#would it affect the person's dreams? would the one awake be able to imagine the dream?

[lesbian-gnf-archive]

hello it’s me and you against the world right now (dash is dead) and we’re already writing fanfic as it is so im going to ramble out my thoughts for my dnf telepathic bond au that i want to write. everything is the same and you do a brief synopsis of like bonds and how they work etc etc and i think i would make it so that bonds are like a soulmate thing and they snap into place the first time u touch ur soulmate. they’re not like super common but they’re also not super rare but like plenty of couples aren’t telepathically bonded and it’s pretty normal to not ever meet your bond mate and if u do and you’re like already married it’s even possible for it to be platonic or there’s ways to break the bond if u don’t want it. but anyways into dnf is dream’s parents would be bonded i think so to dream seeing that he’s always wanted a bond bc it seems like suck a good thing but George’s parents aren’t bonded so he doesn’t really care or see it as a big deal but dream has like a complex over wanting them to bond when they meet but not getting his hopes up and also I think I would integrate the concept of like different levels or depths of bonds. and dnf of course would have like the most extreme one. anyways pre meetup they kind of dance around feelings and are kinda sorta together in everything but name and then they meet and there’s so many anxious emotions and then they touch and the bond instantly clicks into place but it’s so overwhelming because of how high level it is and suddenly having each other’s thoughts and feelings enter their brains at full force when those thoughts and feelings are all anxiety and elation and everything else that comes with meeting just like. gives them both unimaginable migraines and you have to nurture newly formed bonds so suddenly they have to be in close proximity and touching or else they have headaches and there’s no hiding any thoughts from each other and it’s so scary to deal with on their first meeting but they sink into it and george of course loves and hates it bc literally living in dream’s head is his dream but also dream in his head able to hear all his doubts and fears and feelings no matter how he tries to hide them ? fawking terrifying . anyways also exploring them settling into this and dealing with adjusting to it and it helping them get their shit together and testing the limits of it and anyways . what are your thoughts on dnf telepathic bond au i just have always read them for hockey rpf and thought there needed to be a dnf one and then realized sometimes u have to write the fanfic u want to read

This is absolutely amazing I'm fucking obsessed and I need u to write it now.

[milswrites]

We can't be friends

Cassian X Reader

Summary: Cassian had been distant. While he was still physically present around you, it was easy to see his mind was elsewhere. When you learn of the reason why this rift has appeared between you, you must make the difficult decision to step away from the man you once loved.

Warnings: Angsttttt

Notes: We've had our Rhysand breakup angst, it’s now time for Cassian's!!! Anyone else had Ariana Grande’s new album on their mind like 24/7? Stole the name from her song lol.

Cassian’s mind was wandering again. You could see it. Able to tell that he wasn’t mentally present by his blank expression and misty absent-minded gaze. His usually bright hazel eyes bore a dull film, as if someone had draped a cloudy vail over them.

You needn’t ask him what he was thinking of. Who he was thinking of. It had been clear enough to you that his thoughts had been occupied by the eldest Acheron sister from the moment he had met her in the mortal realm.

He would deny it of course, every time you brought the topic up with him he would spit some venomous comment about her poor attitude and the lack of love she held for her younger sister.

But you needn’t be a seer to observe what was going on here. It was as through fate that you had been cruelly blessed with the ability to see the golden thread which tied him to the woman.

Whether Nesta was oblivious to the bond or was just opting to ignore it you did not know. But you were sure Cassian knew. In fact you had never been more positive of anything in your life.

What you couldn’t understand was why would Cassian go about his life as though the bond wasn’t there? Why, at the end of each night, would he come back to your chambers to warm your bed?

The male continuing to crawl into your sheets after a long days work, whispering sweet nothings into your ears as he cradled you to sleep, acting as though nothing was different. As though you couldn’t feel the grating presence of the bond.

Most nights you stayed awake as the man slept beside you. Your miserable eyes trailing along the length of the golden cord, following the string as it wound its way out of your room. No doubt if you followed it’s path you would end up right outside the door of Nesta’s flat.

So why was Cassian still drifting you along even though he had met his mate? And how much longer would you have to wait before the inevitable occurred?

These thoughts had plagued your mind for the past few weeks. Eating away at you as they slowly stole your happiness. Instead, an odd feeling of guilt wracked your body. The evil whisper of your conscience telling you that you were the third-wheel. The one thing stopping Cassian from being with his mate. That you should do the noble thing and end your relationship. That it was what he would want.

You defensively hiss back at your demons whenever they took a hold of your mind, reassuring yourself that Cassian loved you. That he still chose to warm your bed every night. Silently hoping that the only reason he hadn’t told you about the bond was because he didn’t want to worry you. That he didn’t want you to question the unwavering affection he held for you.

And yet you always found yourself back here.

In the company of the male whose mind was in another place. With another person. Finding yourself once more having a one sided conversation with yourself. Cassian only occasionally offering up a small grunt of acknowledgement.

His glazed eyes which stayed locked on your form, no doubt imagining a different view. A picture of the woman he was dreaming about. A woman that wasn’t you.

It began to feel like there was a ghost in your relationship. Only you couldn’t figure out whether it was you or Cassian.

Cassian who had become a shell of the man he had once been around you.

Or you, who now struggled to be both heard and seen by the man you had devoted the last three centuries of your life to.

The once overwhelming surge of radiating joy had dimmed. A candle, struggling to stay alight as it consumed the last dregs of fuel from the wick. The flame between the two of you now fading into a dull flicker.

Your heart no longer skipped a beat whenever you saw the male. Instead it weighed heavy in your chest, as if clamped by a strong metal hand, choking the last remnants of happiness from your soul, flooding your body with a terrible sense of dread.

This wasn’t the way you wanted to live.

You knew that much. You were smart enough to know that you didn’t want to be the second option. The afterthought, even though you had known the male longer, had loved him for longer.

