when I wake up in the night or when Rose wakes up, I can hear you…moving around, talking in your sleep. Like how you did after Dulvey. I can walk short distances and you looked peaceful, so I didn’t want to disturb you. You’re dealing with enough without adding sleep deprivation on top of that. I’m worried about you.”

She’d heard those four words so many times. She was starting to get sick of them. “I get that, I do, but you have…” Mia took a deep breath. “You have to start worrying about yourself. Ethan, you died a few months ago. If you get hurt again, if you’d fallen and hit your head…I have enough to worry about without worrying about you doing something stupid, okay?”

She knew, immediately, how harsh she’d sounded. It was starting to remind her too much of the argument they’d had that day in Europe…the one that had nearly been their last argument. Mia rubbed her eyes, hoping that she wasn’t about to start crying. “Please.”

“Okay, okay. No more walking without someone watching me,” Ethan said soothingly. His one hand reached out to rest on her knee. Even with the sweater sleeve covering it, she could vividly see the scar on his forearm. “Stressed about what, honey?”

About the fact that I almost got you killed. That they have to run tests on our daughter and it’s my fault. That you’ll find out the truth and nothing will be the same ever again. That nothing is the same already.

“Don’t do that,” Mia said out loud instead. “Please. You can’t fix everything, Ethan.”

“I’m not…you can talk to me, Mia. I’ll listen. No problem-solving, promise.”

She wasn’t sure she believed him. And even if she did, she couldn’t make herself say the words. “It’s…this whole situation,” she said finally. Not a lie, but nowhere near the truth. “It’s this whole situation.”

She was dodging. From the way Ethan looked at her, he knew she was dodging. She expected him to call her out on it. He always had before. Instead, he just looked sad. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “Yeah, baby, I know.”

He hugged her carefully. Mia was able to embrace him back, but she hesitated at first, the surge of guilt getting the better of her.

She knew Ethan had felt that, too, but he still didn’t say anything.

.

If his problems had a face, Ethan would have shot them by now.

He guessed Ethan could say his problems had some physical form: his bones, his muscles, the injuries and scar tissue that had hobbled him, the mold that had merged with his cells and turned him into something not quite human. But he couldn’t exactly punch himself in the face. Multiple BOWs had already done that for him, and look where that had gotten him.

He could still be mad at himself, though. Either his body had betrayed him forever and this was just his life now, or he wasn’t trying hard enough. One of those answers was easier to accept than the other one.

Unfortunately, accepting the latter only made the moment that he ended up face-down on the floor in the middle of PT all the more painful.

“FUCK!” Ethan shouted as he flopped onto his back. He wasn’t bleeding, but he’d hit his face pretty hard. “Son of a bitch!”

“Easy…” His therapist helped him carefully sit upright. Tom was usually a pretty chill guy, and usually had the decency to not visibly worry so much when things went wrong. This time he looked worried. “Did you hit the bar on the way down?”

“I didn’t hit the fucking bar. Shit.” Ethan looked around instinctively. He knew Rose wasn’t there, but he couldn’t help double checking. He tried really hard not to swear in front of her. He was just so…

Ethan carefully touched under his nose, checking for blood. There wasn’t anything that he noticed, but he knew what was coming next. “Let me guess, this is the part where we take a break for the day? We’re done?”

The words came out in a snap. Tom didn’t take it personally; the worst part was, Ethan was so pissed, he only felt a little guilty for being a dick about it. He felt even less guilty when he was informed that this was, in fact, it for the day.

At least he could wheel himself around the facility now. It meant he didn’t have an audience for his frustration.

Ethan probably should’ve gone back to his room and lay down. The session had been draining as it was, and he was kind of sore from that landing. But he went down to the ground level and right out the front door. No one tried to stop him, thank God. They probably figured he couldn’t go very far.

He went further than he had before, right out the front door and out into the parking lot, all the way to the far edge. There was just a field out there, and a barbed-wire topped fence. Somewhere on the other side of that was the rest of the world.

A world that he might never get to be a part of again.

Ethan took a deep breath and screamed. It was wordless at first, but quickly devolved into a rapid-fire barrage of every swear word he knew. They could probably hear him inside, but he didn’t care. What were they gonna do? Force him back inside? Revoke his wheelchair privileges? It wasn’t like his day could get any worse.

Eventually his voice gave out. He sat in silence, just him, the midday sun, and the random cars. The sound of approaching boots broke that silence eventually. Ethan didn’t have to glance over his shoulder to guess who it was. There were only three people he knew who wore boots regularly, and one of them was out of the country again. “I can’t go back in there,” he said dully.

“Wasn’t going to make you,” said Jill. “So, how’s a parking lot for a mental breakdown space? I haven’t tried that one yet.”

Points to her, the comment did get a laugh out of him. It wasn’t the sanest sounding laugh, but it was something. “It’s, uhm…” Ethan tried to wipe some of the tears off his face. “...better than a bathroom, I guess. Air quality’s nicer.”

“Yeah, bathrooms are like a bottom three pick.” She sat down in the grass, in his line of sight but off to the left. Her white-blond hair caught the sunlight, contrasting it more sharply against the black hoodie she was wearing. It looked a few sizes too big–one of Carlos’s, maybe. “You want to talk about it?”

He did. Keeping it bottled up was killing him, and maybe Jill would actually understand what was going on here. But for a long time, the words didn’t come. He just stared down at his one remaining hand. It had been working fine lately–grip strength almost back to normal, no more freezing up at random, sensation much better. Why couldn’t everything go that smoothly? Why did this have to be so hard?

Hadn’t they all been through enough?

“...Mia and I’s anniversary is this month,” he said. “Ten years.”

“Ten years? With two disasters in the middle of that? Shit, that’s not bad.” Jill sounded genuinely impressed. “I’m guessing you wanted to get out of here before that?”

“No, not even that. I can handle being here if we really have to.” They were safe here, at least, and safe was all he could really hope for. “I just…I was just hoping I’d be walking more by then. I wanted her to see that I’m okay. And don’t give me the whole oh, you should be dead, who cares if you’re not walking yet speech. I care. I can’t…” He rubbed at his eyes desperately. “It’s not enough. I thought even a few steps would do it, but I can just feel her pulling away and she’s so focused on being worried about me that she’s not thinking about anything else and I can’t…I can’t see her like that. I can’t live through that again.”

He was bracing himself for more questions; what he got instead was a slightly bitter, huffing laugh. A sound of recognition. “Fuck, yeah. Been there.”

Ethan lifted his head. “Seriously?”

“Chris didn’t tell you? I was MIA presumed dead for three years.”

Chris had definitely not mentioned that. “Chris doesn’t really talk much about his BSAA days. Was this before you left?”

“Yeah. One of my last missions with the old crew, actually. It’s a long story, but Carlos was…” She sighed. “...he kept it together for me. And I appreciated that, I really did, but I knew it wasn’t going to last forever. It was just a matter of when.” She started rubbing her sternum as she spoke. Ethan saw her do that sometimes. “Worst part was, I knew that. I just had no way of knowing what would finally do it. It was just the one time, thank God. We were able to talk about it after that.”

“So what you’re saying is that she might have to break more before we can fix it?”

“No.” Jill hesitated. “I mean, that’s not wrong, but that’s not what I’m saying. What I’m saying is that what you’re going through isn’t abnormal. I don’t know if I can fix what’s going on with Mia, and I don’t think you can, either. She has to figure that out for herself, like Carlos did. But you know what kept me sane when everything went to shit?” She made direct eye contact with him then. She had such an intense gaze, her pale blue eyes seeming to stare right through Ethan’s skull. “You’ve gotta lower your expectations, man. I know that you want everything back to normal, trust me, I get that, but that went out the window three years ago. I’ve lived it twice. It sucks, every time, but if you try to force it, you’re just going to hurt yourself worse. Physically and mentally.”

Ethan forced his gaze away from her. It was stupid, all things considered, but he didn’t want her to see the tears starting to form in his eyes. “This sucks,” he said finally.

“Yeah, I know. It’s not fair. I wish it were. But you can make it work. It’s possible. And believe me when I say…she’s just happy you’re still here.”

Ethan didn’t doubt that. He just wasn’t always sure it was enough.

Maybe he was wrong about that.

.

“Mrs. Winters?”

Mia’s head snapped back up. Doctor Marshal was staring at her with a worried look. “Sorry,” she said. She rubbed her eyes. “I just missed that last part…were we talking about skin samples?”

“Yes, but they’re optional, and more for Ethan’s benefit. How is he, by the way?”

Mia wasn’t sure how to answer that. The conversation from that morning was still dancing through her head. The wounded look on Ethan’s face was burned into her eyelids. “He’s…still a little stir-crazy,” she admitted. “Nothing we can’t handle, I don’t think.”

“That’s understandable. How about you? How are you doing?”

Mia wasn’t sure how to answer that. She wasn’t sure she could lie, not when she had zoned out in the middle of the conversation. There was so much going on, so many things she didn’t have a handle on. “...can I ask you something personal?” Mia said finally.

“Go ahead.”

“How did you get past your old job? How do you…ever make up for something like that? After everything that happened…” Doctor Marshal’s face changed quickly, growing more closed-off than she’d ever seen the doctor. Damn it. “...I mean, I don’t know how much you were involved…”

“Bioweapons development and research,” Marshal said. “So, yes, I was involved. Not directly in Racoon City, I was never assigned there, but…only a few degrees of separation between my department and theirs. I’m sure members of the Nemesis team used my research.”

Oh. They had more in common than she’d realized. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“Don’t be. It’s a valid question.” Marshal sighed heavily. “Honestly, it took a lot of time. Joining Blue Umbrella helped. Actions feel more like atonement than words. But I had to accept at some point that I could be as sorry as I wanted, but I couldn’t change the past. Even trying to act like the past didn’t happen kept me stuck there. I wasted so much time trying to figure out how to dance around it that I may as well have been stuck in my room, blaming myself. I had to face it, admit it, figure out what I could do instead now, and move on. I still feel guilty now, but I’m not drowning in it anymore. It’s just a feeling. Usually a productive one.”

The difference between guilt and shame. Her therapist had brought it up. Mia was really starting to hate how much the woman was right about things.

“Not everyone is going to forgive us,” Marshall added. “That’s within their rights. That shouldn’t stop us from trying.”

“...yeah.”

They dropped the subject after that, but it stayed with her. It took up so much of her mental space that she almost forgot…

“You’re doing really good,” Carlos said suddenly.

…she’d had an extra set of ears in the hallway the whole time, looking after Rose.

“What?”

“At…all of this. Considering.” Carlos cleared his throat awkwardly. “Just in case no one’s told you that.”

Carlos was an easy man to read. He reminded her of Ethan that way. She could tell he meant it. That didn’t do enough to ease the sudden dread in her chest. “How much did you…?”

“Nothing I won’t have forgotten by the end of the day,” Carlos said. “I’m great at keeping secrets. I can’t retain shit.”

That sounded sincere, too, and just self-mocking enough to get her guard back down. “That’s…”

Goot to know was what she wanted to say. It got stuck in her throat. She was barely able to hold back the alternative response.

I’m scared.

But Carlos seemed to understand anyway. He reached out carefully, only resting his hand on her shoulder when she didn’t move away. He had a reassuring grip, what she’d imagine a touch from a cool older brother or a non-shitty father would feel like. “Is there anything I can help with?” he asked.

“...no,” Mia whispered. The dread was back, joined by a heavier sense of resignation. “No. I have to do this myself.”

Deep down, she’d known it was inevitable. In fact, it was long past overdue. No matter what the outcome…

She owed Ethan the truth.

She wouldn’t be able to fix this until she’d told him.

[starl1t-vo1d]

Know when to rest

Revalink prompt, You can do better than this / Flight Range - general rating

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

A lot of these will end up more like just scenes that aren't super complete. Like something pulled from a larger story but that's okay I think. It's fun practice and is honestly helping me flesh out another story so. Also for the sake of dashes, I'm gonna put everything under the keep reading now.

Revali surveyed the targets and shook his head, he had missed two which wasn't acceptable. This had been a sloppy pass.

"You can do better than this," Revali whispered to himself. He had to, anything less than perfect wouldn’t suffice. 

The Rito was startled when there was a gentle tap on his shoulder he hadn't heard Link approach and hopefully Link hadn’t heard him.

"You're late," Revali greeted.

Link winces a bit, "I overslept, sorry." 

"Well never mind that a hero should probably be more timely," Revali waves a wing to dismiss it. "Are you ready?" 

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

"Yes," Link pulls his bow out and checks it over before counting his arrows. It was all a habit he had picked up from Revali after getting thoroughly scolded for firing with a bow that was strung too tight. The last part was something Revali didn't need but Link figured it should be included as he also checked over his paraglider.

Okay, he was ready, well no what he was was tired but that didn't matter. It wouldn't be the first time that he had trained when he was in less than ideal-condition. If anything maybe it was a good thing it wasn't like Ganon would give them a heads-up to get good sleep. So this would be fine maybe if there was time after he would take a nap but right now, Revali was looking at him with an expression slowly turning into worry. 

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

"Have you decided to rejoin me?"

"What?"

"You had the blankest stare on your face. I know I often ask if there's anything even in your head but you can't tell me that I was right." Revali looked over Link properly, he seemed fine so then what was the issue?

"I thought you liked being right?" Link asked as he stepped towards the edge paraglider in hand. 

"Because I usually am," Revali shook his head a bit, never mind Link spacing out he was ready now. "Do you remember your last time? Cut that in half." 

Link nodded once then leaped into the wind, his paraglider opening a second later to yank him upwards. 

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

Training had been going… less than ideal if Revali was being perfectly honest. Link's passes were getting sloppier and Revali was still missing targets he really shouldn't be. Worse, Link had gotten quiet. Link was always quiet but Revali had genuinely thought he had made a breakthrough with getting the ever-stoic knight to show some emotion. Link was showing some he supposed even if it seemed to be increasing frustration as his time to shoot all the targets was lower but not at the goal Revali had set. Link had taken to going back to back in an attempt to do so. Had Revali perhaps set the goal too high? He had thought that the Hylian was perfectly capable of it. So then maybe there was another reason for Link's performance. Link touched down on the landing and Revali whistled for his attention before he could jump off again.

"You can do better than this," he said walking over to survey Link. He was out of breath and the pink flush to his cheeks was darker. 

Link glared at him, putting away his paraglider to free his hands. "Thanks, I'm aware." He signed sharply. 

"That's not- hold on," Revali caught Link's shoulder as he turned away to continue. "What I mean to say is that your performance is not meeting the bar that you had previously set so perhaps there was a reason for it."

Link looked at Revali for a long time before letting out a quiet laugh. "You can just say, 'are you doing okay?'" 

"Well, are you?"

Link looked at him for even longer this time as he seemed to think over answering. 

"I'm tired, didn't sleep well last night." 

"Ah," Revali considered this, really Link and himself included honestly should be able to perform up to standard even when exhausted but, "then we'll call training for today. It'll do you no good if you hurt yourself because you're tired."

Link seemed surprised and he looked back out to the range, "I can keep going."

"Sure but I won't keep track of your time even if you do, I am going to…" what was Revali going to do? A large portion of his time was spent training so he didn't usually have free time, "go." That would suffice he supposed even if Link was looking at him funny. "Look neither of us are hitting our marks today and believe it or not I do know the importance of stepping away if things aren't changing." Not that Revali typically took his own advice but Link didn't need to know that. "So I am leaving, you are happy to stay if you really want to but I am going to go." 

"No, I'll go with you." Link looked disappointed but also relieved that training was over as he carefully made sure everything was put away.

"You don't even know where I'm going?" 

Link paused to consider this then smiled, "well I'm going to take a nap do you want to join me?"

"Why would I join you napping?" Revali asked, trying very hard not to let his feathers rise.

"I don't know," Link shrugged. "Maybe you're tired too and that's why you were also missing." 

"I'm not-" Revali shook his head. If Link was giving himself an excuse then he would take it. "Fine, I'll accompany you."

"You're so formal it's just a nap," Link laughed as Revali couldn't prevent his feathers from poofing up this time. 

"Whatever let's go."

[encantowishes]

Encantober Day 31: Butterfly

This one is a followup to "We'll Emerge When We're Ready," which can be found along with all my other Encantober entries here.

Ready Or Not

“You know a caterpillar grows up to be a butterfly, right? This is how it is done. The caterpillar makes herself a chrysalis, a snug little place where she is protected from the world while she changes. When she’s ready, the chrysalis will break open, and she’ll emerge, a beautiful butterfly.”

“Protected from the world. Like the Encanto.”

“I … suppose you could look at it that way.”

“Someday it’ll break open, and we’ll emerge? When we’re ready?”

Bruno wondered if his mother remembered that moment, there by the marmalade bush when he was small. When he’d screamed for her because he saw a caterpillar swelling and shuddering, and it frightened him because he didn’t understand what was happening to it. Maybe she didn’t remember. She never spoke of him anymore. Probably she did her best to forget him, her disappointing son. But he thought of her.

He could see his mother now, or the back of her head at least, as she sat at the dining table. And around her, were his sisters and their husbands and all the children. 

Only one pair of eyes ever slid toward the crack in the family tree painting, meeting his for an instant. Dolores alone knew Bruno was there, and she’d never tell. She’d promised. It was another reason for Bruno to hate himself, asking for that promise. It was too much to expect of a kid. She’d had to watch her mother storm with worry, with grief, and been unable to say anything.

But what he feared would have awaited Mirabel had his vision been revealed … he’d had to make a decision, and there had been no good choices. It was bad enough, the way his mother overlooked the girl, and others seemed to pity her, all due to her lack of a Gift. How much worse would it be, if everyone thought she was destined to destroy the magic? Destroy the safety of the chrysalis that was the Encanto?

“Someday it’ll break open, and we’ll emerge? When we’re ready?”

In the moment, he hadn’t understood the look his mother gave him when he said that. Looking back, it was clear his question had frightened her.

At the moment, Mirabel was smiling at Antonio, asking him if he was excited about his upcoming Gift ceremony. It had to hurt, though, the prospect of watching someone you love receive what you could never have.

Crick.

Camilo made some teasing joke about Mariano Guzmán. Both Isabela and Dolores stiffened.

Crick.

Bruno’s mother told Luisa about a request someone had made for her help building a stone fence. Luisa’s smile faltered just a little as she pondered how to fit it into her schedule.

Crack.

Bruno and Dolores met eyes again. When Bruno entered the walls, he’d discovered some cracks already there. Dolores couldn’t say for sure when they had begun. So far, they’d remained inside that secret space. But they’d grown more frequent lately, fractures caused by the increasing stress in the family. Bruno did his best to patch them, desperately trying to keep intact the snug little place from which he watched everyone else change, while all he did was grow older. But he feared it was only a matter of time before they showed up on the outside.

And they did, of course. Mirabel saw them, and tried to warn everyone, but she didn’t really know what it was she was warning them about. Not until she’d found him, her weird tío she didn’t remember. It hurt. All this time, he’d told himself it was better if she forgot him, if they all forgot him. And of course, it wasn’t her fault. But it hurt when she didn’t even recognize the characters he used to put on all the time to make her laugh.

And even after all this time, with Mirabel pleading with him to give her some guidance, he still didn’t know what to tell her. He’d stuck himself in his very own chrysalis for a decade and just waited. Maybe she was destined to destroy the magic. Maybe she was destined to save it. In the end, all he’d been able to tell her was to go hug her sister.

He sent Mirabel on her way and went back to his little room. Sat down in his threadbare chair and tried to remember how it had felt, that day by the marmalade bush, when his mother had knelt down and hugged him. She had never been a large woman, but he had been very small then, and easy to wrap up in those arms. He’d felt so safe then, so protected. Why would it be scary if the Encanto broke open someday? His mamá was there.

But now even the world outside this single secret room seemed scary, and one of the reasons why was that his mamá was there.

Something big was going to happen very soon. He hadn’t been able to foresee what that might be, but he feared he was going to be forced to emerge. He huddled among his rats, bracing himself.

The world he’d left outside was filled with misunderstandings and regrets. How could he ever be ready?

[bb-8]

Tech Savvy

Pairing: Tech x female reader Summary:  You’re an ex-imperial who has a crush on Tech. He’s awkward about it. Until he’s not. Rating: Explicit (18+, minors DNI) Warnings/tags: crack treated seriously, smut, unprotected PIV, awkward flirting, oral sex, first kisses, accidental exhibitionism, lots of bad jokes, slight angst Word count: 5.4K Notes: It’s smutty crack treated seriously, guys. Read on AO3.

The planet you land on isn’t anything special. It’s a humid swamp world in the Outer Rim that offers enough seclusion for even the Empire’s Most Wanted to pass by unnoticed.

You, being the kind and selfless individual you are, decide to help with repairs while Clone Force 99 are on a supply run. It’s the first time the ship has made planet fall in weeks and everyone is a bit stir-crazy, jumping at the chance to stretch their legs. Prolonged time spent in hyperspace has that effect.

Before he left, you told Hunter that your status as an ex-Imperial put an unnecessary target on their back. You’re still wearing your Imperial uniform, after all, and you know for a fact that the Empire is not exactly merciful to deserters. Especially deserters that committed high treason. Like aiding Clone Force 99’s escape from an Imperial prison.

You definitely didn’t just jump at the chance to stay behind because Tech opted to. That would be ridiculous.

You feel your face heat at the thought.

(What? His goggles are cute.)

The truth is, there’s been something – a tension, as it were – between the two of you since you arrived on board. You know it, he knows it. You’ve been orbiting around each other for some weeks now, and this is the first time you’ve been alone –

“Can you spare a minute?” Tech calls out, pulling you away from your thoughts. You swivel in your chair and shift your attention to him, a bit surprised.

“I was beginning to think you didn’t realise I was on board,” you reply as you make your way to the cockpit where Tech is currently fiddling with some wires.

“You’re...very hard to miss,” Tech replies and your heart skips a beat. “The ship is far too small to miss another sentient being’s presence.”

“Right,” you mutter while taking a seat, trying not to sound too deflated. So maybe he didn’t feel that tension. “What do you need help with?”

