#if you were one of the people who offered to beta read back in march know I WILL be reaching out to because I need it lol

[seonghwaddict]

i loved you — park seonghwa

in which there's nothing like dancing at a ball with your greatest enemy... and the man who broke your heart.

rival king!park seonghwa x fem!queen!reader. genre. hurt no comfort, lovers to enemies... to lovers? warnings. death, like a lot of it, major character death, lots of hurt, no comfort, poisoning, weapons, mild gore. wc. 2.1k

lilo's notes. i do not take any responsibility for any mental damages i may have caused (/j). anyways, i'm not really sure why i wrote this but here it is. i was probably influenced by all the shakespeare i've read recently but who knows? i certainly don't :P. thank you to @nebulousbrainsoup for beta reading, love ya babes!! and a small dedication to @a1sh1teruu and @yoonrimin for helping me make up my mind on posting it. love you all!! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

listening to. once upon a december, emile pandolfi.

masterlist

You descended the grand staircase, one of your arms linked with the captain of your army. In the warm candlelight of the ballroom, your light blue—nearly white—ball gown seemed to glow. The guests rocked and swayed on the dance floor as others watched from the sidelines, giddy with the euphoric side effects of their drinks. Citizens of both Utopia and Aurora weaved through each other in graceful twirls and dips. It’s been a long time since Aurora saw peace rather than the bloodshed of men and women alike who were willing to die for their kingdom.

Once you reached the floor, you were offered a dance by a nobleman. After nodding a farewell to General Choi San, you joined the young man as you conversed very awkwardly over a slow waltz. Once you finally got away from him, an older duke from someplace you didn’t recognise, a small estate north of Utopia, was at your side in an instant. Stifling a great sigh, you agreed to a single waltz.

As the man spun you around, you caught a glimpse of a familiar black suit. With a polite smile, you excused yourself and curtseyed to the older man. As you glided to the dais set in marble on the other side of the room, your locked eyes with San for a brief moment. Your posture relaxed as you watched your subjects sway to the melody of violins and cellos. A soft smile painted itself onto your elegant features as you felt another presence next to you. It wasn't hard to guess who it was; the distinct vanilla and citrus scent combined with the long shadow of the tall figure cast onto the floor was enough of a tell.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Seonghwa began, hoping you wouldn’t turn to look at him just yet. “About everything.”

“Of course you’re sorry,” you let out a bitter chuckle as if the losses of the people that matter most to you could be remedied by any of the contents found in a first aid kit.

He looked at you, his eyes widening slightly. You stood beside him like a tree swaying lightly in the breeze of the music. You did not look at him, even as you felt his dark eyes burning into the side of your face. Your face continued to gaze ahead with a solemn expression—the grin that once graced your features was now reduced to oblivion. The young king sucked in a breath and turned back around, watching a servant weave his way through the crowd, offering drinks and biscuits. When the servant passed them, Seonghwa beckoned him over with the raise of his hand. The blond approached them, his posture slightly straighter than it was a minute before. you recognised the man, he had been supporting wounded soldiers as they marched their way out of the forest that served as a natural border between Utopia and Aurora when the war had concluded.

“May I be of assistance, Your Majesty?” he asked, bowing his head subtly.

Seonghwa cleared his throat. “A drink would be nice.”

Without hesitation, the servant handed him a clear drink, contained in a long, clear glass. The king of Utopia nodded a thank you and the servant turned away. He was interrupted by the soft voice of his queen.

“Thank you, Yunho,” you said.

Yunho beamed at you before walking off to serve an older man near the dance floor. As the two monarchs stood in silence for another while longer, the male of you two glanced around nervously. He felt eyes on him. You glanced at him once before averting your eyes back to the crowd enjoying themselves on the dance floor. With a start, you turned to the man next to you after feeling him tap your shoulder. He offered you the glass he received from the servant—Yunho, as you had called him. You eyed the drink, then you eyed him. When you finally took it off his hands, he let out a small breath, the smirk that you fell in love with stretching over his lips. Raising the glass to your lips, you took a sip, enjoying the sweet taste that swirled through your mouth.

“I know it won’t fix anything, but may I ask you to join me on the dance floor?” he asked once you finished the drink. He gulped when you looked up at him, suddenly aware of how close you were. “To show everyone that we have gotten past our differences?”

For a moment, you contemplated his offer, an uneasy feeling washing over you. You would have to go through with the plan either way; a single dance won’t change your mind. He offered you a hand, his smirk turning into a genuine grin once you accepted it. The brunette led you to the middle of the room. You suppressed a flinch as one of his hands found its way to your waist, but still, you rested your hand on his shoulder as your free hands held each other. You swayed to the melody played by the violins. He spun you around occasionally. He liked the way your hand fit in his, slightly smaller and warmer, but they fit together like the gears of a clock. The song was coming to an end, the crescendos and diminuendos of the climax of the piece had long passed. The laughter stopped abruptly and was replaced by confused whispers as the lights suddenly went off, leaving everyone in the dark. You let go of Seonghwa, taking a step back to remove you from him completely.

A piercing scream ripped through the air.

Followed by another one coming from the opposite side of the room. Multiple other screams rang out, accompanied by the quick footsteps of anxious guests trying to get out of the room. Slowly, the lights turned back on. You stood from the ground, where you had been inspecting the lifeless body of a man that lay by your feet, blood flowing from his stomach and mouth and pouring onto the marble floor. Seonghwa looked around in horror—half of his Utopian guard was nowhere to be seen while the ones that were there had been pierced by the sabres of Aurora’s soldiers; a dozen guests lay scattered around the room, dead or breathing in dangerously shallow breaths; crimson streaks decorated the floor like an abstract painting made by a four-year-old; your blood-stained hands, trembling ever so slightly. He expected a look of shock on your face, but that’s not what he saw at all. Your cheeks flushed and your eyes lit up with rage, but there wasn’t an ounce of fear or shock on your face as you stared him down. But he saw past it. The anger was nothing but a shield for pain, like a cornered soldier randomly throwing out grenades, scared for his life, lonely and desperate. Your shoulders heaved with each breath you took.

“So, this is it?” He arched an eyebrow, watching your every move.

You didn’t respond, instead, your hand pushed a piece of fabric from your skirt to the side and pulled out a dagger, frustrated tears beginning to spill down your face. You took a slow step forward. “You killed my lover, what did you expect me to do?”

“Oh, don’t be foolish, dear,” he chuckled, “This won’t fix anything and you know that. You’ll try to attack me, you’ll fail and I’ll leave, unmarked, and be ready to attack by sunrise for going against our treaty. Wasn’t it obvious enough that Utopia has always had a better military than Aurora?”

You stopped right in front of him, close enough to feel his warm breath brushing against your face. “Yeah? And where is that big bad military right now?” you whispered, eyes flickering around his face, surveying his reaction. “I have nothing to lose, anyway. I’ve already lost it all,” You sneered through gritted teeth. “All… because… of you.”

His eyebrows furrowed as he looked down at you. He made a clicking noise with his tongue, looking up with a hint of a smirk. “I’m surprised the poison hasn’t affected you yet. Perhaps I didn’t use enough.”

Your confidence visibly faltered and you stepped back. “What?”

“Oh, that’s right, you didn’t notice. The drink I gave you, did it look like water? Hate to break it to you, but I paid that servant boy—Yunho, was it?—to replace all the water with thallium. Of course, thallium takes a while to act on the human body, but when consumed in large amounts, it is very lethal and quite quick to act. Your guests should be dropping dead right outside those doors… right… about… now.” At his last words, screams were heard from outside the grand doors of the ballroom, he seemed satisfied with your horrified reaction to this before adding in an amused whisper, “I’m sure your dear boyfriend could tell you all about it.”

With a cry, you lifted your dagger, hyper-aware of the discomfort in your stomach after what you were just told. He dodged your attack while pulling his own dagger out of the inside of his suit and holding it out in front of him. You, on the other hand, could already feel yourself growing weaker with every breath you took, your chest burning as if it were on fire. You stood opposite each other, arms outstretched with daggers clutched tightly in them; each of you pointing them at each other’s throats. He was calm, chin held high with pride and an expressionless face. You had tears brimming your eyes, pushing their limits, face flushed and lips pulled between your teeth for a few seconds.

“I loved you, Seonghwa,” You let out a noise somewhere between laugh and sob. “But all you cared about is power. You wouldn’t know the feeling of being prepared to do anything for that special person, would never experience that– that pure euphoria when you’re in the same room as them. And I could not settle for someone unable to love me back the same way.”

He didn’t say anything so you stepped closer, lowering your dagger. His gaze followed you as you came closer to him, nudging his dagger out of your way and letting his hand fall to his side. You stopped in front of him once more, your big, wet eyes locked with his. You liked his eyes, when you were younger you could’ve sworn you saw whole galaxies in them. A clang rang through the soundless hall as Seonghwa let the dagger go. He brought his hand up to cup your face, his thumb stroking it gently.

“You don’t understand,” he mumbled, “I had to prove I was a capable leader. My people saw me as a coward for years, I just wanted it to change. But all those years ago, when we hid away under that big oak tree, I was in love with you. I still am in love with you, Y/N.”

Your sobs had once scarred your lips, but that night—before the moon could even join the dark clouds soaring above—you felt the man's kisses that echoed like the final pleas of a collapsing star. For a moment you thought it was ironic, his kisses resembled the electricity of a supernova while his name meant to become a star… though, that’s not the only reason it was ironic. You hesitated for a moment before giving in, but you couldn’t call it off now. Seonghwa let out a gasp and stepped back to look at the blade that had been plunged into his chest, blood already pooling around the knife and soaking through his perfectly tailored clothes. He coughed, blood spurting through his lips before spilling out in a steady stream. You closed your eyes, silent tears dripping down to your chin as you clutched your stomach and fell to the ground. Your breaths became shallow as you lay there, utterly helpless as the effects of poison overcame you.