Therefore you knew what had to be done. Yet after sharing three hundred joyous years with the male you couldn’t be blamed for struggling to find the strength to do it.

~~~~~

But you could feel it now. The strength seeping into your body, fighting to share the room alongside your agony and grief. Mourning your relationship before it has even come to a close.

It was hard to ignore the way your hands had begun to shake. Nor the drying of your throat as you blurted out the words before you could stop yourself and cowardly continue on with the relationship which had began to drain you of the last of your happiness.

“We need to talk.”

The words came out thick and heavy. The change in the tone of your voice from your monotonous dialogue to this statement being enough to capture Cassian’s attention. The absent clouds drifting from his eyes until your determined ones were met with his hazel orbs.

“I thought we were talking?”

The male gulped as he spoke, clearly feeling the unsettling aura which filled the room. All your years together being enough for Cassian to know the gravity of what you were about to say.

“Why are you still here Cas? With me?”

“W-what?” He stuttered in answer, your eyes searching his as you tried to distinguish whether he knew what it was you were talking about. Fear building in your chest at the realisation you were going to have to say it yourself before this conversation led to nothing.

“Nesta, Cassian. The bond.”

He didn’t know. All this time he had been unaware of your silent heartbreak. You saw the truth of it in the way his face dropped, the extinguishing of the spark in his eyes.

“How long?” He gulped, guilt crossing his expression as he forced the words out. His cheeks flushing in shame that he hadn’t been the one to tell you.

“Weeks? Months? Long enough to question why you’re still with me.”

Cassian didn’t know what to say. He started at you with a crushing remorse, the glint of love in his eyes doing nothing to reduce your pain.

“I’m not a fool Cas,” you smiled sadly at your own unfortunate situation, his name catching in your throat as you reached your hand forwards to lay atop of his, “you want to be with her, I know that.”

A pained look flashed across his face, his eyes burning with self-hatred failing to meet yours in his regret. You allowed him the time for his emotions to settle, sitting in silence as you continued to grip his hand.

Eventually, once his flood of shame subsided, Cassian found the words to speak, “All I’ve ever known is you. All I’ve ever loved. I’ve never known anything else.”

“I know Cas” you flinched at the earnesty which laced his words. Cassian had never given you any reason to believe he didn’t love you. Even now, when his heart was calling to another, you still felt the outpouring of love from his soul.

“It’s not fair,” he grit through his teeth angrily, “you’ve done nothing wrong. It’s me. I’m the one who can’t control my feelings, my thoughts which dream of another. You don’t deserve this.”

“I don’t” you said simply. Your face remaining blank as tears began to fall down the males cheeks. You have had months to cry about your lost love, there would be no more tears shed by you. Not now, not when your well had run dry.

“We can still be friends though right? You’ve been in my life for so long I can’t imagine it without you” he choked the words out as if he wasn’t the one who had already ended things between you. He never had to say the words to you, his actions and his heart did all the talking for him.

“No Cas,” you shake your head solemnly, “we can’t be friends.”

The male looked to you in shock, his eyes blowing wide as he took in the force of your words. What this would mean for the two of you, for your future together. Or lack thereof.

“It’s not fair Cas,” you reason, giving his hands a gentle squeeze, emotions still holding firm in the face of adversity, “not to me and not to Nesta. We both know what needs to be done. We both have for a while.”

“But I love you” he fights your calm demeanour, his watery eyes staring into yours with an intensity, begging you to take back the words you were saying.

“We can’t go back to being us Cas, it’s too late for that. The damage has been done,” you lift your free hand to settle against his cheek, thumb wiping away the downpour of tears, “but with Nesta, with your mate, you have a chance. You should go for it. Follow your heart.”

“I’ll never forget you” he stubbornly argues, adamant that he can have everything he wants. Nesta by his side and you in his life. His love blinding him, allowing his selfish wishes to be spoken aloud.

“I think for both our sakes forgetting each other may be our best option baby.”

You couldn’t help it, the silver tear which escaped your eye, betraying the cold emotions you were trying to display on the outside, your thumb still caressing his cheeks as your eyes flittered across his face. Taking in everything that was Cassian for what would be the last time.

“That’s what I’m going to do,” you cried, “I’m sorry Cas but it’s the only way. I have to forget.”

It was the acceptance that was the hardest part of all. The admission that while you weren’t Cassian’s once in a lifetime, he was yours. And it was your love for him that would allow you to let him go. Your will for him to be happy, outweighing the pain of seeing him in another woman’s arms.

[noosayog]

wc: 600

warnings/content: angst

part 10. directory here.

--

For once, Atsumu complies with your request to leave you alone. 

So instead of spending his days pestering you, strong-arming himself into your apartment, and falling asleep with you in his arms, he spends them watching you from a distance and remembering the feeling of your kiss. 

He had never intended to rob you of your perfect first kiss moment. In fact, he’s imagined it many times. He would have taken you out to dinner, walked you home hand in hand, then right at your door, he’d say something charming and drop a light but lingering kiss on you. Then, he’d suavely, cheekily say goodnight and leave you flustered but pleased. He’d relish in the befuddlement in your expression and fall asleep to it. 

Instead, he manhandled you, kissed you out of hurt and desperation and yet in the midst of all of it, you had kissed him back. Those couple of seconds had felt more like his own first kiss than yours. He had his eyes tightly shut, as if opening them would end the moment and you’d come to your senses and kick him to the curb. 

It has been three weeks since you asked for time and the semester is in full swing. Atsumu has no concept of how much time you need and it seems like you have all but forgotten him as you seem to operate in your usual aloof manner while he’s almost ripping at the seams. You speed walk with your little legs through campus and spend your time at the library studying (don’t ask Atsumu how he knows all this, he swears all the times he sees you on campus are coincidences and he’s not stalking you). And when you accidentally meet his eyes, you look away, as if he was any other stranger.

It hurts but the worst part of it all is that Atsumu knows he isn’t allowed to approach. Before, he’d be able to just cut through your feigned indifference and bug you but you’ve drawn your boundaries and Atsumu is more scared of what will happen if he ignores them than if he obeys them. Nonetheless, he can’t help himself from watching and he’s sure he knows enough about your life to incriminate him as a stalker. 

For example, in one of your classes, you’re paired up with someone whom you now spend much of your time with. Atsumu has seen you two walk to class together and spend long hours in the library with, often over snacks and meals. 

As someone who is usually on the receiving end of your hostility and scathing comments, Atsumu has put in a lot of work to be rewarded with your occasional smile and reluctant affection. Seeing you flash easy smiles to this other person when they haven’t put in half as much effort as him makes something in his gut wrench. 

Nothing would satisfy him more than stepping right up into your partner’s business and huffing his chest out to put some space between you and them. But you’ve only permitted him to watch, observing how you offer the most pleasant version of your company to someone else. Hoping, praying, crossing his fingers, that no one else will fall for your charms and put even more space between you and him. Any more space than this would surely be insurmountable. 

Almost half the semester flies by like this when a knock comes at his door at 2AM on a Thursday night. Emotionally and physically exhausted, Atsumu trudges to the door and opens it without looking through the peephole. 

He must be dreaming because he sees a figure that looks like yours and no, he must be dreaming, so he slams the door shut. He’s about to swivel back around to bed when loud, angry knocks sound at the door, accompanied by something he’s very familiar with. 

You’re whisper-shouting through the door but he hears it loud and clear. 

“Atsumu, open this fucking door! What is wrong with you!” 

Well, he’s definitely awake now.

[fictionalmenxyn]

Nightmares

Summary: Y/n and Ghost are in bed, during the middle of the night Ghost seems to be having a nightmare. This is a fluff/comfort imagine

Tw: a discomforted Ghost and mentions of a bad vivid nightmare if you think of it that way

You had been sleeping soundly beside Ghost when you suddenly felt movement in the bed. You opened your eyes and saw that Ghost was tossing and turning, his expression twisted in distress. It was clear that he was having a nightmare. Without hesitation, you gently shook him awake. As soon as he opened his eyes, they were full of fear and confusion until he saw you beside him. He calmed down a little and sat up in bed with his back against the headboard. You sat down beside him, taking his hand in yours. "Ghost, are you okay?" you asked, running your thumb over the back of his hand. He looked at you for a moment, his eyes scanning your face, as if he was trying to reassure himself that you were there. Then, he shook his head. You knew that Ghost wasn't one to show weakness or vulnerability, so you were a bit surprised when he spoke up. "I... I had a nightmare," he said, his voice low and serious. "What was it about?" you asked softly. Ghost hesitated for a moment before he started to describe his dream. It was a jumbled mess of past missions and personal tragedies mixed together in a surreal nightmare. He spoke quickly, his words tumbling over each other, as if he was afraid that he wouldn't be able to articulate what had happened in his dream. You listened intently, not interrupting him until he finished. When he was done, you squeezed his hand, feeling a surge of affection for him. "I'm so sorry, Ghost," you said, your voice thick with emotion. "That sounds awful." Ghost leaned his head against your shoulder, closing his eyes. "It was," he said quietly. You gently rubbed his back, feeling the warmth of his skin through his thin t-shirt. You could hear the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear, and you knew that the nightmare had shaken him to his core. For a few minutes, you just sat together in silence, comforting each other. Then, Ghost lifted his head and looked at you again. "Thank you," he said, his voice hoarse. "For being here." You smiled at him, feeling a surge of affection for him. "Of course, Ghost," you said. "I'll always be here for you." And with that, you lay down beside him again, wrapping your arms around him. Ghost closed his eyes and relaxed a little, the tension in his body easing. You felt his breathing slow and deepen until it was the steady rhythm of deep sleep. As you lay there beside him, watching him sleep, you knew that you'd never forget this moment. You and Ghost had been through so much together, and you knew that you would always be there to comfort each other in moments of need. You fell asleep soon afterwards, wrapped up in Ghost's arms, feeling safe and loved.

[mykingdomforapen]

Man, the AU you mentioned about LTC possessing LG and causing damage with his voice and hands that he'll wake up to has not left my brain. I do have some questions, if you would maybe expand on it a bit!

Do you think this is a bit of a role swap, in a way? Of LG being the one possessed instead of QL after what happens with Liu Min and Emma? In that case, what could happen? LTC would have access to his memories, to CXS's vulnerabilities and fears that LG is well aware of, and coming back right after Emma's death might have CXS in a position where only words could do immense damage, without even mentioning the knife he might or might not have access to.

I feel CXS might recognize it's not LG even if LTC tried to act like him, right? But it would not make what he says sting any less, or would not make a sudden stab any less surprising as he comes back from a dive with his guard down, I guess. Ah!!

He might be possessing LG in a completely different context, too, I guess! Although he would need LTX to be around for it to be done remotely, right?

Please forgive my rambling, even just as a concept, I'm very very curious to know what you considered for that idea. Thank you for your time!

Thank you for giving me an excuse to expound on an indulgent au that I dream of whenever I have trouble staying awake during my jet lag aksjsksksk.

I admit that when I have my sleep-affected stories in my head, it is effectively Whump Without Plot so I didn't really have a logical reason of why Lu Guang would be possessed. However, if we were to make a rhyme or reason for it, it would likely be to make Qian Jin's capturing of Cheng Xiaoshi quicker. Since CXS was targeted by the antagonists because they wanted to take advantage of his abilities, after all.

(Which of course is what happens vaguely in the canon, but shhh)

But in an AU where CXS doesn't recognize LG is being possessed (or, even if he does find something odd, isn't in a position to question it), he would easily follow Lu Guang anywhere no question. So he would be an easy mark as long as the baddies can use LG to take him somewhere else.

As for my indulgent AU in which it's a completely different context, maybe baddies want to separate CXS from LG for whatever reason, make him run away from LG and make him more vulnerable to the baddies' attacks, whether to capture him or something else. In which case, they can use LG and force him to push CXS away even if it's just for one vulnerable night. And since LTX's abilities are such that she can see all the memories of a person, it would be at least enough to glean what LG's usual personality and talking style is like to make his possession seem at least believable. And as you say, if it's on such a night that CXS is perhaps already vulnerable--maybe a bad dive, or a hard reminder about his parents--really, it's about saying something hurtful to CXS that he already kind of believes about himself that would make him less likely to question whether or not LG actually means it.

Like, if a possessed LG were to say that CXS is cruel and dishonest, I think CXS would be a bit ? about that. But if LG were to call CXS, idk, clingy and burdensome, which arguably (at least in my headcanon) CXS has wrestled with in his own self-image already, that would make him a bit more likely to believe those are LG's words. Because CXS is already struggling with those worries that he is so, and hearing it from his best friend who knows him most deeply would feel like confirmation ...

(and if he doesn't believe it's LG, then possessed!LG would just knife him and drag him to the baddies we get the best of both worlds lol)

Of course, in the way that Chen Bin was able to sort of gain some sense of self when he was possessed because he was being forced to walk off the edge of a building but the love for his unborn daughter gave him some consciousness to, while unable to resist, have sentience, I can imagine that Lu Guang's love and care for his best friend and seeing the way that he was being used to hurt him would give him some ability to try to resist, or at least be conscious about what he was being forced to do...which is perhaps even worse....

Witnessing his own body and mouth hurting his best friend but unable to stop it...

[frostyyyroyalmilktea]

Nevermore Student!Tyler x Thorpe!Reader pt 3

pt 1   pt 4  ao3         

This is smaller than previous chapters but it's finals week so I most likely won't be able to update this week. Have this little treat while I struggle with my master's

(ಥ﹏ಥ)

***

Monday morning starts as most Monday mornings do. Way too early. It might’ve not been so awful if you haven’t spent most of the night lying awake, overanalyzing every little thing you said and did last night. But what else could you do? Last night was the most surreal experience of your life, and now you’re kind of afraid it was all just a very vivid dream. But you know it wasn’t. Deep down you feel the tug of this odd new bond. You want to see Tyler. Make sure he’s okay. He looked so worried and unsure yesterday, you wanted to do something—anything—to snap him out of that state. Thinking under pressure is not your strongest suit, let’s be honest. You just hope he wasn’t weirded out by your affections.

So there you are: groggy, anxious, and desperate to wrap yourself in a blanket burrito and wallow in your woes. Ugh, that’s how you usually imagine Xavier’s pastime.

Bianca is one of them morning people—you can’t relate—so by the time you drag your miserable form out of bed, she’s already dressed and almost done with her makeup.

You take a shower, blow dry your hair, and steam your uniform. All under thirty minutes time—because you’re a virtuoso of the fine art of being late without actually being late.

Nevermore allows minimal alterations to the uniforms as long as they don’t contradict the overall sense of integrity. Most people don’t bother, preferring to simply accessorize, but that’s no fun so you had the blazer tailored to button asymmetrically. You pair it with a white silk blouse and wide-leg velvet pants. It’s not exactly in compliance with uniform regulations, but you doubt someone will actually notice and you want to look cute. You opt for classical black Derbys to complete the look and as a jest, decide to take the bag that Xavier gave you as a gift a few Christmases ago. It’s a sizable Jigglypuff plushie bag with a long strap. Surprisingly, it can fit quite a lot. So you pack a blank notebook, a few pens and highlighters, and head out for the day.

The dining hall is in utter chaos. You thought it was busy yesterday morning, but it seems that at least a third of the residents must’ve slept in on Sunday because right now it’s completely topsy-turvy.

The buffet area resembles a warzone and you can’t even see the cereal because of all the people crowding the stand. You skip it altogether and decide that a strong cup of green tea will have to get you through until lunch. You’ll have to wake up earlier from now on to be able to grab breakfast before the rush starts. Fuuuck.

You’re anxiously approaching the far corner table because the possibility that after he had time to sleep on it Tyler decided that you are in fact a grade-A weirdo seems all too real to your sleep-deprived brain. So yeah, you aren’t 100% sure he won’t file for a restriction order, but you try to be optimistic.

You plop your ass on the chair near Tyler’s and announce with way more confidence than you feel: “Good morning sunshine.”

You’ve already started this weird game so you refuse to quit now.