“I am taking this opportunity to rewrite the ship’s central comm unit to be more covert when passing through areas with increased Imperial traffic. If I can update the ship’s communication infrastructure to resemble that of a first generation Imperial craft, then we will considerably reduce our chances of being identified. Which is why I am particularly glad you stayed behind today. Considering your, er, history.” He fiddles with a mess of wires in front of him, not once looking up.

“And here I was thinking you wanted me around because you enjoyed my company,” you playfully jab.

“There’s that, too,” Tech replies. “Though it would be advantageous if you could list all of the Imperial access codes you can remember. The computer and I can do some pattern recognition to better–,” he cut himself off and anxiously rubbed the back of his neck. “Apologies, you don’t need a long-winded explanation. If you’re happy to share, you can do so whenever you’re ready.”

You consider protesting and telling him that you find his rambling cute, but you decide not to dwell on it for his sake. You list the codes you remember from the Academy. You keep talking, relaying any tangential intel relating to access codes. If it’s irrelevant, Tech doesn’t stop you.

He is silent for a few moments analysing the data you’ve given him. You watch him closely, admiring the way his brow furrows and his lips purse while he’s concentrating.

“You trust me then?” you venture to say. You play with your hands in your lap. “Even though I was with the Empire?”

“You’re helping us now,” Tech replies, as if it’s obvious. He is still inputting data into the datapad he is holding when he continues, “You trust us, it would seem. And we were soldiers programmed upon our creation to destroy the Republic.”

You fumble over your next words.

“That’s – it’s entirely different.”

“And from my perspective, all that matters is where you are now,” he states with finality.

“Well,” you say shyly, “I like where I am.”

Tech smirks despite himself, briefly glancing up at you from his datapad.

You hold his gaze for a moment, before settling into a comfortable silence. You sit in next to him for several minutes, revelling in his closeness like a brezak basking under the Zygerrian sun. It’s only when you notice yourself blushing like a teenager that you decide to make yourself useful and actually help with repairs like you promised.

++++++++++++++++++++

“Would you mind holding this wire out of the way for me while I solder the capacitors for the localised memory bank?” Tech calls, breaking your concentration. The illumination device you were repairing could wait.

You have no idea what Tech means, if his string of words means anything, and you survey his makeshift workbench for a hint. Several panels are detached, limply dangling from a few brightly coloured wires. Tech is focusing his attention on a large panel that is plugged into a cylindrical storage device.

“Maker, that’s a big data stick,” you can’t help but mutter.

Tech makes an incoherent choking sound.

You do as requested and lean over his shoulder to take hold of the wire he specified between your thumb and forefinger. The fabric of your sleeves brushes against his shoulder armour and it feels as though there is a static shift in the air, like the air around you is alive and humming.

And Tech gulps with the contact. He types a few sets of numbers into his datapad with excess force, seriously testing the build quality of the device. His posture is especially rigid as focuses on testing the wires currently in his lap.

Your pulse is racing. It’s as if each second that passes without a confession threatens to rip apart the very fabric of reality.

“Tech?” He has to feel this too, right? “Why...why did you stay behind today?” you ask, careful to keep your voice even. You need him to say it, admit that he feels it, too. You’re desperate for it.

“You can let go now,” he replied, pointedly ignoring your question.

You let go of the wire, but make no move to step away from him. You’re acutely aware of yourself right now and suddenly self-conscious: about the deep shade of crimson enveloping your face, the way you’re breathing, the clamminess you can feel on your palms. You hope you smell alright and silently pray that any traces of caf on your breath are long gone.

Several seconds pass before Tech looks up, over his shoulder at you. His face briefly flickers with concern.

“Your flushed features and increased heart rate indicates that you are nervous,” he remarks.

Maker, is it that obvious, you cringe.

Your mouth is dry and you contemplate making an excuse, but your brain does not want to cooperate.

“Sometimes I –,” you begin. Void, here I go. “Sometimes I get nervous around you,” you admit, attempting to make your confession sound as casual as possible. You bite your bottom lip in a way that you hope will be interpreted as sensual, or, at the very least, cute.

And Tech? Tech is flustered. Like visibly shaken, blushing furiously, two-steps-away-from-hyperventilating, kind of flustered.

“Please do not be nervous,” he responds tightly. Each word is taking considerable effort to be spoken. “I already told you: we trust you. I am not a threat to you.”

The poor guy. There’s no way he can really be misinterpreting that –.

“No, no, it’s a good kind of nervous,” you attempt to clarify.

“Nervousness is not conducive to high quality work,” Tech chokes out.

“No, I mean like giddy. I feel giddy around you.”

Come on, Tech.

“Would you like a chair–.”

“Stars, Tech, I like you!”

Tech...errors. He attempts to start several sentences with no success before mumbling an excuse that he has to go, “fix the reverse polarity capacitive inductor,” which, to your knowledge, is definitely not a real thing.

So maybe that could have gone better. All things considered, he did seem affected by your admission. On the other hand, he also left the room entirely.

Your face burns with embarrassment and, hey, maybe this backwater planet could make a decent home. Maybe the swamp water would be safe for consumption and you could spend the rest of your days foraging for swamp... berries. Sure, it might be a little uncomfortable, but no less uncomfortable than staying here for one more second.

And this is why you don’t admit your feelings to anyone. Ever.

Ugh. You were so confident, too. You squeeze your eyes shut, willing yourself to transport to another star system.

The door to the ‘fresher shuts, followed by a slight scuffle of feet, and a thunk that sounds decidedly like a head hitting the door.

You briefly consider leaving the ship to attempt to meet up with the rest of the Bad Batch. It’s been far too long since you’ve breathed fresh, clean, air and you feel a second wave of self-pity wash over you as you contemplate the thought of breathing in the smell of Wrecker’s feet for several more weeks in the Marauder’s circulated air. They hadn’t been gone longer than a standard hour and there was a clear path to get into town. You could still salvage the day, you could still stretch your legs–

‘Oh you want to know why I suddenly decided to join you, Hunter, after promising I’d help fix the ship? Funny story, I was trying to seduce your brother and he rejected me!’

You physically cringe at that. On second thought, maybe just pretending this didn’t happen would be the easier option. Lesser of two evils and all that.

Well, you’ve endured worse situations than this. Swamp berries, if they exist, probably won’t offer enough sustenance anyway, you conclude. You turn your attention to fixing several access panels that require little to no attention.

++++++++++++++++++++

It takes a long while for Tech to exit the ‘fresher. The door opens with a hiss and you stiffen, not looking up until he briskly walks past you and resumes his makeshift work station in the cockpit. Once he is seated and his back is facing you and you can hear the rhythmic tapping of his fingers on his datapad, you allow your entire body to relax.

You look back down to your newest project: fixing the swivel action on a chair. You’re not entirely sure if the chair needed to swivel, or whether it was supposed to, but it does now. At least Omega would have fun with that.

“Can you spare another minute?” Tech says after a considerable stretch of silence.

His comment catches you off-guard. It’s fine, it’s fine, you are just going to pretend like nothing happened. You can just carry on helping with actual repairs like you promised.

“I’m coming,” you say, while putting your entire weight into tightening a screw.

Tech coughs slightly.

“The, uh, I need your help with the cum system. The comm system!” he stutters.

Your eyes widen and decide it’s best not to comment, furiously thinking about the fact that Tech rarely makes mistakes. You wipe your hands on your trousers and stride over to the cockpit where Tech is fiddling with some wires on his lap.

“Take these,” he says while coiling a piece of wire to make a conductor. He pushes right through the awkwardness and places a handful of resistors in your outstretched hand.

You stand there in silence for several moments before you drum your fingers on the back of his chair. He makes no move to immediately utilise the resistors, so you resign yourself to stand there and watch him work. (You suppress a sigh – you wish you weren’t attracted to him at this moment, but here you are, drawn in by his confidence and fixated on watching his nimble fingers work their magic.)

Normally, you’d have already lost your patience. But not now, not when you are trying to decipher just what exactly Tech was trying to accomplish by calling you over and ignoring you. And that’s when you realise that Tech either forgot you were there or forgot to give you whichever menial task he originally intended.

But there’s absolutely no chance that Tech makes two mistakes within the same standard year, never mind two mistakes within the same afternoon.

You start to wonder if he even has any use for the resistors. Your knowledge of technology is limited, but you really don’t see how they’d be useful with his current task. Maybe this is Tech’s uncharacteristically inefficient way to try to initiate conversation. You really hope you’re not completely misreading the situation, but it’s not like you have any pride left to lose.

“Why did you stay behind today, Tech?” you ask quietly, voice tinged with apprehension and perhaps an unmistakable eagerness. You phrase it more like a statement than a question this time.

He continues to fidget, his leg bouncing anxiously as he works.

“I did some research,” he blurts. “Regarding intimacy between human males and human females.”

Huh.

“I read the specifics on how to kiss,” he continues, “but I fear that I am a bit out of my depth as to how I am supposed to initiate it.” He is still fussing with the wires in his lap, not quite able to look up at you.

“You...want to kiss?” you surmise, your heart thumping wildly in your chest. “Me?”

“Very much so.”

A grin breaks across your face and the sharp sting of Tech’s previous rejection immediately melts away. You deposit the handful of resistors in a tray containing various tools Tech had been using throughout the day before taking a tentative step forward from behind the chair. He cranes his neck to look at you, an unfamiliar expression that you’re not quite able to decipher written across his face.

You reach your hand out to caress his cheek, and sliding your hand down to his chin to guide it upwards as you bend down to bring your lips to his. The kiss is chaste, at first, but Tech proves himself a quick study as slightly parts his lips to deepen the kiss. His goggles nudge against your face and you’re pretty sure you’re leaving a greasy cheek print on one of them.

You pull away to gauge his reaction.

“Was that... satisfactory?” he asks, seemingly dazed. His eyes are hooded and still focused on your lips.

“It was perfect.” You offer a small smile.

He removes the goggles to clean one side of them with a nearby cloth. So you were leaving a cheek print. Once his goggles are back in place, he’s looking at you like he can’t quite believe you’re real, his golden brown eyes blinking owlishly at you.

“I apologise for leaving you earlier. I did not anticipate you returning my affections – it did not seem probable. And I was, regrettably, not prepared,” he mumbles.

“Probable?” It’s your turn to malfunction. You want to usher a thousand reassurances at once.

“Well, no.” Tech shifts his weight uncomfortably, not quite able to meet your eyes. “Hunter or Crosshair usually are the ones who capture the affections of –,”

“I like your goggles,” you interrupt in a rush before you surge forward to press your lips against his, hoping to convey just how much you return his affections. It’s a messy, urgent kiss that Tech returns with equal fervour. His fingers find their way into your hair, pulling you closer.

When you finally break the kiss, you straighten your back and take both of his hands in yours and take small, hesitant steps backwards, encouraging Tech to stand. As he does, the project he is working on slides off of his lap and clatters to the floor. He pays it no attention as he closes the distance between you, his eyes darkened with lust. He kisses you with renewed purpose as his hands wrap around your waist, roaming across your body, before they settle firmly on your ass.

Your hips grind into his codpiece and Tech lets out a low groan that goes straight to your core. He moves to kiss the curve of your neck, sucking at the delicate skin and making you squirm. The dampness between your legs becomes apparent and you press yourself closer to him, desperate for friction where you need it the most. As if he can read your mind, he trails a hand from your ass and places it between your legs, grazing over your clit before cupping your cunt. You involuntarily rock into his hand and moan into his mouth, hardly recognising the sounds you’re making.

Tech’s hand abruptly stills as he draws back to meet your eyes. His expression mirrors yours: searching wide eyes filled with longing, a silent acknowledgement passes between you as you reach the point of no return.

And in that moment you are struck with the urge to want nothing more than his cock in your mouth.

“Can I?” you blurt, glancing downward, hoping he is able to intuit exactly what you are suggesting in that moment.

“You may.” You allow the grammatical correction to slip by. “But I’ve never–,” he begins.

You don’t break eye contact and you begin to drop to your knees. He’s looking at you with his eyes wide, mouth slack. Tech’s bulged codpiece is mere inches from your face, and it’s in that moment that you realise that you have no idea how to undress this man.

And this, this is when you start to worry.

Does it have a latch? Does it even come off?

Your eyes dart from left to right looking for some sort of hint as to how it could be removed. You’re half tempted to just plant a smooch on the armour or the kiss inside of his thigh and pretend that all of this was intentional.

“I can get that,” Tech helpfully chimes in, blessedly oblivious to your internal struggle. He removes the pelvic plate with ease and, to your relief, you can see the shape of his erection straining under a layer of thick black fabric. Black fabric that conforms to his body shape exceedingly well. You reach out to feel his length, gently cupping his balls through the fabric before applying more pressure as you palm his shaft. He soft groan escapes his lips.

It catches you a little off guard, actually, to see him so hard. Knowing he’s been hard underneath his armour this entire time. Wondering when else he’s been hard and you had been none the wiser.

His cock has an attractive silhouette – it’s thicker than you expected and you can feel the patch of pre-cum that dampens the black fabric near his tip. You reach for his waistband and pull it down before slowly wrapping a hand around his shaft. He hisses with the contact and brings a white-knuckled fist to his lips.

You peer up at him through your lashes and you lick your lips, preparing to tease him a bit before taking him as deep as you can manage.

And that’s when something inside Tech snaps.

He looks down at you with wild eyes and places his hand on the back of your head to guide your mouth to his cock, apparently unable to continue the role of a passive observer for any longer. Clearly intent at putting his newfound research to good use. You lick a wet stripe from the base to the tip, before taking him in your mouth, the pre-cum tangy on your tongue. His grip tightens on your hair the same time he tilts his hips forward to push his cock further and you hollow your cheeks, sucking hard enough to make Tech groan and his knees buckle. He braces himself against the back of the pilot’s chair, captivated at the sight your mouth stretched around his length.

You begin to bob your head in a steady rhythm, taking him as deep as you’re able. You drag your tongue and press it flush on the underside of his cock, looking up at Tech with wide doe eyes, batting your eyelashes prettily as he struggles to maintain composure. You continue your pace until sweat starts to bead at his temple and his breathing becomes less controlled.

Patience isn’t your strong point and you’re too pent up not to touch yourself. You bring your free hand down your trousers, between your thighs, running your fingers through your wet folds and hum at the sensation. Tech’s hips stutter with the vibrations and his face contorts in what looks like a pained grimace. He takes a miniature step back and your lips leave his cock with a pop. He’s breathing heavily now and his weeping cock is painfully hard, his balls tight.

“I don’t want to finish in your mouth, mesh’la,” he pants, voice low.

You nod dumbly, currently unable to form a coherent thought or tear your eyes away from his erect length, only inches away from your face.

Tech takes hold of both of your forearms, helping you get to your feet, before wrapping his hands around your thighs, picking you up with surprising ease. You lock your thighs around his torso as he strides over to press you against one of the auxiliary control panels adjacent to the co-pilot’s chair in the cockpit. The incline on the panel is steep and the pressure of his hips against yours is the only thing keeping you from sliding down.

“Let me taste you,” Tech groans against your ear.

You let out a frustrated whine and desperately move to unclasp your trousers as Tech works to open your shirt. You shudder once the cool air hits your sweat-dampened skin and Tech messily palms your exposed breast while nipping at your neck. He helps you shimmy out of your clothing while holding you in firmly place before discarding them on the floor of he Marauder.

And this is how you find yourself spread eagle on the Marauder's control panel in possibly the most undignified position you’ve ever been in.

He goes to remove his goggles and you stop him.

“If they’re not uncomfortable for you, I’d like for you to leave them on.” He quirks a brow at you, quizzical. “What? I told you that they’re cute.”

His face evolves from sceptical to bashful in a few moments.

“Very well, then. I can leave them on.”

Tech moves his hands under your thighs as he lowers himself, draping your legs across each of his shoulders with surprising gentleness for a man who looks like he is ready to devour you. Once he’s on his knees and comfortably supporting your weight, keeping you pressed against the console, he places an open-mouthed kiss on the inside of your thigh.

“A-are you okay with this?” you manage to stutter out. It’s not like you haven’t pictured his head between your thighs before, but something about his head actually being between your thighs fills you with a nervousness you hadn’t anticipated.

He mumbles his assurances against your clit. He begins with slow, languid licks and you suck in a sharp breath as you feel yourself craving more and have to stop yourself from violently bucking your hips up.

Okay, so he’s actually really good at this. You know you really shouldn’t be that surprised, Tech is nothing if not thorough with his research and it’s, er, practical applications. Any thoughts of humour at Tech’s expense are, however, ripped from your mind when he sinks a single finger inside your cunt. His finger curls with a precision that only Tech could manage and you moan in encouragement as he pumps it in and out.

You squirm when he hits the spot that makes you want to beg for more and you feel your bare ass hit a button on the console. The next thing you hear is a soft swish swish sound of the Marauder's screen wipers that you inadvertently turned on. Mercifully, it doesn’t break Tech’s concentration and his hands continue to grip your hips, holding your cunt to his face.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop, please don’t stop,” you chant. You writhe again and another button sounds its activation. Nothing immediately makes itself known. You hope it’s not something like a proton torpedo firing into the swampy area the Marauder landed in. Not because there’s anything nearby, but because you’ll die if Tech stops here.

He moans into your core as he brings a hand down to grip his leaking cock, desperate for some friction.

“Kriff,” you grunt at the sight of him fucking his fist, only to hear Tech utter the same exclamation at the same time.

“Is there an echo in here or something?” You smile at him, offering a half-laugh before your face contorts with pleasure once again and you hiss through your teeth.

“Yes?” a new, tinny voice chimes in on the overhead speaker system. “This is Echo... You’ve, uh, turned on the short range comm system.”

You knew Tech was a good soldier, but the reflexes in which he slammed the short range comm transmitter with his free hand surprised you. He didn’t move himself from between your thighs and skilfully cut off the transmission while continuing to work your clit with his tongue and your cunt with his finger.

Before you could die from embarrassment and wonder just how much Echo and the rest of the Batch heard, Tech adds another finger and your entire body jerks and tenses.

“I’ve – ah, right there – Maker, that feels good. I’ve never been with anyone who is patient enough to let me come,” you manage to say through gritted teeth.

“My research indicated that it can take around 20 standard minutes for women to orgasm if properly relaxed, why would others stop prematurely?” Tech replies, only briefly removing his mouth from your cunt to reply.

“Selfishness?” you guess.

Tech seemed to take your admission (and ability to form sentences) personally, clearly intent on rendering you incapacitated. He returns to his attention to your clit and maintains his rhythm, teasing a third finger near your entrance. You whine at the sensation and move to hold Tech’s head in place, because if he stops now, there’s no way you’ll ever forgive him. The pressure that’s been mounting in your core finally, finally peaks and your entire body tenses as you surrender to your climax.

“Tech,” you whine, unable to formulate thoughts, let alone words.

He assures you with a soft groan and tightens his grip on your hip. He can feel your walls clenching around his fingers as he guides you through your climax.

As you come down from your orgasm, you feel like you’ve spent a year in bacta. You can’t move. Honestly, your bones are like Andorian jelly. The feeling is only temporary, however, as you’re overcome with the desire – no, need – to be filled.

“In me,” you urge. “Now.”

He adjusts his goggles and looks at you, spread out, completely ready for him.

“Lie back then.”

Tech settles between your thighs and nudges his cock head against your entrance. He takes a breath to steady himself, rubbing his length through your folds, covering it in your arousal.

“So wet and ready for me, mesh’la.”

Your hands wildly grasp at his chest plate, fingernails scratching along the plastoid, desperate to hold onto anything to anchor you. You meet his mouth with a graceless kiss, before he finally sinks into you.

“You’re tight,” he grits out.

He waits a few moments letting you adjust to his size before he begins to move. He restrains himself, slowly rolling his hips as your cunt stretches around his length.

“More,” you plead, breathlessly. “Please.”

Your encouragement is all he needs before he snaps his hips against yours, setting an unrelenting rhythm. He rocks into you harder with each thrust of his hips, his plastoid leg places slapping your skin.

“You feel so good, cyar'ika,” he pants. You surge upwards to greet his lips with a messy kiss, which only spurs him on to fuck you faster. “You’re, ah, taking me so well.”

“Fuck –,” you whine.

His grip tightens and his whole body starts to tense – he’s dangerously close to coming undone. And that’s when you notice his pace start to slow, his movements clearly distracted.

“Tech?” you mumble. You focus your eyes on his face and he looks dazed, you can practically hear him thinking. You’re about to ask him what’s wrong, but he doesn’t give you any time to panic.

“Elevate your hips by seven to ten degrees,” he states through heavy breaths.

“What?” Definitely not what you were expecting him to say.

Tech seems unfazed by your apparent annoyance. He wordlessly repositions himself, grabbing both of your hips and raising them slightly, holding your body up so it’s just the sharp incline of the console and Tech’s hands keeping you in place.

He began thrusting in earnest again, his eyes screwing shut in pleasure. And, Maker, he was right. The new angle hits a spot that makes your toes curl and you lose the ability to speak almost instantly and mewl helplessly as Tech fucks into you.

You made an undignified noise as you gripped his bicep, desperate to hold onto something, feeling the pressure mount in your core. With Tech’s hands busy holding you in place as he maintains a brutal pace, you bring a hand down to your clit, still wet with spit and your own essence. You barely have to touch yourself before you feel your body screaming for release.

“’M coming,” is all the warning you are able to give him before your cunt spasms around his twitching cock as your vision whites out. Tech grunts at the sensation, unable to hold his own climax off any longer.

“Where do you want me to –,” he grates out.

“Anywhere,” you cut him off, still feeling the aftershocks of your orgasm. “Just want to feel you.”

“Fuck, mesh’la, I’m going to come,” Tech groans, desperately chasing his release with harsh thrusts. His hips forcefully buck into you before his cock stiffens and he spills himself inside of you. He buries his face in your neck, slowly pumping you full of his cum, before he slumps against you. “Bid jate par me,” he mumbles into your neck, barely audible. “Gotal par me.”

You don’t know Mando’a, but whatever he is saying, the way he is saying it, sends a pleasant chill over your body.

You’re both still breathing heavily when Tech gingerly places you back down with a surprising gentleness for someone who had just been fucking you within an inch of your life. He’s in no rush to remove himself from you, but when his softened cock does slip out and his cum leaks out of you and onto the console, he helps you slide down. When your feet touch the floor, your legs wobble slightly and Tech has to grasp your forearms to steady you, softly chuckling at the state you’re in.