You felt another body fall to the ground next to you, but like almost two hours before, it didn’t take any guessing to figure out who it was. Your eyelids grew heavy as did your breaths; you couldn’t hold on any longer. Your chest gave a scream of desperation as it struggled for air. But it was too late, your body went limp and cold, and the only thing that stayed warm was the hand that was held firmly by the man you once loved. Soon enough, it too went limp.

network. @cromernet

#cromernet #ateez #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa imagines #seonghwa reactions #seonghwa headcanons #seonghwa fluff #seonghwa angst #enemies to lovers #lovers to enemies #hurt #no comfort #park seonghwa

[magravenwrites]

The One Where Ethy Finds Out:

Part 3:

Click on the moodboard for better quality! Pictures sourced off Google images and Pinterest, but the moodboard is of my own creation.

Finally here's part 3 to @emilyhufflepufftlk 300 follower challenge. I got there eventually, sorry its so late! 🙈

A massive thank you to @axe-does-writing for beta reading this for me, you're amazing! 💕

Warnings: angst, fluff, spoilers for Finan's past, Finan's undeserving complex.

Part 1 Part 2

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The sun was setting by the time Finan, with the help of a few cups of ale, had gathered enough courage to even contemplate approaching Ethy that evening.

The two bonfires had been blazing away for the past hour or so, the livestock had already been driven between the two fires and put back in their pens, allowing for feasting, drinking and dancing to take place for the rest of the night.  No doubt there would be a few sore heads in the morning, his own included.

Finan had been in a sombre mood since Uhtred had talked to him that afternoon, and all he had managed to do in the time since then, was work himself into a state of constant anxiety. He was halfway down his fourth, or was it his fifth? cup of ale already, and had been watching Ethy as she laughed and danced about the flames.  His breath had caught in his throat when he had first caught sight of her that evening.  She had chosen to wear one of her best dresses. It was one of his favourites on her, the light blue of the fabric perfectly matched her eyes.  A flower crown rested upon her head, and the way the oranges of the setting sun and the dancing flames shone off her hair made it look like she was glowing.  She looked stunning; he was content to watch her having her fun for a time, with a content smile on his lips, despite the guilt and nerves that were tugging at his heart.  He couldn't bring himself to ruin her good mood just yet.

But as the evening wore on, and the further down his ale he got, he realised the more he needed to talk to her, and that ever-present feeling of anxiety came clawing back, turning his stomach.

As the next dance came to its end and Ethy moved away to retrieve a drink, Finan decided that it was now or never.

Downing what remained of his own drink and casting the cup aside, he started making his way over to her. He swore he couldn't remember being this nervous before, even before marching off into battle.

She must have sensed his movement out of the corner of her eye; he was only a few paces away from her when she turned to look directly at him. He could only watch as the beaming smile that had occupied her face only moments before fell, replaced by what he could only hope was just a look of nerves. He absolutely hated it.

He wanted to be the one who made her smile, he wanted to be the reason she laughed until her eyes watered and her cheeks ached, and the reason her eyes lit up whenever he was close.  He wanted to be the one she turned to when she needed comfort, to be there for her and celebrate their triumphs together, to simply wake up and fall asleep next to her.  He wanted to be by her side through it all.  

He wanted everything with her.  

No matter how selfish he knew that was, especially given what he was about to tell her.  He had no right to wish for anything beyond forgiveness at this point.

Either way, he knew he still had to tell her, it wasn’t for him to decide what she deserved.  That was up to her now.

She offered him a small smile as he came to a stop a couple of paces from her.  He returned the smile, both of them knowing what was coming next wouldn't be easy.

"Can I talk to ya?  In private?"  He added, eyeing the group of elderly women who stood not far behind Ethy's left shoulder, not-so-subtly eavesdropping on their conversation.

She turned to follow his gaze, seeing the problem, before she faced him once more. 

"Sure." She nodded, walking away to the far end of the field where there were fewer people, not looking back to see if he followed.

They stopped about halfway down the field, the blazing fires still in view, the noise of the festivities echoed faintly down to them, but they were far enough away not to be interrupted.

Ethy turned to him, a faint blush on her cheeks, avoiding his eye.

"Ethy, I…"

"Wait", She interrupted.  "I just wanted to say I'm sorry.  I asked you to talk about something you were not ready to talk of, and I shouldn't have pushed you to.  It was insensitive of me.  Heaven knows you were patient enough with me!  I am sorry - truly I am.  You do not have to tell me anything you do not want to, but I will be here to listen when and if you are ever ready to do so…"

Shaking his head at her, he gently took her by her shoulders to steady her.  How could she believe she was at fault for any of this?  It was his own behaviour that was out of line for the way he reacted, and yet she was the one who felt the need to apologise to him.

"None of this is your fault, ya don't need to apologise for anythin'."  He told her vehemently, his eyes boring into hers.

She merely blinked back at him, not expecting such a strong reaction.  Whatever had been bothering him, it had him tense, coiled like a spring.  She could sense the anxiety rolling off him in waves.

Realising he had been staring at her for a little longer than was probably appropriate, and noticing his grip on her shoulders had become a little too tight, Finan let her go, took a step back and cleared his throat.

"What can I do to help?"  She asked, her eyes rounded with concern.

He ran a hand through his beard as he recentered himself.

"Just listen to what I have to tell ya' and don't ask questions until I'm done.  And know that whatever you decide after this… I'll completely understand."

"Ok…" She agreed hesitantly.

With a final nod of his head, Finan steeled himself, his eyes darting from her toward the festivities at the far end of the field, not sure he could look her in the eye as he laid his secrets out for her.

"My past - my life in Ireland was not a pretty one, and I have done some stupid and unforgivable things."  He paused, trying to collect himself.  He looked down when he felt something brush against his hand to find Ethy had taken it in her own, giving it a soft squeeze.  His gaze rose to her face, where a soft encouraging smile pulled at her lips. He could do this.  He had to do this.  For her.  He squeezed her hand in return.

"I was a Prince in one of the kingdoms, I was set to inherit the throne.  I did no' want any of it.  My whole life had already been planned out for me.  I had an arranged marriage, to a lass named Riona, we were both young and neither of us loved each other, but we had our duty to fulfill and she was a kind woman…" his heart dropped when he felt Ethy's hand pull from his own.

"You were married?"  She gasped.

"Aye", He huffed, his heart constricted knowing that what he was to tell her next would only hurt her more.  "Married with two sons."  Tears rose unbidden to his eyes at the thought of the two young boys he had left behind, forced to grow up fatherless, if his brother had allowed them to survive.  All because of his stupid mistakes.  His own selfish heart.  He gritted his teeth to stop the tears from falling, swallowing the lump he could feel starting to form in his throat.  He had more of his story to tell yet.

He watched as Ethy's breathing picked up slightly, her eyes fixed on a patch of grass at her feet.  She dragged her bottom lip through her teeth, as she was often prone to do when in deep thought.  Eventually, she looked at him, opening her mouth as if to ask something before seeming to think better of it, letting out a sigh.  Her arms folded across her middle, and after a minuscule nod of her head, her gaze settled somewhere over his left shoulder, not quite looking directly at him, but it was enough that he took it as his sign to continue.

"Like I said, neither of us loved each other… she did no' deserve what I put her through.  None of 'em did."  His accent grew thicker, regret dripping from every word.

"A few years down the line, my brother, Conall, introduced us to his new wife; A dairy maid from one of the local towns.  Her name was Aine.  I fell so hard and fast for her.  We were so convinced we loved each other.  But I was young, and I was a fool.  A stupid, stupid fool.  We knew we could no' be happy together in the castle.  So we made plans to run away together.  We headed south, we lasted three days before they caught us and dragged us back in chains."  His expression turned dark in that moment, the demons that had been torturing him for so long showing themselves in his face.

"I abandoned everythin' - my duty, my wife, my sons.  And for what? A selfish, hopeless dream of a life I knew would not last."  Bitterness laced his words.

"What happened?  After you were caught?"  Ethy asked shyly, almost dreading the answer.  

"We were imprisoned for a time."  He started flatly.  Watching his memories play back behind his eyes, it was almost as if it had happened to someone else.  But the feelings were still raw, even now.  He clenched his eyes shut, wanting to banish the images from his mind. 

"We were eventually dragged into the court, where I was made to watch as she was flogged.  They would not stop, no matter how much I begged them to, they did not stop.  They eventually slit her throat.  My brother called it mercy - an execution for treason.  Her screams will forever haunt me.  I did that to her.  It was my actions that resulted in her death.  He took the crown and my wife as his own.  I don't know if he kept my sons alive or not - they would have a rightful claim to the throne, with luck they might have been put in a monastery somewhere.  You already know how he saw fit to punish me."  The tears were freely running down his face now, a cynical smile curling at the corner of his lips.

A look of realisation swept over Ethy's features.  "The slave ship."

He nodded.  "Aye.  Three Winters pulling at the oar, spending every minute regretting and paying for what I did.  It didn't feel like enough.  It will never be enough."

A silence fell between the two of them, even the noise from the festivities seemed dimmed.

Ethy sighed through her nose, and turned to face him fully, her arms still crossed protectively across her chest.  The shock that had filled her eyes had mostly drained away, leaving behind a sadness that Finan didn't know how to respond to. He looked away.

"Finan, look at me."  She asked gently.

"Look at me."  She repeated, firmer this time when he refused.

As soon as his eyes connected with hers, he saw a fire ignite behind her irises he had not expected.  She took a step closer to him.