Tyler looks up and his tense frown is immediately replaced by a beaming smile.

Your heart does a cartwheel.

“Morning,” he says. He clearly got there earlier than the avalanche of teenagers went down on the buffet, because he has a delicious-looking plate of scramble in front of him and a steaming cup of coffee. Not something you personally would go for this early in the morning, but you’re jealous nonetheless. “The Fruit Loops were long gone by the time I got here, but I managed to grab you a Snickers,” he says shyly, extending you the candy bar. It's a bit mangled but otherwise intact. “You don’t seem like an English breakfast kind of gal to me,” he adds.

This is literally the cutest shit ever, you think, while your face is doing things of the blushing and grinning variety that you have absolutely no control of.

“You’re literally an angel,” you inform him with all seriousness. “I saw the carnage that was going on out there and decided to grab some tea and get the hell out while I still had all my limbs about me. Like, I’m a lover, not a fighter. Especially not this early in the morning.”

Tyler laughs, “Some guy was actually ready to throw hands with me for the Snickers until he saw that I was… well, me. He looked like was about to piss his pants in fear.”

Tyler says it in good humor but it kind of cuts you unpleasantly, that people are afraid of him like that. All you see when you look at him is warmth and kindness. How do people miss it?

You notice a familiar head of curls stumbling through the dining hall, looking like he might get trampled any second now.

“Gimme a sec,” you say to Tyler and head out to retrieve the little lost pumpkin.

“Eugene, my dude, how are you this fine morning?” You grab his upper arm to steady him after someone bumps into him once again. “Do you have a place to sit?”

“Not really,” he says timidly.  “I don’t do well in crowded spaces.”

“Yeah, me either, buddy. Me and my friend Tyler,” you gesture in his vague direction, “sit in the corner there. Care to join us?”

Eugene eyes the table behind you apprehensively, but then, as if he decided something for himself, straightens up and says, “Sure. Thank you, y/n.”

“No probs.”

You lead him to the table and introduce each of them. “Eugene – Tyler, Tyler – Eugene.”

Tyler looks tense. “Hey,” he waves weakly, without looking Eugene in the eyes. His shoulders are hunched like he’s trying to curl in on himself.

“Hi,” Eugene gives him a small smile.

You’re not sure what’s the story here so you ask carefully, “Do you guys know each other?”

“I almost killed him last semester,” Tyler says gravely.

You look at Eugene, but he seems pretty determined when he says, “Yeah, but he didn’t.”

You sit down and Eugene takes the seat next to you, facing Tyler. “I read your letter,” he says. “Thank you for writing it and, you know, fighting Thornhill's command to kill me.”

What the fuck?

Tyler looks up at him, “I still landed you in hospital for over a month.”

“It’s still worth a lot that you tried, Tyler.”

Granted you’ve only talked to the guy twice, but you would’ve never expected to see Eugene so serious and confident.

“So,” Eugene extends his hand. “Fresh start?”

Tyler looks shell-shocked.

“Yeah, fresh start,” he takes the proffered hand. “Thank you.”

Eugene is back to normal—at least what you perceive as his normal—in a jiff, while Tyler seems to be lost in his thoughts so you decide to give him some time and turn your attention to Eugene.

“So I gave some thought to your proposal,” you start.

Eugene lights up with excitement.

“And I came to the conclusion that bees still irrevocably frighten me.”

Eugene’s face falls.

“Buuut, my sweet little pumpkin, fret not, I would still like to join.”

Eugene beams and Tyler, who emerged from his thoughts to join the conversation, looks between you two in amusement as you start explaining to Eugene that you want to make an Etsy store where he can sell the honey and donate the profits to the Bee-related charity of his choice.

“Of course, we’ll have to run it by Weems because there’s money involved in the matter, but I reckon as long as we donate it, she’ll be cool with it.”

“Do you think people will actually want to buy it?” Eugene asks hesitantly.

“We’ll make them want to buy it, my sweet summer child,” you assure him. “We’ll make a Tiktok account—I was thinking something like ‘Eugene’s Bees’, it has a nice ring to it—and we’ll make educational videos with, like, fun twists to them. The orders will start rolling in no time.”

“You’re like really into this,” Tyler remarks softly.

He smiles with one of those smiles that reaches his eyes and you completely lose your train of thought.

“Well, yeah, once I’m into something,” or someone, you don’t add, “it’s near impossible to throw me off.”

“Hm,” is all he replies, smiling mysteriously.

Eugene has to take off earlier to check on bees before class, so it’s just you and Tyler once again.

“You’re so ardent about this whole thing,” Tyler says. “It’s cool seeing you in your element, talking social media strategy. Very… attractive.”

You choke on a bit of Snickers you so unwisely bit off just a second ago.

“I’m very,” you cough out, “passionate about many things.”

Tyler smirks.

Oh God, did you just unwittingly make an innuendo? Shit, you didn’t even mean it like that!

You take a sip of tea as a measure to prevent words from leaving your mouth. You clearly need a moment to reestablish brain-to-mouth connection.

“Listen, I was thinking…” Tyler starts.

And doesn’t continue.

A pause stretches out.

In the end, your curiosity outweighs the fear of saying something dumb.

“Yeah?” You prompt.

“We should exchange phone numbers,” he says hastily, and you have a feeling he was going to say something else but changed his mind at the last moment.

“Oh. Yeah, sure,” you pull out your phone.

“Is that a flip phone?” Tyler asks, sounding almost in awe.

“It’s Galaxy flip,” you smile, showing him the folding screen. “My dad did a commercial for Samsung a few months ago and they gave him a few of these. They’re not very practical, but they are super cute and you can wear charms on them,” you jiggle the little Hello Kitty charm to draw his eyes to it. “I also like to put different stickers on the case and-”

Tyler catches the charm in his fingers to take a closer look. His hand brushes yours and you freeze mid-sentence, not able to remember how to take a breath.

You’re not usually that awkward around boys. You’ve met Timothee Chalamet once, for crying out loud! And you were very chill about it and told him he was great in Dune. Why is it that around Tyler you turn into a bumbling mess who talks—and what’s more worrying acts—before forming a cohesive thought?

“Y/n?” Tyler looks at you expectantly, extending his hand.

“Right!” You pass him the phone, almost dropping it in the process.

He punches in the numbers but leaves the field ‘contact name’ empty. You stare at it dumbly while he takes out his phone.

You type in Ty and after a moment's deliberation add a heart emoji. It’s just cute, it doesn’t have to mean anything, you tell yourself like a lying liar who lies.

Tyler hands you his phone. It’s a beat-up iPhone 7. The screen is cracked so badly, you can hardly see anything on the lower part. You’re afraid it might give up on its clearly long-suffering existence if you as much as breathe at it wrong.

Tyler senses your apprehension and says, “Those late-night strolls in the woods did not work out all that great for it.”

He sounds embarrassed and you don’t know if it's because the strolls in the woods are a thing in the first place, or is it because he can’t afford a new phone. Either way, you feel like shit for drawing attention to it.

You put in your number, leaving the ‘contact name’ field empty as well. “There you go.”

“Right,” he says, “yeah, umm, good. I gotta go now, but I’ll see you around, yeah?”

“Of course,” you smile sunnily.

Why is he so nervous all of a sudden?

He gets up, grabs his backpack, and then leans in and kisses you on the cheek.

“Have a great first day, y/n,” he says and then promptly blasts out of the dining hall at a speed that you’re sure is not entirely human.

You hear Bianca's rambunctious laughter and turn to look at their table. You see her double down from laughing so hard, eyes on your brother who’s currently gripping a butter knife like he wants to commit manslaughter with it.

You’re probably gonna laugh your ass off about it too. But not right now. Right now you just sit there with the most ridiculous grin on your face thinking oh how the turn tables.

***

Author’s note: the turn tables thing is from The Office

Btw, on ao3 every chapter is named after a song so if you’d like to hear what I listen to when I write, come check it out!

[cavinginhisfvce]

All Things Borrowed.

A samijey drabble!

Jey knows it's selfish. He knows it's not fair to feel the way he does. He shouldn't feel like he's living on borrowed love from his boyfriend, especially not when Sami is always so willing to give Jey the affection he knows the Samoan craves.

It's selfish to take all that Sami offers, his joy, his fears, his love, and in return store those moments for when, if, that trust in Jey suddenly vanishes, instead of giving the same. 

It's not fair of Jey to store the love for a later date, a day where the love has suddenly stopped flowing and he's scrambling for some semblance of things being okay. Things being right.

If Sami knew Jey was just counting down the days until the demise of their relationship, would he still bother with the man? Or would he make all of Jey's worst dreams come true and feed him to the proverbial wolves?

Wrapped up tightly in Sami's embrace, Jey can't help but feel reminded that all love is borrowed love; no matter who the love comes from.

Whether it be family or others, the boy is all too familiar with what it feels like to watch the reservoir of familial love run so dry the sight of the person makes you feel sick to your stomach.

Jey's love for Roman, for example it burned so bright, and felt reciprocated in ways that blinded him to who his cousin was becoming until it was too late, and Jey had become a person Roman held little to no love for.

Jey watched with his own eyes as the love Roman had for him ceased to exist, at least in a healthy sense.

He doesn't think he can live through a pain like that again, even if the love differs from his relationship with Roman, even if Roman went too far with his love and it cost Jey everything,  seeing the way his cousin has completely done away with him and seems better for it, hurts; but the feeling pales in comparison to the mere thought that Sami could be done with him, he can't imagine who he'd become if Sami decided Jey wasn't worth the hassle. If he decided the panic attacks, and nightmares were too much to tackle, because let's face it, Jey's a handful. He knows this, and Sami, bless his heart, tries so hard with him, but he truthfully doesn't have to. 

Jey knows if he shares these feelings with his boyfriend, the elder will reassure him. He knows Sami will take him in his arms and pepper his face in sweet kisses whilst he whispers all the reasons he loves Jey more than he could ever know, Sami has done as much for less. 

But, there's the possibility Sami could do the exact opposite, maybe Sami just needed an out and Jey opening up would be just that. Maybe in the same breath Jey confesses his knowledge of living on borrowed love, Sami will pack his bags and leave Jey's life forever. 

The likelihood seems much higher now than it did before, especially with the stolen glances from Sami and Cody, the looks they think Jey doesn't notice. He does. He noticed the lingering touches, and that Sami will seek out Cody at work, long before he finds his actual partner.

Even in his muddled mess of a mind, Jey knows he's being irrational, because just that morning Sami had woken him up by carding skilled fingers through his curls, nosing happily at the man's cheek until the latter stirred awake.

And yet, the possibility still exists. 

There could come a day when Sami is no longer the glue holding Jey together, but the hammer that shatters him fully. It'd be too easy with all the cracks in the Samoan's foundation, because they're just that. Cracks in his foundation, difficult to patch up and make whole without running the risk of destroying it completely. 

Jey isn't sure he'd survive that. So, he stays shut. What Sami doesn't know, won't be able to hurt Jey.

If Sami and Cody are truly falling in with one another, then Jey will pretend nothing has changed, because losing Sami? It's not an option. 

He'll live on borrowed love for however long, if it means Sami stays with him.

[vickyvicarious]

The Captain's final entry has finally arrived, and it has a fair bit in common with Jonathan's final entry/more generally several of his earlier entries. I've just been having fun kind of mentally collecting them, so here's what I have specifically noticed...

First off, I already wrote a post about a couple earlier similarities in how they both write to keep a clear record when strange things are happening, and how they both indulge the superstition of others (only to later realize the truth of it). So there's that. But then there's a bunch more recent stuff as well.

I am beginning to feel this nocturnal existence tell on me. It is destroying my nerve. Jonathan, 12 May Still fog, which the sunrise cannot pierce. I know there is sunrise because I am a sailor, why else I know not. Captain, 4 August

One of the first things Dracula does with Jonathan is keep him up all night to get him on a nocturnal schedule. While Jonathan eventually spends more time awake during the day when he knows Dracula is weakest, it seems like Dracula kept up their late-night talks until almost the end, meaning that every time he did so it came at the cost of losing some sleep. Even when he does get to sleep, there are some hints that he often has nightmares. (I'm not adding any sleeping quotes here because the points go together, and there would be so many to collect.)

With the Captain, one of Dracula's earliest/most persistent methods of torment is to deprive the crew of their sleep. The storms, if you believe he summoned them, start pretty early. Even if you don't buy that though, their fear leading to double watch even as more and more of them disappear leads to less rest. And then when the Captain is able to rest well he's awakened to find even more death. Eventually, Dracula deprives him of sunlight too, by surrounding the ship in a fog so thick that it's hard to even tell when it is day or night.

I am alone in the castle with those awful women. Jonathan, 30 June

While the Captain doesn't have any such clear quote, it is very much a major detail that he is entirely alone with Dracula at the end. In a sense, this is a contrast, because Dracula being gone is what makes Jonathan talk about being alone with such fear, but the essentials of the situation are the same: they're trapped in a place they cannot leave, with only vampire(s) for company who want to kill them - there's even an extra parallel if you add in the person they both feared/relied on has recently left (not that the first mate and Dracula fill the same role, but in this specific way it's kind of an echo).

I have placed the crucifix over the head of my bed—I imagine that my rest is thus freer from dreams; and there it shall remain. Jonathan, 12 May I shall tie my hands to the wheel when my strength begins to fail, and along with them I shall tie that which He—It!—dare not touch; and then, come good wind or foul, I shall save my soul, and my honour as a captain. Captain, 4 August

They both rely on a crucifix to protect them from Dracula... at least in a limited capacity. Jonathan has seen its efficacy proven, while the Captain more just has faith in it driving off demonic beings like Dracula must be. There's kind of a neat contrast in their opinion of the crucifix itself in that way, with Jonathan initially dismissing it as idolatrous but somewhat reevaluating his own faith once seeing that it affects Dracula, while the Captain at one point fears that he's been abandoned by God but later finds refuge in holding on to his own faith, with the crucifix itself serving as a physical manifestation of that.

And then away for home! away to the quickest and nearest train! away from this cursed spot, from this cursed land, where the devil and his children still walk with earthly feet! Jonathan, 30 June

Jonathan finally decides to risk it all to flee for home, finishing his original round trip. The Captain lashes himself to the helm so that nothing can stop him from completing his journey to the best of his ability. Both their final acts of defiance are in an effort to try and reach other people, to defy being trapped alone with these monsters.

If this book should ever reach Mina before I do, let it bring my good-bye. Jonathan, 4 May At least God's mercy is better than that of these monsters, and the precipice is steep and high. At its foot a man may sleep—as a man. Good-bye, all! Mina! Jonathan, 30 June If we are wrecked, mayhap this bottle may be found, and those who find it may understand; Captain, 4 August

Both Jonathan and the Captain realize that there is every chance they will not survive their journey/live beyond their final entry. Jonathan verbalizes the possibility of his death much earlier and more often, but in the end both of them write their final lines with the hope of an outside audience who can learn from their experience and understand why they did what they did. They also both choose to face a likely death. (Jonathan's choice to flee at all costs is maybe closer to the mate's choice to escape into the sea than the captain's decision to stay, but in both cases they hope to preserve their words even after their own death.)

This was the being I was helping to transfer to London, where, perhaps, for centuries to come he might, amongst its teeming millions, satiate his lust for blood, and create a new and ever-widening circle of semi-demons to batten on the helpless. The very thought drove me mad. A terrible desire came upon me to rid the world of such a monster. Jonathan, 30 June But I am captain, and I must not leave my ship. [...] ... well, then all men shall know that I have been true to my trust. God and the Blessed Virgin and the saints help a poor ignorant soul trying to do his duty.... Captain, 4 August

Both Jonathan and the Captain act at least partially out of a sense of duty. Jonathan early on is determined to do his duty by Mr. Hawkins; on his final day in the castle, he feels a responsibility to try and stop Dracula from going to London. Sure, it's mixed in with his own hatred and (wild) desire for revenge, but at least part of the reason he attacks Dracula with a shovel is because he doesn't want to be a part of getting him what he wants. He doesn't want to help transfer him to London.

The Captain, ironically, chooses to hold fast to try and transfer his cargo to England. Or at least, he feels loyal to his responsibilities and duties as a captain. He's failed in protecting his crew, and he will probably fail in completing his journey/protecting his ship as well, but he is determined to try his best until the very end. And I think part of this determination is the same kind of refusal to capitulate to Dracula that Jonathan shows on Shovel Day. As readers, we know it would be better if the Captain intentionally scuttled his ship... but from the Captain's perspective, everything that has happened so far has been detrimental to him completing his trip. The storms, the crew being picked off, the fog getting him lost when he nears shore... as far as he knows, it may well seem like the monster on board doesn't want him to reach land. And so his effort to do just that is just as much in stubborn defiance of Dracula's will (as he perceives it) as Jonathan's attempted attack was.