And when you look at him, he looks positively debauched. Sated, but debauched. You probably look worse.

In one swift motion he bends down, brings an arm down under your knees, and lifts you up. You wrap your arms around your neck while he carries you to his bunk. His cool armour against your overheated skin is a welcome sensation and you press yourself closer.

“Your research paid off,” you mumble into his chest as he sets you down on his bed.

“Please do not act so surprised by that.”

++++++++++++++++++++

You and Tech aren’t quite finished with the repairs by the time the Batch return hours later, long after the moons have risen and the bioluminescent plants surrounding the ship have begun to glow. If the squad notice you’re sitting a bit too close to Tech, your thigh pressing comfortably against his, they don’t say anything.

Neither of you were expecting to defile the Marauder all day and Tech was frantically fixing the lever on a storage hatch access panel, attempting to make up for lost time.

“Wrecker!” Echo shouts. “Clean up after yourself, for kriff’s sake.”

“Why?” Wrecker drawls, stomping towards the cockpit. “What did I do this time?”

“You’ve spilled your juice on the console again, all the keys are stuck in place.”

The access lever snaps clean off in Tech’s hands.

[walkerwords]

"Share Your Burden" Daryl Dixon & Daughter!Reader

Request From Anonymous: "Your writing is the best! You probably have a lot of requests, but if you wouldn't mind I'd like to request some more dad Daryl fics where he basically adopts the reader. Those are just always so good. Not sure I have a specific story in mind, just more dad Daryl and Daughter reader in general please. You're the best! 💖"

Summary: The reader is like a daughter to Daryl. When she sees him taken by the saviors, she will get him back and keep him safe even if it means losing some of her humanity.

Word Count: 4933

Warning: Violence, Swearing

Song I Wrote To: “Carry You" by Fleurie and Ruelle

Note: Figured considering our show is coming back this month, I should get some stories in, huh? There are parts in this that are lightly inspired by Ellie in TLOU2.

--------

It had taken every ounce of strength not to move as you watched the man known as Negan brutally murder two members of your family.

Abraham’s blood was ingrained into your mind and Maggie’s screams echoed through your skull like bats in a cave. You wanted to scream, cry, and launch yourself at your new enemy to save those who you loved but you remained in the shadows of the tree you had climbed and waited. The group known as the Saviors milled around the clearing as Negan hauled your leader into the RV and drove off.

From your vantage point, you could see Daryl fading as he stared at the bodies of his brothers. Blood was dripping down his arm from the gunshot wound he had sustained from the blonde man above him. Looking at the way the sneering man held Daryl’s bow made you so angry it was hard not to drop down and plunge a blade into his pale neck.

Carl was with Michonne, trying not to look anywhere but the enemies that surrounded them. Carl was your age and he was also the person who you trusted the most to keep it together in situations such as this. You pulled your strength from your friend’s resolve and continued to wait.

Maggie was getting worse and that was why you had ventured out of Alexandria in the first place. Spencer had spotted you heading for the gate when he had tried to stop you. Ignoring him as always, you pushed past him and began the trek to Hilltop. It was on that journey that you came across the first roadblock and so you followed it.

You had never imagined that it would have led to the gruesome scene below you. Your knuckles strained around the handles of your knives, a pair that Daryl had given to you himself when you had settled at the prison. It was only after Terminus that he began to properly train you to use them. Right then, they had never felt more useless.

Daryl was your protector and he was the closest thing you had to a father. He had found you running from Walkers when the group was settled on the Greene farm. You had been alone for weeks and from then on, it was the two of you.

Daryl had been the one to protect you from Shane’s scrutiny, the piercing gaze of the Governor, and the cannibals of Terminus. In turn, you became his shadow, having his back wherever he went, always ready to defend him while also learning everything you could. Now, you felt as powerless as he looked. It had been a long while since the group had been this broken-looking.

It was heartbreaking.

It wasn’t long before Negan returned with Rick and after almost making your leader cut his own son’s hand off. Negan ordered his men to leave not without making demands of your family and hauling Daryl along with him.

Staring after the caravan of murderers, you weighed what you were going to do next. A weight was heavy in your pack’s front packet and while you knew it was risky, a plan began to form. One that would either get you or Daryl killed or perhaps even both. Still, you had to try.

Dropping to the forest floor, you took one last look at your people through the trees before taking off in the opposite direction and towards the main road, pushing your legs as fast as they would go.

“Hold on, Daryl,” you whispered in between haggard breaths, “I’ll be there soon."

-----------

Daryl was in the back of the truck trying not to grimace every time the vehicle rolled over an uneven section of road.

Everything hurt and nothing felt right. He felt sick and above everything, he felt guilty.

The shock was still coursing through his veins as he heard Negan laughing in the cab upfront but he tried to tune it out as he thought of Glenn. It was instinct to go after Negan. Daryl hadn’t even thought about the repercussions that might happen as he got to his feet and charged the larger man.

It hadn’t occurred to Daryl to take a breath and think about what would happen next. They had never faced a menace like Negan before. Daryl thought he had seen the last of the bloodshed when they had escaped Terminus. At least, escaped the violence for a while before it caught back up to them again.

It wasn’t long till Daryl’s pain began to increase as the adrenaline wore off. Dwight was sitting across from him, holding his crossbow and Daryl wanted to strangle the man.

He had helped Dwight with Sherry and Tina. He had tried to keep Tina alive when he returned the insulin. Daryl couldn’t help but be enraged while looking at him, but he understood the betrayal in a way. He knew what people became in the new world and according to Dwight, Negan was the lesser evil of trying to survive on his own.

Daryl then only wondered what happened to Sherry.

They were going down another road as Daryl leaned to the left as the truck turned sharply. He blinked away the sudden twinge in his shoulder and bit the inside of his cheek to keep from groaning in discomfort. He wouldn’t give these bastards the satisfaction.

Suddenly, from the front of the cab, Negan shouted, causing Dwight to jump in his seat. “Shit!” Negan swore and then there was a flash of light, a loud bang, and then they were airborne. Daryl had barely a second to brace his hands on the roof of the truck before it slammed into the road, the metal exterior shredding sparks along the neglected asphalt.

Smoke and dust filled the air as Daryl tried to get his bearings. He could hear the muffled shouts of Negan and his men followed by a few gunshots but his ears were still ringing.

Across from him, Dwight was groaning in pain as blood dripped from his brow. His hands had let go of the bow and in a sudden surge of energy, Daryl dove for his loaded weapon.

Clutching his hands around the crossbow, Daryl scrambled for the back door, trying to get to his feet. A hand then circled around his ankle as Dwight realized what was happening. Turning around, Daryl blindly fired a bolt and it struck Dwight in the shoulder, mirroring Daryl’s own wound for good measure.

Dwight went down in pain and Daryl continued to move. As he fumbled for the door that was hanging half open due to the crash, he could hear yells of pain out in the warm air followed by the sound of someone choking as if they were drowning. Even half-aware of what was going on, Daryl could recognize the sound of someone choking on their own blood.

Daryl slammed his good shoulder against the broken door with a frustrated yell and finally felt the sun on his face. “Don’t kill her!” Daryl heard Negan scream. “Jesus fucking Christ, Arat!” Daryl tried to get back on his feet but everything was too bright and he was still trying to figure out what had happened and who Negan was talking about.

It wasn’t until he felt a hand around his arm that he seemed to snap back into his body. Aware that he hadn’t reloaded a new bolt into his bow, he swung his arm, trying to clip his assailant in the head with the bow. “Fuck! Daryl!” a familiar voice exclaimed to his right. The arm around him tightened as Daryl’s eyes finally focused on the person at his side.

“(Y/N)?” he breathed as he took in your face that was covered in blood and a wild look echoed from your eyes.

“We have to move,” you said earnestly. “Now!” Not questioning your demands, Daryl nodded and allowed you to take his bow as you grabbed for it. Slinging the bow onto your back, you grabbed the lighter Daryl had given you and he watched as you took a breath, no doubt sending some kind of prayer to the universe before you threw it into a pool of gasoline, igniting it and sending Saviors diving for cover.

Bullets flew by you as you hauled Daryl to the woods. “Don’t fucking shoot her! She’s a goddamn kid!” Negan screamed at his men.

Daryl leaned heavily on you as you dragged him towards the treeline. He didn’t hear much of what you said after that as his feet blindly followed you. “Negan,” Daryl choked out, trying to get you to understand.

“Leave him,” you said, trying to carry both of your weights. “Come on, Daryl, I can’t carry us both,” you pleaded, trying to get his mind to catch up with his body. It took another minute or so before the ringing subsided in his ears and the world got back into focus. Taking a few deep breaths, he got back into his normal gait and began speeding up his steps as he followed you through the woods.

You kept the crossbow on your back but he was soon able to walk on his own. “What did ya do?” Daryl asked as you stumbled down an embankment and carefully crossed a stream.

“What I had to to get you away from them,” you said as you helped him over the slippery rocks. “We can talk about this later. Right now, I need you to keep moving. There’s a town just through these trees, we can hide there for the night.”

“They’ll find us, (Y/N),” Daryl said as he pressed his hand against the bullet wound that was bleeding again. You looked at him, your eyes still wide from the fight.

“Then I’ll handle it,” you said. “It's my turn to keep you safe.”

-----------

The heat was horrid by the time you and Daryl arrived in the abandoned town.

Even with Daryl still in pain, you made the two of you circle back three times in order to cover your tracks. However, eventually, you knew he couldn’t take more before he finally keeled over. Keeping the crossbow loaded, you moved silently through the back alleys of the small town, looking for both Saviors and Walkers alike.

After the quarry horde had been redirected, the larger groups of the dead had been far and few between but that didn’t mean Walkers were gone altogether. Silently, you took down four Walkers before you found the destination you had in mind.

The old town library was something you and Sasha had found when you had accompanied her on a hunt one day. The latches on the doors still worked and it had enough blindspots inside to hide from the Living and the Dead.

You stood watch as Daryl wrestled with the doors. The Southern heat warped the frames a bit but eventually, Daryl was able to push one open and slip inside. You followed quickly and shut it behind you. Placing down the bow, you shoved a fallen bookcase in front of the double doors before collapsing against it for a second.

“Okay, this should hold,” you said with another breath. Daryl was swaying on his feet when you looked back at him. “Come on,” you said, picking up the bow and leading him into the main area of the library.

For such a small town, the library was a decent size. You figured that it was probably the main community hub for the neighborhood. It made its untouched books and abandoned keycards that much more sorrowful. Depositing Daryl on one of the lumpy couches, you grabbed your flashlight from your pack and clicked it on.

“I’m going to go make sure there’s no Dead in here,” you said. “Stay here and I’ll be back to take a look at that shoulder.”

“(Y/N),” Daryl said, grabbing your hand before you could move.

“I’ll be fine,” you promised. Daryl seemed to be wary but he was also exhausted so he relented and let go. You gave him your canteen, ordered him to drink, and then you began your search.

The dried blood on your skin was driving you crazy as it itched with every second. When you had set out after the Saviors, clutching the grenade you had stolen from Spencer’s stash a few days before, it hadn’t occurred to you that there would be a before and an after.

Before you managed to get to Daryl and after you got him.

Now, it was all about survival. You knew what you had done. Negan was pissed and if you knew anything about his temper solely based on the clearing, then you knew he wasn’t going to let this go.

You feared for your family back in Alexandria. If he wanted to, Negan could go and terrorize your family, perhaps kill more of them. None of that had been on your mind when you began your rescue operation. You weren’t thinking about anyone but Daryl. You had to save him and you were willing to risk your life. Though, now, you realized it wasn’t just your life you were risking.

Shaking the thoughts out of your mind, you finished your rounds through the two stories of the library. You were surprised to only find two Walkers who were less than “alive”. Both were barely hanging on and you figured one of them had been the librarian at some point. You took them both out to end their suffering and then headed back to Daryl.

Daryl was still awake when you joined him on the couch and helped him out of his shirt. The gunshot wound was getting worse and you could tell he was trying to put on a brave face for you. “You don’t have to do that, you know?” you said as you dug through your bag for the alcohol and bandages you always had with you.

“Do what?” he asked.

“Act as if nothing is hurting,” you said, pouring some of the alcohol on a rag. Not giving him a warning, you pressed it against his shoulder and Daryl swore as it burned the wound. “See,” you said with a smirk.

“Ya shouldn’t have done it,” Daryl said after a second.

“If I hadn’t, then you would be dead or worse,” you said. “I wasn’t going to let Negan take anyone else from me. Not after Glenn and Abraham.”

“You saw,” Daryl said and it wasn’t a question. You began cleaning the excess blood off before finding your suturing kit.

“I was in a tree,” you whispered, threading the needle, suddenly very grateful for the lessons Herschel had given you. “I thought he was going to kill you.”

“Maybe he should have,” Daryl said and your hands froze. Looking up at him with wide eyes, you could see the emotions that were raging in him.

“Daryl…”

“He said not to move, kid,” Daryl said. “I lost it after he killed Abraham. If I hadn’t… Glenn would still be alive.”

“You don’t know that. We slaughtered that outpost, hell, I’m surprised he didn’t take more people out. I know you and the others think I’m just some kid but I notice more than you think and I have learned to read people. Negan is… I don’t think he’s some kind of deranged maniac but he’s ruthless and he’s not going to stop until he feels as if he has all the power again. At least I can see that he’s not willing to kill kids. Guess that means Carl and I are gonna be on the front lines this time,” you finished with an attempt at humor.

“Not funny,” he said.

“Daryl, you and I both know that this isn’t going to end without a fight.”

“You ain’t fighting,” Daryl said sternly. You ignored him and began stitching up his wound, careful not to pull too much.

“Considering the way Rick was looking at Negan before I left, it doesn’t look like he had much fight left in him. Someone has to do it.”

“Rick has a lot of pressure on his shoulders,” Daryl defended but you just shook your head.

“I watched him tear a man’s throat out with his teeth, Daryl,” you said. “This was different. I warned you about his pride and how it was going to be his downfall. He just needs to be reminded of the leader he is.”

“Since when are ya so mature?”

“Since I watched the people I love get killed again and again,” you said as you tied off the last stitch.

“You blame Rick,” Daryl said.

“I blame all of us,” you said, picking up the clean bandages. “We believed that moron at Hilltop… We never should have gone after the Satellite Station, Daryl. We keep doing this, getting involved in fights that aren’t ours.”

“We have to help people,” Daryl said. “It’s what we do.”

“Why? Why do we have to? Why is it our responsibility? Why can’t we just survive like everyone else?”

“Someone has to be the good guys,” he said, though it didn’t sound like he believed it.

“I’m sick of being them,” you admitted, finally sitting back.

“Ya really mean that?” Daryl asked as he shrugged his shirt back onto his shoulder. You sat there for a minute before sighing.

“No,” you whispered. “I’m just sick of the death.”

-----------

Daryl was asleep finally and you became the sole protector.

It was odd, the role reversal. So many times you had been the one hurt and cowering as Daryl protected you. Now, after seeing all the horrors you had since Terminus, your skin was stronger than stone. It was going to take a lot more than a bastard with a bat to break you.

You could hear Daryl’s soft snore from the lounge as you scanned the darkness. You stayed there, watching until the soft rumbles of a truck echoed through the night. Ducking down, you watched as a pickup truck drove slowly through the town, a spotlight scanning the empty storefronts.

"Fuck," you whispered. Glancing at the bow by your side, you made a quick decision as the truck came to a stop and three men, Saviors, jumped out.

Sneaking back towards Daryl, you left his bow, loaded, by his side. Taking one last look at him, you slipped your jacket over your shoulders and headed to the second floor. An open window welcomed you near the back exit. Being an avid climber it was easy to maneuver out onto the slanted roof and grab onto the drainage pipe to take you to the ground.

Muffled voices reached your ears as you kept to the shadows. "Spread out, kill the man, take the girl," a man said, a voice you didn't recognize.

"That girl nearly killed Negan," another said.

"We are Negan," the third said. "And we do what he orders. Saviors don't kill kids. Find her." While it was a bold statement, you knew it was false. Hilltop had said, a boy was murdered. None of that fit.

Trying not to overanalyze anything, you focused on the task at hand. Picking up a large rock, you threw it as far as you could. The sound of breaking glass shattered the air and a set of boots took off in that direction.

As the second man went West, you focused on the solo scout who headed towards the abandoned police station. As you got closer, groans reached your ears. Spotting the Walker first, you snuck up behind it and slit its throat with a single slice. The gargling of Dead blood and empty lungs perforated your surroundings but it was enough to call attention to the Savior.

"Ugly motherfucker," the Savior said, not yet spotting you as you stood behind it. As the Savior drew his blade to silently end the creature, you shoved the Walker forward onto the man.

Stunned by the sudden momentum, he cried out as the Walker bit into the face before it. The Savior’s scream was cut off short as the Walker found its next meal. As soon as the damage was done, you finished off both, making sure to stifle the sounds that would pull your other two targets closer. Dragging both bodies out of sight, you slipped back into the shadows.

-----------

Moving West, you avoided any other Walkers who were wandering.

Not looking to be tracked by the Walker equivalent of breadcrumbs, you made sure to stay hidden for the most part. Finally spotting your next target, you began wishing you had grabbed Carl’s gun with his silencer before you had followed after the caravan. Only armed with knives now, you had to make do.

The Savior was looking through a desolate pet shop as you snuck in through a broken window, careful not to make too much noise with the shattered glass.

Picking up a tennis ball that had been neglected, you rolled it towards the aisle the Savior was looking in. Just like a curious golden retriever, the man followed the little ball right into your path. He barely had time to shout a warning before your knife was embedded into his carotid.

His eyes were wide as blood poured onto your hand. Keeping your nerve, you twisted the knife and fully severed the artery. The man fell to his knees as you pulled the blade free. Clutching his throat, he tried to speak but no sound came. “You’re not going to find him,” you whispered as he fell back and his eyes rolled back into his head.

Quickly, you shoved your blade into his brain before grabbing his weapon. It wasn’t silenced but it would have to do if it came down to a firefight. Turning back towards the main street, you ran from the store in hopes of catching the final Savior before he sounded the alarm.

-----------

The truck was still there but its driver was nowhere to be seen.

Noticing the keys were still in the ignition, you rolled your eyes. Pocketing them, you waited in the cab, hoping the final man would return soon.

Fatigue was starting to set in as you waited and you began to think of when the last time you slept was. Before the turn, you had imagined your teen years to be full of parties and late nights studying for tests in high school. You did not envision you would be waiting in the dark of a truck, ready to get more blood on your hands.

Unlike Carl, it hadn’t been at the prison when you first killed someone. It had been before you had even met Daryl. Before you wandered onto the Greene farm and Daryl and Carol had found you, you had been traveling with your aunt and uncle when bandits had attacked you and killed both before turning their sights on you. Not knowing how to use a gun, only ever seeing your uncle use it and of course, in films, you blindly fired and killed one and then the other. The third, who was just a teenager, had runoff.

After that, you felt ashamed at how you didn’t feel bad about doing it. Shane had explained that it was okay because you did it out of self-defense and Daryl and Maggie had agreed.

Now, as fresh blood joined the flaking blood on your hands, you tried to rationalize that what you were doing now was in defense of another. If the Saviors got Daryl back or killed him, you would not have been able to handle it.

“Focus,” you whispered to yourself. “Handle this and get back to Daryl. He needs you.”

It didn’t take long for the man to return. The man was speaking into his radio and it had never occurred to you to take the other walkies off the other bodies. However, now you knew you weren’t leaving without this one. If Rick wanted to fight and you were hoping that he was, then having a Savior’s radio, attuned to Negan’s base of operations would be a great start to gather intel.

Angling yourself in the front seat, you waited for him to open the door. Steadying your hand, you took a deep breath in, leveled the stolen gun, and just as the driver’s side door pulled open and the overhead light clicked on, you fired one bullet, hitting the man in the head.

Surprised by your own accuracy, you shuffled out of the cab, grabbed the radio, and shoved the body underneath the car. You waited then, for either more Walkers or the cavalry but when none came, you ran back to the library, hoping the shot didn’t wake Daryl. You weren’t in the mood for a lecture.

-----------

“Are ya really that reckless?” Daryl said as soon as you snuck back into the library.

“I don’t know what you're talking about,” you said, nonchalantly.

“Bullshit, I can practically smell all the blood on you,” he said, folding his arms. His bow was still by his side and after the small amount of rest, he was clearly not in the mood for your aloofness.

“I told you I would protect you,” you said as you moved to your pack and grabbed the discarded canteen, and poured some water on your hands in hopes of ridding yourself of the sick smell of iron. "Now, we need to figure out what to do," you said.

"We need to get home," he argued.

"We're going to Hilltop," you said. "They'll be looking for you at Alexandria and you know it."

"Both of us," he pointed out with a slight glare.

"Negan doesn't scare me," you said to him.

"He should."

"We've seen worse," you countered.

"You're too young for all this shit," he said, running a hand through his hair.

"So you've said before," you reminded him.

"(Y/N)..."

"If you're about to say that I need to distance myself from you. You'd be a moron. I'm not leaving you. If you don’t like it, any of it, then you never should have taught me to fight.”

“That’s right, I taught you to fight, not to kill,” he argued. Throwing the water bottle down, you turned on him.

“What is this about? I’ve seen you kill people. I’ve seen you do worse than taking a few people out to protect someone in our family. What is actually going on here and don’t say that it’s because you’re feeling guilty. It's more than that.”

“Ever think I don’t like seeing you like this," he gestured to your bloody clothes. "Do ya think I want ya to become someone like Negan? Ya act like taking a life ain’t that big of a deal!”

“Will you stop shouting,” you hissed, moving closer to him. “Daryl, I did what I had to. I am so sorry that you think you are the only one who is allowed to cross lines to protect us. I think you forget all the times we have had to save you.”

“That’s not fair.”

“No, what’s not fair is you getting mad at me for saving your life. Do you not realize how much you mean to me? I lost my parents before the turn and then my aunt and uncle and I had nobody. Nobody until you found me in that field. You are the closest thing I have to a father, Daryl and I don’t care what I have to do to make sure I don't lose another parent. I can’t handle it, okay? Please, just let me protect you for once!"