"This is why you ran from me, wasn't it?  Not because you did not wish to tell me, but because you are still carrying the guilt of what happened on your shoulders.  Because you think that you do not deserve happiness, even when it is standing right in front of you, just waiting for you to take it."

It would never cease to amaze him how effortlessly she could get straight to the heart of the matter.  How it was that she could cut through all the information he had loaded her with, for her to shove aside her own feelings and opinions and hit the nail on the head so accurately.

He did not know what to say to her, after letting the floodgates open, it was as if all his words had finally run dry.  Any words he had thought to say only got stuck in his throat.  So he remained silent, his jaw clenching so tight it was almost painful.

Ethy finally took that final step closer to him, so close that he had to look down to see her face properly.  Her arms unfolded and she placed both hands on his cheeks, her thumbs wiping away the tears that had settled there.  He could not help but lean into her touch.

"The man I know deserves more happiness than I can ever express.  The man who is so brave, so loyal.  The man who loves with such a big heart and so wholly that he would sacrifice everything to protect his friends and family.  That man does not deserve punishment or to spend the rest of his days alone.  He deserves every ounce of respect, adoration and love.  And I give that to you unreservedly and in abundance."

Finan could hardly believe what he was hearing, his heart racing hardly daring to hope that after everything… his breath stuttered at the thought. He gently grabbed her wrists, leaning his face away from her grasp.

"I abandoned my family - that is no small thing."  He reminded her.  Fresh tears welled in his eyes, and yet he could not help the small spark of hope he could feel arising in his chest.

Ethy only calmly held his gaze, no trace of bitterness, hatred, or blame to be found.

"And would you abandon us?  My family and I?  Your friends?"  She let him hold her wrists between his hands, his grip turning as hard as his gaze at her question. 

"There is no force on heaven or earth that could get me to leave your side." 

That was a vow she believed.

She nodded with a smile. "I know." She whispered. "Finan - I will not hold you to a mistake you made in your youth, especially one made in the name of love.  We both know what it is like to be held captive to our fates, to do our duty.  Now we are free to go where we please, to do as we please."  She shifted her hands so that she held his between her own, squeezing them tight. "To love where we please."

His heart was fit to burst, tears falling freely down his face as disbelief drowned him.  He held nothing but love for this unbelievable, incredible, beautiful woman before him.

"Thank God for you."  He breathed.

Ethy laughed, a few tears of her own burning in her eyes.  He looked as if the world had been taken off his shoulders, his relief palpable.  

Finan bent his head forward, resting his forehead against hers, eyes falling closed, as they both took in the moment.

"I love you", He heard her whisper.  He opened his eyes, finding her already watching him, at this distance, he was able to find every shade of blue in her eyes.

"And God only knows how much I love you, mo grá."

And he could no longer contain himself.  He leant in, crashing his lips to hers in a fierce kiss, pouring every emotion he could not put into words into the action. One of his hands moved to cradle the back of her head, his fingers tangled in her hair and her flower crown became askew at the movement.

She responded to the kiss with equal passion, her now free hand gripping his shoulder to steady herself.  She could taste the remainder of sweet ale on his lips, mixed with the salt of his dried tears, but it was perfect nonetheless.  Neither of them wanted to be the first to part.

Eventually, the need to breathe started burning their lungs, forcing them to part.  They remained close, he nuzzled his nose against hers, their laboured breathing mingling in the space between them and a grin spread across his lips as he observed the pretty shade of pink she had turned.  He stole another peck from her.  And another, and another.  Absorbed in the taste of her sweet lips.

As he was about to steal another kiss from her, he felt Ethy’s fingers press against his lips, preventing him from going any further.

She giggled as he proceeded to pout against her fingers.

"I believe you still owe me a dance."  She raised an eyebrow at him.

He hummed, pulling up to his full height and moving to straighten the crown of flowers that still lay crooked on her golden locks.

"I suppose I do."  He smirked, his tone low, and rich as velvet. With exaggerated movements he stepped backwards, immediately missing her warmth, he bowed low and offered his hand.

"Would you do me the honour?"

Ethy failed miserably at containing her smile at his antics.  With a laugh she curtsied, delicately placing her hand in his own.  "I would love to."

She turned, pulling him by the hand to walk back up the field toward where the two fires were still blazing, the flames reaching toward the inky sky now filled with stars.  She stopped abruptly when he did not move, and instead, he pulled her backwards, causing her to trip lightly into his chest.

"Should we not go back to the festival?"  She asked in confusion.

He shook his head lightly.  "I have everythin' I need righ' here." 

He lifted their joined hands, and turned her so that she spun under his arm, before coming to rest in front of him, his other arm coming to rest comfortably around her waist.  They shared a soft smile.  

He held her close as he began to rock them back and forth, dancing together to music only they could hear.

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Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed it!

Tags:

@emilyhufflepufftlk @morosemagick @solinarimoon @axe-does-writing @aconundrumofthings @calicoevening72 @lauwrite1225

#ems300 #The One Where Ethy Finds Out #the last kingdom #tlk #tlk season 5 #finan #finan the agile #finan x oc

[mistresslrigtar]

Extra chapter to my Zelink Week 2023 Prompt story. This is actually a one-shot I wrote for the Zelinktines 2023 prompt Butterfly Kisses, but it works for this. Enjoy if you haven't already read it.

This one-shot was originally beta-ed by @cooking-with-hailstones. the entirety of Adore was beta read by fioreofthemarch

Read the entire piece below or follow the link to read on AO3

A giant, craggy-faced monster bars the door to the chamber. The moans and cries from beyond have ratcheted Link's nerves to the edge of insanity. He paces back and forth like a caged animal trying to gauge the best route past the obstacle barring him. With the next loud wail, he runs both hands through his messy hair, tearing out a few large chunks in the process. This doesn't do much to assuage the worst of his anxiety as he stands with his back to the beast, body tensed with fight-or-flight instructions blasting from the back of his mind.

"Everything is alright.” His fists pound not so reassuringly against his thighs. "This is all going to plan."

With a loud growl, the beast lurches its way forward, and Link increases his momentum to move out of its path. He listens to the creature’s angry roar as it marches its way closer to him, and then Zelda screams. 

"Link!" Her piercing, terrified cry shatters the room and fractures him to pieces.

"You have to let me in there!" Link whirls to glare at the burly guard.

"Absolutely not!" The beast reprimands him, and Link’s vision clears as it speaks. The monster is just Oksana the midwife’s mother, Ilia, crossing her arms over her ample bosom and giving him a stern look, eyes narrowing. "The father has no place in the birthing room.” 

She has informed him of that fact for what feels like the hundredth time. But Link can’t stand the helplessness that threatens to consume him whenever Zelda screams.

"In Skyloft, the father does!" Link pulls out his most imploring expression, which always works on his wife. Wide, puppy-dog eyes, inner edges of his eyebrows pulled up, and bottom lip pouting.

"Well, you are not in Skyloft, young man!" His plea falls on deaf ears and blind eyes. "On the surface, you are not allowed!"

Link throws his arms up in despair. "This is barbaric!"

And indeed it was. Who had established the rule that men were not allowed at birth? It is an archaic notion. How had the Skyloftians advanced, and the few Hylians that remained on the surface wallowed in intellectual stagnation?

"I assure you, your wife is in good hands.” Ilia reaches out to rub soothing circles in the middle of his back. "You are not doing yourself or her any good fretting here. Go outside and calm yourself."

"Curse the goddesses!" Link emits a wail of anguish that startles even himself. With the release of his expletive, Ilia’s stern look returns, and she strong-arms him to the exit, shoving him outside and slamming the door in his wake. 

Link storms off, fuming, into the apple orchard outside their home, finding what little peace and relaxation it offers. Zelda's cries are muffled, but they still pierce his heart. He has put her in this predicament; he should be there to coax her through it. Damn, that meddling midwife.

Link wishes Groose were here; he'd cajole the senior midwife and distract her so Link can sneak past. But he and Zelda are on their own in this sparsely populated landscape. They settled near a small village, thinking having some semblance of civilization would be better than living in the middle of nowhere. If only they had known how uncivilized the people on the surface were. So small…so insular. They have been foolish; they should have made more effort to search out other races that may be more advanced than the Hylians.

The more he thinks about it, the angrier he becomes. It's all his fault. Now they are stuck dealing with primitive practices, and it's not like he can force himself past an elderly woman as if she is just another beast to smite with his sword.

There's no use thinking about it; Ilia will not allow him entrance. He follows the trail leading to the village's outskirts into a lush field of flowers. It is beautiful, but, oh, how he misses Skyloft and longs for it some days until the ache within feels like it will overwhelm him. Then, Zelda will smile and swing her lustrous blonde hair over one shoulder as she laughs, and the homesick pang subsides. She is his home, always has been, and no matter where they live, will be the only home he will ever need to know.

But today, he misses Red, his crimson loftwing, and he imagines Zelda must wish her violet-blue Keehar were here. The avian companions would be waiting expectantly to welcome the baby. The mother and father would present the newborn to them, and the feathered creatures would greet the infant with feather-light kisses from their wing tips. 

Link does not know how to recreate the tradition here. Most of the birds on the surface are small and wild, and he would never allow any near the infant. How strange that he trusts the giant loftwings more than the tiny sparrows that sing so merrily outside their bedroom window each morning. Not for the first time, he wonders if he is overly cautious, but Link doesn't think his heart could take it if anything were to happen to Zelda or their baby. 

All his strength and courage were expended chasing down Ghirahim, defeating him, only to then have to face the Demon King, Demise. Link still has nightmares of being unable to reach Zelda in time and watching her vanish as he falls to his knees, crying in despair. And a variation of Demise's final words lurk in the darkest shadows of his mind, like poisonous snakes, hissing, "I'll haunt you, Link." 