[thejournaloffox]

The Fox feels him lying there next to her, falling asleep… and her pulse quickens until her entire body is trembling—she wonders whether her occluded passion could be felt through the mattress. Last night was the first night she became aware of the phenomenon she’d been observing for a long time now: it was her. Her arousal, specifically.

What happens is that Fox’s imagination immediately leaps on an erotic fantasy of her Captor watching her and becoming aroused by his silent study, letting himself savor the nectar of desiring her and heightening his pleasure until he wanted to devour his pet. She imagined him resisting the urge for a time, listening to her soft breathing as she slipped ever closer to slumber, her Foxform fully relaxing in the warmth. And then…

The Fox realizes that instead of falling asleep, the Fox is fully starved again, the Lion is asleep, and she is still listening to the beat of her own heart rush through her like a pulsar. She rather liked the mental images, and yet, her brain went through a series of short circuits to put herself under—there were the usual swipes from her inner critics, with whom she’d had a chat in her dreams, and then the injured parts of her inserted themselves, trying to take the spotlight and stoke the agony bonfire, and, finally, what she called her self-awareness took a look at all this and decided it’s time to uncross some wires.

First: it was always the time for desire, even if she had to cool off a bit after. That part of her reacted to the Lion’s aura as expected—he had a magnetic presence that Fox found utterly irresistible. It was the only force known to her that affected her like a hot drug, exciting the right senses, soothing the ones shrieking from overstimulation. It was only natural that being next to him, but unable to touch him—for fear of disturbing his precious sleep—all she could do was entertain longing thoughts in his direction, reflect on how incredibly much she adored him, and absorb his closeness, feed her thirst. He would make sure to harvest it all; she loved how he craved and consumed so much of her, there was so much to give.

When the Lion said he wanted all of Fox, she knew those weren’t just words—every day he made good on that statement, and Fox felt herself blossom a little more each day, unlocking long forgotten strengths within her as she showed him around in herself, inviting him into parts of herself she had never been able to show anyone before. It was a remarkable experience—of course Fox melted like a wild animal in heat when he went anywhere near her, let alone relaxed and comfortable… and disrobed. It was so very tempting to bury herself into his chest or shoulders, to nuzzle his neck with Fox kisses and loving nibbles, to let her Foxfingers trail across the entire surface of his evocative figure and tangle into his gorgeous hair and glorious beard—or trace his glorious jaw and perfect chin in beardless seasons—and, intoxicated by her Captor, provoke the Lion’s roaring passion in earnest.

Fox is getting distracted.

Second: …Fox is still distracted. The Lion effortlessly consumed Fox even as he lay asleep! When he was awake, Fox stood no chance of resisting—such was the fate of the Fox. Fox was more than fine with this; she was deeply enamored with her captivity. But, back to the point: Fox was discovering the precise dividing lines between her experiences, her programming, her intentions, and her present.

Learning about the peculiar way she processed information and her unique motivational and communication needs didn’t just reveal to her a pattern of dysfunction in the way she had interacted with others in professional and personal settings, but—more importantly—those dysfunctional voices had been programmed into some of her inner critics. Then, the final most important puzzle piece: the depth of her fear of abandonment stretching back to childhood has been recently revealed to her, and putting all that together, Fox finally understood why parts of her had made her feel bad in some way whenever she was aroused.

Third: awareness was enough. Fox fell asleep, had a dream where she got somewhere with her inner congress—an analogy chosen both for its design for function and demonstrated dysfunction except when under extreme duress faced with overwhelming rationality—and woke up starved for the Lion to overwhelm her with his incredibly arousing arousal. Fox wanted to be completely consumed by him, splayed in her full, vulnerable glory, she wanted to feel the power of his desire saturate her skin and fill her up with his fire burning her from the inside out.

Fourth: Fox’s desire was so potent that even after over 48 hours awake and being highly active, all the Lion had to do was appear, lie down next to her, and exist to stoke her raging passion. The memory of everything he had ever done to her up until now increased that potency every time—Fox couldn’t wait to see what they would discover in her as her captivity and training progressed. Fox was… insatiable. And the Lion both sated her like no other, and he stoked her most potent potential that could raze worlds with its heat. Unleashing all that had been pent up in Fox until now was a firestorm the world was scarcely ready for, but it was happening.

Fox eventually got a full nights sleep… and Fox is famished for Lion.

[jising-jisang-jisung]

Genre: floof

w/c: 0.6k

a/n: happy innie day everyone! I am taking a gen ed writing course rn so I hope my imagery skills got a little better lol :)

"Innie," your melodious voice rang through your boyfriend's head as he answered the call.

"Y/n," he cooed, sweetly, his voice dripping with tiredness.

"Oh no, baby, did I wake you?" You suddenly feel a pang of guilt at the thought of waking your boyfriend out of his peaceful slumber.

"No, no," he assures you, but he's definitely lying for your sake. "Is something wrong, my love?"

"I just-" you sigh, "I can't sleep."

He hums in response. You imagine him sprawled out across his bed, tangled in his sheets, eyes closed as he holds onto consciousness for you.

"Will you sing for me?" It was something he offered once, though you had yet to take him up on the offer. You knew Jeongin was a beautiful singer, but his songs only ever filled your heart; they didn't put you to sleep.

"Of course, my love. Any requests?"

"No, just sing me any lullaby, please."

His voice sounds different through your phone speaker than in person, but it was still lovely. Because he was singing so quietly and fighting the abundance of melatonin in his brain, a few notes were slightly off, but you didn't mind one bit. Although you couldn't see his face, you pictured the pouty smile he might have as he sang a lullaby from his childhood. His short breaths and humming came to a stop as your side of the call quieted for a while.

"Are you still awake, y/n?" He whispers only loud enough for you to hear it if you were still not asleep.

"Yeah" you sigh, giggling at your misfortune.

"Hmm," he hums, thinking of what else to do to help you fall asleep. "I could tell you a bedtime story," he offers, interrupted by his own fit of giggles.

The whole situation felt so immature, childish, maybe it was nostalgic- but you felt so comfortable and loved in these moments. The innocence of lullabies and bedtime stories was something you were glad to hold onto in your relationship with Jeongin. It was a simple way to show affection when you two were apart from one another. An easy way to say 'I love you' without using those words.

"If it isn't any trouble for you," you grin, rosy cheeks smooshed between your pillow and phone, "I'd love to hear a bedtime story."

"For you, y/n, it's no trouble at all." There it was again, the wordless 'I love you'. "A long time ago, in a kingdom far away from here, there was a princess named y/n, and her best friend whom she called Innie…"

Your soft snores sounded through the call, signaling you'd finally achieved slumber. He didn't hang up the call, opting to listen to your soft sleeping sounds. Not long after, Jeongin could be heard slightly mumbling about the princess and her lover in his sleep. Maybe the two of you would be able to meet in that far off land in your dreams.

[arknights-imagines]

waahh hi i love ur writing!! can i request an affectionate doctor having a sweet kissing session with executor + silverash? i just wanna give them a lot of affection and make them feel always loved 😭

Anon hiya!! 🥳 Tysm for this request sgsugshs it's so cute and I love it!! 😭🥺 Executor and SilverAsh are some of my favourites to write for sgsugshs 💕 I tried to make it as soft and lovey-dovey as I could so I hope you and everyone else likes it 👉👈

Also, because Executor's Birthday was July 7th I gave him some extra love in his part svshsv!! 🎂🥳 He deserves a break lolol 🥺 so Happy (late) Birthday Executor and happy reading to everyone!! 🥺🥳

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

Kissing sessions with Executor and SilverAsh

Imagine format; mixed perspectives! (written in second person)

Contains: SilverAsh, Executor, gender neutral Doctor as the reader, brief mentions of background characters, established relationships, kissing described in detail, lots of soft fluffiness 🥺, barely suggestive material in SilverAsh's part?? 🤔, Executor being hesitant and unsure in his part, reader/Doctor being very soft in both parts svjsgshs

Word count: 2.7k in total!

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

SILVERASH

“My dear...you’re still working?”

SilverAsh’s eyes had just read the last sentence of the novel in his hand, and now they looked at you with surprise. He had expected you to have lied down in your small bed with him by the time he closed his book - but as it turned out, you were still sat at your desk nearby and going through papers.

The Feline’s voice interrupting your work caused you to blink slowly, and then you turned your attention towards him, expression meek. “You’re awake? I thought you went to sleep…” “And I thought you would be away from your desk by now.” His reply came with a lift of the brow. SilverAsh set his book beside him before propping himself up on his forearm as you sighed, “I’m almost done, I’ll come to bed soon.”

Unconvinced, the Guard Operator stood from the bed, his height allowing him to make his way towards your desk in just a few strides. You had already picked your pen back up and returned to your papers by the time he set his hands on your shoulders - his touch gentle, but firm.

Before you could shoo him away, SilverAsh lowered his lips to your ear - his snow-coloured hair tickled your cheek and his breath was warm as he spoke in a low, smooth tone that met your ears like melted chocolate, “I must say, my dear…” He met your gaze from the corner of your eye before he continued, “I’ve stayed with you this entire evening, and yet I still find myself longing for you.”

When his gaze met yours, his eyes were warm and serious despite the playful lift of his brow. A quiet apology came from you in reply, one of your hands lifting to rub at your heavy eyelids. Humming in acknowledgment, the Feline’s hands left you momentarily in order to spin your desk chair around before they returned to your shoulders - this time his fingers slid down your arms and took your hands in his own.

You had expected him to gently usher you to bed, but what came instead made your eyes grow wide. In a few swift movements, SilverAsh took your place on your desk chair and pulled you to sit in his lap. A small chuckle left him as your eyes searched for his, surprise on your face; when his name left your lips in question, the Guard Operator tilted his head to the side in fake confusion. “Hah...that surprised look on your face, you amuse me so my dear.” His hands came to hold your waist, “You’re tense. Relax for me...after all, no one is better suited to bring you ease than me, isn't that right?”

His eyes were locked with yours, and with every word he whispered to you, he moved his lips closer to yours. He held this sincere warmth that was meant only for you in his gaze; when you looked carefully enough, a glimmer of desire was there as well. Despite that, SilverAsh patiently waited for your reply, his eyes flicking to your lips for a split second or two in order to silently communicate what he wanted from you.

His affectionate gaze caused some of the tension to fade from your body, and you sighed softly; your voice was almost inaudible when you replied, “That’s right, Enciodas.” There was only a sliver of space left between the both of you - you felt him smile before he muttered, “Very good…”

SilverAsh had been moving so slowly, and yet when his lips finally met yours it was as if all his patience left him; his head tilted in order to kiss you deeper and one of his hands drifted up from your waist to cup your jawline. The air around the both of you became warm, and so you practically melted into him. A few seconds into the kiss, your senses were null - but then it all comes rushing towards you.

Your papers are long forgotten when you lifted your hands from his chest to his hair. SilverAsh hummed gently against your lips as your fingers began combing through the fluffy locks - and when your touch grazed his snow leopard ears they twitched slightly, much to your amusement. You thought about taking a second to comment on it, but the Guard Operator didn't seem to want you to pull away, and so the thought faded quickly.

The Feline’s touch attracted all your focus, it’s so warm it's almost burning - or perhaps you were just flustered because of the close proximity, in all honesty, you were far too distracted by the kiss to tell the difference - and on his lips was the cool taste of peppermint. It was a stark contrast, the mix of hot and cold was so distinctive that you were sure you’d be thinking about it later on; though it was unbeknownst to you, SilverAsh certainly hoped so.

As the kiss came to a close both of you stilled, wordlessly taking in every detail of each other.

For someone who everyone said was ruthless and shrewd, SilverAsh encompassed so much tenderness in moments like these. When it came to you, his hands were so gentle, his voice was so soft, and his gaze was so warm; but no one else would ever be able to understand that side of him, because he reserved it for you and you only.

“E-Enciodas…” When the two of you finally broke away from each other, his name fell from your lips breathlessly. Taking his hand from your waist, he gently ran it up and down your back, “There you are, my dear. Ease up for me.” His soft gaze met yours, and a smile painted his lips when he noticed the rosy blush on your cheeks - you weren't expecting him to act so bold all of a sudden, but you had no complaints. Your head dropped to his shoulder, and he sighed in content as an easing warmth came over his own body. You were always so warm, so soft - he didn't want to ever let go of you.

The kiss had rendered the two of you a little speechless, and so for a while you both sat in serene silence. SilverAsh’s voice cut into the quietness softly after some time, “I apologize, it seems I was rather touch-starved and couldn't handle myself.” You shifted a little in his lap, but didn't say anything in reply. Lifting a brow, the Feline tilted his head in order to whisper into your ear - then your soft snoring met his ears.

He blinked, then a light chuckle came from his lips; you were fast asleep. Well, you had been working all day, so the Guard Operator was glad you were finally resting. If SilverAsh had known a kiss was all it took for you to relax, he would’ve had you asleep hours ago. That was alright, now he knew for next time.

Involuntarily, a grin came to his face as he shut his eyes and let his head rest against yours. Your lips had left a lingering warmth on his own; a warmth that the Feline found comforting, and maybe a little too pleasant. His smile grew - yes, SilverAsh was sure ‘next time’ would be happening quite soon.

EXECUTOR

You really couldn't thank Executor enough for allowing you to come along with him for his mission back at his home country - Laterano was truly breathtaking, from the architecture to the way all the citizens dressed. Considering your position as Rhodes Island’s tactical leader, you understood that accompanying Operators on their missions was a little dangerous and maybe not always necessary, but you had wanted to spend more time with the Sankta so he complied. After all, he could protect you if anything were to go wrong.

The view outside the window you were currently standing before almost felt like a dream. You understood that there was work to be done, and that Executor only agreed to stop at a hotel room because he knew you were both tired from talking around and trying to find intel pertaining to the mission but still - taking the time to relax couldn't hurt.

By the time you both settled into the hotel room, the sun had just begun to set; Executor had explained that it was going to be an uneventful evening, mostly just paperwork and going through flies.

“Doctor,” As cool and steady as always, Executor’s voice cut into your silence - your rapt attention went to him as he approached you, moving into your peripheral vision, “You should take this time to rest. Our work tomorrow begins very early in the morning, and I do not know when we will be able to have a break.” As you turned to face him an appreciative smile came to your lips, “You should rest too, Executor.” A shake of the head came in reply, which wasn't much of a surprise; “Do not worry about me. The Notarial Hall has requested that I complete multiple reports about the work we accomplished today, so I have no room to rest for very long.”

Your smile fell slightly. He had more work to do on top of what had already been assigned to him by Amiya? The Sankta before you took note of your mood shift right away; eyes thoughtful, he blinked for a second then spoke once more in a softer tone, “...However, if you wish for me to take some time to rest with you, then very well.” A little sheepishly, you looked off to the side before admitting that you were concerned with all the work he was deluging himself with. A bit of warmth broke onto Executor’s usually calm, unreadable facial expression as he began to remove his distinctive uniform coat; “I appreciate that. I do not want to cause you to worry over my wellbeing, so I will take some time to rest.”

Pleased, your grin returned - wider this time. The Sniper Operator’s demeanor grew warmer at your visible content. Quiet, he joined you in staring out at the sunset beyond the hotel room window. The air around you two was quiet, serene; but something was pulling on inside your chest, wanting to move closer to Executor. And so, your hand found his, and ever-so-slowly you laced your fingers together. Under your unexpected touch, the Sankta stiffened by a hair. He read something on your face, something that caused him to drop the formalities and call you by the nickname he had started getting used to addressing you as, “Hm...yes, love?”

Too focused on how your hand felt in his, you didn't reply. Instead, you turned to meet his gaze with a soft smile on your lips; a few emotions you couldn't distinguish flashed behind Executor’s eyes for but a split second at the affectionate expression on your face, before the coolness in the blue of his gaze melted into warmth.