The emotions were taking you over then and it was hard to control them. “I don’t mean to cry and all that,” you said, sniffing back the tears, “but you can’t expect me to just sit back and do nothing when people keep trying to take you away from me.”

Daryl’s stern look dissipated then and it made you feel a bit worse. Wiping at the tears on your face, you turned away from him. Soon, you felt his arms around you as he pulled you into his chest just as he had earlier.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “You’re right, you were just tryin’ to help. Okay, I ain’t mad.”

“Doesn’t sound like it,” you said into his chest.

“I just worry about ya,” he said. “Ya know why?” Shaking your head, he tightened his hold. “Cause I see ya as my kid, too and I would do anythin’ to keep ya safe. I guess I gotta accept you’re going to do the same." Stepping back, he wiped the tears off your cheeks. “Just no more sneaking out, alright?”

“Alright,” you agreed. "Daryl, just know you don't have to carry it all. You can share your burden."

"I thought I was the parent here," he said.

"Family works both ways."

"Yes it does," he said.

Then with a bit more of a smile, you produced the keys you had stolen from the car. “I got us a ride cause you're still stuck with me."

"You're so stubborn," he said.

"I got it from you," you said with a gesture to the street. "You're going to have to drive."

"Right, no need to almost die twice in twenty-four hours," he said and you offered him a small smile. Daryl then took your hand in his as he gathered your pack. "I ain't leavin' you. You're stuck with me, too. I got you, kid,” he said. "And thanks for comin’ to get me.” You looked up at him and nodded.

“Always.”

TAGS: @thanossexual @felicisimor @agent-laufeyson @lucillethings

[seokjinsdisciple]

forbidden fruit - part one

mark x reader (literally all smut and completely self-indulgent)

mark is the epitome of innocence. pastor’s son and good christian boy. can he be tempted by the forbidden fruit?

UNEDITED

if you see this and you know me. inreal life, no you didn’t 

word count: 3.8k (blame red wine me)

warnings: language, fingering, choking kinda? (mark chokes himself), mutual masturbation, mommy kink, handjob, sub mark, blowjob, mentions of virginity and religion, uh wet dreams, sex toys, probably more lmk what i missed

You had met Mark 3 years ago in your church’s youth group. You never really liked church if you were honest, finding the whole thing rather stupid. However, Mark made coming to church very worth it. He was your age, the pastor’s son and probably the most handsome boy in your small town. 

You spent your high school years pining after the boy. Your hormones were out of control and associating all horniness with his face. A real problem when you had to spend hours with him at church. 

You ran into him one day on your campus your freshman year, his face lighting up as the two of you made small talk. You talked pretty regularly after that, becoming closer than you had been before, and when the two of you moved in together you thought all of your wet dreams were about to come true. 

At least until Mark drunkenly confessed to you one night that he was “like totally a virgin, dude.” 

The two of you were giggling messes, too many bottles of empty soju surrounding where you sat on the floor. Mark’s cheeks were deep red seconds after the words came out of his mouth. 

“Yo, I can’t believe I just said that, omg,” he said, hands covering his face as his ears reddened. 

“It’s ok, Mark,” you giggled, pulling his hands off of his face, “I kinda figured you were.”

You hadn’t, but you didn’t want him to feel embarrassed, and you certainly didn’t want him to stop talking about it. 

“Really?” he asked, a hopeful look on his face, “are you too?”

“No,” you giggled, hands covering your own face now, Mark’s whine ringing out in your mostly empty living room. 

“This-uh,” Mark whispered, “Sorry if this is uh- a weird question and you totally don't have to answer if you don't want to dude, but what did it feel like?”

So you told him, you answered every question he had that night. And when the two of you drunkenly parted ways, it was with a stickiness between your legs and an obvious tent in his pants. And that was the start of your current relationship with Mark.

It had been awkward at first, after that night. But he had started asking you more and more questions. They started off innocently enough, like what kissing felt like. Yeah, he was that innocent. But the questions started getting more and more sexual, and it was getting harder and harder to control yourself around him. 

You found yourself starting off simply at first. Changing what you wore around the house. It began by you wearing shorter and shorter pj bottoms. And then by wearing tops that gradually increased in sheerness, until you started just wearing oversized t-shirts. Losing pieces of underwear as you went.

Yeah, you were trying to seduce him. But who could blame you? Mark was the center of your wet dreams, and he had been so since the start of 8th grade. So who were you to deny his request?

It had been a regular Tuesday, classes attended and dinner shared when a blushing Mark had turned to you on the couch. 

“Something has been happening to me,” he confessed, his bright pink cheeks enough to make you soften. 

“Are you ok?” you had asked, completely convinced that he had never approached any topic like this before with you. 

“It’s just-,” he started, glancing nervously to the clasped hands in his lap, “I’ve been thinking about all the answers you’ve given me about...sex and all that. And well everytime that happens, I get this...heat in my abdomen. And no matter what I can’t make it go away.”

“Mark-,” you breathed out, glancing swiftly down to where, sure enough, there was a tent in his pants, “Are you talking about being horny?”

“I don’t- I don’t know what you mean,” he whispered, flushing an (impossibly) deeper shade of pink. 

“Oh sweetheart,” you whispered, “Are you feeling the heat in your abdomen now?”

You smiled gently as he nodded shyly back at you. Encouraging him with your facial expression as you hummed in acknowledgement.

“This is called being horny, Mark.” you spoke, much more calmly and clearly than you thought possible because of the heat tickling your own lower half. “What do you normally do when you feel this way?”

“I-I don’t normally do anything,” Mark admitted, eyes flicking up to yours for just a moment before settling back to his own clasped hands, “I just try to distract myself until it goes away.”

“Oh you poor thing,” you whispered, drawing your hand up to Mark’s face and caressing it gently, “Have you ever made yourself cum, Mark?”

Mark looked up at you again, confusion on his brow as he shook his head, “I don’t know-know what you mean.”

“You’re such a sweet angel,” you said, “Would you like me to show you how you can make it go away?”

Mark’s eyes connected with yours, and finally, they stayed there. He looked deep in thought, but before you could rush to apologize and hurry back to your room, he spoke.

“You can make it go away?” he asked hesitantly, and god did you want to ruin him on the spot. Wrap your lips around him and make him curse the lord he so deeply believed in. But you held back. The last thing you wanted to do was scare him away. 

“I can show you,” you spoke slowly, “if you want me to.”

“I think I might like that,” he whispered, the bob of his adams apple making you grow damp between your thighs. There was just something about Mark that made you insatiably hungry. And not for a meal. 

You scooted closer to him on the couch, ignoring the thumping of your heart and the wetness between your legs as you spoke, “I’m gonna tell you what you need to do. And you’re gonna listen, aren't you, baby?”

Mark’s eyes widened as he gulped, but he still nodded his head. You felt a little bad for how nervous he seemed, considering how excited you were. 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” You asked, analyzing his face closely. When he nodded you just tutted at him, “I need words, Mark.”

“Yeah,” he spoke, “I really want to do this.”

“Okay,” you smiled gently at him, “I want you to start by letting your hands explore. Touch everywhere, slowly, and find what feels best for you, Mark.”

You watched intently as he slowly brought his hand up to his neck, letting his fingers hesitantly dance across his skin. His eyes shot to yours when he shuddered, unable to stop himself. 

“Is-is that good?” he asked, whining as he dropped his hand to his chest. 

“You’re doing so good, Mark,” you encouraged, hesitantly placing your hand on his thigh, “Is it ok if I touch you like this?”

Mark nodded so quickly you almost laughed, the blush dusting his cheeks almost as cute as the way he squirmed under your grasp. His breathing increased as you crept your fingers slowly up his thigh. You let your hand rest on his hip, splaying your fingers so close to his dick but so far away.

“You’re- you’re making it worse,” he stuttered out, letting out a shocked moan as his fingers brushed over his nipple.

“No, baby,” you smirked at him, “I’m making it better.”

Mark’s cock jumped in his sweats, his blush deepening as he let out another quiet moan, “I- I like it when you call me that.”

“Hmm,” you hummed, “I’m glad you like being called baby, it suits you.”

His breath hitched as you dipped a finger beneath the band of his sweats, letting it rest there. You smiled when his hands met yours, grabbing his pants and tugging them off. You almost moaned as his glistening red cock slapped his stomach. He hadn’t been wearing underwear. 

“What do I do now?” he whispered, eyes blown out with lust and hair perfectly tousled. 

You let your finger trail up to where a bead of precum rested on the head of his dick. You watched as his face scrunched in pleasure, breath knocked out of him as you swirled the wetness around the tip. 

“Make sure your hand is wet enough,” you said, spitting into your hand, smirking as Mark’s eyes shot open at the noise, flickering down to where your hand was hovering over his cock. 

You watched as he swallowed, his own fingers curling into the couch as he said, “Will you please touch me now?”

“How could I say no when my baby asks so nicely,” you said, eyes never leaving his face as you finally wrapped a hand around his length. 

Mark was a sight to behold. Sweat glistened on his forehead as you wrapped your hand tightly around his cock. The guttural moan he let out was enough to have you cumming in your pants, but you held strong. Well as strong as you could as he clung onto your form. You dragged your hand slowly up his length, thumb flicking over the head of his cock as he groaned into your shoulder. 

You felt on top of the world, Mark’s pleasure the direct response to every flick of your wrist. You barely recognized him. Whining, needy mess as he mewled into your shoulder. 

“Mo-mommy,” he whimpered, hands quickly finding your core, “Can I touch you too?”

Who were you to deny your polite boy, quickly and ungracefully shoving your panties to the side to give Mark an easier access to your heat. You’d be lying if you said the term mommy had no effect on you. In fact, you were dripping at this point, just one look at Mark enough to make your pussy throb in need. Not that you would tell him that. 

“Baby,” you said quietly, guiding Mark’s over-enthusiastic hand to your clit, “right here, keep rubbing in circles.”

“Yes, mommy,” he whimpered, shoving his reddened face into your shoulder as your wrist moved quicker up and down his length. 

“Good boy,” you groaned, squirming where you sat on the couch as Mark slipped a finger into your dripping cunt. 

You were getting each other off at an inhuman pace, the two of you squirming and wiggling where you sat. The pleasure of it all too much to take. This was Mark’s first time feeling any contact on his cock, and you’d be lying if you said you never dreamed of Mark’s fingers pumping into you at the pace they were now. 

This was the definition of a wet dream, for both of you. And as you came with his fingers reaching a place in you no one else had reached before, you were determined to make Mark cum. 

You flicked your thumb around the head of his cock, watching with half lidded eyes as he shuddered. He was putty in your hands, and there was no way in hell that he would ever be able to touch himself the way you were touching him now. And you didn’t care. The only thing you cared about in this moment was throwing him off the edge with you. Corrupting that sweet little church boy the only way you knew how. 

It was with a satisfying grin and an earth-shattering moan from Mark as you watched cum spurt from him. Eyes scrunched in pleasure as his entire body shook with a feeling he had never experienced before. An orgasm. 

You watched in wonder as he clung onto you. Sweat dripped from his forehead as he threw his head back on the couch. You watched as his cock twitched as rope after rope of cum sprung from him, years of pent up pleasure finally releasing at your hands. You had never felt more powerful in that moment. 

You parted that night with a sweet kiss to his lips after cleaning him up. Boneless Mark even more pliable than before, and as much as you hated yourself for it, you couldn’t stop thinking about what you could do to a sleepy Mark. That night there was no awkwardness between you. 

That, of course, changed as time passed, both of you ignoring the mutual pleasure you had achieved by the other's hand. You ignored any feelings you had, whether it be attraction or lust. Mark deliberately avoided you, and as much as you hated to admit it, but you avoided him too. 

You were convinced the two of you would never recover from this, from your experimentation with each other's bodies. At least until he burst into your room one Sunday afternoon, notably after his father’s church service, with a question and burning cheeks. 

“Have you ever given a blowjob?” he asked, the door to your bedroom swinging into the wall with a loud bang that neither of you could hear. 

“Mark?” you asked, putting your laptop to the side as you looked quizzically up at him.

“I watched one..porn video about it last week and I haven't been able to focus since.”

“You watch porn now?” you asked, raising a critical eyebrow as you looked him up and down.

“I-, no” Mark stuttered, face flushing an impossibly deeper shade of red, “yes, what about it?”

“You sound sure of yourself,” you teased, “come sit.”

“Never mind-”Mark rushed out, turning away from you and hurrying towards your open door. 

“Sit, Mark. Now please,” you spoke, dominance in your tone as you watched his body language change. 

You smiled softly to yourself as he shuffled to your bed, sitting on the edge and avoiding your gaze. 

“Did you have a question for me, baby?”

You almost laughed as he sighed, body immediately relaxing at the nickname he had told you he loved so much. 

“I was just wondering,” he said, glancing up at you and losing his confidence, “haveyouevergivenablowjob?”

“What was that? I couldn’t quite catch that, Mark,” you said, knowing glance as you watched his lips form into a perfect pout.

“Are you really gonna make me ask again,” he whispered, looking down from where his eyes previously met yours. 

“Yes, baby, I am.”

You grasped his hand as he whined, squeezing his palm slightly as he pouted up at you. 

“Have you ever given a blowjob?” he whispered, eyes glancing to every corner of the room to avoid your gaze. 

“I have.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle as his eyes met yours curiously. Fingers playing with your comforter as you watched the wheels turning in his brain. You were begging him to ask, practically groveling for him to say the words that would fuel the corruption kink you had solely for Mark. 

“Can you…” Mark started, scotting subconsciously closer to you, “can you give me one?”

“Well that depends on you, Mark. Do you think you deserve my mouth?”

You watched with bated breath as he nodded, a tent already fully formed in his pants as the conversation went on.

“What makes you think you deserve it, huh? You’ve been ignoring me for weeks, Mark. After Mommy made you feel so good. You ignored me, and now I find out you’ve been watching porn. Being such a naughty boy. Doesn’t really seem right to give you my mouth.”

You had him now, hook line and sinker. He was trapped, listening to every one of your words, waiting with bated breath as you made up your mind. 

“I- I’ve never felt it before, Mommy. I promise I’ll be better next time. I’ll do better next time. Just please suck me off,” he begged, filthy words dripping from his mouth in desperation. 

“I’m ruining you, Mark,” you whispered, “Absolutely destroying your sweet innocence. What about your God, Mark? Would he want you to beg for my mouth like you just did?”

“I-,” he started, quieting as you pushed a finger towards his lips. 

“It’s ok, baby. I’ll make you worship that God of yours in a way you didn’t even know was possible. 

You steadied his shaking body as you switched him places on your bed. Sitting in front of him in your disgustingly dirty pj top and messy bun as he laid in front of you. You tugged his pants down, licking your lips in want as his cock slapped his stomach. 

You wanted this just as much as he did, evident by your drool and dirty thoughts. You hadn’t noticed his sizable length before, too focused on all of the other unbelievable things that had happened before wrapping your hand around his cock. You took it all in now, the glory of Mark’s cock, pulsing red and so incredibly hard in need. If he hadn’t whimpered you would’ve stared at this beautiful sight for hours. But he was needy and so were you. So you wrapped your mouth around him. And dear God was Mark a sight to behold.

He had stars in his eyes as your tongue ran up the length of his cock. He could barely contain himself as his hips bucked up into your mouth. Politeness leaving his body as he followed his craving for pleasure. 

Within seconds his hands were in your hair. Tugging as you worked your mouth over his sensitive length. He was barely holding it together, and the second you reached the bottom of his cock, he cursed. 

His hips were itching to move, you could feel the way they bucked ever so slightly as you took him. Your hands grasped his thigh tightly as he unintentionally pushed your head down. You were taking as much as he gave you, and as he whined in pleasure you couldn’t help  A second later he wasn’t touching you anymore, eyes wide when you glanced up at him. 

“So-sorry,” he whispered, for what you weren’t sure. 

“What’s wrong, Mark?” you asked gently. 

“I should go,” he said, face paling as he scooted further away from you on the bed, “This isn’t right.”

You stood up quickly, sitting beside him and cupping his face in your hands, “Mark you can go if you want to, I won’t stop you. But do you really think something that felt so good could be bad?”

“I-I don’t know,” he whispered, shying away from your touch, “I’m going to the library.”

He stood up quickly, half tripping as he tried to pull his pants back up, fumbling with himself and the door as he tried to leave. 

“Mark,” you called out to him, waiting until he turned to meet your gaze before continuing, “It’s ok that you aren’t ready yet. But I’m always here if you have more questions.”

He nodded at you, “Thank you, for understanding,” blush returning to his cheeks as he spoke, “I feel comfortable around you, Yn.”

He closed the door after he left, and while your Sunday afternoon was spent attached to a vibrator, you were glad Mark had felt comfortable enough with you to tell you that he wasn’t comfortable. 

Maybe you had pushed him too far, and as much as it killed you, you were glad he was taking his time. If your baby wasn’t ready to go any further than handjobs, then that was that. He was too innocent to be corrupted, which is what made corrupting him all the better. 

Yes, Mark had been full of curiosity and questions. But you were the one who wasn’t ready for the question he asked next.

[mc-lukanette]

It was the first day of the school year, and Marinette figured that nothing could surprise her. She'd dealt with just about everything she could think of on her first days, both good and bad (mostly bad), so she imagined that she at least wouldn't be caught off guard by anything.

Then, she opened her locker and found someone else's things inside. She blinked twice, just to make sure that she wasn't seeing things, then closed the locker door to check the number on it. Without a doubt, it was her locker, yet it was apparently being used by some mystery person.

Definitely something she hadn't experienced before, though she could think of worse things that could've happened. Still, what did it mean?

She inhaled, then let out a calm breath, not wanting to freak out over what could've just been a mistake. Keeping her things, she took them - along with her questions - off to the principal's office.

—————

"And you say that another person had already put their supplies in your locker?" Mister Damocles asked as he typed away on his computer, occasionally glancing at the sheet of paper Marinette had given him with her locker number on it.

"Yes," she replied, a little formally given that she was talking to the principal. Leaning forward in her seat, she added, "I don't want any trouble though. If they just put their stuff in the wrong locker, I'll take theirs. It's okay."

He nodded, but focused almost completely on the screen of his computer. Marinette couldn't help feeling anxious doing nothing at all, so she tried to occupy her time by looking around the room and swinging her legs back and forth.

She jumped when Mister Damocles abruptly cleared his throat, soon after his typing stopped. His expression was nervous even though he clearly tried to hide it.

"W-well, it wasn't an error exactly," he began, "you see, we... had an increase in students this year that we weren't prepared for."

"Really?" she asked, unsure but also not seeing what reason he'd have to lie to her.

"So there just weren't enough lockers for us to give one to each student. You and one of the students in Ms. Mendeleiev's class happened to be the odd ones out."

"Oh." She slumped, considering that. It seemed unnecessary to put up a fight about it, and although the idea was a little strange, the worst case scenario was the other student taking something of hers that could probably just be replaced anyway.

Satisfied enough, she stood up and approached the desk. "At least now I know. I guess I'll just have to work with it." She turned, waving as she went. "Have a nice day, Mister Damocles!"

Mister Damocles nodded and waved back at her, grinning far too wide to be genuine. It was only once the door closed and she was gone that he let himself fall onto the desk with an exhausted grunt. He hoped beyond reasonable expectation that neither student ever had a problem sharing a locker with the other and decided to bring it up with their parents.

He just had no idea how he was going to explain that Chloe Bourgeois had demanded so many lockers for herself that it caused the problem in the first place.

—————

Having returned to her locker, Marinette whispered an unheard apology to her mystery person, as she had no choice but to move their things so that she could put her own in. At the very least, she made sure things were organized so that their stuff didn't mingle.

That done, she reached into her bag, smiling as she pulled out a stack of oversized - courtesy of her tendency to ramble, even in text - sticky notes, brand new and ready for the school year. She hadn't expected to start using it so soon, but she knew from experience that classes didn't seem to go to their lockers at the same time, meaning that it'd have to be by note if she wanted to communicate.

Using her nails to tear into the protective plastic around the sticky notes, she then pulled off a single note to write on. She sat on her heels, placing her closed sketchbook on her legs and putting the sticky note on top. From her bag, she pulled out one of her fancier pens, not wanting to seem sloppy to the person sharing her locker since it wasn't like it was their fault they were sharing.

She tapped the blunt end of the pen against her chin, having to think for a moment before feeling mentally prepared enough to write.

Hey, so it seems there weren't enough lockers this year and we both have the same locker number because of it. I don't really mind, but I could maybe talk to Mr. Damocles again if it's a bother?

(by the way, I took the bottom shelf because I'd be surprised if you were shorter than me ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭, but you can have the two top ones, so I hope that makes up for it!)

Signed, 🌺

It wasn't very professional, but she hadn't intended it to be, as she wouldn't have been able to keep up such an aura for the entire school year if they ended up being okay sharing with her.

The decision to sign with a flower rather than her name was a matter of privacy; neither of them knew each other's faces yet, so it only seemed right to use something less identifying than a name. She couldn't help giggling, feeling as though it added an air of mystery to the whole thing and made her look cooler than she really was.

Putting her sketchbook and pen away, she stood up and stuck her note to the front of the top shelf, where the future recipient was sure to see it. She turned to pick up her bag, but realized belatedly that they might not have the supplies she had to write her back. Thinking quickly, she got another sticky note out, laying it along with a pencil on the middle shelf without specifically sticking them there, hoping the intent was obvious.

That done, she headed off to class, a little more bounce in her step than usual from the mixture of nerves and curiosity at the idea of getting a reply.

—————

It turned out that she hadn't had to worry at all.

Hey. I don't mind at all. You don't have to move anywhere.

(and thanks, but I feel bad for taking both shelves, so maybe we can swap every other day or something? (;´~`))

Signed, 🎵

Marinette grinned, amused by the fact that her locker buddy (as she now felt safe to call them) had signed in the same manner as her, yet their handwriting was very different. While she was more cutesy in her letters, theirs were more carefree, though she supposed that was cute in its own way.

Maybe sharing a locker would end up being fun after all.