Pounding his forehead with his fists, Link pushes the foreboding thoughts back and locks them away. There is nothing to fear; Ghirahim is dead, and Demise was absorbed within the Master Sword, now secure in its pedestal within the Sealed Temple. Fi, her work done, is resting in an eternal slumber, and Link can only hope it is a peaceful one.

Taking a deep breath, he calms himself and sits in the middle of the field. He needs to focus on the here and now and not become lost in the past. Zelda needs him to be clear-headed and present; it is the least he can do and, frustratingly, the only thing at the moment. He lies on his back and stares at the crystal clear blue sky. Taking a few deep, cleansing breaths, after several moments, his eyelids droop as they grow heavy, and he dozes.

A tickling sensation on his nose and cheeks awakens Link several minutes later. His head has fallen to the side, and his blurred vision can only make out the various colors surrounding him when he opens his eyes. Then, as he focuses, he sees a few butterflies resting on the flowers beside him. The gentle whispering of their wings has woken him; he remains as still as he can and observes them. The meadow is full of fluttering creatures, as multi-colored as the wildflowers they are attracted to.

His body relaxes, and a butterfly gently lands on his cheek. It rests there for a while, and Link feels the soft brush of its wings against his face. The moment lingers, and his blue eyes grow wide as the grain of thought forms in his brain. It starts out very small but then strengthens, becoming a full-blown idea.

Slowly, Link sits up and rises to his feet. The butterflies nearby swirl around him, and his lips part with a face-splitting grin. He rushes back up the path and bursts through the door of his house.

"Has she had the baby yet?" He calls to Ilia, who is drinking a cup of tea at the scrubbed wood table in the kitchen.

"No, lad," she sighs.

"Great!" He exits as abruptly as he entered, but not before catching a glimpse of the highly perplexed expression on the elderly woman's face. He doesn’t care if she thinks he is crazy as he walks to the side of the house where the garden shed stands. Opening the door, he rummages through the various tools, tossing a hoe and a shovel aside until he finds Zelda's extra large bug-catching net. 

Next to be carelessly shoved aside are a couple of pails, a basket, and a broken shield he has been meaning to throw out but keeps forgetting about. He finally locates a good-sized cage lined with thin muslin windows and pulls it out. Turning it from side to side, he examines it to ensure all the muslin is secure and the door firmly latches. Then, slinging the net rod over his shoulder, Link gathers the cage and kicks the door shut as he heads back to the field.

Walking through the orchard, he snags an apple off a low-hanging branch and takes a big bite. The juice soaks over his tongue, cool and refreshing, and he quickly finishes the fruit before reaching the field. He drops the core to the ground along with the cage.

Pulling the rod from his shoulder, Link shakes out the net and gazes around the meadow. It is still full of butterflies, and he begins to amble through the field, gently waving the net through the air to capture a few colorful insects flitting about.

His mouth curves into a smile, and his eyes crinkle at the edges as he continues walking. "This is kind of fun. I think I like catching butterflies."

He sweeps the net through the air, and when he reaches the center of the field, he stops and balances on the balls of his feet as the winged insects settle around him. Hefting the rod, he preps to pirouette into a slow spin. As he begins to rotate, the startled insects swirl around him. He is in the eye of a butterfly hurricane; the net floats as he whirls, gathering his prizes.

As he comes to a stop, the net is now filled, and he quickly retrieves the cage, opens the door, and gently guides the fluttering creatures inside. He doesn't intend to keep the butterflies trapped for long, as surely the baby will arrive soon.

Now that the task is complete, the nervous energy he had felt earlier begins to creep back from the edges he had shunted it to. Link quells the panic that threatens to rise with the thought that he has tarried too long. He picks a flower bouquet before returning to the cottage nestled in the orchard. As he approaches, he sees crotchety Ilia standing in the doorway.

"Where have you been?" She scolds, shaking her head at him as if he were an errant child. "Come!” She gently pushes him into his home and toward the bedroom just as Oksana opens the door. 

She offers Link a silent congratulatory smile and steps aside so he can enter. He freezes at the threshold, the cage in one hand, a handful of flowers in the other. Zelda sits, propped up by several plump pillows, her sunny yellow hair haloing her face and shoulders, and in her arms, she cradles their newborn baby. She raises her tear-filled sea-green eyes to meet his stunned ocean blue.

"It's a girl, Link," she whispers, a beatific smile gracing her lips.

"A girl.” Link’s eyes widen, and his jaw drops. A girl to love and protect, but she will also need to fend for herself. His mind races with everything he will need to teach her when she is ready - how to fish, hunt, and fight with a sword and shield. And will she possess magical power, like Zelda? Only time will tell. The tiny bundle in Zelda’s arms squirms before he comes to his senses and rushes to her side. He lays the flowers on the nightstand and the cage on the other side of her before sitting on the edge of the bed to take a closer look.

Link gazes at the baby suckling Zelda's breast. The whorl of downy platinum hair, her delicately pointed ears, feathery light eyelashes shadowing her round cheeks, and her tiny, perfect hands curled into fists, kneading against her mother. 

"She's beautiful," he breathes in reverence. "Just like her mother." 

Zelda looks at him above the baby's head, and he leans in to kiss her. She glances at the cage by her side when he pulls back.

"I can't give her loftwing kisses," Link explains. "But will butterfly kisses do?"

Zelda's face scrunches up, her mouth puckered and crooked, as she struggles not to cry, and Link knows she is feeling homesick, too. "Yes, my sweet love."

He reaches past her and unlatches the door. A riot of color explodes from within, and Zelda laughs as a rainbow of fluttering wings surrounds her and the baby. The delicate creatures swirl and twirl around them, briefly clinging to Zelda's hair strands before flying off and fluttering at their cheeks, giving tender, light-as-feather kisses. The baby coos softly, and a small white butterfly lands on her round pink cheek. 

"I think you should name her, Link," Zelda gazes lovingly at him.

What should her name be? She will live an extraordinary life full of wonder, love, and happiness as they explore this strange, new land and unravel as many mysteries as possible. This will be a glorious adventure in a world that is bigger than they may ever know. And the knowledge of all that has passed that her parents hold within them, waiting to be revealed when she becomes curious and inquires. Link knows she will be inquisitive like her mother, intrepid like her father, and want to know the answers to everything. At that moment, he knows what her name should be.

"I would like to call her Fi."

#legend of zelda #zelink #the legend of zelda #artists on tumblr #loz skyward sword #skyward sword #skyward sword link made all the little figurines where the koroks hide #skyward sword zelda #loz fi

[billiewena]

for the 100k fic celebration, here a portion of the “what if 10x05 had a sastiel agenda?” AKA lil shit sam/jealous dean destiel fic I first shared a while back! been having a lot of fun basically rewriting and expanding on the entire musical episode with new songs (and lots of cute kristen & siobhan moments because OF COURSE they’re still a couple.) it was really encouraging to see the positive response to it back then and it's been taking forever because of work/other writing but I’m so excited to have this one be the first full-length fics I ever post.

It starts with costumed teenagers locked in a tight embrace with absolutely no room for Jesus.

“What are they doing?”

Marie glances over her shoulder for only a brief second.

“Kids these days call it hugging,” she says slowly. Geez, it would’ve been less insulting for her to just outright say Wow, you’re old.

Except it’s not just any of the show’s stars hugging over there. One of them is the “Dean” who’d been mid-rehearsal when they arrived and looked more like Bieber than him with the blonde wig. And the other? Well, he would recognize that Columbo coat anywhere.

“Is that in the show?” he asks, pointing their way.

Marie quickly shakes her head at the accusation. “Oh, no. Siobhan and Kristen are a couple in a real life.”

He nods and lower his hand. Got it. That’s all it was. Everything’s fine. Nothing to worry about—

“No, my play explores the nature of Sastiel.”

“The — wait, what?” he says, confused at once.

“Sastiel?” Marie pauses, giving him a second to figure it out. He doesn’t. “You know, the relationship between Sam and Castiel?”

Dean blinks.

“Sam and…C-Cas?”

“I know, I know. Edlund’s series never finished. I’m lucky I got these drafts. Ugh, it’s Midnight Sun all over again. But the love story is all in the subtext,” she says with confidence. “Can you believe there are people who still think Destiel is endgame? After everything that happened after the angels fell? After Gadreel? Please.”

He silently sounds out the word. Des-tiel? Wait…

“Ever since Cas came back from the dead and took on Sam’s pain, I knew. I just knew. Every one of their arcs had been parallel to each other’s from their fall from grace to the trials. And now with Dean gone, all they have…is each other.”

Marie sighs. “Besides, you can’t spell subtext without S-E-X.”

He coughs and nearly chokes on an asteroid-sized lump in his throat.

“I…uh. Yeah, th-that’s not…you know, I think I’ve seen enough,” Dean says with a forced smile. “Thank you for your, ah, time. I’ll, uh, we’ll follow up if we have questions about the missing persons case. I—alright.”

And with that he purses his lips, turns on his heel and walks away — nearly tripping over one of the stage chords as he does. Why are there are so many of them anyways? This is just some all-girls school production, not the goddamn West End.

He finds Sam in his natural nerd habitat (the tech booth) sifting through all the bins of A/V supplies.

“Yeah, not to interrupt the blast from the past here but it’s time for us to go,” he says, patting the door.

His brother shoots him an annoyed look but packs up and follows him out all the same. Not that Dean bothers to wait for him; no, he makes a beeline for the car as soon as he leaves the booth.

“Hey, what’s with the rush?” Sam calls after him as he runs to catch up with him at the school entrance.

“No rush,” he says shortly. “Just wanted to see what you found out before you got too lost in the nerd sauce over there.”

He doesn’t need to look back to know he’s on the receiving end of a Classic Sam Bitchface right now and continues to stomp his way through the parking lot.