His eyebrows furrowed together slightly as he stared back at you, and he opened and closed his mouth a few times before finding his words, “...Please excuse me, I… I cannot read your expression.” Emotions weren’t the Sankta’s strong-suit in any sense, but considering how understanding you had always been towards him, he wasn’t afraid to admit so. Voice just above a whisper, you assured him it was alright and let him know he could come a little closer. His hand remained in yours as he did so, shoulders tight and posture a little tense while his free hand hovered a little awkwardly at your side; you chimed with a light laugh at his behaviour, “It’s okay, you can touch me Executor.”

Executor was a little uncertain, but after a few seconds his hand settled comfortably on your waist and the other squeezed your hand ever-so-gently. Then he admitted to you quietly, “I am unsure on where to put my hands.” You shook your head, “This is perfect, don't worry.” The space between the both of you was barely a sliver as you leaned closer to him, expression still full of affection; his eyes flicked down to your lips, and yours glanced at his. Facial cues were something the Sniper Operator failed to understand, but the warmth balling itself in his chest told him to pull you closer. His mind told him that this wasn't appropriate, that his focus should be on his mission and his work, not on you; but the tugging in both his chest and yours was so intense that there was no use pulling back now.

And so, the Sankta finally broke the silence. “Love?” He paused, debating on whether or not he should speak, before mumbling his words against your mouth slowly, “May I kiss you?” He didn't have to ask - you replied in a small nod and Executor wasted no time closing the space between your lips and his own.

Gentle, careful; those weren’t words the others at Rhodes Island would associate Executor with, and yet that was all that ran through your mind when his lips captured yours. And his lips, they tasted sweet; as if he had just eaten a slice of cake or a spoonful of sugar. It was so stark considering how cold and stoic he appeared, but you couldn’t help but adore it. It was almost poetic - maybe you were the only one who would be able to witness and receive this sweetness from the Sankta.

He leaned into your touch when your hand came to cradle his cheek, and his arm slipped around your waist in order to pull you closer - so close that he was certain you could feel his heartbeat against your chest. But that was what he wanted and you allowed him to do so. Your fingers began running through his hair, pushing the white strands away from his face. Executor almost melting. The Sankta’s usual mechanic mind completely malfunctioned at both your close proximity and touch; every gear jammed and every cog stopped turning.

For Executor, this was so utterly odd. On the battlefield, the Sniper Operator was anything but hesitant; when his gun was in his hands, he knew exactly what to do. But with you - when it was you in his hands, his mind was overcome with uncertainty and all his thoughts became incoherent, all because of you. It always made his chest fill with warmth, it always made his stomach flutter, it always made his heart beat too fast, and yet it always felt so right.

When the Sankta ran out of air, he broke away gently; his eyes slipped open to meet your own as he rested his face in your palm. Your voice was soft against his lips, “Are you okay?” Giving you the softest expression, he unwrapped his arm from your waist so he could hold your hand to his cheek, “Yes love...thank you. This may not make any sense to you, but I feel almost energetic now.” A small chuckle came from you in reply. “You’re welcome, Executor. If you’re feeling so eager, we can get back to work in...just a minute.” Though you said that, you didn't seem to be interested in pulling away, and in all honesty neither was he. Yes, his mission was important; but surely taking a second more to rest with you was okay.

Executor’s gaze observed both you and the surrounding room carefully. You were looking back at him with eyes full of adoration and the most effusive grin, the sun through the window almost caused the rosy flush on your face to glow and was surely glinting off his halo and wings, the sunset-painted room was full of warmth that embraced him like a freshly washed blanket - his heart grew a little more with every detail he took note of.

The Sankta returned back to reality when your head fell on his shoulder and you whispered out a small, sincere confession - “I love you Executor.” His heart leapt and his breath hitched at the three words despite you having said them to him multiple times by then, and as always, he let one of his rare smiles grace his lips and replied right away, not missing a beat: “And I love you - more than I am able to describe.”

Honestly, though he tried as best he could, Executor wasn't sure if those words adequately expressed how thankful he was for you, how much he adored the way the feel of your shared kiss was still on his lips, how badly he wished to hold you and never pull away - but he supposed, if anything, it was enough.

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Crimson Ties (Bela Dimitrescu/Reader, Soulmate AU) Pt. 1

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language and mild medical drama Warnings: Brief depictions of medical treatments for blood loss and its symptoms Genre: Hurt + comfort Summary: Bela has always wondered who her soulmate was, the person she was connected to by red string. When she finally meets them, she's devastated to find them hanging in her basement, being drained of blood. But her soulmate won't die- not if she can do something about it. Notes: Soulmate AU in which people have a red thread tied to their left ring finger (or elsewhere if missing the finger/hand), which connects to their soulmate. By default the string is taut/tight, only getting loose when the pair is relatively close to each other.

1: Stem The Flow

How long had she waited for this day? How long had Bela monitored the red string tied to her hand, waiting for it to be anything other than taut? A decade, at the least, if not two or more. For so long she had dreamt of her soulmate, albeit discreetly, wondering about every facet of their being. Entire days had been spent imagining them, and how they would come into her life. Sometimes, on those days, she would gently tug her end of the thread. Every single time, without fail, her soulmate had returned the motion. It warmed her heart more than she’d ever admit, to know that her excitement was not one-sided.

At times, it did worry her, the feelings in her chest reminding her of her youngest sister. Daniela was obsessed with love, dangerously so, to the point of being downright delusional. More than once her “affections” had gotten their family into some sort of trouble. No matter how mature Bela considered herself to be, there was a part of her that worried about repeating her sister’s mistakes. What if her excitement about her partner led her to overlook something crucial? What if the person in question posed a threat to her family? How easy would it be, then, for her to cut them off?...

Today, perhaps, she would find out.

The sun had set over the Romanian landscape, and with the moon rose the Dimitrescu household. First out of bed, as always, Bela wasted no time in getting dressed. Hazy visions of her fading dreams clouded her mind, tugging on her thoughts as always. Most days they felt more like memories than anything else. Today, they are quieter than usual, easily fading into the background. When the last traces of her grogginess disperse, Bela finds herself glancing at her left hand. It’s a daily habit, although discreet, that always leaves her with bittersweet feelings.

“Wait…” Bela whispered, as her eyes took in the unexpected sight: The red string of fate, tied to her left ring finger, loose as can be. It trails to the ground, coiled a single time, before heading underneath her door. “Am I dreaming?” She does not bother to pinch herself to check. Instead she practically jumps into her shoes, dashing out of her room with unfamiliar glee. Maidens in the hallways have to leap aside to avoid her, but she does not care, for once ignoring the standards her mother had instilled in her. If her sisters could be chaotic, we couldn’t she?

So she follows the thread, eagerly, without even wondering why it was so loose. No, she didn’t think about the implications of the situation. In her mind, it did not matter why her soulmate was finally within her reach, it simply mattered that they were. Soon enough they would be in her arms, safe, with nothing else to bother them. And then she’d be happy, finally having someone she was on equal terms with. Finally having someone to confide in, to cherish, to whisper sweet nothings to in the dead of the night.

She doesn’t hesitate until she finds the string wrapped around the door to the basement. At last the signs click together in her mind, like a conspiracy board bound with crimson ties. Instantly panic replaces whatever excitement she had been feeling. Then she’s abandoning all sense of caution, throwing open the door and rushing forward, dispersing into a swarm to cover more ground. Even if she could no longer see the thread in this form, she was certain that she’d know exactly who her soulmate was when she saw them.

And, well, she does. Something calls her to the far corner of the main room, where a body was suspended from the ceiling by its hands. An all-too-familiar needle was sticking out of the person’s arm, leading down to a large glass container, which was slowly filling with blood. The scent made Bela’s nostrils flare, and her eyes go wide, but she did her best to fight against her instincts. Quickly she gets to her knees, examining the jar to see how full it was. Most of the measurement lines were faded, having been worn out over time, making it harder to estimate the volume. In the end, Bela guessed that the container could fit just over six liters inside. Which meant that the person had lost close to… two and a half. That was bad- behind bad, really. Horrible, actually. Immediately life threatening to the point of having been life threatening before Bela had even woken up.

“Don’t die on me, please,” she half cried half shouted, jumping into action as best as she knew how. Not even bothering to turn the nozzle on the device, she pulls the needle out of her soulmate’s arm, cursing when more blood rushes out of the hole. Then she’s applying pressure, hard as she can, beyond glad that they weren’t awake for this. One hand goes to tear a piece of fabric off of their shirt. Hopefully they wouldn’t mind, all things considered. Next, Bela ties the cloth around the collection point, making less of a tourniquet and more of a generic bandage. “Shit, you need a transfusion, don’t you?... Fuck, fuck, what’s your blood type?”

Knowing that she wouldn’t be getting a verbal answer any time soon, Bela settled for dipping a finger into the jar, bringing it to her lips, and licking. The difference in taste among blood types was subtle, but she was nothing if not a professional at this point. Still, the type is not immediately clear to her, and she knows that she might have to go around licking more blood from other prisoners. Unless… could someone receive a transfusion of their own blood? Such a thing had never happened at the castle before, but there was a first time for everything.

“Hold on, I’ll figure this out, somehow, I promise,” Bela said, gently taking her patient’s hand in her own. Taking your hand.

When you wake, you find yourself among the softest sheets you have ever felt, as if laying on clouds themselves. But your vision is blurred, and your head is besieged by waves of pain. A whimper makes its way past your lips. For a moment all you can do is tense up, unsure of any detail of your situation, unable to discern anything around you. Then you feel a hand on your own, squeezing gently. Something about it sends a rush of comfort throughout your entire body. Still, you are more confused than anything, and you find yourself trying to sit up out of instinct.

Without warning the hand lets you go, only for the owner to shift their weight, climbing on top of you in an instant. They’re holding you down, saying words that don’t quite reach your ears. For how light they are, they manage to put an impressive amount of pressure on you, easily rendering you immobile. Unfortunately, this position does little to ease your anxiety. The last thing you could remember was a very, very tall lady sticking a needle in your arm with a cruel laugh. Based on how you felt, there was still a needle in your arm. But you had been standing, or hanging, before, and now you were on your back.

“Whathe… wha the ‘ell… can’t 'hink,” you muttered, stumbling over your own tongue. Whoever sits on top of you tries to comfort you, running a hand through your hair. “Who are you?” You asked, even though you couldn’t understand a word this person said. Their voice might as well have been in another language, with the way your addled brain processed it. Had you lost too much blood? Or maybe you had a concussion? “I just. I just wanted to meet them. Please, I jus… I just wanna see my soulmate.”

Again, you cannot understand what the person says in response, but they finally seem to understand this. One of their hands reaches out and grabs your left one, slowly tapping your fingers, one by one. When they reach your ring finger, they pause, gently holding it. For a few moments you’re left even more confused. Then, with a surge of warmth in your chest, the dots are connected. Whoever is with you quietly grabs the thread attached to your finger, before tugging gently. In order for them to do that… well, there was only one explanation. They were your soulmate. They were the one you had gone to this accursed castle to meet. Somehow they had saved you, and everything was finally looking up.

Mind clearing slowly, you’re finally able to understand something they- or she, as far as you can tell- say.

“Rest now, my beloved. You are safe in my care, this I promise.”

[coconut-tree-cafe]

Study Notes: Making pacts with demons! Headcanon

This is so nerdy and long and stupid but here it is my dumb headcanon for what being in pacts with the demon bros would be like plus some other pact headcanons (since i love pacts)

(I know some of these things contradict each other, lol especially since MC has pacts with everyone… just imagine they cancel each other out)

General

Making a pact with a demon means a lot of things, but there are two types of powers in a human/demon pact.

Direct power refers to immediate and physical power over the demon and includes; summoning, power redistribution, and commands

Indirect power refers to gradual and intangible power that influences both the human and demon and includes; mental and physical influence, uniform life influences and telepathy

A powerful bond vs. a weak bond between the human and demon shows in the pact immensely, the two in a pact must be very close for the pact to be up to its full potential. 

Those in a powerful pact can read each other's minds, have a general sense of where the other is and what they are doing

The pact mark that is formed on both parties' physical bodies is only visible when the pact is being invoked/used.

A human in a human/demon pact is less susceptible to that demon's powers. 

Lucifer

You don’t make a pact with Lucifer, Lucifer makes a pact with you.

Although you have control over him with commands he has far more influence on you than you do him

He is very old and very powerful, a normal human wouldn’t even be able to handle being in  a pact with him. Not that they’d ever have the chance to be in one with him

You will find yourself to be more confident, you’ll be more assertive and pragmatic

If you were ever getting messed with at school by lower level demons, you won’t be anymore. Either by the change in your general air or if you were messed with while in a pact with Lucifer those demons' lives are over.

You will now have the energy of people who are described as having an ‘old soul.’

Even if you were in an intimate relationship with Lucifer before forging a pact with him, the way he treats you afterwards is far different.

He will be far more possessive as well as far more lenient with you. He understands you on a deeper level with a pact, and finds it easier to forgive you for any rule breaking.

The biggest benefit of having Lucifer in a pact is having one of the strongest fallen angels known to man in your arsenal, and he will back you up till the end of time.

Mammon

Ironically, you will find a lot of material possessions coming your way and just a general luck with money.

You’ll have more luck gambling, be better at bartering and finding deals (insert Skyrim level up noise)

You may notice you’re craving materials and money however

Mammon wastes no time telling every crow friend of his how much he likes you, and word spreads fast

If you’re ever alone outside you will always have a crow friend nearby to keep you company

They also bring you little goodies, the same way they bring things to Mammon

Mammon is also extraordinarily generous with you, he puts you first in every decision he makes. He makes sure you eat first, you sit down before him, you get the first share of everything. 

You will find yourself thinking about him more than often. This is mostly because you are always on his mind and through the pact you share similar thoughts. 

To your surprise, you also find yourself endowed in a veil of humility in every action you make. Mammon’s good nature rubs off on you.

Leviathan

Levi’s pact has more of an impact on him than it does on you. He will begin to be more and more like you, however you may be.

He will reflect your emotions of that day, not enough to abandon his own agency but if you’re in a particularly good mood then he will have a little pep in his step as well.

You will find yourself having razor sharp focus, like Levi. Through the power of envy or some other force you will be able to power through things for hours on end just to complete them.

Along with your enhanced concentration on things you work on, you also become more keen to others mannerisms around you. You may find yourself noticing insignificant motions people make more, what you think of them is up to you. 

Cue you and Levi gaming for 12 hours straight.

You get more competitive and more materialistic as well. 

In terms of physical attributes, you can hold your breath underwater for longer and you need less time awake to function but you also get cold more easily. 

Satan

Ever have the need to read a book before? Because you better be prepared for that.

Since your emotions are linked in a way, when he wants to sit down and read so do you. And he does that a lot

You may find yourself learning things a bit faster than usual, if it took you 3 or 4 reads to memorize something now it will take 1 or 2.

You can read faster and comprehend more as well as apply the knowledge you gained to your real life more easily.

Because you are now tethered to Satan, and Satan is tethered to Lucifer’s emotions, you understand Lucifer a little bit better. (Unless you are already in a pact with Lucifer)

Satan is a hard book to read (lol) but when you forge a pact with him you find it much easier to tell what he’s thinking.

As a virtue of being in a pact with Satan you now feel much more passionate about things.