[continuation]

[rubysunnday]

it’s a love story

a/n: this is a looonnnggg one, but i enjoyed writing it a lot. Thank you to @gryffindors-weasley who’s stories have inspired this one - if you want more sweet Colin please go read their stories!

words: 3,703

summary: Y/N has loved Colin since they were children but it was one-sided. She was content to stand aside and watch Colin move on without her. Until Marina.

Unrequited love hurt.

It was easy to lose yourself in night-time fantasies of a life with the one person you loved - dreaming of your wedding, your house and the day they confessed their feelings to you.

Y/N had loved Colin ever since she’d been a child. It’d started off as nothing more than platonic love - they’d been best friends since childhood, and they’d stayed close over the years as they both grew up and turned into something that vaguely resembled adults.

She’d never revealed how she felt to him. Y/N didn’t want to tell him and run the risk of ruining their friendship. She simply stood aside and watched him flirt with and at almost every woman in London. It never bothered her - it was how Colin was. He flirted and played around but never settled.

Until Marina.

Y/N hadn’t thought twice about how he flirted at Marina. Admittedly, it had hurt to see how close they’d been at Daphne’s wedding party and how besotted Colin seemed to be with her. But Y/N had just thought Marina was another passing fancy who would be married and vanished after the season ended.

But the garden party changed that.

She hadn’t wanted to go. Ever since Daphne’s wedding she’d been keeping her distance from Colin and the Bridgerton House in general, not wanting to set herself up for anymore heart ache and pain then what she was mentally prepared for.

As her carriage pulled up to the gardens, Y/N felt her hands begin to shake. It was ridiculous how nervous she was - nothing had even happened yet! She was just nervous to see Colin and have to disguise her feelings from him and Marina.

Before the wheels of her carriage had even stopped rolling, Eloise ran over and flung open the door, looking up at Y/N expectantly. Benedict reluctantly chased after his sister after his mother shoved him in Eloise’s vague, general direction.

Eloise squinted up at her, attempting to read Y/N’s mind. “Nope, you’re not running away,” she said, reaching up and grabbing her friends’ hand and practically pulling her out the carriage, sensing Y/N’s desire to be anywhere other than there.

“Oh, Eloise, don’t start,” Y/N complained, barely catching herself on Benedict’s outstretched arm as she missed the step entirely and lost her footing.

“If I have to suffer, you have to suffer,” Eloise replied, almost pouting.

Y/N sighed, still clutching Benedict’s arm as she regained her sense. “Eloise, I don’t want to be here. I can’t cope with... well, that,” she waved a hand in the vague general direction of where Colin was.

“And I can’t cope with my mother doing what she does best,” Eloise shot back, snatching Y/N’s hand and pulling her into the gardens. “Now, come along, dear Y/N.”

Not trusting her friend, Y/N grabbed Benedict’s hand and dragged the man along with her, ignoring his muttered complaints as he reluctantly followed after his sister.

Everything seemed to be going fine. Y/N hovered around Benedict and Anthony, making small talk with the two and strategically avoiding looking at or being in the vicinity of Colin and having to talk to him.

Every time she looked over at him, he was with Marina, smiling dumbly at something she’d said and looking stupidly doe-eyed at her.

Marina hadn’t done anything to Y/N and was probably a lovely person, but she still infuriated Y/N beyond belief for no reason at all. Her mere existence irritated her.

Benedict looked up, having asked Y/N a question that had been met with silence. He noticed her staring at Colin and nudged Y/N’s arm. “Stop staring.”

Y/N blinked and turned her head away from Colin, plucking an invisible thread off the cuff of her dress. “Thanks,” she muttered quietly. She hadn’t realised she’d been noticeably staring.

Despite never saying anything, both Eloise and Benedict - and presumably the rest of the Bridgerton household since neither sibling could keep their mouths shut - knew about Y/N’s unrequited love for Colin.

When they’d been children, Colin and Y/N had gotten ‘married’ in the back garden of Bridgerton House. It’d been a big event involving all the family and the staff and had ultimately ended in the two getting a ‘divorce’ that evening when Colin threw a carrot at Y/N. But it’d been obvious even then how perfect they were for the other.

Y/N looked up as someone gently knocked their knife against their glass. Her heart almost stopped when she realised it was Colin and that Marina was standing next to him looking very pleased.

“May I have everyone’s attention?” Colin asked as silence fell over the gathered party.

Y/N was trying not to think the worse. She could see the confusion on Anthony’s face at what his brother was about to do but Y/N knew, deep down, what was about to happen.

“I would like to make a small but important announcement,” Colin continued, practically beaming. “I have happy news to impart.”

Y/N could hear her heart beating. She knew what was coming. There was nothing else that Colin could say that would make sense and that would make Marina smile so much. She unconsciously reached out her hand and grabbed Anthony’s arm, squeezing it tightly.

“I have asked Miss Marina Thompson to be my wife, and she has accepted.”

Everyone around them gasped in delight. Benedict was smiling, Lady Featherington was beaming, and Anthony looked like he was about to throttle someone.

Y/N felt as if her entire life was falling apart in front of her. She’d lost the one thing that meant everything to her to someone else. Her grip on Anthony’s arm increased and he looked over at her.

“Smile,” Anthony whispered, despite his own surprise and anger. “And go congratulate them.”

It took a moment for Y/N’s mind to realise that Anthony had even spoken. But a moment later she nodded, plastered a smile to her face and approached Colin and Marina with false joy and gratitude despite the fact her heart was breaking apart inside her.

For the rest of the week, Y/N stayed at home. Despite the invitation being extended to her to join the Featherington’s and a few of the Bridgerton’s for dinner, she declined it, unable to bear the pain of seeing Colin and Marina stare lovingly at one another.

The seventh day of hiding dawned annoyingly early and Y/N, who felt as if she hadn’t slept in months, found herself pottering around her house with no purpose in mind.

“Miss Y/L/N.”

Y/N turned around to face her butler. “Yes, Simmons?”

“Miss Eloise Bridgerton is here to see you, ma’am. She’s refusing to leave.”

Y/N sighed and pursed her lips. “Of course, she is,” she muttered. “Where is she?”

Simmons gestured to the lounge and Y/N headed down the corridor towards the room.

“Eloise, I swear -” Y/N cut herself off abruptly at the pained yet excited look on Eloise’s face as the woman ran up to her and all but crashed into her.

“The engagement is off,” Eloise said all at once, her excitement overtaking her need to speak.

Y/N blinked. “I - what is off?”

“Colin and Marina Thompson’s engagement,” Eloise said again, elaborating a little more. Y/N blinked again. “What?”

Eloise grabbed Y/N’s hand and dragged her into the living room, thrusting the latest Lady Whistledown into her hands.

Y/N hadn't read it in the past week - every page being focused on Colin and Marina and how happy Daphne and the duke had seemed. Every description of anything related to love added insult to injury.

She scanned it quickly and stared at the words with wide eyes. The paper fell from her hands as she looked up at Eloise.

“She... she’s pregnant?” Y/N whispered, almost not daring to say it. “What, when, how - I mean, I know how but...”

“I didn’t know how,” Eloise admittedly sheepishly.

Y/N’s head shot up, Colin and Marina forgotten. “How did you not know? You grew up with three older brothers!”

Eloise shrugged. “It just... never came up. Anyway,” she fluttered the piece of paper in font of Y/N’s face, “Colin’s free.”

“Eloise -”

“What? Y/N, there is nothing standing between you and Colin.”

Y/N sighed and slowly sat down on the sofa. “Eloise, your family’s reputation is... in a treacherous position. If I’m seen flinging myself at Colin to try and benefit from this... I’m not that sort of person. Maybe in a few weeks when its all calmed down...”

Eloise looked her friend up and down. She sat down next to her and took her hand. “Okay. I don’t agree with it but, okay.”

Over the next few days, Y/N began spending more time around the Bridgerton’s, visiting their house like she had before Colin’s proposal.

All of the Bridgerton’s, bar Colin, knew why Y/N had vanished for a few days but said nothing of her sudden re-appearance. Y/N put it down to feeling ill - she tried not to fall apart when Colin asked after her with concern in his voice and worry in his eyes.

“I’m fine now,” Y/N told him, smiling. “Just a blip.”

“Good,” Colin replied, matching her smile.

Y/N sipped on her tea, casting her eyes down as she felt her stomach flutter at the sight of his smile - even if it didn’t reach his eyes. “Are you attending the Queen’s garden party tomorrow?” Y/N asked, setting her cup down on its saucer with a soft clink.

Colin nodded. “Daphne and the duke are back in town... so, yes, we’re all going to be attending. Are you...”

“Yes, I’ll be there,” Y/N replied, trying not to smile at the palpable relief that appeared on Colin’s face at her answer.

Despite everything that had happened over the past few days, Colin and Y/N’s relationship hadn’t changed. Yes, Y/N was still longing after someone she would likely never have but she’d missed her best friend too much to sulk in her own misery for much longer.

The day of the Queen’s Garden Party, Y/N joined the Bridgerton’s, walking in with the family, her arm in Colin’s.

“Isn’t this lovely?” Violet asked, smiling as she put her arm around Hyacinth. “All of us together again. And Y/N.”

Y/N laughed. “Thanks, Lady Bridgerton.”

“Yes, it’s lovely indeed. We should tempt scandal more often,” Colin muttered. He grunted lightly as Y/N elbowed him in the stomach. “Ow.”

“Hush,” Y/N replied. She was highly aware of everyone staring at them - a given considering the scandal that Marina had brought down upon the Bridgerton’s.

After a few minutes, and after the Queen had accosted Daphne and the duke, Y/N wandered off from the Bridgerton’s, mingling with the other guests and indulging herself in a glass of lemonade and a biscuit.

“Oh, Miss Y/L/N!”

Y/N closed her eyes at the shrill, grating voice of Cressida Cowper. She was the last person she’d wanted to see let along speak to. Y/N plastered a smile to her face and turned to face Cressida.

“Miss Cowper, how are you?” Y/N asked.

“I’m wonderful, thank you. I just wanted to know what you think you’re doing,” Cressida replied, her tone cheerful but the words sounded and felt forced.

Y/N frowned. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean, Cressida.”

“Mr Bridgerton - Colin, I mean. You’ve been fawning all over him since the news about Miss Thompson broke -”

“I haven’t been fawning, I’ve been trying to be a good friend,” Y/N replied slowly, her frown deepening.

Cressida waved a hand dismissively. “Yes, yes, but we all know that your ‘friendship’ is a disguise for your unrequited love for Mr Bridgerton.”

The empty glass in Y/N’s hand all most fell to the floor, but she kept a tight grip on it as she looked at Cressida. “Excuse me?”

“Well, it’s well known that you are in love with Colin and that he doesn’t know. And if he did, well, that would be your friendship over, wouldn’t! Perhaps you are even Lady Whistledown and wrote that article on Miss Thompson to have Colin all to yourself.”

“I don’t know what you’re implying here, Cressida -”

“Oh, I’m not implying anything, Y/N,” Cressida replied, smiling slyly. “We both know the truth about your relationship with Colin. I just can’t imagine how hurt he would be if Lady Whistledown turned out to be you. Besides, it’s not like you actually think he could possibly love you? You don’t deserve him.”

“Is everything alright, Y/N?” Colin asked, stepping into the conversation and putting a hand on the small of Y/N’s back.

Y/N turned her head away and, despite the tightness in her throat, swallowed and smiled. “Yes, Miss Cowper was just leaving,” she said firmly.

Cressida all but stamped her foot as she turned and flounced off. Colin watched her go and then turned back to Y/N, frowning in concern. He was no stranger to the stings Cressida and her mother often gave out to the Ton.

“What was that about?” Colin asked. “I didn’t really hear much -”

“Nothing,” Y/N cut in. Colin’s hand was still resting on her back and she could feel the heat of his hand seeping through the light pink silk of her dress. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t just be friends and pretend her feelings didn’t exist when they did.  She took a shaky breath in, clenching her lace gloved hands tightly as they shook. “Excuse me.”

Ignoring Colin’s worried and hurt expression, Y/N stepped away from him and walked off towards the back of the gardens in search for some peace and quiet.

Y/N found a small side garden amongst the hedges and darted into it, kicking the small white picket fence gate shut behind her - forming a very pathetic barrier that Colin could probably climb over.

Cressida had always had the ability to get under her skin. Normally she would simply forget and move on with her day but everything Cressida had said - minus the Lady Whistledown accusation - was true.

She didn’t deserve Colin. That was partly why she’d been so content to let him marry Marina - because she didn’t deserve him. And why would he love her? Compared to Marina and every other women Colin had flirted at or with, she wasn’t much of anything.

“Y/N?”

Y/N closed her eyes at the sound of Colin’s voice, mentally wishing him away. She refused to turn around and face him - she could feel the emotions beginning to win over her and could feel her eyes burning.

“Y/N, what’s wrong? What did Cressida say?” Colin asked, walking up to her and putting a hand on her back where the fabric was nothing more than a sheer covering.

Y/N could feel the heat of his skin and the soft skin of his hand and suddenly wanted him to just go away and never speak to her again because it would make things so much easier.

“Nothing that wasn’t true,” Y/N said softly, a stray tear escaping her eye and dripping on to her cheek. She felt Colin still and knew he’d heard at least some of what Cressida had said. “You heard, didn’t you?” Y/N asked quietly.

Colin didn’t answer for a moment. “I... I heard the last few sentences.”

Y/N laughed humourlessly. “Of course, you did,” she said, her laugh mixing with sobs. She turned around to face her best friend with tears in her eyes.

Colin looked at her, stunned by the broken expression on her face. In the years he’d known her, the only time he’d seen her that broken had been when her mother had passed away and she’d sobbed into his arms all night. “Y/N/N...”

“No,” Y/N stepped to the side, away from Colin’s outstretched hand. “No, I’m sorry.” She inhaled sharply. “I can’t... I can’t do this. I know - I can’t.”

Colin lunged forward and grabbed Y/N’s wrist as she turned to go, yanking her to a halt and forcing her to look at him. “Y/N, wait.”

“What, Colin? So, you can make fun of the fact that I’ve been on love with my best friend since I was sixteen?”

“No, I just... I need an explanation - I need someone to explain because my head is spinning,” Colin replied. “I don’t understand.”

Y/N sniffed, looking down at the grass. “You own my heart, Colin,” she said simply. She looked up. “When I dream of my future it's with you. You are the person I want to spend the rest of my life with - the one I see myself loving until I die.”

Y/N paused, swallowing down the tears that wanted to fall. She had to say this now, to get it over with and make it clear. Even though it was physically hurting her. “And I know you don’t feel the same way so, we can just leave this here. Nothing else has to be said about it. I’ll leave and we don’t have to speak of this again - or even see each other if that’s what you want.”

Colin said nothing. He was too stunned and surprised by the sudden confession and the events of the past few days to form a sentence. Y/N nodded sadly, taking his silence as her answer, and left the gardens.

She tried to hide her tear-stained face and broken heart as she emerged back into the main party. She’d arrived with the Bridgerton’s and had no way of getting home without them. Y/N spotted Anthony near the entrance and quickly made her way over to him, desperate to leave before anyone cornered her or spoke to her.

“Anthony,” Y/N said softly, nudging his arm.

Anthony turned around as the people he had been talking to walked off. It took him all of thirty seconds to take in her teary eyes, her shaking hands and the broken look on her face. “Y/N...”

“I’d like to go home, please,” she said quietly, her voice breaking on the last few words.

Anthony, to his credit, didn’t ask why. He nodded and took her arm, steering her out the garden. He caught Benedict as they passed, the two sharing a quick and quiet conversation. She caught the pitying stare Benedict gave her, the simple action making her tears free fall once again.

The carriage they had arrived in wasn’t waiting out front for them. Anthony looked around for it but saw no sign.

“I’ll be back, are you alright to stay here?”

“I’ll be fine,” Y/N replied, nodding.

Anthony squeezed her shoulder and walked off with a determined stride to find their carriage.

“Y/N!”

Y/N closed her eyes and turned around. “Colin, don’t -”

Colin skidded to a halt in front of Y/N, scattering the pebbles of the driveway with his sudden stop. He was panting, as if he’d ran from the garden to the driveway without stopping.

“Just, listen,” he said, cutting her off. “I... I didn’t say anything because I didn’t know what to say.”

“I know, you don’t like me, it’s fine -”

“Will you,” Colin walked forward until he was inches away from her, “just listen?” He took her gloved hand and held it in his. “I didn’t say anything because you caught me entirely off guard. The past few days have been chaos and I need a moment to think. Because the last thing I expected was you to declare your love to me in a garden on a random Thursday. The truth is, Y/N, is that I have loved you ever since we had our wedding in the gardens of my house.”

Y/N let out a snort of laughter despite her tears. “I thought you didn’t want me,” she said softly, looking up at him. “Why would you? I don’t deserve you -”

“That,” Colin said, putting a hand on Y/N’s cheek and wiping away the tears with the pad of his thumb, “sounds suspiciously like the words of a Cowper. Y/N, I love you. I thought you didn’t want me!”

Y/N laughed tearfully and leant into Colin’s hand, still resting on her cheek. “We’re idiots.”

“That we are,” Colin agreed, nodding. “Y/N... the way I feel when I’m with you... there is nothing on this earth that is comparable. I’ve been waiting my entire life for you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I thought Marina would be the one to make me forget you but every time I looked at her... I thought of you. I thought about how much I want to kiss you -”

“Then kiss me,” Y/N said, her voice not much more than a whisper. “And make it a good one, Colin.”

And suddenly his lips were on hers and there was a hunger and a need as he kissed her. His hands wrapped around her waist, pulling her against his chest. Y/N’s hand went to the back of his head, her fingers combing through his curls. She could feel his heart pounding and could feel the warmth from his skin as his hand moved up her back.

It was years of waiting and pining and wanting the other. Y/N needed Colin like she needed to breathe, and Colin needed Y/N like he needed water to live.

Y/N reluctantly pulled away from Colin, her hand still in his hair. She rested her forehead against his. “I love you.”

Colin rested his forehead on hers. He closed his eyes for a moment and then opened them again, staring at her. His hand was on her waist and the other one was on the back of her neck, stroking the skin gently. “I love you too.”

“So... are we organising another wedding?”

Y/N dropped her head on to Colin’s shoulder at the sound of Anthony’s voice and groaned loudly.  “Seriously, Anthony?!”

“You two kissed in the driveway,” Anthony pointed out, crossing his arms and attempting to look intimidating despite the stupid grin on his face. “Now, are we going or staying, because I’ve still yet to find our carriage.”

“We can stay,” Y/N replied, her hand entwined with Colin’s. “And when we walk back in there, we’re going to break the Ton.”

[lovelybarnes]

reckless- b. barnes

pairings: bucky barnes x reader, platonic!sam wilson, platonic!natasha romanoff, platonic!steve rogers

warnings: mentions of injuries, descriptions of fighting, angry bucky, a horrible ending, i kind of really hate this

about: “the things i feel for her are unlike anything i’ve ever felt before.” for a sleepover!

i actually wrote another one with the same quote but i didn’t think it fit so i changed it (that one will be posted tomorrow or the day after so i can edit it)

you’re annoyingly reckless to a point where it gets dangerous.

he’s told you this a thousand times before but you don’t listen- aren’t listening at the moment.

he knows it’s ironic that he’s being reckless by not paying attention to what’s going on, too concentrated on you- even if you’ve told him countless times that you literally can’t die (to which he responds with a “you never know!” because, really do you?)- but he has a metal arm and sam, who’s been hovering around him like a vulture after noticing his lack of concentration.

before he can react to it, a slimy arm is promptly cut off by you, the blade you threw now back in your hands and stained green with the things’ blood. you scowl at it and shoot him a dirty look, “pay fucking attention!” you demand, shaking the weapon haphazardly to get the goo off. he can’t believe that the words came out of your mouth but rolls his eyes and obeys, knocking an ugly alien down and crushing its chest with his boot.

he can still hear your cocky remarks and giggles- yes, giggles, you giggle when you fight life threatening menaces- paired with the gross sounds of your knife impaling the aliens they’re fighting. it’s the only thing keeping him from practically babysitting you, a reassurance that you’re there, careless and impetuous, but alive and close.

suddenly, he can’t hear you, and he turns to what he quite possibly believes to be the most disgusting thing he’s seen in his life (and it’s been a long one, so far). you’re blue, covered in a slimy substance, and your face is so red, it’s beginning to look nearly purple with the cyan sheen over it. you screech abruptly, wiping at your face angrily and jumping at the thing that probably did that to you. he nearly feels pity for it. nearly, because, in your rage, you hadn’t even noticed the large gash along your shoulder. before he can go to you before you kill yourself, his metal arm feels like it’s being sucked, taking him with it, and he grunts. “what the fuck-” he manages, unsure of what he’s looking at, but trying to cut through the sticky arm attached to his own. you’re there in five seconds flat, still blue and still angry, which he notices makes the slicing through the appendage easier.

you seem to decide to stay with him after that, and he’s not sure if he’s offended because you don’t think he can take care of himself- which is ridiculous, since this only happened because he was taking care of you- or touched.

“god, i wish i had wanda’s powers. chaos magick works a lot faster than causing chaos,” you complain, trying to wipe away the blue sludge at the same time and wincing when it tugs at your injury. he is reminded of the shoulder wound he nearly got his arm ripped off for trying to warn you, and he stops your hand. “you’re bleeding, you should probably be a little more careful with this.” he motions to your arm, avoiding touching it.

you frown at him, “it’s fine, it’s just a little cut.” (it’s most certainly not a “little cut.”)

“y/n-”

you extend the hurt arm over him and flick your hands when you see an alien about to rip bucky’s head off, a grimace passing your face that he sees but you try to cover up anyways. “see? it hurts you, you need-”

“i just saved your life, would a hurt person be able to do that?” you cut him off, and he stares at you. noticing a green thing coming up behind you, he grabs your waist and moves you out of the way, shooting it with his gun and watching as it drops to the ground. “ow!” you protest, “you hurt my-” seeming to realize you’re about to prove him right, you shut up and roll your eyes. “you’re welcome,” bucky huffs, wiping away some of the blue stuff from your cheek.

your cheeks warm against his touch without your permission, and you turn away. bucky smirks at your reaction.