“Well, no EMF, no hex bags. None of their props are remotely hinky. Talked to Maeve and all those extras in the auditorium.” Sam finally catches up and walks side-by-side with him now. “You have any more luck?”

“Nah. Ms. Chandler's office is just a pile of empty bottles and regret. She's probably just face down in a bar somewhere. Or a ditch. I did get to hear all about the director’s, ah, creative vision though,” Dean says, teeth gritted. “Apparently we go into space, I become a woman, and there’s even ninjas and robots!”

“Robots. Huh. Well, that’d definitely be a new one.”

“There’s no robots in Supernatural—”

“I-I know that,” Sam says in exasperation. “I just mean it’s, y’know, innovative. And Dean we’ve fought weirder. Remember the teddy bear? The fairies? The ballet shoes?”

“Well, you just wait until you hear about what she in store for you, Lover Boy,” he says.

And that makes Sam do an instant double-take.

“Uh, Lover Boy?”

“Yeah, your number one fan back there —” he says, gesturing back towards the school, “— was telling me all about the play’s, uh, love story between you and Cas. You got something you’ve been meaning to tell me or what?”

“The love story? Wait, what do you mean me and Cas?”

Dean scoffs, already in utter disbelief of the words he was about to say. “Like you and Cas, together. Together together? Romance of the ages the way she made it sound. Apparently it’s all in her play!”

To his surprise though, Sam just… laughs. “Well, I mean hey, that’s an improvement from the ones who wrote about me and you.”

“You got that right,” he agrees with a shudder. Meeting one Becky the Stalker was bad enough. Knowing she wasn’t alone and that she had an audience made it even worse. “She even had a portmanteau for you, dude. Like you’re some celebrities in a grocery store tabloid. Sass-tiel.”

“Sass-tiel?” He seems to seriously consider it but shrugs. “I don’t know. What about… Samstiel? CasSam? Cam? Mmm, maybe not that…”

Dean groans. “Really? That’s your issue with this?”

“Of course it’s not my issue,” Sam says. He stays pensive for a few more seconds until chuckling again to himself this time, as if he’s the only one in on a private joke. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, Cas is great but…”

“Not your type?”

“Yeah, sure,” Sam says. No, it’s definitely more than that and he’s doing a piss-poor job of hiding his amused expression.

Dean turns and stares him down. “What?”

“I dunno,” he says, his smirk fully visible now. “I just think it’s funny they’re pairing me up with Cas when the one with the ‘profound bond’ with him is right there.”

“Oh, haha. You’re hilarious,” Dean retorts at once.

“Hey man, I’m not the one who stayed in Purgatory for a year to find him.”

His glare takes on a murderous edge.

“Okay. You know what? You’re going to do that thing where you just shut the hell up! Forever!”

Sam holds up his hands in either what’s either a show of innocence or surrender.

“Alright, alright. Well, other than the Charlie Kaufman of it all I got nothing.”

“So…what?” Dean says. “This-this all... This whole musical thing, everything, it's... it's all a coincidence? There is no case?”

“Unless you're seeing something I'm not, no, Dean. There's no case here,” he says sincerely this time.

“Come on. This has classic Trickster vibes all over it.” He almost wants to turn around and start yelling, Come on out Gabriel you bastard!

“Trickster’s dead, man. And he wasn’t just a trickster, he was an archangel. And they’re all gone too.”

“Could be a lower-rank angel?” Dean tries. “I mean, Zachariah pulled off an entire apocalypse world. And that place where we were both corporate drones. Before you know it, this’ll get all Buffy and it’ll be me and you singin’ and dancin’—“

“Dean…I think it’s just fans. Look, as long as they’re not putting another love spell on one of us I couldn’t really care less what they’re doing,” Sam says with some bitterness, clearly not looking back at that particular memory with any fondness. “Just writing some songs? I mean, it’s innocent enough.”

“Oh yeah, so innocent,” he scoffs. “They’re singing about our dead parents, your demon blood bender, the apocalypse, all of it! This is just…it’s make-believe for them! But it’s our lives!”

Sam runs a tired hand through his hair. “Look, I don’t get it either man. I wasn’t exactly thinking about the books’ entertainment value while Chuck was describing my sex life in vivid detail—“

“Don’t remind me,” he says, holding up a hand in disgust.  

“—but I dunno. There’s obviously something about it they connected to, right? Something they related to, something that moved them, inspired them? And I guess…I mean, what’s wrong with that?”

There is so, so much wrong with that.

“I don’t know what story they’re reading and what Sam and Dean they’re ‘connecting’ to here. But it sure as hell ain’t us. I mean…they even made me blonde, dude.”

“It’s a high school play, what can you expect?” Sam laughs. “It was probably the closest wig they could find at Party City.”

Dean ignores him, muttering aloud as he makes his way to the driver’s seat.

“The hair…the singing…the robots… the love story…”

“You really were bothered by that, weren’t you?” Sam gives his brother a curious look.

“SUPERNATURAL ISN’T A ROMANCE!” Dean snaps. “Look, these girls obviously don’t know what they’re talking about—“

“I dunno, Dean,” Sam said in a clearly taunting voice now. “Maybe you’re just jealous of what me and Cas have.”

He flushes. “W-what? I-I’m not—“

“We could give you two a name too, y’know? So you don’t feel left out? What about…Dee-stiel? CasDean?”

And he refuses to entertain this conversation any longer.

“Shut your face! Get in the car!”

Thankfully Sam notices the shift in tone and obliges at once.

Dean, meanwhile, takes a moment outside the car to glance around — almost as if checking to see if anyone overheard that comment. Not that it mattered. Who could overhear? No one even knew they were THE Sam and THE Dean. Who cared? He certainly didn’t care. He didn’t care at all...

(to be continued)

#if you were one of the people who offered to beta read back in march know I WILL be reaching out to because I need it lol #destiel #destiel fanfic #destiel fanfiction #fanfic #spn 10x05 #also this is a given but if you did want to be tagged when this is posted hmu! #been having so much fun with this especially with writing the new songs #also tbh the musical itself is the closet I will get to writing a sam & cas fic so that's been fun too lol #ESPECIALLY because then I can immediately add dean's reaction to it which is typically 'time to walk straight off the stage' #it's also fun to write a s10 fic since I'm a 'dean's been in love since s8 at least' truther #anyways new to this and my untreated adhd means I make a gazillion typos/take forever to work on things/get distracted by new ideas but #literally every positive comment on that first post is the reason why I'm still workin' at it

[phoenixyfriend]

OKAY so on the topic of Star Wars takes wrt “character ends up in an A/B/O universe where they’re an omega, but they were previously a cis male in their canon”

@atagotiak and I had some Thoughts on discord

So, obviously, Anakin would make a good omega and he’s also incredibly murdery. Foregone conclusion that we're using him for this.

There is no preexisting Anakin in the Omegaverse. He shows up JUST as the war is starting. Canon timeline is in the third year of the war (he’s 22), but whatever dumped him into omegaverse also tossed him back a few years. No de-aging, just a bit of mismatched timeline stuff.

He's... really good at war, and clearly a Jedi, so the Temple just kind of goes "WELL OKAY THEN, SURE, YOU'RE IN, EVERYONE PRETEND HE'S BEEN HERE THE WHOLE TIME." The Jedi, by and large, don't care about omegaverse dynamics beyond 'what do you need, medically, to be happy and healthy' and 'what do you need to be aware of so you can be prepared for biases you encounter in the field?’

None of the civilian natborns (mainly politicians) want to put him on the field because of those biases. Anakin, being Anakin, is VERY blatantly an omega in scent, has never been on suppressants (because it wasn't a thing he fucking NEEDED), is incredibly emotional as a person, loves kids, etc.

Like, nobody wants an omega fighting a war anyway, but THIS one is like PINNACLE omega, and those awful Jedi are making him FIGHT just because he's good at stab!

The Jedi: Actually, it's because he's got several years of war experience that we don't, and he's a good tactician that works well with the clones-- Coruscant: You MONSTERS The Jedi: Look, we gave him the option to not stab and he looked absolutely devastated. Anakin, several days earlier: You don’t want me? I’m not good enough??? Jedi: Also he can beat up at least half the temple.

He doesn't know a damn thing about dynamics, but he DOES know that sometimes he's so horny he wants to stab HARDER. The clones are largely disinterested in their generals' dynamics because between mostly-Mando* trainers and no-dynamic Kaminoans, they only really care if a person can shoot.

* Mandalore approves of Fighty Omegas. As far as (traditional) Mandalore is concerned, you want an omega that will kill the threats to your children as well as you do.

Anakin: You know more about being an omega than I do. Rex: ...I'm an alpha. Anakin: Yeah. Let that one sink in a bit.

We have two options for Obi-Wan!

Omegaverse local Obi-Wan (beta) has never met this man before, and is very unnerved that the immediate default reaction Anakin has to his presence is releasing Family pheromones as if Obi-Wan is his DAD and like. This strange, too-tall man from another dimension has got absolutely NO control over what he projects in the Force OR in his dynamic.

Obi-Wan was ALSO transplanted from canon to omegaverse, and is also an omega, for contrast reasons. He is nice and friendly and and likes poetry and that sort of thing... but also he has the highest dismemberment count in the movies. Also he doesn’t prioritize romance.

We went with the second one because it's hilarious.

Someone watching them spar: Wow, omegas from that universe are terrifying.

As previously mentioned, now with some tweaking to account for both: Obi-Wan and Anakin just straight up don't exist until they drop headfirst into the council room, already covered in blood. (It's mostly not theirs.)