Like Satan himself, passion is at his very core so you definitely feel that.

But, along with that you also are easily annoyed by things that you’d normally be indifferent about.

If you get angry you find it MUCH harder to control yourself physically, you may throw things or bang your fist on a table. 

Reach out to Satan to help you control your anger, as he has already learned how. But it will always be an uphill battle for both of you.

Asmodeus

You will now have a greater ability to understand others emotions. Through their eyes, the way they are moving their hands or swaying on their feet you can read them like a book.

You also find it easier to empathize with those emotions.

On top of that you have a greater appreciation for physical beauty, almost everyone you meet is appealing to you in one way or another because you can see their beauty (at least what feels like more than before).

Your natural appeal will increase, you may find yourself surrounded by more people than normal just by virtue of being so approachable and attractive in spirit and body.

Be prepared to be a bit more excitable than before. People will respond to your charisma more and you respond to theirs more. 

If you are someone who feels lust then you will for sure be feeling a lot more sexually driven, at least more than usual.

Your skin is also very clear from here on out

Beelzebub

You might expect to be more hungry, but that’s not the case. You feel the same as you did before but when you eat you always feel like you can have more. 

You can feel full but that doesn’t stop you from being able to eat more. 

For some reason as soon as you forge a pact with Beel he dotes on you A LOT. Expect a lot of physical affection.

You will probably be the only person he would share his food with, except maybe Belphie. 

Beel may seem a little dense sometimes but he has the most empathy of any of the brothers. 

You in turn will feel the grief and sorrow of the brothers as well as their collective happiness when you enter a pact with Beel.

Beel is like a rock, he’s stable and secure and very steadfast in his emotions. Of course he’s passionate (about food) but he is overall very mentally mature and down to Earth.

This will be reflected in you when you forge a pact with him, you find it easier to maintain a level head even during situations that you ordinarily would be a bit riled up by. 

Belphegor

Two words. Vivid dreams.

The same night you enter a pact with Belphegor you will undergo what feels like life-like dreams and not the mention they are long

They are numerous and intense, but if Belphegor likes you he will ensure that they are pleasant and relaxing. You will get a good night's rest every night, Belphie makes sure of it.

Belphegor is like Beel in that he’s calm, he’s a simple guy with simple desires.

However, if Beel is to be described as calm then Belphie is to be described as indifferent, which rubs off on you. 

A negative to a pact with Belphie is that things you may have felt passionate about before you feel slightly less so.

You won’t necessarily feel more tired, you just sleep longer and way harder than normal

Making a pact with a human is very serious to Belphie, you have to mean a lot to him so expect a powerful and intense pact

[writingtoforgetreality]

Stockholm Syndrome (Helmut Zemo x Reader)

[Marvel-Masterlist]

Summary: During the fight with the Dora Milaje in his safe-house, Zemo made an exit. But not alone. For inexplicable reasons, he dragged you along. Probably because he wanted to mess with Sam & Bucky. Would the Baron kill you? Or worse?

Words: 4,083

Warnings: language, angst, fluff (?), kidnapping, spoilers for TFATWS, (Let’s put the angsty shit in this part & the fun stuff in the second one.), (Y/E/C) = your eye color, REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

If you like my work & wanna support me: a coffee would be highly appreciated ❤

The fight in front of you held your entire attention. Eyes focused on moving bodies, kicking, punching their way through. While you were not inexperienced when it came to battling, you preferred holding back. Bruises were not necessarily your favorite. Not these kind of bruises at least. All your ears could make out was the grunting radiating from the combat. Hence why the movements behind you stayed inconspicuous. Only when a cloth pressed against your nose & you had no choice but to breathe in, did you notice the jeopardy of the situation. Darkness enveloped you. The last thing you perceived was a dark silhouette picking you up. As much as you wanted to fight back, to defend yourself, it was impossible. All strength had dissipated. Whatever was happening, you hoped you would wake up again. This could not be how you died. You would not die.

Pain woke you up. But you were not hurt. At least that was what you remembered. Then it came to you. Someone had kidnapped you. If your eyes did not open soon, you would regret it later. Heavy eyelids slowly opened. Though it took many attempts to keep them that way. You scanned the room. There were no windows, no light which would have made that task easier. It took a few minutes to adjust to the obscureness. And once you did, you found yourself as perplexed as before. No restraints were obstructing your motions. Technically, you could up & leave. But it was never that simple, was it? The door was opposite of you. Your muscles were still sore. The act of standing up & waltzing over seemed like too much effort for you. The bleakness of the wall your back rested against was a more welcomed sensation. Your knees scooted closer to your chest. Arms raking around them, you hugged yourself. Hoping it would bring you a bit of comfort. Your brain failed to work properly. Because you were stumped. Who could have possibly seized you? Walker was busy getting his ass kicked. Lemar imitated his partner, pretty much. Sam ordered Bucky to help out & went into the battle right after. And Zemo was… Yeah, where the hell was Zemo during all of that? If you recalled correctly, he held a drink in his hand. Like you, he kept away from the fight. And then? You were aware that the Baron was not a saint. Neither were you. But you did not believe he would pull something like that. Then again, it was Zemo. Nobody knew his next step. Nobody but himself. Your foot tapped a rhythm on the cold, grey pavement. Usually, when your anxiety acted up, you distracted yourself. Fiddling with your hands or bouncing your legs. Something you could focus on that was not life threatening to your mind. The unknown beat managed to calm you down the slightest. Whoever held you hostage would be back soon. Your gut feeling told you so much.

Maybe you dosed off again. Because your body flinched when a creak reached your ears. Quickly, you looked around for possible threats. The only thing that had changed was the door sitting ajar. Only a diminutive gap. It was noticeable due to the light illuminating the room. There was no piece of furniture which meant that nobody lived here. It resembled a cell. But even cells had a bed, a chair. Something. The room turned dim again but only for a second. A shadow, you figured. Your captivator was here. So close, in fact, goosebumps erupted. A chill ran down your spine. This single interaction could modify your imprisonment. You still needed time to consider a successful escape plan. Which meant that you needed to observe the person keeping you here. Movies displayed such situations more than once. It was manageable. If they decided to show themselves & reveal their identity. Your eyes fell to the boots first. Black or a dark brown that was not detectable due to the lack of brightness. Next were the pants. Black again. The end of a coat came into view. Dark grey, almost anthracite. Your thoughts instantly went to one person. You could be mistaken. He was not the only one with a coat like that. Your gaze flickered up to his hands. The leather gloves were proof enough. Your (Y/E/C) eyes locked onto his brown ones. There was no shock written over your features. After all, deep down, you awaited this sight to be met with. As much as you wanted to withhold it, your eyes rolled & the sigh that left your lips was one of pure exhaustion. Zemo never made a secret out of it. His dislike for you started off the moment he first laid his eyes on you. From then on, it only seemed to increase steadily. You were a simple person. If someone treated you like shit, you returned that favor with pleasure & ten times worse.

“You are awake.” he stated the obvious after his frame entered through the doorway.

“Pretty sure I’m still dreaming.” you replied sarcastically, your elbows propping onto your knees. A smirk formed at the corners of his mouth. Whatever you said, it was the wrong thing.

“You dream about being locked inside a small cell? And I make an appearance as well? This does sound problematic, (Y/N). Nothing I would not be able to help you with.” he enjoyed this. Disgust made itself shown onto your face.

“Yeah? How could you possibly help me with that?” it took you a second to fully realize what you said. Immediately, you corrected yourself. “You know what? I don’t even wanna know.” your head rested in your hands, slightly embarrassed by turning this conversation awkward. Maybe it would have been more convenient if you just kept quiet. Zemo chuckled shortly but did not comment on it again.

“I assume you wonder why you are here.” the Baron observed your small frame on the floor. It was easy to recognize how uncomfortable you were.

“Your assumption might be correct.” your head tilted upwards, trying to hide the fear. Burying it deep down. You needed to think clearly so you could escape him.

“Would you like me to declare your purpose?” he questioned, eyebrows raising.

“Enlighten me, Baron.” you wasted no time with your reply. Maybe you imagined it but you could have sworn that his muscles tensed up when you called him by his title. You were the weaker one here so you kept your jokes at bay.

“I have no desire to get involved with the Wakandans. A getaway is more enjoyable with a suitable associate.” his hands gestured & you fathomed the seriousness behind his words.

“Oh, so that’s what I am now? An associate? Could’ve sworn I was your enemy. Improvement, I guess.” you focused on a lighter spot that interrupted the evenly dark color of the cement wall.

“I never declared you my enemy. That is solely your imagination.” Zemo stared at you but you would not give him the satisfaction of holding eye contact with him. He did not deserve it.

“I prefer my imagination then.” you stated & earned another chuckle from the Baron.

“Our departure is soon.” he let you know & left you alone once again. Great, so he did have a plan for you. But it did not seem like he wanted to murder you brutally. Basically, you could do nothing. The lock of the door clicked. No way out of this room. And your cellphone was no longer with you. He probably removed it from you while you were unconscious.

The drug Zemo had you breathe in really affected you. Tiredness rushed through you still. Falling asleep once again was inevitable. A steady, loud noise stirred you from your slumber. When your eyes opened, the chair you were seated in felt familiar. Your surroundings were not new to you. It was Zemo’s private jet. No sight of him. No sight of Sam & Bucky. The only company was the engine of the small plane, creating a ringing in your ears. Surprisingly, you were well rested. Your sleep schedule was messed up. On a good day, you slept for three hours. On a normal day, though, you were lucky if the dreamland even invited you in. Did that mean that you should thank Zemo? For drugging you? Your gratitude could stay inside, for now. It was kind of embarrassing to admit that you had enough rest because of him stunning you. All it would do was feeding his ego. He had enough of that already. Would it be clever to hop out of a plane that was thousands of feet in the air? A clever suicide mission, maybe. Zemo would not harm you. If he truly wanted to, you would be a ghost already. Where was he anyway? Certainly, he would not leave your side after kidnapping you. A look down your lap confirmed what you had feared. The trembling of your hands was noticeable. Almost worse than usual. If push came to shove, you could defend yourself perfectly fine. The Baron did not strike you as a fighter type of guy. Sure, he could handle a gun. In reality, the one thing he could really handle was his alcohol. If you had been in a cell for almost ten years, you would not be able to cope with this world either. Now that you were thinking about it...when was Zemo not drinking? Ever since you guys had teamed up, he had taken every chance to get some liquor into his system.

“How are you feeling?” a voice startled you. The cause of it was your dear captivator. His strut brought him over to you, taking a seat right opposite of you. Plopping down onto the soft cushion with a sigh, he intertwined his fingers in front of his chest. His chin rested on the back of them. The intensity with which he eyed you was unsettling. Your body curled together, shifting away from his rigid glance. The man in front of you frowned. Never before had you behaved that way. Usually, you were sarcastic, humorous. Your current state was uncommon. The fight or flight instinct kicked in. If you played by his rules, the cards were on your side. So the only natural thing was to answer him.

“Okay.” it was short but the tone held much meaning.

“Okay is not good.” he mumbled quietly, though you could still make out his words. The clouds outside of the window you were sitting next to looked like cotton. Smooth, soft. Perfect if you wanted to jump in. The sunset colored the sky in various, bright hues. A phenomenon. That was something that had always fascinated you. “Astonishing, is it not?” the silence broke when he spoke up yet again. You nodded, still gazing outside.

“We will arrive soon.” another voice joined you. The startle from your side could not be stopped. You hated how jumpy you were. Especially during such a situation. The strong, independent woman you usually were was gone. Right now, you were like a little girl, awaiting punishment for misbehavior. Apparently, the Baron was a mind reader because he soothed your worries immediately.

“You did nothing wrong, if that is one of your concerns.” he started. His eyes then flickered to the other man on the private jet. “Thank you, Oeznik.” small smiles were exchanged between the two of them. The assistant disappeared through a door again. Zemo being the only company left.

“Where are we going?” you had to know.

“Somewhere safe. Where nobody can locate me.” as his eyes met yours, he finished. “Us.” your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. His explanation was not helpful at all. You were still left in the dark. Your destination was unknown but he assured you that you would be safe. Zemo would never lie about something so significant. This bugging feeling was still present. If he did not tell you more about the location, maybe he could elucidate this.

“Why me? Why, out of everyone, did you kidnap me?” slight anger was behind your eyes but one could only notice if they looked precisely. The Baron’s head tilted. In amusement, you guessed. His forming smile held a hint of another emotion you could not quite identify.

“Kidnapping is such a harsh word, don’t you think?” was it mockery you could hear? “I believe there is no need for us to repeat our previous conversation. I told you why you’re here.” he stood up from his seat, dragging his body to the very end of the plane. There, he picked up two small glasses. The liquid of the half empty bottle of scotch poured a good amount in both of them. Evidently, one for him & one for you. His hand stretched out towards you & he offered you the drink. You eyed it suspiciously. While you were not one for drinking alcohol, maybe it would assist to calm your nerves. In the end, you reached for it, touching his hand in the process. The skin contact sent an unintended chill down your spine. Goosebumps were forming. The pit of your stomach felt odd. Never before had you experienced such a sensation. Though, & you had to admit that, it was everything but unpleasant. Your body language spoke louder than you would have liked. And it did not go unnoticed by the man in front of you. To avoid an awkward tension, he decided against commenting on your body’s reaction.

The first sip made you wince. A burning sensation washed down your throat. The Baron handled his alcohol way better than you did, that much was obvious. Unfortunately, the liquor did not numb your anxiety right away. The effect was awaited but luck was not on your side. Would it be rude to ask for another drink? The downside was not realizing how strong it was. If you got wasted then Zemo could take advantage of your state. Depended on how he defined taking advantage of you. The conversation that had died down for a while was resurrected. This time, it was you. This shocked not only you but also him.

“I don’t like you.” you stated monotonously.

“I am aware.” he chuckled, taking a sip of his drink.

“You don’t like me either.” one of your eyebrows raised.

“An incorrect assumption.” his hands gestured to emphasize his words. You rolled your eyes, throwing your arms up in frustration.

“A freaking obvious fact.” you breathed out, falling back into your chair. The softness caressed you tenderly. A hum left you & your previous desperation was replaced by some sort of relaxation. Why did your emotions change so quickly? One moment, you were scared. The next, you were furious. Then, you untightened. All in the presence of the man who had kidnapped you.

“What is going through your mind right now?” seemed like he was eager to talk to you. Comfortable silence with Baron Zemo was not possible. It was either awkward or not quiet at all. Your head snapped into his direction. He was deep in thought. Occupied with whatever his mind came up with.

“I-I don’t know.” you were being honest. Spending more time with him meant no lies. At least not about such things. The next question came naturally. “What about you?” one corner of his lips lifted slightly. The first step in the right direction. Deep down, Zemo was aware that you did not exactly hate him. Liking him would be too far but at least, you tolerated him. Accepted his presence.

“I am quite fond of bringing you with me. Sam & James are irritating. Helpful but irritating. You are a delight to be around.” he confessed & you had the urge to call him out on his ridiculous behavior.

“Sounds fake but alright…” your annoyance was audible.

“I beg your pardon?” he abandoned his glass, placing it on the small table nearby. Elbows propped onto his knees & his upper body leaned forward, closer to you. But not close enough to make you feel uncomfortable.

“Ever since we met, we’ve been arguing non-stop. This is the first normal conversation between us.” your fingers pointed to him & then to you, signaling what you were talking about.

“Arguments are not an indicator for antipathy.” Zemo explained.

“Oh, they’re not?” the sarcasm was more than obvious. “What then?”

“They are concealing true emotions, burying your urges deep within.” casually spoken, as if he had prepared this exact speech multiple times before.

“My urges?” you questioned, making fun of his statement.

“Indeed.” he wore a winning smile & you hated the effect it had on you.

“Sure.” you chuckled, shaking your head in disbelief. “My only urge is to punch yo-“ both of your heads turned into the direction of Oeznik who unknowingly interrupted your conversation.