“shut up,” you grumble, extending your fingers and aiming at a group of the aliens ganging up on natasha. they freeze for the few seconds they’re under your control, and nat manages to take out two in the moment. the three left break out of the trance, turn to each other, and begin to fight. natasha makes eye contact with you in a form of thanks and starts to take the rest out. you hear a gun go off behind you and turn to see one of the things that sprayed you on the floor. bucky saved you again, great, it’s not like he’ll rub it in your face forever.

“you need to pay attention, what if i’m not here?” bucky scolds. “then never leave,” you flirt casually in response. with a few twirls of your finger, most of the aliens stop paying attention to your team and begin attacking their own teammates.

you don’t notice when one of the few unaffected beings picks up a discarded gun and shoots at you twice. bucky moves you away from a head shot, but one lands opposite to the bleeding slash on your shoulder, and the other hits your thigh.

“goddamnit, y/n, pay attention!” bucky growls, holding up your full weight when your adrenaline begins to run out and everything becomes blurry. “‘m fine,” you try to reassure, attempting to stand back on your wobbly legs. bucky doesn’t let you, shooting at as many aliens as he can with one gun. he turns to look at your state after he shoots most of them, allowing the others to take care of it while he tries to take care of you. his metal hand is touching the small device in his ear, telling the others the situation while his other arm holds you up. you might be delirious now, and your eyelids are becoming increasingly difficult to keep up. “hm, i’m not going to die, b’cky.” you tell him, noticing the increasing panic in his voice as he talks to steve. “stop saying that, how would you know if you haven’t died yet?”

his question is confusing for your foggy brain, so you decide to skip it, unknowingly making his worries worse. the blood running down your back isn’t stopping, and bucky stops for a second to lift you up completely, tucking his hand underneath your knees to carry you. at the tug at your thigh, you bite back a scream. bucky pretends not to notice; his hands are covered in a warm red. he’s trying his best to ignore it.

“don’t die,” bucky whispers again and again, making you frown, “how many times do i ‘ave to tell you i can’t die?”

“i’ll believe it when you don’t,” bucky mutters, and the blue sky turns to gray when he’s inside the quinjet. he sets you down on the medbay cot, looking lost as he calls out friday’s name. “yes, mister barnes?”

“y/n- uh-”

“do a scan on me and… and treat accordingly,” you interrupt. “scanning now,” friday obeys, and you turn to bucky. “by the time you figured it out i would have bled out.”

“that’s not funny, y/n,” bucky says seriously. you squeeze your eyes shut for a second, “calm down, i’ll be fine.” friday has enclosed you in some clear glass, red grids letting you know of your condition. “ooh, that’s bad,” you mumble, much to the dismay of your boyfriend. “what?” said boyfriend asks, and you wave him off as best you can- which means a pathetic bounce of your arm- and tell him to let friday do her thing. “we are not done here,” bucky instructs, but sits next to you and holds your hand. you can see his glossed eyes now, you wonder how you didn’t see them before.

“shouldn’t you be fighting?” you ask, a wave of exhaustion crashing over you. rest, your body begs. you’ll comply later. “they’re almost done, the chaos thing you did makes their job a lot easier.”

“‘s what i do,” you say breathily before falling asleep.

-

you’re still in the quinjet the next time you open your eyes, which lets you know it’s only been a few hours and you’re feeling better already. goddess healing, you think, looking around to see bucky’s hand still around yours. he looks worried, the hard lines usually softened by the sound of your voice as hard as you’ve ever seen them. you squeeze his fingers gently. “bucky,” you coo, “i’m not dying anymore.”

bucky turns to you immediately, squinting, “that’s not funny.” it’s like deja vu, but you’re not sure from where.

a vein on bucky’s neck throbs, and you’re aware that you’re pushing it, so you stop for a second, “i was just kidding, i-”

“no!-” bucky’s voice is near yelling, so he shuts his eyes for a moment, continuing in a lower voice, “you almost died, do you know how terrifying that is? you nearly bled out in my arms.” sam, nat and steve, who were waiting for you to wake up next to bucky, pause when he raises his voice. “bucky-” you start, softer now, trying to sit up. bucky stands, “listen to me!”

steve stands, beginning to put a hand on bucky’s shoulder, “buck-” he’s silenced with a cold look from bucky. sam gets to his feet too, telling steve and nat to give you both a minute. they do, after nat kisses your cheek like she always does when you get hurt. you’re sitting on the edge of the bed now, reaching for bucky, “bucky?”

“you don’t… you don’t know how much you scared me, y/n. you have to stop being so careless,” he says after a few seconds. you furrow your brows, “i’m not careless, i’m confident in my skills.”

“you are. you’re careless and reckless and hasty and i need you to not be,” he says harshly, you frown. “why? i’m fine and i’m always going to be-”

“you don’t- you don’t understand!-” bucky snaps. “then help me understand,” you implore. bucky closes his eyes tightly again, breathing in slowly. “the things... that i feel for you are unlike anything i have ever felt before, and i can’t- i can’t lose you, okay?”

“you’re not going to,” you assure, extending your arms towards him, noting the tiny ache in response. he walks over to you, letting you grab his jaw when he’s close, you run your fingers over his cheeks gently. “i’ll be more careful,” you promise. bucky nods, tucking his face into the dip of your neck. you run your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, letting him squeeze your waist almost to reassure himself you’re actually there.

“hey,” you say quietly after a few moments, pressing tender kisses to bucky’s cheek, “sit down, i want to do something.” you stand, grabbing onto bucky’s arm when you stumble a little and promise him you’re fine and are taking it easy. you take out the first aid kit from one of the cabinets, setting it down next to bucky, opening it and taking out everything you need. you begin to clean his cuts, putting a pink hello kitty bandaid over one of his particularly bad ones. it’ll be gone within a day, but you can’t resist, and it makes him laugh.

you hum while you dab at a small scratch next to his eye, and he chuckles lowly, you look up at him, “what?”

“you’re still a little blue.”

[mionemymind]

Chapter 3: The Harsh Treatment

Fake Memories

Series Summary: After Y/n is caught cheating on Wanda with Carol, Y/n would do just about anything to get Wanda back into her life. But was it even Y/n’s fault that she cheated? Or was it the new enemy set on revenge?

Chapter Summary: What will happen to Y/n as the team pushes her past her limits? 

A/n: I lied, I decided to be nice and post it now. Honestly, the amount of support that I’m receiving from this fanfic has literally made me smile so much. I really love all of you who read and/or comment. You mean the world to me. Let me know what you think. :) (Not my GIF)

Warnings: Starvation, harmful thoughts, curse words, self-doubt, mentions of blood, injuries, angst

Word Count: 5k

Masterlist

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 |

Y/n abruptly woke up at the feeling of pressurized gas coursing through her body. She quickly sat up, unable to see anything in the white fog. The cold feeling only lasted a couple seconds before F.R.I.D.A.Y stated, “Fire has been contained.” Y/n hugged herself for warmth as she waited for the fog to disappear. This was the 13th time this month that she was woken up with pressurized gas. At first, it was foam but someone in maintenance had changed the system after the 5th time she woke up. 

Y/n looked at her surroundings and sighed at the damages to her sheets. There were burn marks along with small amounts of frostbite from the gas. “At this rate, I won’t have money for food.” With a grim face, Y/n got up from her bed and proceeded with taking everything off her bed, a routine she unfortunately started to learn. 

Y/n didn’t know when things got worse. If she had to guess, maybe it was after the whole fiasco with Wanda. The team had been on edge ever since then. “They probably thought I hurt her,” Y/n thought at the time, but it was far from the truth. She had wanted to explain herself to the team but dismissed those thoughts with, “What’s the point in trying? I’ll always be guilty to them.” 

As for Wanda, the still heartbroken girl didn’t dare to speak to the team about that night. Even she didn’t quite know what happened. Since that night, she only lied to herself stating that maybe Y/n had done something. It would probably remove the guilt she had when she thought of the blood running down Y/n’s face. But even the lie couldn’t repress the truth from her thoughts. 

After she collected her bedding, she threw it away in the trash can along with the other damaged beddings. Y/n grabbed her wallet off her night stand and opened it. She couldn’t feel it, but her heart dropped at the sight of the lack of money she had. Only a $20 dollar bill as well as a couple ones were left. She closed her eyes and tried her best to keep herself calm, to try and act like the world wasn’t closing in on her. It was a couple minutes later when she opened her eyes and looked at her wallet again. “This was supposed to last me for the rest of the month.” Y/n rubbed her forehead, feeling the overwhelming stress from her lack of funds. 

One might ask, “Aren’t you an Avenger? Shouldn’t you make a shit ton of money.” And at one point, Y/n would say yes, she did. But it all came back to that night. A week after, she had overheard a conversation that went…

“I just don’t understand why you’re doing this to her.” Y/n was about to go around the corner, but decided to wait at the sound of Steve’s voice. “It’s simple Rodgers - unless I have to remind you why we needed to redo the glass in the conference room.” Steve sighed at Tony’s simple minded actions. Y/n could practically feel him crossing his arms in a disapproving manner. 

“Well she did work fair and hard for her money Tony - this just feels wrong.” Y/n heard a couple clicks before Tony replied with, “This is for Wanda. Anything to get Y/n out of here by her own means is worth it. If you have a problem with this, you must not care as much for Wanda as I thought.” Steve sighed again seeing as he was morally put in an awkward position. It was either care for Y/n or care for Wanda. “That’s what I thought.” Tony left with a smug look on his face as he clicked more on the screen in front of him. 

It didn’t take long for Y/n to see the effects of Tony’s decision. Her pay day was the following day and the overwhelming sense of panic and anxiety rose up within her as she only had $400 to survive until the next pay day, which was a month later. Since then, her food portions have been small to say the least. Y/n learned that she only had enough money for the month to eat at least once a day and even that was cutting it. The dramatic changes to her diet had slowly affected her powers but it recently had an exponential increase. 

This was her fourth month of hardly eating when her powers started to flare at night. It has gotten to the point that Y/n couldn’t control them in her sleep leading to F.R.I.D.A.Y having to deal with her fireside. But her powers weren’t the only thing that has changed. If anyone were to actually look, they would see that Y/n had gotten skinnier. Her literal glow was getting duller and duller the more time passed.  

However, Y/n refused to feel sorry for herself. The sentence “I deserve this” was burned into her head. The brain tricks she puts herself through even allowed her to convince that Tony's decision was right. That Wanda didn’t need to tell the truth to the team. That Steve didn’t need to defend her. And that the team certainly was allowed to make her feel like nothing. Because to Y/n, if she didn’t deserve this, then why would you possibly treat a person like this? Just why? 

Of course, Wanda didn’t notice these changes at all. The girl was trying her best to avoid Y/n as much as possible. She always had exit strategies in place in case she were to be in the same vicinity as Y/n. However, Wanda also didn’t notice that lack of Y/n’s presence. Much to her dismay, Y/n’s efforts were the reason they didn’t see each other much. 

What Wanda did notice though was the slow and gradual decline of snacks in her cubby. It left her to question whether Natasha was done doing these small favors for her. But her reports were still getting done. 

The red head didn’t have much room to think though as she got slammed down on the mat from the other red head. “Take a ten - you’re distracted and we can’t keep going like this.” Wanda grumbled at another failed attempt to flip Natasha over. Hand to hand combat was one of the few subjects that Wanda hated the most. With the help of Natasha, Wanda got up and walked over to the waters on the other side of the room. She was gulping down the remaining when Natasha’s words caught her off guard. “What happened?” 

Wanda cocked an eyebrow while still drinking her bottle, needing more elaboration. Natasha faced Wanda while hundreds of thoughts racked her mind. Luckily for her, Wanda had trained her on how to make them quiet enough that Wanda wouldn’t be able to hear. When Natasha found the right words, she said, “I am not doubting you. I am doubting her…” Wanda closed the bottle and looked around the room to avoid Natasha’s eyes. This had been the first time that anyone from the team had remotely even asked her about that night. To be frank, she hadn’t expected Natasha to be the one to break the ice. Usually it was Steve that would act like the team’s counselor. Guess things change. 

Wanda sighed and recollected her memory for the night that continued to haunt her. “One minute, I left to get a drink from the bar. - she said that she needed to go to the bathroom. The next minute, I come back to see her all over blondie.” Wanda’s grip on the bottle tightened at the words she was going to say next. “I thought it was a mistake - that she could have been too drunk that night - b-but her thoughts were so - loud.” Wanda slammed her fist at the table in front of her, tears already falling down her cheeks. “A-a-and I saw everything-” 

The broken hearted girl didn’t have much energy left in her to continue. She dropped to her knees and sobbed into her hands. Natasha kneeled beside Wanda. She pulled the poor girl into her arms, trying her best to physically comfort her. But nothing could really make Wanda feel better. What could you say to a girl that saw every moment where her girlfriend has cheated on her? Nothing - you say nothing. 

“It’s quite pathetic actually,” Tony said as he spun the rod, causing his player to score in foosball. He was currently versing Steve as the two decided to quietly speak about Y/n’s actions for the past couple weeks. Going on the defense again, Steve shot back but Tony was quick to block. “She’s probably just trying to get her money back.” Steve huffed from the sudden slap shot as well as Tony’s rude words. 

For the past couple weeks, Y/n had gone from trying to win Wanda back to trying to win the whole team back. The first thing they noticed was all the completed mission reports and the continuation of it. Clint was the first to jokingly comment, “Bruce must really love mission reports.” But the genius bore a confused look before replying with, “It wasn’t me. Even I haven’t had anything to do in my stack for a couple days.” Bruce had a displeasured look on his face. Clint just assumed it was either he wanted to do his stack of reports or the comment was actually true...or maybe both. 

When it was time for the meeting, Clint had asked everyone in the room, minus Y/n, on who was completing the mission reports for everyone. “Well, I’m doing Wanda’s and mine,” Natasha claimed as she sat in her usual spot. No one was able to detect her lie, but then again, Natasha was always good at lying. 

Clint was quick to figure out that the only person remaining must have been the person responsible. With a straight forward voice, he explained to the team that Y/n had been completing everyones, besides Wanda’s and Natasha’s, reports. Still, Natasha sat there, copying the confused looks on everyone’s faces. She didn’t care to tell them the truth, it wasn’t worth it. However, the meeting proceeded with little comment on Y/n’s actions. She wasn’t worth the mention. 

“What if she actually is trying to say sorry to us?” Steve couldn’t help but feel slightly guilty for Y/n, but Tony’s words made the guilt go all away. “Oh - so miss Hydra over here actually wants to apologize - hilarious Steve.” With that, Tony quickly spun the rod and scored the final point, making him win the game. What the two failed to realize was the fact that Y/n had overheard their conversation. She no longer felt hungry for the day and had retreated back to her room, feeling overwhelmingly numb from the confession she heard.

It was a new and different day for Wanda. She had managed to want to try and sit in the common room with her team seeing as sitting in her room no longer gave her the same satisfaction anymore. Scrolling through the tv, she was about to pull up Bewitched when the following words appeared on the screen:

Bewitched is longer provided on Netflix. Please see related tv shows. 

“What do you mean it’s no longer available?” Wanda frustratedly questioned. And here she was trying to have a good day. “Sorry kid, I guess Netflix took it off their streaming service,” Clint said as he leaned over the couch. “No why would they do that?!” Wanda said with an exasperated look. Clint simply shrugged, Netflix did have an awful reputation for getting favorites removed or canceled. “No clue, but you could try other shows.” Wanda crossed her arms and huffed at his suggestion. “I was really feeling Bewitched today.” Ruffling her hair, Clint left after saying, “Try to feel for something else.” 

However, Wanda had failed to feel anything but angry for the remaining of the day. It wasn’t until she sat in her room for the night, aimlessly finding shows in her room when she noticed Bewitched on her home screen. She quickly clicked on it noticing that all eight seasons are there for her own viewing. Her mood immensely increased for the night as she fell asleep in the middle of season two. 

Outside of her room, Y/n had been cleaning up the compound for the night. It was getting harder and harder to clean the kitchen when everything in her wanted to just take a couple of snacks for herself. Her hunger was constantly on her mind as well as the stupid flashes that have sporadically appeared more and more everyday. But she wanted more than anything to prove to the team that she is a good person. Stealing, no matter how minor, was probably the last thing she needed to be labeled as. 

When she completed for the night, she returned to her room but paused outside of her door when she heard the Bewitched theme song loudly play in Wanda’s room. A small smile appeared on her face as she walked back into her room and slept on the floor tonight.

“Did it ever occur to you that I love you - like a lot?” The couple were laying in Carol’s room decorated with punk rock posters and pictures of their team. Small plants were placed around the room while Malcolm in the Middle was used as background noise. 

“Nah. I haven’t heard you say it in approximately - 10 minutes?” Carol laughed as Y/n glanced at her watch. They laid on their sides as they faced each other, their faces being only inches away. “Well I do.” Carol cupped Y/n’s cheek as she soon grew mesmerized. 

There are words to always describe feelings with someone but they all felt overused or incomplete. Because everything felt like this daydream colored borders with warm tones and retro filters as she glanced at Y/n. She felt like she was watching a show that she would never get tired of. Even if the show was in color or black and white, new or old, slow or fast, she would watch just to see her. Just her. 

“You do what?” Carol flicked Y/n’s forehead at her response. “Kidding - kidding.” Y/n said as she rubbed her forehead. Carol rolled her eyes and kissed Y/n’s head as she cuddled into her arms, legs tangled within the sheets. “I do love you.” Y/n kissed her hair as she combed it with her hand. “I know,” she whispered, hoping Carol would pick up on the secret reference. Because to Y/n, yeah, she’s worth a whole galaxy. 

It was the middle of the night when Steve woke up from a nightmare that shook him from his slumber. Rather than staying in bed to force himself to sleep, he got up and headed to the kitchen for a late night snack. 

Heading into the pantry, Steve pursed his lips noticing that Y/n’s cubby had been empty for weeks it seems like. The guilt that was slowly forming inside him kept building and building. Although he knew he could try to do something about it, the loyalty he had to his family - to Wanda. That was something he didn’t want to break. 

The relationship with Wanda and Steve was something similar to a father and daughter relationship. Steve had always wanted a kid of his own and Wanda had lost her father. The irony of it all just happened to work for the two. Even though Wanda nor Steve would admit it out loud, they viewed each other as the roles that needed to be filled in their lives. They needed each other regardless of titles.

But then there was Y/n. The troubled girl that made Steve absolutely nervous with how quick her and Wanda seemed to like each other. It absolutely didn’t help Steve’s case when the whole team found out about Y/n���s past. His anxiety had practically skyrocketed. It eventually led to a one on one talk with Wanda about how sometimes we need to protect ourselves before letting people in. 

But Y/n was still there. Breaking down Wanda’s walls. So just like any Dad would, Steve watched over. Making sure his girl was always happy and safe. So while Natasha may have refilled Wanda’ cubby and did her reports, Steve had carried Wanda to bed during nights she couldn’t sleep. He made her tea for times that she didn’t want to talk, which was often. He tucked her in at night and cuddled with her when she needed a shoulder to cry on. He was just there. 

But so was she. She was there whenever Wanda cried at night. She was there when Wanda would sometimes forget to eat after busying herself all day. She was there to take care of Wanda. She was there when Steve wasn’t. And that meant everything to Steve. So why couldn’t Steve be there for Y/n? 

There were a lot of unanswered questions roaming around Steve’s head. Rather than pondering more about them, he walked around the tower, eating a pack of cookies for himself. Just as he was turning the corner, he glanced towards the conference room to see Wanda asleep in front of her reports. However, the more alarming part was the girl that happened to be right in front of Wanda. Steve quickly grew on high alert and observed Y/n’s actions. However, after a couple minutes of harmless actions, Steve forced his shoulders to relax. “She’s just doing reports - calm down,” Steve thought. 

But he couldn’t calm down. The guilt had maneuvered it’s way back up to his throat as he actually noticed the pale state of the once bright girl. For someone that had literal fire abilities, she lacked the glow of any raging fire. Feeling nothing but guilt all over, Steve felt compelled to say something - anything. But he froze. He didn’t know what to say. 

However, the opportunity soon was lost as Y/n finished everyone’s stack of reports. Steve hid around the corner as Y/n passed him. Hearing a door close was when Steve stepped out of hiding. He glanced towards the direction of Y/n’s room, feeling every need to go to her. But his footsteps led him to Wanda. He picked her up and carried her to her room. Wanda will always be first in Steve’s heart. And nothing could change that. 

“We have to stop this treatment Tony.” Steve waltzed into Tony’s lab the very next day. For once, he couldn’t sleep for the remainder of the night. Y/n was all over his mind. The guilt was practically eating him alive. 

Tony rolled his eyes at Steve’s dramatic fashion for entrances. “Oh - good morning Tony - how are you - I’m actually pretty good.” Steve rolled his eyes as he stood in front of Tony, a hologram in between the two. 

“Cut the crap Tony - I’m being serious.” Steve crossed his arms. This needed to end. “And you think I’m not Rodgers?” Tony was quick to respond, already growing irritated by the conversation. 

“This isn’t right - none of this right.” Steve wiped the hologram to finally get a clear view of Tony as he grew frustrated by the second. Tony simply swiped it back, not wanting to deal with the issue. “Well maybe if she just quit - we wouldn’t need to worry about anything. It’s not my fault Fury hired Ms. Hydra - and if he finds out I fired her, he would not allow it at all.” 

“But can’t you see that your stupid plan isn’t working? All we’re doing is abusing the girl.” Steve wiped the hologram again but Tony simply walked to a different station and continued his work. Angry with his response, Steve walked around the table and stood beside Tony. 

“This needs to end Tony,” Steve said through his gritted teeth. The man was clenching his jaw so hard, it almost looked as if he was going to break his teeth. However, Tony quickly glared at Steve at the mention of his threat. 

“Don’t you fucking dare. Can’t you actually see that I’m trying to protect Wanda.” Steve tilted his head at the awful reasoning for his actions. “How is this protecting Wanda? Why are you even trying to protect her?” 

Tony slammed his fist into the table, feeling his anger rising by the second. “We - no - I need to protect her Steve!”

“Why Tony? Why?” 

“Because I’m the goddamn reason her parents and her country is dead. I’m the reason that everything she ever loved is gone. I’m the reason for her sadness. She, of all people, deserves happiness. And I sure as hell won’t let anyone else hurt her anymore - no more Steve.” Tony didn’t give Steve a chance as he walked out the facility needing a day drink more than ever. 