Nobody realizes either one is an omega until they "naturalize" to this dimension and Anakin goes into heat... and doesn't realize it, actually, because his primary symptom is heightened protectiveness and aggression. Everyone else with the right nose realizes, because the man has no control over his pheromone production, but Anakin? No. He just stabs. He’s angry and horny and he will cut someone.

Ahsoka has no reaction to human pheromones but basically everyone smells Anakin's "my child!" reaction to her, so... Cool. Have a padawan, we guess.

Anakin ends up sparring a lot with Aayla and Ahsoka, because only humans and near humans have dynamics, so these two don't REACT to the pheromones situation.

(Palpatine is a Kindly Old Beta who tries to treat Anakin the way he EXPECTS Anakin wants to be treated, which is. Not. Accurate.)

(Anakin hates it.)

I'm just so in love with "An omega can't fight." "You wanna fuckin' bet?"

There are plenty of omega Jedi, by the way, it's just... most of them can keep it relatively low-key instead of Anakin's jet-engine broadcast. Some, if they're known to be omega, probably take advantage of being underestimated, like Obi-Wan probably (and especially a version of Obi-Wan that was always an omega, unlike this version). They have a very different way of presenting themselves than Anakin, who's not subtle about being an omega and also not subtle about being all aggressive and stabby.

At one point, Anakin has to protect some Very Traditional Individuals who get all "Stay back, Omega, it's not safe!" and he's just... so tired of this shit. “You are squishy civilians and I'm a trained Jedi Knight and accomplished GAR General who's killed more people in one sitting than there are in this entire palace. Sit the fuck down and let me do my job.”

It starts making the rounds that Anakin insisted on fighting in person, and the rumors shift from "how dare the Jedi force an omega to fight" and over into things that are deeply hurtful in-universe in the vein of "broken omega" and some people try to say it to his face but like...

He didn't grow up here.

He doesn't care.

Say that to one of his friends and he's going to rip out your spleen, probably, but say it to him and he's just staring at you flatly and asking if that's a negative on getting away from the encroaching battle droids, sir?

"You're rather unpleasant for an omega, aren't you?" [deeply offensive] "I literally could not give less of a fuck about your opinion. Move."

It's not that there aren't omegas that act like Anakin, either, it's just that most of them aren't, you know, Jedi who regularly interact with the upper crust, or capable of his level of destruction. Unbeknownst to Anakin, everyone clocks him as Outer Rim based on his behavior, well before his accent gives him away, and certainly before he mentions he's from Tatooine, because Core Omegas Don't Act Like That.

Someone they meet in a more diplomatic setting says something decently passive-aggressive about how at least Obi-Wan acts more like how an Omega should. Then a battle breaks out for some reason, and... well. Anakin and Obi-Wan cause such a scandal by keeping score of kills in a battle, don’t you know?

Turns out sending Anakin to fight Ventress is great because she keeps expecting him to react a certain way but NO he's here to STAB.

I like the idea that Obi-Wan's favorite opponent these days is Grievous because the cyborg doesn't have a nose, and thus gives zero fucks about dynamics or heats. Dooku is a rich old man who has opinions heavily influenced by Sith Juice Making Him More of a Dick, and the Dathomiri can smell dynamics even if they don't have them, and so they have biases about those things. Meanwhile, Grievous is just there to Kill, and Obi-Wan genuinely appreciates the lack of commentary on his dynamic.

Dooku’s probably an alpha, or a beta who's used the whole "we are more level-headed" thing as one of several angles to keep himself the public face and supreme commander of the CIS.

On to more fluffy things that have less to do with political biases.

There's a lot of "I'm upset that my loved ones don't know me," but also please understand the appeal of Obi-Wan marching up to Quinlan like "Yes, hello, I understand you've been read in on the full situation behind myself and my former padawan. I was close friends with your alternate universe self, which I feel is necessary disclosure before I propose the following: Would you like to join me for my upcoming heat, as I have minimal experience with the dynamics situation and even fewer people I actually trust, and I believe I can put my faith in you to treat it as casually as necessary while still having control and respect for my person."

(The Team is in a fairly safe place to process stuff, but having sudden unexpected changes to your biology has gotta be a little traumatizing, on top of ending up in a universe where none of your friends know you and people have a whole host of unfamiliar forms of sexism to point at you.)

Obi-Wan, who wasn't quite touch-averse but was much more easily overwhelmed by physical contact than Anakin (who craved it), suddenly finds his body switching gears and insisting on cuddles with Trusted Loved Ones, which is.... mostly Anakin, on account of nobody else really knowing him yet. Also Ahsoka, who is aware that she's something of a replacement for her alt-universe self, but Anakin explained it as "I love you so much no matter which dimension I'm in or what you're like, and I'd like to get to know you the way I got know her."

(It's rather eloquent for Anakin. He got Obi-Wan to help him draft up the script for when he pitched taking on omegaverse Ahsoka as a padawan.)

Anakin gets a more intensely sexual heat than 'usual' at one point for Reasons (IDK it could be as innocuous as 'we got better food than the usual rations and my body is reacting to the higher fat content with the belief that it's safer to have a baby now'), which nobody takes a whole lot of notice of because they're in a WAR, and also this is only his fourth one so it's not like he's got a lot to compare it to... except then the predominantly alpha clones can't stop themselves from reacting to the pheromones, mostly by wandering past his door and asking if he needs anything, offering up alpha-scented blankets and stuff for the nest to soothe the hormones, bringing snacks and electrolyte drinks, and like, Anakin is flattered, really, but fuck off please.

(He got a warning from medical a few hours before it hit that it would be different, so he actually does have alpha-scented fabrics to help him out. Apparently that's a thing you can just ask friends for, so he asked Rex if he had anything on hand that he could spare. He now has one of Rex’s recently-used sheets and a bodyglove in the nest.)

(Anakin has no idea how to feel about the nesting instinct, but at least it’s warm.)

Tia asked "Oh hey, who has the scared and horny reaction to his carnage?" and like.

Listen. I'm not saying I've been low-key imagining this as Rex being a very subby alpha who's really into Anakin's whole Thing but...

At one point Anakin gets injured in a way that requires painkillers and he ends up whining to the point of almost crying about the fact that nobody is cuddling him right now in medbay and Kix just gives up and comms Ahsoka to come hug her weird older brother.

And Then There Is Purring.

That’s a Thing Now.

Rex ends up in the pile somehow. He came over to check on Things and ended up yanked in by half-asleep, half-high Anakin, who has a grip like an octopus and no impulse control and is purring like a pod motor while NUZZLING HIM.

There’s a lot of blackmail photos featuring Rex’s very intense blush as he’s cuddled by his commander (giggling at him) and general (clinging like a tooka and rubbing himself all over).

Anakin is deeply offended that ANYONE thinks he'd want to get pregnant by just any old person, NO he needs to fall in LOVE there needs to be EMOTIONAL DRAMA and if Padme won't have him (apparently she's in a relationship and no he's not BITTER) then he'll find someone else to have a whirlwind romance with!

People think Anakin's a slut because he can't control his pheromone production (he has NO practice and for health reasons he can't go on suppressants) so he always smells open and ready for flirtations, which Obi-Wan also has to a somewhat lesser degree (he's older so his body just naturally produces less), and then someone tries to cross a boundary and grabs his ass and ANYWAY Anakin has to now fill out an incident report for breaking a civilian's arm.

Again.

#Anakin Skywalker #Obi Wan Kenobi #Ahsoka Tano #Captain Rex #Rexwalker #Quinlan Vos #star wars #the clone wars #time travel #omegaverse #alpha beta omega #phoenix posts

[superfics-forone]

Just Friends

SUMMARY: Sam asks the group who they think are the “hottest” members of the team. You don’t make the cute for Bucky’s top five.

Bucky x TALL!Reader

W/C: 5,800

WARNINGS: angst, swearing (like two f bombs), cannon level violence, Bucky being an idiot (it’s a warning), physical insecurities, fake science

A/N: I wrote this because the top 5 situation actually happened to me IRL and when you don’t make someone you like’s list, it sucks. Also, this is in no way meant as being against people who are smaller! I am just a tall/plus size woman and sometimes that really makes you feel like you’re unattractive to people because you don’t fit the gender norm. Let me know what you think! I’m pretty new at this so I’d appreciate the feedback!

Also, HUGE shout out to @princessmisery666 for being so patient and supportive! Thank you for being my beta! Your comments were so incredibly helpful!

The best part about working with Bucky was that you got to see him everyday. The worst part was that you were constantly reminded that he wasn’t attracted to you.

You knew you were a good looking woman, people would often tell you that. It usually happened when you weren’t necessarily feeling your prettiest. Somehow that made it worse. Others would compliment you but he never would. Even when you knew you looked good- like you had put in extra effort and actually tried that day- still he would give you nothing.

You sat across from him in the common room looking at all the other Avengers wondering why he didn’t feel the same when you finally got your answer.

“Alright man,” Sam called out to the group. “Top five, let’s go.”

“Top five?” asked Clint, not sure if he wanted to know the answer. “Top five what?”

Everyone looked back to Sam, - “Top five on who you think is lookin’ most fine”.

“You want us to rate each other?” You asked incredulously.

“Naw, man!” Sam replied. “I want to know who you think are the top five most attractive! Male and female!”

You slunk back into the sofa, both curious and terrified of the conversation to come.

You heard huffs from the others but no one objected. Vision went first and of course he could only answer with; “I believe all of you are inherently lovely. I couldn’t possibly pick a top five of those who I find to be most attractive.” As soon as he finished and the room was no longer focused on him though he leaned over to Wanda and said something in her ear that made her blush.

You brought your cup up to your lips to hide your smile. You loved how happy they were after having been through so much heartbreak.

Sam went next, “Imma say, Wanda, Nat, Gamora’s got it goin’ on…for an alien…Hill - don’t tell her I said that- and…Y/N,” he said throwing you a wink.