“We’re here.” he claimed, nodding briefly, & left you alone again. By the way his face changed, he looked like he was sorry for bothering the two of you. Truthfully, you were glad that he joined you because without him, you would have said something regrettable.

Paris. He dragged you to France. If your situation were any different, you would have felt excited to be here. Before you exited the private jet, Zemo threatened you. If you had the glorious idea to speak up before you arrived at your destination, you would regret it later. Basically, you thought he would kill you. Of course you had no clue that the Baron would never hurt you in any way. After all, you were a victim of his kidnapping. Whether he called it that or not. The small alleyways were decorated with narrow buildings sitting next to each other. The cobblestone street underlined the atmosphere perfectly. Eyes wide, you were overwhelmed by the impression of the beauty of the sweet town. When one of his hands reached for yours, you did not even flinch back. Because, if you were honest, it felt good. Your intertwined fingers brought you warmth. A feeling that spread out through your entire body. Sparks, almost like the beginning of a firework, started forming. The sun shone brightly. Your eyes closed contently. Hence why you did not notice Zemo watching your every move. He reminisced your features closely. The sunlight brought out the beauty of you in a way that was worth remembering. Your body sensed something. It was in your nature when someone stared at you. Carefully, your eyes opened, showing the (Y/E/C) colors that glowed almost mysteriously in the light. Warm brown ones locked onto yours. The two of you exchanged an honest, almost shy smile.

“What?” your head tilted to the side, observing his face. Looking for a sign. Any sign. But Zemo was a clandestine guy. It was almost impossible to look through him. Something inside you took that as a challenge. Maybe you could make his walls come crashing down. Maybe you were the one to change him. Wait. Why were your thoughts running down that road? He was the person to take you away from your friends. The sympathy that started building up was wrong. That much you knew. Resisting felt like a tough task. What did he say during the flight? Something about pushing down your urges. This was the first time you understood the meaning.

If you thought the town was pretty then the apartment you entered was stunning. It was on the top floor. Spacious, furnished in a minimalist way. Overly white, accentuated with colorful artwork. Special pieces to complete the look of it. It screamed expensive. The process of taking everything in took a few minutes. It was overstraining. In the best way possible. You should screw down your excitement. After all, you were part of an incredibly dangerous situation. But you let his touch linger on your skin. Just for a fraction longer. If you really wanted to, you could have retreated. Something told you that Zemo would not have forced you to hold onto him. That thought alone calmed you down a little further. Technically, he was not a stranger. Throughout the missions you had performed together, with Sam & Bucky, you two had become acquainted with. You were associates, apparently. And associates were not supposed to fear one another. Then again, associates would not kidnap each other. Your body was overthrown with mixed signals. Unknown what was wrong & what was right. Your friends would probably describe you as insane, reckless. Maybe you were. Maybe the last few weeks had formed you into a different type of person. That type who sympathized with a criminal. With a criminal who broke out of a high security jail. Since when had criminals become your type? And why were you starting to think in a very friendly, almost amorous way? Looked like you really were insane.

Who would have thought the Baron to be an excellent chef? Definitely not you. But here he was, preparing a meal for you. This was actually pretty sweet of him. His body behind the stove & his eyes focused on the task. It was a sight for sore eyes. Only, of course, if he were not Zemo you were referring to. While he cooked, you set the table. He assured you that you did not have to but it felt like the right thing to do. It was the least you could do. What were you even saying? He kidnapped you, for God’s sake. Your body, your emotions, should be damned.

“Is this something you do often?” Zemo’s question caught you off guard. For a moment, you halted in your tracks. Cutlery was being put down. A deep breath left your mouth.

“What?” your bewildered expression made him chuckle. Funny to watch your perplexity.

“Living in your head more than in the present.” his proclamation cut through the tension.

“I…um, haven’t realized that, actually.” you answered awkwardly. Your hand raised to the back of your head, resting behind your ear.

“You do. When spending time with Sam & James. And now. It is quite entertaining.” he eyed you closely. It made you slightly uncomfortable.

“Why?” your curiosity got the best of you. That was nothing new. Even before he brought you here, your nosiness was on of your more obvious characteristics.

“Because the light in your eyes shifts. You are more at ease. Not to forget your smile…” Zemo trailed off at the end of his sentence, voice a little softer than usual.

“What about my smile?” you really were curious. Would it be in your favor or not? There was only one way to figure that out.

“It differs from when you are actively engaged in a conversation. The corners of your mouth lift in a softer way. No hesitation or restriction.” he finished, his sparkling brown eyes meeting yours. Due to the embarrassment, you could not keep eye contact. So you averted your gaze, facing the almost empty plate in front of you.

“You talk like you’ve known me forever.” your whispers were almost missed. The tone so quiet, even your racing heart was louder.

“I am simply skilled at reading people. You facilitate that process, actually.” every single word he spoke made so much sense that it almost did not make sense anymore. There was no other way to describe it.

“I do? How?” your constant short questions were amusing to him. On one hand, you wanted to distance yourself from him as much as possible. On the other hand, you inquired every single time he finished talking.

“I assume it is because you do not fear opening up to me & letting me in.” people who did not know your history would have believed you two had been friends for years. By the way he discerned the small, almost unnoticeable details about you. Details you did not even know existed in the first place.

“You assume an awful lot, Baron.” you teased, eyes moving to his face gingerly.

“Tell me I’m wrong.” but you could not. Because it would have been a lie. A smirk made its way onto his face when you did not give him a reply. Unintentionally, you mimicked his expression. He had you. Right here, he had you. And he was not the only one aware of the shift in the situation. You were just as deep in it as he was. It was a game with fire. Who would get burned in the end?

~to be continued~

Published (04/28/2021) by Cathy

Tags: @yallgotkik, @noavengers, @lieutenantn, @birdieofloxley, @aisling1985, @trelaney, @hiddlestoner-cumberbitch, @msmarvelsmain, @friday18eo, @crackerjackharkness, @waiting-for-motivation, @obsessedwithfandomsx, @friday18eo, @bibliophilewednesday, @princess-yuna, @trenton007, @pedropascallovebot, @your-lovers-heart, @stressedoutsteph (thanks for your support <3)

[calumxkisses]

Dancing In The Sky | a.i.

pairing: ashton irwin x reader

genre: fluff to angst

warnings: death (not main characters)

summary: request - Hi!!! It’s very morbid but, I really want one with ash or cal, where they’re in one of the boys house just the boys and their girls, and then the reader receive a call in the middle of the conversation telling someone in her family is dead and she just in shock and she tells them, and the he hugs her and she breaks!!! Thanks

a/n: recently my granny had to be rushed to the hospital and i thought i was going to lose her - luckly it didn't happen. i felt this request particularly close. i always say 'i love you' to my grandma before hunging up on the phone (we live pretty far away from each other) and i thought about what would happen if i forgot to say it, not knowing it would be for the last time. i'm sorry to anyone of you if this triggers you. i love you.

you should read this imagine while listening to: before you go

➳

The light coming in from the window on your right illuminates the whole room, it’s late afternoon but the sun shines almost as if it were noon. The scorching heat has now passed, there is a breeze that cools the air and spreads the scent of the grill in the garden, alternating the scent of grilled vegetables and steaks throughout the house. The pool water is still moving, the inflatable flamingo is wedged near the pool stairs and you can still see the tracks of Michael's wet feet near the diving board.

Halsey's songs are repeated at a low volume, but the guys sing them out loud and a smile forms on your face as you see how they are always ready to support their friends, not only publicly with tweets or instagram stories, but also in private, enjoying music like normal people do.

You hold onto the sweatshirt Ashton gave you as you grab your cell phone from the sofa and put it in your shorts pocket. Your hair is still wet from the shower you just took and it’s leaking few drops of water as you head outside, where your friends are starting to set the table for dinner.

You don't know how it happened, you have vague memories, but you feel grateful to have them around you, to have the opportunity to consider them as a second family, to be able to hug them and to be able to laugh with them. It is a fortune that not everyone has and you make sure you don't waste this opportunity.

“Honey!” Ashton yells, shaking his hand up and looking at you with an amused look. A few tufts of hair fall in front of his face and with one hand he tries to move them back, only to find them in front of his eyes again. His swimsuit is now dry, his chest is red from staying under the sun all day but his tattoos still manage to stand out in the tan and a huge smile covers his face.

Seeing him so happy, confident, at peace with his mind and in love with life, warms your heart and you almost feel like crying of joy in seeing him like this.

You wiped his tears, hugged him under the covers and held him a million times as his demons took over, when mirrors became enemies and food scared him.

You turned off his cell phone every time he read comments about his body and spent sleepless nights keeping him company while he vented his frustration by playing the drums.

You held out your hand to him while accompanying him in his battle against himself, you kissed him as he went through hell and his joy was worth every single tear.

You are proud of him, of the way he went back to wearing his favorite t-shirts and of the way he has come to love all his flaws, even though you're still sure he doesn't even have one.

As you leave the house, a cool breeze passes through your hair and you instinctively close your eyes to be able to appreciate the moment of coolness in the terrible heat of the last few days.

When you open your eyes, amazement takes over your body: the sky is not simply blue like the water in the pool you've been in all afternoon, but pink and orange clouds cover it completely; the sun hides behind them, tinges the sky with more intense colors and you feel your soul leave your body at the sight of so much beauty.

The sunset is so mesmerizing that you don't even feel the need to pick up your phone and take a picture of it, it's so beautiful that you're sure not even the best cameras would be able to capture such a marvel.

It’s a pink and orange sunset, bigger clouds are the backdrop to smaller more intense colors and the skyline of the city is slowly tinged with black, the lights of the buildings begin to see each other more and the world slows down as it prepares for the quietest hours.

The sunset arouses familiar, nostalgic, certainly not typical emotions in you; it’s so beautiful that you feel like you are living a dream, you pinch your arm lightly to make sure you are awake but Ashton's laugh reminds you that it is reality and, with that melody in the background, you understand that the difference between dream and reality is not that big.

And even if it were a dream, you know that dreaming never hurt anybody.

As the sunset surrounds you in a warm hug, a small white butterfly begins to flutter around you, spinning around and bringing a smile to your lips. The insect is small, but in the orange sky it stands out in an important way, making you feel like a Disney princess. You stretch your hand up, raising your forefinger and inviting the little butterfly to lean on it and, without fear, it leans on it, resting its wings and showing itself even more beautiful than you thought.

It’s white but at the corners of its wings it has black spots, its gaze seems to be directed towards you as its antennae move delicately. A sense of awe and wonder makes its way inside of you and you slowly bring the butterfly closer to you so you can admire it better, noticing how safe it continues to feel with you.

“Is everything alright?” Sierra asks as she sets the plates on the table, she's too busy to notice how you seem to be in symbiosis with the butterfly.

“Yeah.” You whisper while the insect continues to stay on your finger, motionless, leading you to feel a sense of peace in the moment you are living.

Suddenly, while the blue sky is giving its space to the dark night, the butterfly takes off and, after making another turn around you, heads towards the sky and merges with the lights of the stars.

You walk back to your friends, still confused about what just happened, and you see Michael trying to move the fire bowl to the corner of the pool. “Mike, if I were you I'd be more careful, you're not the luckiest person when it comes to fire.” You smile and you hear your friends laughing out loud as a grin appears on Michael's face.

“Don't worry, Crystal has seen enough tv shows about doctors to know what to do if I get burned again.” He replies looking at his girlfriend and laughing.

“Shut up and come here,” Crystal responds by pretending to be offended. “Dinner’s ready.” her lips try to hold back the smile that is forming on her face.

You sit on your boyfriend's lap while Luke sets the meat on the plates and Sierra pours the beer into your glass. Ashton pushes your hair to the side and kisses you on the neck, giving you goosebumps and getting winks from his friends.

“You’re terrible.” he replies while looking at them and squeezing his hands on your lap, his head resting on your back while he rolls his eyes and smiles. Everyone burst out laughing and the sound of their laughter still feels like the most beautiful melody to you.

As you are about to take your first bite, your phone starts ringing and vibrating inside the pocket of your shorts. You put your fork down and stand up, being careful not to trip over Ashton's feet as he gives you a questioning look. You give him a kiss on his head and you go away slightly from your group so you can hear better.

Your mother's voice is low as you bring the phone to your ear, a smile forms on your face to hear the sound of her voice but the world collapses on you a few seconds later, when her words become understandable while she cries.

The conversation is short-lived, it is mostly made up of your mother's sobs and words you never wanted to hear. Your mouth opens slightly and your heart seems to stop. And when she closes the call, you have a hard time figuring out if you are having a nightmare or if you are still in reality.

“Was that your lover on the phone?” Calum smiles as you stare at your phone screen as soon as you hang up the call. You look up and see everyone's gaze on you as your eyes start to pinch.

“It was my mother,” you take a deep sigh as you try to find the courage to speak. “My grandmother died a couple of hours ago. She's gone and-” and the words die in your mouth.

Your friends' smiles quickly transform as their brows rise and their eyes lose their light. Crystal is the first to hug you, in less than a second her arms are around you but it's all so surreal that you can't even find the strength to move your body. You hear whispers, but your ears are muffled as Ashton takes the place of your best friend and holds you close to his chest, kissing your hair and whispering words of comfort.

It all happens so fast that you struggle to metabolize, it seems to you that the whole world has stopped or is going too fast, it is hard to try to understand as your mind repeats your mother's words all over again.

You talked to your grandmother the day before, you described to her the weather and you told her all the projects you had in mind, including going to see her as soon as possible. She had told you some stories from her past because she knew how much you loved hearing stories from other times and then you said goodbye to her in a hurry because someone had rang the doorbell.

You didn't tell her you loved her and your heart breaks even more at the realization that she left without knowing the affection you felt for her.

Did she know you loved her? Did she know that she was the most important person to you? Did she know you were grateful for all the sacrifices she had made to make you happy? Did she know you were proud of her? Did she know you loved the way she kissed your hands? Did she know how much you cared about her? Or did she pass wondering if you loved her?

If that were the case, you would never forgive yourself.

Part of you, however, is aware that behind those wrinkles and trembling hands, there were years of wisdom and intelligence and that, even when she was sick, she knew that you loved her unconditionally.

You still remember how she was the one who taught you to ride a bike when your parents were too busy working, how her hunched back bent even more as she pushed you along the street outside your childhood house, letting you go on your own when you learned, while still lying to you about how her hands were attached to the bike, to make you feel protected.

You certainly still remember the way she bragged about you, how she proudly used to tell all the ladies at the grocery store that you were her niece, her greatest joy and the best gift she ever received.

And, if you close your eyes and focus, you can still feel the warmth of the old fireplace in her home, of her hands holding yours while your face was resting on her shoulder. You can still hear the sound of burning wood, of her sweet voice singing melodies belonging to past eras while, between one verse and another, her lips kissed your head and whispered words of love.

Most of all, you have memories of how her arms wrapped around your little body when there was a thunderstorm, when the screams inside your house got too loud and when you saw her again after weeks, with your hearts coming back to beat in unison and your lungs beginning to breathe again.

Now that she is gone, who would be by your side? Who would teach you to cook and sew?

You would no longer hear her heart beating when you leaned against her chest, you would no longer hear the sound of her breaths when you slept next to her, you would no longer wake up with the smell of the flowers she grew and, above all, her dry, wrinkled lips would no longer whisper “I love you” to you.