It was lunch time and all Wanda could think about was the need to cook paprikash. She didn’t know when the last time she had actually cooked. And seeing as the majority of the team was on missions, she could actually cook without interruptions or lingering eyes. 

Walking into the kitchen, Wanda tied her hair up and started to take out the necessary ingredients for the meal. It was when she was talking the spices out when Vision had appeared out of nowhere, nearly scaring the girl. “Vision!” 

Sensing a slight rise in her heart rate and anger, Vision had quickly apologized. “Sorry Wanda.” Wanda shook her head and quickly resumed prepping. “I will try to work on making my presence known. If I may ask, what is it that you’re doing?” 

“I’m making paprikash.” Vision’s mind grew curious at the word and quickly searched his database for it. “I see. A traditional Sokovian food.” Wanda didn’t realize it, but she had felt a little annoyed at the synthezoid’s presence. It wasn’t anything he did, but Wanda desperately wanted alone time for herself. 

Before she could ask, Vision had said, “Good morning Y/n.” Wanda’s quickly grew wide as she avoided glancing in Y/n’s direction. She hadn’t stayed in the tense position though as Vision announced, “Oh - it seems she had left before saying hi back.” 

Feeling ever more frustrated with people’s presence, Wanda was about to ask him to leave but noticed the confusion written all over his face and didn’t hesitate to ask, “What is it Vision?” Vision pursed his lips and contemplated his words. It was visibly obvious to see that he was trying to wrack up what to say. “I think...it’s just…” He sighed knowing that this was going to be a sensitive subject to the witch but knowing everything she's been through, lying was not the best option. “It’s just that Y/n-” Wanda quickly cut Vision off in desperation to know what Y/n had done to Vision. If the girl were to even lay a finger on him, she was sure to deal with it herself.  “What did she do? Did she hurt you? I swear-” Seeing her eyes turn red, Vision immediately explained himself. “-No no no. It’s not that, the complete opposite actually.” Wanda’s eyes slowly turned back to normal. When Vision saw that her heart rate was close to normal, he continued. “It’s just that...Y/n’s vitals have been decreasing in a fluctuating matter. Some days it would be a small decrease, but some days it would be a big decrease. Overall, her health has been poor.” Vision looked back at where Y/n once stood. If he hadn’t quickly analyzed her, he wouldn’t have noticed that today’s vitals was record worst. “Although she does have physical injuries, she seems to continue to radiate pain throughout her body even when those injuries have healed. It starts through her head and it spreads like a radio wave through her nervous system. I’ve done my calculations and the leading cause could be migraines...” Vision soon was in deep thought, trying to recalculate just to make sure what he was about to say was correct. “...but it doesn’t make sense.” 

Wanda tilted her head. Processing this information was hard seeing as at her darkest moments, she wanted nothing but Y/n to be hurt. She deserved it for all the pain she caused her to go through. But hearing it now? That was a different story. It was like an internal conflict was going through her. Should she even care about Y/n’s health? “What doesn’t make sense?” Vision looked hard into Wanda’s eyes as he said, “Migraines shouldn’t cause her heart to stop multiple times.” 

Wanda stared at Vision, processing the information that the love of her life is practically dying. “A-are you sure?” Vision slowly nodded. “However, after some calculations, I do believe she will be okay. She only needs a good source of food for her healing regeneration to fully heal this.” Wanda relaxed at Vision’s words. Although she has been through immense pain through these past couple months, having Y/n gone from her life like that would hurt more than anything. 

Before Vision could continue his explanation, F.R.I.D.A.Y stated, “Emergency alert. All available Avengers please head to the quinjet per the request of Mr. Stark and Mr. Rogers.” Quickly, the two headed to the plane as the important part of Vision’s explanation was missed. Little did Wanda know, Y/n would not heal any time soon. 

The trio arrived on the quinjet and wasted no time trying to figure out the mission that was ahead of them. There was a serious feel in the atmosphere sensing that this had to be bad. There was no way that it couldn’t have been. Because if it wasn’t, they certainly wouldn’t have invited Y/n to this mission. 

Lately, the girl has been assigned to only solo missions. Y/n couldn’t quite remember the last time that she was on a mission with any team member nevermind the fact with the whole team. 

“Backup is needed immediately after touch down. Vision and Wanda, meet up with Steve and Sam at the Northeast corridor. Y/n, you are assigned to the entrance,” Tony stated through the intercom. 

The feeling in Y/n’s stomach worsened. Not only was she hungry and sleep deprived, she didn’t also have a partner with her. It also didn’t help the fact that the flashes have gotten worse. Y/n couldn’t help but pray for a miracle. After all, they were dealing with the very people Y/n hated - Hydra. 

Y/n couldn’t quite tell when things on the mission got to shit. Maybe it was the fact that as soon as they touched down and went to their assigned positions, Y/n received a massive swarm of Hydra agents. It didn’t help that her health regeneration was not at its peak or these agents actually were decently trained. Or was it during the third wave, that was currently happening, where Y/n tested the limits of her body. 

Seeing the onslaught of agents coming her way, Y/n decided it was time to test out her new ability. She rapidly swung her right arm, building momentum as the fire within her right side blazed. As soon as the enemies were close, she released a fire tornado in their path. It had managed to take out at least half of the wave, but more and more kept coming. 

Pressing her comms, Y/n said, “Can someone send back up my way?! There’s too many for me to handle.” Y/n kicked back the agent that was about to stab her in the back, but was too distracted to the point a different agent was able to cut her leg. “Fuck.” 

Y/n quickly released an ice wall that at first glance, appeared to be the same height as the Great Wall of China. She hoped the barrier would give her enough time for her backup to appear. Focusing all her energy on her fireside, Y/n aimed at any agent near her, using her arm as a flamethrower. 

However, worry immediately grew when no one had responded to her call within a couple minutes. Before she could request again, Nat had spoken bitterly in the comms, “On my way.” Sighing in relief, Y/n continued to fight off the agents the best she could. 

But no matter how hard she tried to buy herself time, it seemed that Natasha was taking forever to come. It had gotten to the point that multiple lashes already appeared. Her healing regeneration couldn’t keep up at all. Not only that, but her body was either giving up from exhaustion or blood loss. It was only during the last couple agents when Natasha had shown up and quickly killed the remainder. 

Y/n glanced at the assassin and noticed the lack of any injuries on her and it was as if she barely broke a sweat. “What happened? I almost got killed.” 

Natasha glared at Y/n as she responded with, “I helped Bucky and Rhodey on the way, they needed it.” Y/n swallowed the lump in her throat knowing the redhead in front of her had practically lied. If backup was needed, it was always voiced through comms. 

Even if Y/n had wanted to confront Natasha about it, she couldn’t. Natasha had already left to head to the quinjet. Y/n simply limped a couple feet from her. When Y/n arrived, it seemed that everyone else was already prepared for take off. Feeling ever more guilty, Y/n simply sat at the closet seat to the entrance that was away from the team. But something inside her broke even more noticing the lack of any questions or concerns from the team in regards to her injuries. 

Not even bothering to buckle up, Y/n sulked in her thoughts when she realized, “Why doesn’t anyone care about me?” 

Tag List: @halobaby​ @arelyitsherec8​ @blackxwidowsxwife​ @cristin-rjd​ @madamevirgo​ @trikruismybitch​ @paradiselost916​ @mmmmokdok​ @morbid-gaymer​ @dailyavengering​ @itsnottilly​ @helloalycia​ @randomshyperson​ @tomy5girls​ @daenerys713​ @ensorcellme​ @lezzzbehonesthere​ @imagine-reblog​ @sighsam​ 

[yuueee]

𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 fire lord! zuko x fire lady! reader

authors note: Firstly I just want to apologize for the hiatus, I want to be more active from now on! I’m starting finals next week so I’ll thankfully be done with this semester soon and will also have more time to write. Anyways I hope you enjoy!! I also want to apologize if Zuko is ooc here.

requests:

First of all, your tumblr looks sooooo cool! I’m looking forward to reading all of your future work! Imagine this: Zuko is annoyed by people constantly asking him about a future heir, but when one day his friends also start to ask, and even his uncle and his own mother join the baby fever train, it’s too much for him so he complains about it to his wife who only reassures him with her lovely self and her understanding smiles, not telling him yet that she is in fact pregnant. What do you think ?

Can you write an imagine with zuko who is clearly, utterly and soooo obviously in love with the reader (outgoing, courageous, loving) and maybe with the prompt “So you...well...I mean...I could give you a massage?” Thank you a lot! ^^

As the current Fire Lord and Lady, it wasn’t uncommon for the citizens of the Fire Nation to be deeply invested in your relationship - it was to be expected especially due to the uncommon nature of your union. What you weren’t expecting were Zuko’s close friends and relatives being wrapped up in your business as well. Being outside of team avatar, you were naturally more welcoming to his friend's constant questioning, but Zuko on the other hand was not. He couldn’t understand why they cared so much all of the sudden. They hadn’t been as interested when he was in a relationship with Mai - so why did they care so much now?

It wasn’t as if you weren’t getting along with his friends or family - you got along with them quite well and were very loved by them in fact. Outside of them though, you weren’t always as welcomed, unfortunately, the Fire Nation was still coming to terms with having the daughter of an Earth Kingdom General as their Fire Lady. The arranged marriage was put in place to solve several different ‘problems’. After Zuko broke up with Mai several years ago, he hadn’t begun dating anyone else due to being so busy but he’d eventually be expected to have an heir in the next coming years.

Although they had gotten better, tensions among the Earth Kingdom Colonies were still high and both sides were having difficulty keeping them under control. Eventually, an agreement was made for the daughter of a high-ranking Earth Kingdom General to marry Zuko - that daughter being yourself. Arranged marriages certainly weren’t unheard of in either nation - but a union of this sort was definitely unique.

Though he certainly wasn’t thrilled about it, Zuko understood that it was for the good of the people - and it wasn’t like there was anything he could do about it anyway. Even with his position as the recently crowned Fire Lord there still wasn’t much he could do.

On the other hand, you understandably had some issues coming to terms with your new situation at first. Despite being known by those around you as friendly and just a joy, in general, to be around - the woman Zuko had first met was quite the opposite. He could recall it like it was yesterday. Though it was awkward and stressful at the time, he now considered it to be the best day of his life.

“She’s in there.” A female servant whispered to the young man quietly, as if she didn’t want to speak loud enough for you to hear from your place at the balcony.

“Thanks,” he replied with a soft smile, bidding the elderly woman goodbye as she shuffled down the hallway. Turning towards you he was faced with a warm tropical breeze. His advisors had arranged for the two of you to meet a couple of weeks before that dreaded day, and for some reason, they thought Ember Island was the appropriate place. A combination of anxiety and general distaste for being on the island was causing him to be quite stressed - which led him to be more awkward than usual.

“Um, hello?” he spoke up faintly, as if not to startle you. He was sure you heard him come in, but you hadn’t turned around since he entered the small room. You stood several feet away with your hands placed on the railing, your [hair-texture] locks sifting gently with each gust of wind along with your predominantly red clothing. It was against what you had wanted to wear that day but it didn’t seem as if you had much a say in anything going on in your life recently.

You understood that doing this would be for the greater good of the Earth Kingdom and that your situation could technically be worse. You could have been married off to some old creep - but if you were being honest with yourself being married to the Fire Lord sounded just as bad. As you turned around though, you were surprised at the face you were met with.

He had a much younger face than you had expected, but the slight hollowness of his cheeks and the worry lines on his forehead told you that he had experienced things beyond his years. He also happened to be quite handsome - not that you wanted to admit it though. You had been bent on hating him ever since your father told you who you’d be wedding.

He was the leader of the Fire Nation, of course, you would hate him! The country that has had a century-long reign of terror on the world - and now you found yourself engaged to their leader. What had you done so wrong in your life to deserve this?

As much as you wanted to plan on running away the first chance you got, you knew deep inside that it would only cause tensions to increase and more issues to arise. You wanted the best for the residents of the Earth Kingdom, so you agreed to go through with it, but did so resentfully - which you had every right to feel that way.

But as you glared up at the young male next to you and tried to keep your attention off of the scar over his left eye - you couldn’t help but wonder what if this was the man who joined the avatar in defeating the Fire Lord? He wasn’t what you expected at all. Standing in full armor with his hair holding the fire nation insignia in a top knot - he looked awkward and out of place. You almost felt bad for him - keyword is almost.

“What do you need Fire Lord?” you questioned him, turning your gaze back to the rushing waters of the ocean.

“Um,” he faltered slightly, probably not anticipating your response. “I just wanted to introduce myself-“

“I know who you are.” you brushed him off, turning around and walking towards him - grabbing his collar and pulling him to your height. “We might be getting married but if you think for a second I will ever be nice to you, you are sadly mistaken.” you hissed at him before letting him go and walking out of the door.

Zuko couldn’t recall how long he stood there watching your form leave, all he remembered was standing there like an idiot with a red face. He hadn’t expected you to like him of course but he surely wasn’t expecting that.

As he reminisced on memories long ago while sipping his Uncle’s tea, he couldn’t help the smile that appeared on his features. As stated earlier, It may have been an unpleasant memory back then but now he considered the day he met you to be the best day of his life. Though your relationship had surely faired through many complications for a while in the beginning - surprisingly, you became fond of Zuko over the years.

It was certainly a long time coming but that strange friendship you two shared eventually evolved into love against all odds. That didn’t mean you weren’t constantly giving him an ear full (as you should tbh) your first months together. But as time progressed and you learned that he may not have been the evil prince that you had heard so much about, at least not anymore.

He wasn’t that same angsty teenager he had been years ago looking for the avatar, he was now a young adult growing quite well into the position of the Fire Lord - which was no easy feat. Taking another sip of tea, he watched his Uncle and Mother come to take a seat with him.

“How is it, Nephew?” His Uncle asked with a mischievous grin and a raise of two bushy eyebrows - albeit already knowing the answer.

“It’s great as always Uncle,” Zuko responded with a small smile, his Uncle's expression making him just a bit concerned, causing his Mother to chuckle. Though she had gained a few wrinkles over the past couple of years, she was still as radiant as she had been in her youth. She was also much happier being able to live with the family she had been apart from for many years without fearing Ozai’s intervention. It came with a price though - it seemed as if her relationship with her estranged daughter who was now on the run would never be resolved. She never lost hope though.

“Zuko,” his mother began speaking, catching the young Fire Lord’s attention with a raise of his eyebrows. “When are you going to give me a grandchild?” She asked teasingly, eager to see his reaction. In turn, her son had barely kept himself from spitting out the mouthful of tea.

“Why do you ask that?” He choked out in between a series of coughs with Iroh patting his back gently.

“You haven’t?” She asked in between chuckles, noticing how her son got bewildered at the mention of having children of his own. “You know you’ll eventually have to have an heir at some point right?”

“It’s not that I haven’t thought about it... but Y/N and I are just really busy.” He thought aloud, wishing he could run a hand through his hair - but was unable to since it was pinned in a top knot.

“Zuko, you never know when you’ll get this time of peace again. What better time to raise a child?” Iroh reassured, wiggling his eyebrows. Letting out a groan, the young Fire Lord attempted to mentally prepare himself to go through this same conversation every time he visited his family.

Over the next couple of weeks, the constant badgering he received from his friends and close relatives started to frustrate him further, so who could he turn to? You of course.

Being married for several years now, you were more than used to Zuko’s rants, so you simply just reclined on the bed with an eyebrow raised as he paced back and forth.

“I don’t get it! Why is everyone so concerned about when we’re going to have a child or not?” He questioned seemingly no one as you attempted to keep your face from contorting into a smile. It wasn’t as if you didn’t understand his frustrations, it was just funny to watch, especially since you were already pregnant.

You were surprised that he hadn’t noticed honestly, with you staying in for the past few days due to feeling sick. Who could blame him though? It wasn’t as if he wasn’t attentive and loving as a husband, he was extremely busy as of recent-and also just dense at times. After noticing his silence for a few moments as he looked over the balcony, you decided that maybe this could be the perfect time to tell him.

Getting up and sneaking behind him, you snaked your arms around his waist and turned so you could see his face. He let out an audible sigh of what sounded like relief before returning your smile and your hug.

“You want a head massage?” You questioned pulling away, wiggling your fingers playfully.

“Please.”

For the past couple of years, Zuko had been letting his hair grow out so now it rested around his shoulders.

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.” You started tentatively, but as usual, he was too caught up in the sensation of your fingers raking across his scalp to entirely understand what you were saying, so he just nodded in response. “I’m pregnant.” You stated plainly, ceasing your scratching. Not getting a response for a few moments, you turned to face him with a worried expression.

Much to your surprise he was grinning up at you and placed a warm hand on your cheek. “Really?”

“Yes. I’m sorry it took me so long to tell y-“ you were abruptly cut off by him pulling you into another hug and placing a kiss on the crown of your head. “So you’re happy about it?”

“Couldn’t be happier.” He responded sincerely, leaning into your shoulder so you couldn’t see the redness on his cheeks.

Maybe your family and friends would finally leave the two of you alone now?

taglist: @practicallylivesonline @chewymoustachio

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Lying (Next) To You (Cassandra Dimitrescu/Reader)

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T+ for violence + language Warnings: Blood-drinking/general vampiric shenanigans Summary: There is no goal other than escape. You want out of this castle, no matter what you have to do, no matter the consequences. At first, the solution seems to lie with one of the very women you want to get away from. But what happens when you find yourself genuinely caring for her? Length: 5,934 words

Merely surviving had never been your intention. From day one in this foul place, this unholy castle, you had strived to escape. No matter what, you refused to allow such dismal grounds to be your grave. But leaving wouldn’t be as simple as walking out an unlocked door. It required manipulation, agility, and the willingness to screw over anyone who got in your way. Even those who you would have once called friends, or the closest thing you had to that among the servants. Was that something you were willing to do? Absolutely, without a shred of doubt in your mind. Someday, somehow, regardless of what it took, you’d get out and never look back. For now, though, all you can do is scheme…

—————————

Three targets, each incredibly difficult to get your hands on, each presenting their own unique challenges. Which would be easiest to charm? You were still debating that answer.

First was Bela: The eldest, most responsible, forced to be the “role model” for her sisters. A bookworm (a trait the two of you shared) who spent a fair amount of her freetime in the library. While not overtly cruel, she was still rather violent, especially in cases where she felt her family had been insulted. However, there were whispers that she had a secret weakness: Anxiety. None had caught her in the open throes of an attack and lived to tell the tale. But she had been overheard, more than once, quiet cries or shaking breaths. Trying to talk to her during one of these occasions could lead to gaining her affection- if you managed to do what no other had been capable of doing, that is.

Second was Daniela: The youngest, most excitable, eager to please and desperate to be pleased. Easily interacted with more maidens than either of her sisters, though not always in a good way. Getting her attention could mean getting pulled into her room in the middle of the night, for some “fun”, or it could mean getting drained of all of your blood. Sometimes she did one after the other. Like Bela, she was a bookworm, though she preferred romance novels as opposed to her older sister’s educational texts. As for her weakness? To you, Daniela seemed to be the definition of “undiagnosed ADHD”. Less exploitable for sympathy than her sister, but possibly useful in helping you trick her. At the end of the day, the largest concern with her was her inconsistent behavior, her tendency to flip moods at the drop of a hat- and a drop of the hat with her could feel a helluva lot like a drop of an axe (onto your neck).

Then came the third… the one you didn’t think was worth the risk, whatsoever: Cassandra. Middle child and acting just like it, she was hungry for her mother’s approval, attention, and respect most of all. Bloodthirsty as could be, with a mean streak eight kilometers wide, the truest monster you had ever met. Even her fondness for the arts manifested in malevolent ways. Supposedly, she painted in blood, and made sculptures from the bones of her victims, displayed proudly in her room as trophies. What could you possibly do to earn her affection? What could you ever be to her, other than a plaything or mid-afternoon snack?... Nothing, you assumed, and so you figured you might as well remove her from your list. Somehow you’d have to make do with one of her sisters. As for which one?... You decided to let fate decide, and go for whomever you found yourself with an opportunity to court.

—————————

Free time was a rare commodity in Castle Dimitrescu. While every servant did technically get one day off every week, it wasn’t uncommon to end up helping with something unexpected, even if one tried to hide away in the private quarters. For you, it was an opportune time to try and get closer to your targets. So far three weeks had passed since your “decision” to focus on Bela and Daniela, without a single interaction with either of them. Still, hope held fast in your chest, as you made haste towards the library. On this free day you intended to read as much as possible. ‘Twas a two-pronged goal: First, you would increase your chances of running into one of your preferred employers. Secondly, you could possibly learn something through what content you consumed, perhaps to be utilized in later conversations.

Or such was the hope. In truth, you did not make it to the library, nor even anywhere close. A quarter of the way there you were interrupted by an ever-dreaded noise; buzzing echoed throughout the hallway, first far off, but getting closer with every second. There was a particular ferocity to the vibrations that you knew meant danger was approaching. According to the other maidens, this was a distinction that everyone learned over time, assuming that they survived long enough. The smart thing would have been to duck away into an adjacent room in the hopes that whatever sister it was would ignore you. But your endgame weighed heavy on your mind, then forced your feet to the floor. For better or worse, you would be in the woman’s path, ready for whatever she may ask of you.

“You-” a voice snarled, as a hooded figure phased out of the swarm and into your vision. Her head was held high, eyes narrowed as they stared down at you, a snarl twisting her lips. Of course it was her. Cassandra Dimitrescu. The one daughter you didn’t want to encounter. Inside, part of you writhes in self deprecation, feeling as if you should have known better. How often did the other two buzz about so angrily?... Well, certainly a fair bit, but nowhere near as much as Cassandra. Fuck, you think, I’m probably doomed. “I’m hungry. Come here real quick,” Cassandra demands, beckoning you towards her with a single finger. In another life you would have blushed bright red at the sight. A life where she wasn’t a vampiric monster, that is.