You smiled but shook your head with a roll of your eyes. You knew the only reason he said your name was because you were in the room. He was trying to be kind. Men didn’t seem to be actively lining up to be with you…it might have something to do with them being intimidated by you being an Avenger but who could possibly know

“Sam you would think anything with legs that gave you the time of day was hot,” Bucky shot.

The others laughed but Sam shot back, “alright, Tin Man, who’s on your list? Okoye?”

“Yeah for one! I would be dead before I could make a move but sure! She’s dangerous and stunning!” He took a swig of bourbon as if he was done.

“Alright then who else?” Wanda leaned forward winking at you.

You shot her a warning look. You had only told her how you felt about Bucky once on a drunken night after finding out he had gone on date with another recruit. Jealousy had reared its ugly head and she could feel your angst that night. You had asked Wanda how; “A tiny little thing that would barely hold her own in the ring,” could possibly catch his eye. It was as if the only thing he saw you as was an ear to listen to his problems and a soldier he could rely on in the field. You had seen them together multiple times since then and every time it pained you more.

She was everything you weren’t. Barely five foot, two inches tall with a skinny frame to match, and a nicely formed backside. In reality you couldn’t be mad at Bucky. He deserved to be happy. He was your friend and you wanted that for him. You just wanted that particular happiness too.

“Okay, okay!” Bucky’s hands came up in surrender as he finished his drink and leaned back to think, He sat so close to you his left bicep of his folded arms brushed yours with every breath he took.“Okoye? Sure…uh… in no particular order…Wanda, Nat, Darcy, and the little woman, Kris, from reception.”

“It seems, Mr. Barnes”, said Vision, “that you prefer mates who are significantly smaller than you. I do believe that of that group, Wanda is the tallest one.”

“Which isn’t really saying much because I’m only five, six”, she complained.

“The perfect height my dear.” Wanda smiled at that and kissed Vision’s cheek .

You took another long sip of your drink as you registered what had been said. Your stomach soured as you finished the glass. Not so much from the alcohol as from the realization that the man who you had secretly been pinning over didn’t even list you as attractive enough to make his top five.

You felt like you knew why. It was just too much. You weren’t small and dainty like those on his list. You had big bones and a can do attitude. You wouldn’t take crap from people. And because you were so tall you could come off as intimidating…or so some men had told you.

“I’m going to get another drink,” You whispered to no one in particular.

But Sam really couldn’t read a room and he called you out. “No, no! Who’s on your list Y/N?”

“Oh no!” You said dryly. “I’d have to be much drunker for that conversation. For now, I'll keep my opinions to myself.”

You spotted Bucky’s surprised face before you made your way over to the bar. The conversation carried on behind you as you refilled your glass. Thoughts of Bucky’s revelation clouding your mind. You were never going to be good enough for him because you were just too big. Too tall. Too much. He liked the smallest, most petite women in the compound. Feeling your emotions swelling,you decided to grab the bottle and made your way quietly out of the room while the ruckus continued.

Once on your floor you closed the door behind you with a forceful slam, “FRIDAY!! Lock the door and don’t open it for anyone!!”

“Yes, Miss Y/L/N.”

The rest of the night was spent on the floor in your sweats drinking from your bottle of whiskey and feeling sorry for yourself and all the things you couldn’t be because of biology.

You weren’t sure if it was a drunken stupor or your imagination but at one point you could have sworn you heard a knock only for it to go away just as quickly.

…

The next day you had an awful hangover and didn’t get out of bed. Bucky came to your door for your normal morning run.

“Tell him I’m not going, Friday.”

“He would like to know why, Miss.”

“Tell him it’s my time of the month.”

“Your time of the month was last week, Miss.”

“Who’s side are you on, Friday? Just tell him I’m sick.”

“Very well, Miss.”

It was silent for a few moments and you had thought that would be enough to get Bucky off your back for now.

“Mr. Barnes would like to know if you’d like to see Dr. Cho, Miss.”

“Uuuugggghhhh,” you rolled out of bed and marched over, irritated that the one person you didn’t want to see was at your door.Pulling it open with a huff you practically screamed. “What?!?”

“Woah!” Bucky jumped back startled at your disheveled appearance and puffy eyes. “I just want to make sure you’re alright, doll. You didn’t come back last night and you never answered the door when I came to check on you.”

So there was a knock last night.

You couldn’t look him in the eye as your eyes filled with tears again, this time with shame. “I’m fine, Bucky.” You started shutting the door quickly and he stuck his hand on it preventing you from closing it again.

“Y/N…what’s…”

“Bucky, I just need some rest okay?” You cut him off, “I’m fine. I promise I’ll be right as rain tomorrow.” You smiled weakly.

Bucky searched your face as if trying to find what you weren’t telling him in your eyes. But you were an Avenger and you knew how to school your features to show nothing.

Bucky sighed and shook his head, “alright, doll. I’m here if you want to talk about anything.”

“Yes, fine,” you said pushing him out the door. Your eyes had flooded with tears again. You didn’t look up to see Bucky’s hurt and concerned face as you closed the door again and put your back to it.

You held your breath listening for his footsteps to retreat before sinking to the floor and crying.

…

The next day was an all out avoid Bucky day. You weren’t sure you could take the questions and worried looks he was sure to give you. Instead, you decided that what you needed was time away from such temptation. And so, you went in to ask Steve for an overseas long assignment.

“You sure about this one, Y/N. It’s a 9 month solo mission. It’s going to be long and it’s going to be lonely.”

“Yes. I’m sure. I need some time to myself.”

Steve looked at you with understanding and pity. He could see how you felt about Bucky even if he couldn’t get his best friend to see it as well.

“Alright,” he said, “suit up. You leave in 2 hours.”

South Africa wasn’t the worst assignment. It wouldn’t take long for you to get the information you needed. And the separation from Bucky would be good for you.

You finished checking your last weapon and loaded it as well as a pair of throwing knives, a gift from Bucky, into your duffle before looking around your room one more time.

You headed to the door and almost made it out until the picture of you and Bucky on your dresser made you stop. Picking it up you smiled at the memory of the minor league baseball game you’d attended together. You had won tickets and no one else was available that night. When you’d offered the tickets to Bucky you couldn’t believe that he said yes! It was the true start of your friendship, talking about life and how much it had changed for him but also how little it had changed for you. He couldn’t believe it when you started singing all the words to “I’ll never smile again”.

“You think I don’t know music? I’m quite cultured, Mr. Barnes!” You had said with a laugh.

“I never said you weren’t, sweetheart!”

Coming back out of your revelry with a start you put the picture back down on the dresser and turned to the door. You were going to get over this infatuation, even if it killed you. Supposedly time heals all wounds. Well you weren’t sure if there was ever going to be enough time but you could get distance.

…

Hours later Bucky came in to tell you about the relationship problems he was having with the girl from reception. She just didn’t seem to understand him and kept picking fights. You had become his confidant and had saved his relationship once before so would most likely be able to do it again.

He was almost to your room when he noticed your door was ajar. Slowing he moved closer and pushed it in silently. The room was neat and quiet. Your bed folded nicely as though it was always that way.

Bucky knew that you never made your bed until you were right about to get in it. Or unless you were going on a trip.

Checking carefully he started to notice things missing. Your favorite slippers were gone. Your tooth brush and favorite stuffed animal turtle were also missing. All of the things that you felt you had to have with you were gone.

Then he saw the picture frame on the dresser. Picking it up he too smiled at the memory, then frowned. It was still here. You almost always took this with you. Why was it still here but everything else you held of value was gone.

“Friday, where is Y/N?”

“Miss Y/L/N has volunteered for a mission, sir.”

“Where?”

“That information is classified.”

“Okay, when will she be back?”

“That information is classified.”

“Alright, who else went on the mission,” he asked hoping whoever it was would have your back.

“All other Avengers are currently in the compound.”

“So she went by herself?” Bucky fumed.

“That information is classified.”

“Damn robots!”

Bucky stormed out and found Steve in the kitchen.

“Where did you send her, punk!

Steve didn’t even look up from his newspaper, knowing exactly what his best friend was talking about.

“She’ll be fine, Buck. She just needs some time to herself.”

“So send her to Fiji! Not a solo mission!!”

“This is her call Bucky. You’ve got to trust her.”

Bucky spun on his heel and headed to the computer lab. He knew he was being irrational but if no one else was going to look after your well-being then he was going to have to do it himself.

It took him all day but he finally unencrypted the files for your mission. You were to carry out a recon mission in Port Elizabeth on a supposed Hydra base. It was a far cry from Fiji but you wouldn’t be in immediate danger.

Still he came in everyday to check in on your reports and find out how the events in the country were progressing. He had even convinced Torres to help him set up notifications to his phone if something were to go wrong. He had, very nicely, threatened him with knives if he didn’t set up Stark’s satellite to keep an eye on you.

After three weeks he was really starting to miss your company. Every time he went out with Kris from reception he realized that she just wasn’t as interesting as you. They didn’t have the same camaraderie and chemistry as the two of you did.

So when his phone dinged at 2:30am he looked at the notification. It was a satellite image of you on your apartment porch drinking coffee. You seemed at ease and calm at your small table. Your hair down and wearing a long red dress. He went to the live feed of the satellite but when he did you weren’t there.

Bucky refreshed the page again thinking it may be just an error. But his rising heartbeat made him think differently. When the screen came back he noticed the upturned coffee mug and the newspapers on the ground.

Bucky flew from his bed and raced down the hall to the command room. Steve and Tony were already there, still in their pajamas.

“…it’s not as if she has a tracker in her, Stark!”

“Well maybe she should! Maybe we should make it a standard issue! Everyone gets a tracker! Friday! Make a note!”