All the fights, all the moments when you were bothered by her calls and all your snorting about the boredom of being with her bring a pang to your heart that tastes of guilt and arrogance, of shame and wasted moments that won't come back.

She was now gone, her heart had beaten for the last time and her eyes had stopped shining and the more time passes, the more her absence starts to hurt.

While your friends are around you to not leave you alone and Ashton hugs you tightly while caressing your hair, everything seems to start to make sense: the butterfly that just moments before had leaned on your hand, the sunset so beautiful and intense - she was there, she was giving you her last goodbye with all the delicacy possible.

She was reassuring you that she will always be there for you, that she will be in the sunsets under which you will fall asleep and that she will be the butterflies that will fly around in the sky, to reassure you that everything’s gonna be alright.

And with this new certainty and a weight in your chest that will slowly go away, you let yourself go, the tears begin to roll down your face and the sobs echo in the silence of the evening, as the stars light up the sky and God gains a new angel.

Ashton knows it won't be easy, that it will be months before that pain will become more bearable and that family lunches and dinners will be harder, that that empty chair around the table will be a stab in the heart every time.

But he also knows that you are strong, that you will be able to overcome everything, that sadness will turn into a smile when you’ll remember her and that, whatever happens, in a way or another, he will always be there next to you, just like your grandma used to be.

—

[oitommothetease]

Invisible String (15/15)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female reader (Modern AU)

Word Count: 3.2k words

Warning : fluff, smut, Steve being nice for once, mention of assault, healthy communication, drinking, Bec is Bucky’s sister - Rebecca, talk about therapy, fucking on a dressing table, I added the link for the dressing table so it could be easier to imagine lol

Both of you were far from okay, Bucky knew that. You needed time and energy to put in this relationship, and Bucky would patiently wait and giddily put in the work required. 

Just like last time all those months ago, Bucky prepared a plate of fruits with juice for you. If you'd let him in your life, then one thing was sure — you were never having that damn coffee for breakfast. How did you even survive? Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, and Bucky was baffled when he found out you functioned on nothing but caffeine.

 “Good Morning!” he greeted, you were awake and seated on the couch. “I got you breakfast that isn't caffeine.”

You didn't meet his eyes, but smiled timidly nevertheless. You cringed at your immaturity. Getting drunk instead of having a proper conversation like adults was not your wisest decision. Your last conversation was horrid. What was worse was that he was still being so nice to you when all you wanted was for the ground to open and swallow you whole. It was embarrassing.

You avoided his gaze, and Bucky didn't press the matter any further.

You exhaled loudly and requested, “We need to talk.”

Here it was, Bucky thought. He hoped you both could at least have breakfast blissfully, ignoring the elephant in the room. But he assumed the sooner, the better. Bucky took a seat beside you on the office couch.

“I’m sorry.”

 “I’m sorry.”

Both of you apologized at the same time. Bucky continued, “What I did was a fucked up thing to do. I had no right to decide for you. I'm sorry for hurting you.”

 “I’m sorry for handling the situation immaturely. It was dumb to get drunk and act like that.”

Bucky nodded, he didn't need your apology. He was the one who was at fault here. Although, he would never acknowledge this, but he was glad you got drunk and came to him. He wasn’t smart enough to realize his mistake and if he continued with his stubbornness, then he would have lost you.

Instinctively, he took your palm in his, lacing your fingers with his and placing the entwined hands on his lap. “I — The incident with Rumlow and the kidnapping affected me a lot. More than I would like to admit,” you acknowledged, “And I don't think I’m dealing with everything healthily.”

“What do you need me to do?”

You sighed and propped your head on his shoulder. “Just be there for me.”

Bucky raised your intertwined hands, pressing a kiss on your knuckles, “Always.”

“I don't want our bakery to be just a dream,” he sounded so unsure that you raised your head to look at him. “I want to get out of this life — of the club.” 

“Can you even do that?” You weren’t very knowledgeable about his business, but from what you've gathered getting out wasn't an option.

“I talked with Sam and Steve, and it would take a while, but it's not impossible. I’d have to put in a lot of money, and it will take time, maybe even years, but it can be done.”

For the millionth time, Bucky left you speechless. You didn't want him to change his entire life because of you. You loved Bucky and you would take him just the way he was. With his good and bad, albeit there wasn't anything bad. “Do you want that?”

He looked at you in offense. To him, you sounded insane. Of course, he wanted that. All he ever wanted was a serene life, and now he could have that life with you in it, you were double guessing your worth. Maybe he didn't think this through, but there was no need to question his choice. Bucky was sure of one thing in his life. “I want you. I want you in my life and I want my ma and Bec. And I can't have the most important people in my life if I don’t leave this behind. So yes, this is what I want.”

You smiled at him, and he would kill to make that smile a permanent residence on your face, you didn’t want him to make this crucial decision in his life because of you.

“Plus, maybe some chocolate essence would finally break you out of your writer's block,” Bucky teased, quoting the words you said to him all those days ago and you giggled.

The rest of the morning was spent in comfortable silence as you both ate breakfast.

Bucky wanted to tell his friends about his decision, and he wanted you there beside him. You were terrified, you finally made friends with someone, and now they were going to hate you because you were taking their friend away from him. And Steve already hated you, that wasn't the impression you were planning on forming on his best friend.

To your dismay, everyone looked pleased with the verdict. Turns out, all of them hated hiding their families too. You should have known — worrying every second about your loved ones could make one very restless. 

It was finally decided that the club would just be that — a club. No more side businesses or illegal deals or enemies like Rumlow — it would just be a normal club. The club would go to Sam and Steve, and Wanda would take Clint’s place as the manager. It was also collectively decided that Peter had to go. He was just a kid who wanted to make money for his college tuition. Which now would be paid fully by Bucky. Peter could still work at the club as a part-time job, but he had to go to college too.

It was satisfying to see all of them so content with this decision. You expected at least Steve to interject, but he looked pleased too. What you did not expect was for Steve to approach you and start a conversation with you. You were just standing on the balcony while everyone was celebrating. You told Bucky you needed some air when he asked you what was wrong.

“He really likes you, you know.” 

“I hope so,” you joked, and you saw a smile forming on Steve's lips. Progress, you thought to yourself.

“I haven't been the nicest person to you and I’m sorry for that.”

You looked at Steve in disbelief. Okay, you weren't expecting that. “I don’t know why you hate me. I mean, we barely know each other,” you replied, honestly.

Steve inhaled sharply as he said, “I knew Buck since we were kids. He never hid anything from me until a few months ago.”

What has that to do with you? You looked at him puzzled and he continued, “He attacked Rumlow. Around 3 months ago, he attacked him and we never attack first — always retaliate. That's why Rumlow came after you because Bucky started the fight. I knew it had something to do with you, but he just wouldn't tell me.”

And just like that, you knew exactly what he was talking about. The timing matched with Rumlow’s attempt to inappropriately touch you without consent. 

“I — Rumlow came here during my shift,” you stammered, you didn't know how to tell him. You wanted to heal, you wanted people to know on your accord with your permission. And you wanted Steve to know. “I told him no - several times, but he just wouldn’t stop touching.”

You wanted to be able to talk about this without breaking down every time. And that was a good enough start, you knew Bucky would be proud of you.

Steve's expression morphed into one of guilt immediately. He was smart enough to join the dots, and he felt like an idiot for blaming you and Bucky. “I’m so sorry.”

 “Don't be,” you smiled at him, “You didn't know.”

Steve didn’t know how to react. He felt like a dick — he was a dick for not even considering your point of view. Bucky kept saying that he couldn't tell and Steve should have understood or taken the hint, but he was so mad at you that it blinded his judgement.

The conversation turned uneasy, so you quickly changed the topic and retorted to a joke. “Did you know that Bucky owns a customized t-shirt that says ‘I heart Y/N’?”

Steve chortled a laugh and said, “Now that I do, I’m never gonna stop teasing him about it.”

“It was cute, okay?” you defended.

“Sure it was,” he huffed, “Would you and Bucky like to come for dinner this weekend? Sarah misses her Uncle Bucky and to date Bucky for real you would definitely need her approval.”

***

You examined yourself in the mirror as you straightened the outfit you decided to wear for dinner. You wondered whether it would impress a four-year-old.

Bucky stood behind you, fixing the collar of his shirt.

“I’m kinda nervous,” you confessed.

He furrowed his brows in bewilderment, snaking his arms around you from behind, pulling you against his chest. He whispered in your ears, sending a chill down your spine. “You look gorgeous, doll.”

You sighed, resting your head on his shoulder. He gently rubbed his thumbs along your clothed stomach, and you felt calmer. His touch had that effect on you. His touch and presence was enough to make you feel content and for the first time in your life, you weren’t scared. You weren't running away from your vulnerabilities — no, you were swimming into it. And you weren't scared of drowning because you knew Bucky was holding you.

 “I love you,” you breathed, “I love you so much, Buck.”

Bucky extended one of his hands towards your face and gently held your chin between his fingers. Lightly, he rubbed his thumb across your lower lip before lifting your face sideways, claiming your lips with his in a tender and slow kiss. “I love you so much, doll. More than humanly possible.”

Your eyes brimmed with tears and you kissed him again reverently, “Do we have time to spare?” 

“We always have time,” Bucky mumbled against your lips, turning you in his arms to face him. 

Both of you were so eager to feel each other that you didn't even get rid of your clothes completely — just enough to feel the other. He held your hips and lifted you on the dressing table, and you facilitated by spreading your legs open.

Bucky didn't waste a second before diving his tongue inside your mouth, making you feel dizzy with just the intensity of the kiss. One hand in your hair, the other running up your back to hold your neck, craning your skull to give him better access to your mouth. He devoured you like you were a delicious meal that he was starving to taste. 

The hand in your hair hastened towards your breast, squeezing your covered nipple enough to make you gasp into his mouth and get your core wet. He did the same with the other before his hand continued its journey towards your cunt.

Bucky didn't waste any time — quickly, he pushed your dripped panties out of his way and his fingers teased your slit before one digit made its way inside you. His mouth left yours, and he nibbled your jaw and reached the lobe of your ear before whispering, “I’ve barely touched you and you're already so wet for me, pretty girl.”

Before you could react to his lewd words, another finger entered your willing cunt and you clenched around him. “Bucky,” you breathed, your voice barely audible with the intensity of your oncoming orgasm. “Want you now, baby.”

Suddenly, his digits retreated, leaving you empty, whimpering and clenching around nothing. He gave a few quick strokes to his already hard cock before plunging inside you and muffling your cries by crashing his lips with yours. 

He gave you time to adjust to his length and when you nodded, he started thrusting in an enticing speed that had you grasping him around your cunt. Every push of his cock had you seeing stars. All that pent-up anticipation and sexual frustration had you coming in no time, but Bucky didn't relent. “Give me one more, sweet girl.”

His hand reached in between your bodies, instantly locating your clit, and you moaned loudly against his shoulder. Bucky toyed with your ear lobe, gently biting then moving downwards to the spot between your neck and clavicle. He licked before sucking harshly and then licking again to soothe the pain. You held his back so tightly that you were sure it must be hurting him, but he didn't complain, instead he growled in your ear as you tried to hold him inside you — tighter than before.

His hand was running calculated circles on your clit combined with his ruthless pace, and you were reaching your second orgasm faster than you imagined. “Bucky, I’m gonna —”

“I know, baby,” he groaned in your ear, increasing his pace, and a moment ago you didn't think that was possible.

You both reached your high together as he released his seed inside you, and that solely had you nearing your third orgasm. Bucky noticed and smirked before his still hand started running circles on your bundle of nerves again and gave you a few languid thrusts that made you reach the euphoria where you hadn't been before.

He held you, brushing your hair off your face, rubbing his thumb across your forehead to rid you of the sweat, praising you for being such a good girl for him. Once you were back from the land of bliss, he cleaned you both up before straightening your dress out — making you appear like he didn't fuck your brains out on a dressing table.

***

“Traffic,” you lied while Bucky smirked as he placed his hand on the small of your back.

Sam looked at you - both of you with a playful look in his eyes and Steve bought your lie without a second question.

As you entered the living room, you were met with a kid that reminded you a lot of Alec and Izzy. “Uncle Bucky,” she squealed before jumping in the arms of a bent down Bucky.

She stretched a hand towards you and said, “Sarah.”

You smiled at her and took her hand in yours before giving her your name. She looked at you with so much delight in her eyes that had you melting in a second. Oh, that reminded you, “Babe, the cake.”

“Oh, right,” Bucky scrambled to his feet and made his way towards the car to bring the gift you two brought for the family.

“Did you make it, Uncle Bucky,” Sarah asked as Bucky handed her the cake. She grinned when he nodded, “I’m gonna eat all of this myself.”

Bucky smiled, “It's all for you, sweetie.”

She held the cake in one hand and your hand in another before rushing into the kitchen with you.

Sam handed Bucky a glass of a drink that he didn't even notice because his gaze was fixed on you helping Steve and Sarah. You said something to Steve and he laughed loudly. When did you and Steve become friends? He wondered.

“Traffic, huh?” Sam teased Bucky once his daughter was out of their hearing range. Bucky nearly choked on the drink and coughed in embarrassment.

Sam eyed Bucky mischievously and told him to take a seat on the table. Bucky didn't listen and if he did then he pretended to ignore Sam’s words and made his way to the kitchen - to you.

You yelped when you felt two strong hands engulf you from behind, calming down only when Bucky chuckled and whispered in your ear, “Hey, it's only me, doll.”

Eventually, everyone made their way to the dinner table. The food was amazing, some of it was made by Sam - some of it by Steve. Sam’s cooking was clearly better, but Bucky told you not to tell him that because then Sam would get all smug about it. Bucky’s hand rested on your upper thigh for the entirety of the meal.

It brought you back to the time when you both were at your parents’ place and even then the gesture was so welcomed by your body and you. Although you always told him about how inappropriate a relationship with him would be, you secretly hoped that he would call you out on your bullshit. Anyone with eyes could see that you wanted him since the very beginning. Well, anyone except Bucky.

After dinner, Sarah went to bed and it was just you, Bucky, Sam and Steve situated in their living room with a drink in everyone’s hand. 

“The cake was amazing,” you told Bucky when he took a seat beside you on the sofa. Bucky wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer and held your outer thighs with his other before placing you on his lap. You wrapped your hands around his shoulder and awkwardly looked around at Sam and Steve, exhaling in relief when you found them busy in their own conversation, oblivious to their friend’s antics.

“I can make cakes forever for you, doll.”

“Well, you'd have to make cakes forever if you wanna open a bakery,” you sassed and he laughed before pressing a kiss to your cheek.

You beamed at him, placing your head against his shoulder, “I’ve been thinking. With everything that has happened with Rumlow and my family. I think I’ve not dealt with all of it and it still bothers me.”

Nervously, you looked at him and found him already gazing at you with a look so patient and intense. You could see his adoration for you swirl around his eyes and you hoped he could see that same emotion reflecting in your eyes.

“And I don’t want to burden you with my shit, I think I’m gonna start therapy.”

He cupped your face in his palms and you looked at him anxiously. It was a big step - your relationship with him - finally acknowledging that you carried trauma that is affecting your life in more ways that you would like to admit. “Whatever you need, honey. I will be there for you.”

You leaned into his touch, craning your neck before pressing a kiss on his palm. “Did you think you'd be crazy for me when I walked in for the bartender's job?”

He laughed at your teasing words, holding your chin between his fingers and dipped his head down to kiss you. “I love you,” he mumbled against your lips, “And I have a feeling that we’ll be alright.” 

“We’ll be alright,” you repeated his words. It was a promise of a happy and hopeful future - a future you were going to have with him. ”I love you.” You sealed the promise with your lips on his.

⁓

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A/N - I had an epilogue planned but idk - this feels very complete to me and I'm scared that if I add anything then it'll ruin the end. I think I'll take a day, think it through, try writing the epilogue and if I ended up liking it. Then of course, you'll get it. Bye Take care!!