Nonetheless, you are quick to obey, masking your anxiety as best as you can. Doing so gets much harder once your gaze meets Cassandra’s, and you see her lick her lips before smirking at you. As soon as you’re within her reach, she’s surging forward, grabbing you by your shoulders, then pivoting, pressing you hard against the wall. You can’t help but gasp at the sudden movements, which only widens her grin. Before you know it she’s running her tongue along your neck. Once more you gasp, this time softer, hating the way your body urges you to lean into her touch. Why couldn’t she simply get straight to the worst of it? Instead she takes her sweet time, slipping a finger beneath the collar of your shirt, slowly, carefully tugging it to the side. When she finally bites, it is terribly sudden. The pleasure comes before the pain, stronger than you would have expected, eliciting a sharp inhale from you that sounds more satisfied than you had intended. Even as a rush of pain follows, you can’t help the red that tints your cheeks.

“Enjoying this, hmm?” Cassandra asks, after licking away at your blood for a few moments, pulling back but not releasing you. Something in her eyes makes you need to respond.

“Y-yes, more than I’d like to admit,” you mumble, barely able to make eye contact. But she seems pleased by this, gently cupping your chin while she looks you over.

“Well then, if you survive… I might just have to drink from you again,” she whispers, before diving right back in towards your neck. This time her touch is far, far softer than before. It feels more like she’s kissing you rather than drinking from you. A strange, irritatingly familiar feeling springs in the pit of your stomach, and you can’t help but make more of those noises she seemed to enjoy so much. Hell, your eyes drift closed as you take in the surprisingly welcome sensation. When they reopen, however, you give a yelp of surprise, spotting a very awkwardly waiting servant. They were blushing, clearly not having expected to come upon this particular sight. Cassandra perks up at your shock, turning to follow your gaze, then giving an uncharacteristically resigned groan. “Damn it, Ava, is it urgent?” She asks, to which the servant gives a silent shrug. “I’ll be done in a minute. Now, where were we?”

Once more she resumes feeding, casting aside all traces of sweetness, sucking on your wound with reckless abandon. Behind her, Ava gives you a thumbs up before turning away. As embarrassing as the moment felt, you were grateful to xer, glad that xe seemed to recognize your desire for privacy. More than that… if xe hadn’t come along, would Cassandra have remembered to stop before your bloodloss became fatal? There was no guarantee either way. Yet xer intervention felt like a godsend, and you made a mental note to thank xer later. Soon enough Cassandra removes herself from you, pausing only to cup your chin for a moment, meeting your gaze with a smirk. Then she was turning away without another word, following Ava to some unknown destination.

A deep breath, then another, more frantic, the familiar sense of panic growing on the edges of your mind. Now that the feeding was over, you were left trembling with all the fear you had been so adamant about not showing before. How close to death had you come? How close were you now? Only feeling slightly more faint than you had earlier, it felt safe enough to assume you would be fine, if only physically. Inside your mind you were struggling with racing thought after racing thought. How the hell am I supposed to do this with either Bela or Daniela? You think, trying to breathe past the lump in your throat. And why did I have to enjoy that so much? They’re nothing more than means to an end, monsters undeserving of my kindness, of my joy. Your only comfort was the knowledge that this may very well have been the opportunity you had been waiting for; but only if you could shift your aim.

—————————

The difference was subtle, almost microscopic, to the point where it took you a full week to notice. But once you had? Everything felt different. You couldn’t spend more than three seconds in the same room as Cassandra without her eyes following you, watching your every move, sending a rush of both fear and excitement down your spine. Meeting her gaze only made her give the tiniest fraction of a smile. As soon as something (or someone) else caught her attention, however, you were forgotten in the blink of an eye. Yet it was nerve wracking nonetheless. This was roughly what you had hoped for, but you had underestimated the mental toll it would take on you. There was no way to tell whether Cassandra wanted violence, something softer, or her usual brand- a cruel mixture of both. Every second spent in her presence was a roll of the dice, a flip of a coin, either one weighted to put the odds against you.

But you persisted. Escape was not a dream, nor a fantasy, nor some far off cryptid. It was inevitable. Again and again you would swallow your fear until you reached your long-sought destination. No matter the cost, you think, no matter the consequences. Over time, that cost, those consequences, would grow. For now, it was a slice of your sanity. Next? More blood, it seemed.

“Casserole wants you to stop by her art studio,” the note said, cursive hand-writing ever-so-fancy and ever-so-difficult to read. Clearly from Ava, the mildly mysterious (but incredibly helpful) castle servant known for never speaking a word. From what you had gathered, xe was a confidant of sorts for the Dimitrescu family, trusted far more than the average worker. Alas, xe was loyal to the center of xer being, and was rumored to be impeccable at preventing escape attempts before they had even started. If you wanted out of this damn place, you knew you’d have to be careful around xer. Hopefully xe won’t interrupt this time, you think, before tucking the note away in your pocket.

Cassandra’s infamous studio wasn’t terribly far from your quarters, thankfully, though you weren’t even sure if you were supposed to arrive at a specific time. What if she wasn’t expecting you until later? Worse, what if she had been expecting you an hour ago? It’s a dangerous thought, one that could easily spiral into something far more drastic, and you try to reassure yourself, reminding yourself that Ava would have mentioned a time if it was important. In the end, you still found your heart racing as you stood outside the room in question. Pausing to take a deep breath, you center yourself, before raising a hand to knock. To your surprise, you get an answer before your hand even gets close to the door.

“Come in already,” Cassandra chimes from inside. Unsure of what terrible fate you were about to meet, you entered the room, somewhat reluctantly. Despite the myriad of unsavory rumors regarding the studio, there were no immediate signs of brutality. At the worst, the space was fairly messy, though not due to any, ahem, “misplaced” body parts. No, just an overflowing garbage bin, a few unfinished projects placed haphazardly wherever they’d fit, shards of glass in one corner, and tile floor splattered with a Pollock-esque layer of paint. In one word? Chaotic. Such was the type of environment that seemed to suit Cassandra best, the sort in which you imagined she would thrive. But you didn’t have time to examine anything as closely as you would have liked to. “Are you going to keep me waiting?”

“No, Lady Cassandra,” you reply, hurriedly, shaking your head to clear your thoughts. Then you’re quickly crossing the room, to what looks like a cross between a storage cabinet and a paint mixing station. In Cassandra’s hands, however, you find something less welcoming than a paintbrush: A needle and an empty blood bag. Well, you think, I guess I know why I’m here. At least there’s only one bag, right? “What do you require of me, my Lady?” While the answer was fairly obvious, you didn’t know the specific steps necessary, and it never hurt to be as polite as possible with the Dimitrescu family.

“Just sit down, roll your sleeves up, look pretty, and stay still. Try not to make any noises this time- as cute as they were last time, I have a headache,” Cassandra explains, gesturing towards the room’s only chair. Ignoring the way your cheeks heated up, you did as she asked, trying to get relatively comfortable. It was somewhat difficult to relax, considering who you were with. “Calm down, pet, I’m only going to hurt you a little. That’s more than I can say for most people who end up here.” Why did she have to use a nickname for you? Weren’t you already flushed enough without her teasing you further? Though your flustering does turn to confusion after a moment, as you wonder how she knew how afraid you were. You were under the impression that you were hiding it fairly well. Noticing your reaction, Cassandra rolls her eyes, before leaning in to whisper in your ear. “I can hear your heartbeat. Normally I’d find this… exciting. But my head hurts and I wanted to finish this damn painting yesterday. So take a deep breath, little pet, and let me take what I need from you.”

Of course she had to say it like that, and put herself so close to you. You’re pretty sure that your heart skips a few beats in response, though Cassandra doesn’t react beyond a hint of a smile, merely returning to her prep work. First step was cleaning your skin. Admittedly you hadn’t been sure if that step was necessary, seeing as the blood was (seemingly) for art as opposed to testing, but it didn’t exactly surprise you. Besides, there was a chance she’d drink the leftovers, right? Next she double-checked that the needle was properly connected to the blood bag, and that the latter was resting securely on a small stand. With that out of the way, it was time for her favorite part.

“Since your heartbeat has slowed down a little… I’ll let you whimper if you want to- but only once. Consider it a reward for good behavior,” Cassandra purrs with a familiar grin. One hand gently cups your chin, while her eyes look right in yours, just long enough to turn your cheeks bright red. The moment ends as quickly as it started. Before you know it she’s turned stoic again, feeling along your arm for a vein. This isn’t the first time you’ve had your blood drawn, but Cassandra takes no time at all to find the perfect spot, likely from a mix of practice and, well, her vampiric nature. It’s not long before she’s gently gripping your arm with one hand, briefly making eye contact before pushing the needle into your skin. Does it hurt? Hardly. Do you take a shaky inhale, hoping to please your employer, the closest to a whimper you were willing to give her? Oh, absolutely. And does she react? Oh, absolutely. Her eyes light up for a second as she bites her lower lip. There’s something else in her expression that you can’t quite read, however.

“Enjoying this, hmm?” You ask, smiling, voice soft in the hopes of not aggravating her headache. It’s a risk, and one that pays off more than you’d ever expect. Cassandra giggles a tad, eying you with the least mischievous smile you’ve ever seen from her. If not for the needle still in your arm, you might have found the moment charming, or even… romantic. But you pushed the thought away as soon as possible, reminding yourself of your one true goal: Escaping. This was a means to an end. Nothing more, nothing less. That’s what you had to keep telling yourself. Even as Cassandra ever-so-gently removed the needle from your arm, even as she carefully placed a bandage over the entry-point, even as she gave you a nod of approval.

“This should last until the painting is done, at the very least. I might need you to make another ‘donation’ next week, though. Except, hmm… your blood is quite nice,” Cassandra says. Her tone is smooth, almost sultry, but her gaze is focused on her work as she starts mixing the blood with… something? You weren’t familiar with this particular artistic process, nor did you want to be. “Maybe I’ll set up a nice schedule for you. Once a month you can be my darling little muse, and once a month you can be a refreshing snack. I’ll even make sure that my sisters don’t do anything that might spoil our fun. Assuming you continue to prove entertaining, that is.” You didn’t know whether to feel relieved or worried. In the end you settled for the former, chest thrumming with excitement as you felt yourself getting one step closer to your goal.

—————————

Three months pass by in an easy blur. Just as Cassandra had suggested, you find yourself in her company more often than before. Only twice a month does she take blood from you, for your own safety (which she pretends not to care about), but more and more you find her lounging around where you’re working, obviously by “pure coincidence”. Sometimes she even spoke to you! Teasing here and there, or asking you to do things that she normally did for herself, or scaring you just to hear you make one of your “lovely noises”. Honestly, you weren’t sure whether you were more surprised by how attached she had gotten to you, or by how quickly it had happened. Of course, you didn’t even know if she enjoyed your personality… or just your blood. Either way, you found yourself enjoying her presence more than you’d ever openly admit.

Eventually, when the benefits of your budding “friendship” became more clear, you started to enjoy it even more.

It was early in the morning, right when the castle residents tended to go to sleep, and when the night shift officially ended. Minutes prior you had been conversing quietly with Cassandra, dusting some shelves as you did. Now, with your duties done only slightly later than usual, you were making your way back to your quarters. Along the way you were caught off guard by the sound of distant crying. ‘Twas a sound you’d heard many times before, from many different maidens, but this time felt… different. An odd feeling of sympathy sparked in your chest, and you made the brash decision to approach the source of the noise. When you rounded that last corner, when you made eye contact with the trembling figure, you knew that your kindness could very well be the death of you. To think that you had once hoped for this encounter.

“Who’s there?” Bela Dimitrescu snarls through chattering teeth. She’s moving forward, phasing in and out of swarm mode, reaching a hand out to clutch at your throat. Well, you think, at least she’s stopped crying? More so out of being distracted, instead of feeling any comfort from your company. It’s not a terribly reassuring thought, but it’s soon replaced with a mental string of ???? as Bela pauses, grip loosening as she holds you up in the light. “You’re Cassandra’s new favorite. Damnit!” With that she drops you rather unceremoniously. Then she’s turning her back to you, sniffling before wiping the tears from her eyes. “Don’t tell anyone about this, or I won’t hesitate to string you up, no matter what my sister says. Now get lost.”

Except you can’t force yourself to move. There’s a small piece of you that remembers your original plan, another small part feels a twinge of sympathy, and a majority of your brain sees this as an opportunity. What was a little more risk?

“Would you like me to bring you some tea, Lady Bela?” You ask, attempting to keep your tone neutral, lest she think you were judging her. In response, she turns to look at you slowly, eyes narrowed, thinly veiled rage only outweighed by the remnants of her anxiety. Then she’s stalking forward with cautious, deliberate movements. For a moment she searches your eyes for any hints at your motive. Hoping to ease her worries, you elaborated on your offer, and the reasoning behind it. “I’ve read that holding something warm in your hands, like a mug of tea or coffee, relaxes the brain. I believe it had something to do with mimicking human touch?... Forgive me if I’m overstepping your boundaries, my Lady. I… I felt compelled to ask, to help in whatever way I can.”

“Oh?” Bela hums, the majority of the anger draining from her face. There’s a hint of genuine surprise behind her bright eyes. “Very well, if you say it might… help.” Before you can turn to leave, you hear her clear her throat, and say one last thing. “A little softer than I would have expected from a pet of Cassandra’s.” She certainly had a point. But you don’t bother responding, instead focusing on your self-given task. In the back of your mind, you wonder if you were really Cassandra’s “pet”, or if there was more to your dynamic. Why did you feel so weird about the idea of being a mere “distraction” to her?... Something to think about while you made that tea, you supposed.

—————————

When you assisted with serving lunch the next day, Bela refused to make eye contact, even as you set a plate in front of her, or when you refilled her wine glass. There was a stiffness in the room that you weren’t familiar with. For the most part, Cassandra is more welcoming, giving you a small nod when you meet her gaze. By the time the family is done eating and moves to leave, the sisters are grouping together to speak in hushed voices. While you clean up after them, you cannot help but wonder if they’re discussing the previous night, or if Bela was as adamant about keeping quiet as she had seemed. Regardless, you felt rather good about how the conversation had gone. Hopefully she’s feeling better, you think, surprising yourself. Not that it matters… unless she tells Cassandra, I suppose.

You don’t see her for the rest of the day. It’s a double-edged sword, in a way. On one hand, you find yourself missing her, unused to not interacting with her at all. On the other hand? All the sudden you’re realizing just how involved she’s become with you. Certainly that meant something? Progress towards your eventual goal of escaping? God, you sure hoped so. Thinking about the future, about your plans, lasts you the entire night, thoughts following you all the way into bed. Sleep feels a million years away, and you find yourself staring silently at the ceiling. Unmoving. Damn near unblinking. When there’s the sound of footsteps outside your room, you are more than welcome for the distraction.

“Wake up, little pet,” a voice calls, as your door opens, and someone quickly slips inside. Before you can even sit up, you feel them slide into the bed with you. “It’s too cold in my room. You’re much warmer, aren’t you?” Clearly your darling Cassandra come to entertain herself. Considering how late in the day it is, you feel like you should be upset, and yet you feel yourself daring to wrap your arms around her. For a moment she goes stiff, but she soon relaxes into your touch. “You’re getting so good at knowing what I want from you. Mmm, I think I’ve trained you well,” she teases, shifting onto her back so she can pull you onto her chest. Although you’ve been this close to her before, this is the first time you’ve realized just how cold her skin is. No wonder she wants to sleep with me, you think, blushing at your unintentional wording.

“Fuck, you’re freezing,” you mumble, curling up against her nonetheless. She’s laughing then, without any hint of her usual malice, and you can’t help but laugh with her. When had the two of you gotten so warm with each other? Why did it feel so natural? There’s anxiety gnawing at the base of your skull, threatening to build up into a headache, tugging you away from the softness of the moment. If Cassandra notices, she’s quicker to act than you would have expected. It feels safer to believe that her next actions are a coincidence. Feels… better, when you remember that you are playing her for cheap, that any friendliness is a mockery made for the most bitter of betrayals to come.

“That’s why I’m here, dear. Now hush, I need some rest. With how comfortable you are… I may even let you sleep in,” she teases, before pressing the gentlest kiss to the top of your head. Your throat dries up in response, blush overtaking your cheeks, and you are left unable to speak. The thundering of your heart seems to somehow lull your would-be lover to sleep, while you find yourself growing to love the contrast her chill provides. Somehow, someway, you end up sleeping more soundly than you have in years.

—————————

Another month passes. No opportunities to escape, no grand moves to make in this 4D game of chess, no clever plans to entangle yourself in. Yet you find yourself content. Happy. The work keeps you as busy as ever, but Cassandra often steals you away for her own desires. When she goes to drink your blood, she does so gently, with many soft kisses leading into the big moment. Afterwards she cleans your wound herself, touches as light as a feather, eyes sparkling with unspoken affection. At night, you find her coming to you for warmth almost every day. At first she provides little more than teasing excuses. But in time, she becomes more open, even being so bold as to kiss you on the lips every time, greeting you with quiet “dear”s and “darling”s. It gets to the poin that you cannot sleep without her presence.

Day after day, you find it harder and harder to remember why you were doing this. Was it so bad to enjoy your time with her? Was it so bad to find yourself leaning into her touches, kissing her back, gleefully awaiting your nightly rendezvous with her? Sometimes the thoughts were overwhelming, guilt and shame alike dancing inside your chest. Those days were the hardest to get through. Somehow, again and again, you go to her for comfort. To the very source of your conflict. Every last feeling was driving you towards an inevitable point. A conclusion written in stone, one that had been decided from the very first time Cassandra dug her fangs into your neck.

—————————

Screaming. Horrible, horrible screaming, somehow more pained than that of any maiden you had ever heard, echoing throughout the castle halls, achingly familiar in tone. You had never heard her scream before, and yet you knew that the sound came from Cassandra. Before you can even begin to process your realization, you are thundering through the corridor, towards the noise that rattled your mind so desperately. How could anything possibly hurt her? How often had you seen her push her siblings around, each of them taking hits that could break bones as if they were light shoves? As if the punches tickled? Horror overtakes your thoughts, imagination far worse than reality had any right to be.

When you at last reach your lover, you are frozen in your tracks, eyes wide as can be. There she is, howling with both rage and pain as someone repeatedly slams the butt of a rifle into her head. Behind the fighting duo is a sight you never thought you’d see: An open door. Wide open, enticing, leading straight into the world you had sought to rejoin. You want to leave. God, you want to leave so bad. This is what you have been waiting for- Cassandra has not even seen you yet, too busy grappling with her attacker, movements too slow to be normal. What was wrong? Why were her limbs such a strange color? Was that… frost on her clothes? Or… crystal? Your gaze flickers back and forth between her and the exit, as time seems to pause, memories of the past few months racing through your mind. Goddamnit, you think, this is what I want, isn���t it? Consequences be damned, right? I said I wouldn’t stop for anything.

And so you move, automatically, on autopilot, unable to think about anything other than what you treasured most: Cassandra. One moment you’re standing still in the foyer, the next you’re grabbing a poker from the fireplace. You’ve never done anything like this before, but the movements come naturally, as you surge towards the scrambling pair. In one swift motion you drive the metal rod into the skull of the intruder, hating the sound, hating the splatter of blood against your clothes, hating the feeling of resistance followed by a terrible, terrible give. But the man slumps almost immediately, allowing your girlfriend to shove him off of herself. Still unable to think coherently, you’re throwing yourself into her arms.

“Holy shit, holy shit, oh my god, I- I, fuck. Are you…? Fucking tell me that you’re okay, please,” you ramble, holding the dangerously cold body of your girlfriend close to you, refusing to let go. She’s crying, clinging to you as desperately as you cling to her. But she’s responding in the affirmative. Over and over, saying she’s okay, telling you that it’s okay. Before you know it, she’s the one comforting you.

“Hey, hey, look at me. Okay? Look at me, take a deep breath. If anyone should be freaking out it’s me,” she says, pulling back enough to cup your cheek with one hand. There’s blood on her fingers, making your eyes go wide, but she quickly wipes it off with a scowl. Then she’s caressing your skin again, soft repeating motions perfect for calming you down. “That’s right, see? We’re fine. You’re a fucking badass, darling, and honestly? It’s very attractive.” Now you’re both giggling, you a bit more than her. Because of course she’s flirting right now. It’s an incredible softness. One that you, quite frankly, do not feel you deserve. At first it’s a tiny voice in the back of your head, but it soon grows until it strikes the smile from your lips. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong? Shit, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine, really,” you interject, as fast as you can, ignoring the tears pricking the corners of your eyes. Cassandra isn’t convinced, however, and gives you a pleading look. Knowing that you cannot resist her, you close your eyes, sighing, then admit your wretched truth. “The door. Cassandra, the door’s open. I… I came down the hallway and I saw the two of you and I saw the fucking door and I… I hesitated. I hesitated.” There’s a mighty tremble to your voice, teeth and lips shaking. In the moment, you cannot bring yourself to meet her gaze, eyes instead glued to the bloodstained floor. It’s so quiet that you swear you can hear your tears hitting the tile. The air around you is filled with a looming heartache, a shadow over the two of you, hungry for your tears. But the rage you anticipate from Cassandra never comes.

For fuck’s sake, she pulls you closer. She takes you in her arms, making you rest your head against her chest, one hand gently rubbing circles into your back. Shock makes you unable to do anything other than linger limply in her grip. Thankfully, she has more than enough words for the both of you.

“Of course you did. All you ever wanted was to escape, right? And all I ever wanted was to see how much fun I could get out of you before you betrayed us,” she admits, coolly, as if the words didn’t break both of your hearts. At first, you merely start crying harder, realizing that she had seen through you this whole time. Realizing that all of her softness had just been sharpness covered in sheep’s clothing. Except she’s not done talking. “Now look at us. Couple of idiots who caught feelings. So shut up, because we’re in this mess together, now, and I don’t intend to let you go, understood? You-” she pulls back, looking you right in the eyes- “are mine. Besides… you just killed for me. I think that more than makes up for any hesitance, yeah?” Before you know it you’re kissing her. You’re pressing yourself to her, smiling through your tears, forced to pause to laugh at yourself. How ridiculous had this whole affair been? How had you convinced yourself, for so long, that escape was all you had cared about?...

All this time you thought you wanted out. But at the end of the day… you just wanted to go home. How could you have guessed that you would have found a new home, here, in someone’s arms? Despite the surprise of it all… you couldn’t be happier.