“Yes sir.” replied the AI.

“Tony, we need to focus on the…”

“Where is she?!” Bucky growled.

Both men turned around in surprise. Steve recovered first, his eyes sympathetic for his friend’s worry. “We’re not sure, Buck. These images were only taken 4 hours ago.” He clicked to zoom in closer, “but we did get this.”

He zoomed all the way into the kitchen window behind where you’d sat drinking coffee, where a face reflected in the glass. Bucky looked on in rage, hands in tight fists, as the image became clearer and Zemo came into focus.

…

You awoke with a start, unaware of your surroundings. You sat on a bed in a bare room with a single one way mirror. A metal chair sat by the wall and you noticed no handle on the door. Trying to piece together what had happened you recalled your last memory.

A beautiful morning, the sun shining on the water, a freshly brewed cup of coffee. You sat in your apartment in Port Elizabeth, a pain in your neck…

“Zemo,” you whispered.

“Ah, you’re awake,” said the speaker above you. “I’m sorry about the dramatics but it was necessary. You’re a very important piece of the puzzle.”

“Let me guess,” you said as you rolled your eyes. “You don’t like the way the world is being saved by the Avengers and you think you could do better.”

“Actually I want something else, мой дорогой. I need you.”

“What?” you cried befuddled. “Why on earth would you need me?”

“Do you know what TX-39 is?”

“Yes, I have an entire codex of arbitrary numbers logged away in my brain,” you retorted.

Zemo didn’t pause at your sarcasm. “TX-39 is the compound used to create nucleotides that bond onto nerve endings. By doing so they suspend brain signals stopping all neuro function and rendering the subject immoble. Something you have experienced first hand. By combining a nanotech inhibitor with this nerve ending your subject’s direct motor function is now open to...suggestions.”

You sat astounded as you registered what he had told you. You looked down at your hands but you didn’t feel different. There was no way something like this could work.

“What better way to get rid of a super soldier than to create your own?” Zemo said. You felt a slight buzz in your spine as you stood up quickly trying to resist. Running to the mirror you pulled back your arm, ready to punch your way out, but an inch from the glass your arm stopped. “Ironic that the Soldat will come to save you, only to be the one who needs to be saved.” With that you felt the electricity in your spine disappear and your body was your own again.

Frustration built within you as you sat back on the bed for a moment processing his statement. Your face became more and more incredulous until finally you burst out laughing. You continued laughing harder and harder at the absurdity of Zemo’s reasoning.

“You think I’m the one he is going to come after,” you laughed. “You think you picked the right mouse for your trap? You’re going to wait a long time if you think he’s going to come and get me.”

During your first few weeks away you had missed Bucky fiercely. Leaving him behind so abruptly had felt like severing a part of yourself, but the last few weeks had been good for you. You had forgotten what it was like to rely on yourself. You had grown into yourself again and had realized how little Bucky had actually cared for you when he never came to find you. He hadn’t so much as picked up the phone after you had left. It was as if you had never existed in the first place.

“Bucky doesn’t care about me,” you said sardonically. “He never has. We are barely even friends.You picked the wrong mouse, Zemo. ”

“We’ll see, дорогой,” and with a click he was gone.

Your brain shifted in and out of the conversation with Zemo. Looking down at your hands, you prayed it wasn’t true. You knew that what had happened at the window was real but you didn’t want to believe it. You had been turned into a weapon to hurt your friends. To hurt Bucky.

Crossing your arms over your chest you laid down on the bed, rolled over to face the wall, and cried.

…

Avengers Compound

“There is a five mile radius around Agent Y/L/N last known location,” said Fury. “Two man teams will sweep the area in a grid formation while the drones scan for energy signatures. Any questions?”

All those around the table sat silent, but nodded confirmation of their understanding of the objective. Fury looked around the room, “This mother fucker took one of ours and I wanna know why. Let’s get going.”

Bucky stood up from the table and made his way out of the room to the Quinjet hangar. Steve pulled on his arm before entering the plane. “I know what’s going through your mind right now Buck, but we are going to get her back”.

Bucky looked at the ground before raising his eyes to his friend. “He knew how to get to me, Steve. He always knows where to hurt me. He couldn’t use you. You’re too difficult to overpower. So he had to pick her. I just,” Bucky wasn’t sure how to finish his thought. Words never came easily to him and he wasn’t sure he could really express what he was feeling. “I just want her safe.”

After you had left Bucky felt hollow inside. He hadn’t realized how much joy you brought to his day with your smiles and jokes. Always knowing what to say, or at least, what he needed to hear. Your departure made him realize he needed you. Boarding the jet Bucky knew that no matter what happened he was going to tell you how he felt.

…

The team had been sweeping through the city for what felt like hours and there still hadn’t been any developments. Walking through another alleyway Bucky scanned the cobblestone streets. He was beginning to lose hope at ever finding you at all when he saw an uneven line in between two buildings.

Pressing his comm link he called out, “Steve, I’ve got something. I’m going to check it out.”

“Bucky, wait for backup. We’ll come to you.”

Feeling along the wall Bucky felt a draft between the cracks. Unholstering the gun at his hip he pushed against the wall feeling it give way.

“I’m going in. Follow my location.”

“Bucky, wait!” Steve called.

Bucky ignored his calls and continued down the dimly lit hall. The walls opened up to a staircase leading down to a command room. The musky scent of decay and scotch filled Bucky’s nostrils.

“Privet, Soldat,” Zemo called from the darkness.

Bucky whirled around to find nothing.

“Have you come for your little mouse?”

Still searching, Bucky said nothing as the sound came from a different corner of the room.

“Have you realized how much you miss her?”

Bucky circled again, coming up to a window.

“I wonder what it is? Is it her sweetness that draws you? Or her willingness to see you for more than the killer you are?”

Bucky frowned. Zemo was playing with him.

“Or have you realized that her fire is what draws you to her? She does have a talented tongue. I’ve seen her put it to good use,” Zemo provoked. “I have enjoyed having her in my company, but it seems you really never appreciated her spirit, did you?”

Bucky continued searching the room as Zemo continued his monologue. Coming up to the computer he saw a paused video feed. It played as soon as he stepped forward.

Bucky saw you in a room, still in your red sundress. Your hair was matted and you had the look in your eye of anger and exasperation. When you spoke, Bucky felt the wind rush out of his lungs.

“Bucky doesn’t care about me,” you said sardonically. “He never has. We are barely even friends.”

“A pity she never saw you care, but I suppose it’s only fair that you tell her now.”

The door beside the window clicked open with a beep. You came out of the cell with a look of wary surprise on your face. “Bucky?”

“Now is your moment, Sergeant Barnes. Why not tell her how you feel before it's too late,” called Zemo.

Bucky holstered his gun and walked toward you. “Y/N? Are you okay? Come on, let's get out of here.”

He grabbed your hand and turned to go but you were rooted to the spot. Your breathing became heavy as you felt the tingling sensation in your spine again.

“Bucky, I need you to leave,” you cried, dread dripping from your voice.

“What? No,sweetheart, come on! I’m not leaving you.”

“Bucky, I…” you started.

“Last chance to declare yourself, Soldat.”

Looking up in anger, Bucky yelled. “Shut up, Zemo. I’m not performing for you-” Bucky’s head turned in surprise as you punched him across the face. “What the hell, Y/N?”

“It wasn’t me!” you cried as you dropped and kicked his legs out from under him.

Bucky rolled over quickly to pick himself up as you followed him swinging punches at his head and kicks to his stomach. Your moves were both erratic and efficient as they landed multiple times. It was all Bucky could do to block your assault and move out of the way.

“This isn’t me!” you cried again between punches. “Zemo is controlling me with nanotech!”

Bucky threw up an arm to block your punch before flipping you around by your arm and pressing you to the wall. He didn’t want to hurt you but he was pretty sure that it wasn’t the most comfortable position.

“It’s okay, Y/N. We’re going to get you out of this.”

Your foot kicked his leg and you pushed yourself over and around his head and away from the wall. Grabbing the knife at his hip as you slipped out of his grip, you threw it into his thigh.

Bucky looked at you in surprise and annoyance. “Sorry!” you winced. Pulling the knife from his leg he tossed it to the floor.

“Look, Y/N. I’m not going anywhere, but try not to kill me, okay?”

“It’s not like I’m doing this on purpose Bucky!” you huffed as you charged at him.

“Well I’m just trying to get you out of the problem you put yourself in!” You had grabbed another knife and went to stab him. Bucky caught the knife and twisted your hand but the knife snagged your dress and tore the skirt as you fought to wrestle it away.

Your eyes flared with anger and the next punch you threw had a little extra heft in it.

“That I put myself in? How about you, Mr. Barge-into-a-room-with-no-back-up!”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I thought you liked being saved! Although you’re one to talk! You came on a mission without backup!” Bucky rolled across the computer console out of the way of your next kick, getting agitated at your attitude.

“Because I needed space!” you yelled as you followed him around the computer desk.

“Space? Space from what?” Bucky yelled back, actually throwing a punch that you easily evaded.

“You! You idiot!” it burst out of you as you came up swinging before pushing him to the ground.

Bucky looked up at you with his eyes wide. You had him straddled under your legs. Bucky brought his arms up to block your punches while he tried to talk to you.

“Why would you need space from me? I don’t understand. You left without warning, without saying goodbye! Your mission was classified so I had to hack F.R.I.D.A.Y to even find out where you were!”

Your body was starting to fatigue from the strain of the fight as you continued to land blow after blow. You were fit and well trained but because your body was not your own you were blowing through energy rapidly. Your breaths were coming in short gasps as your chest heaved at each punch. If you kept this up, you weren’t sure how much time you would have before your body gave out entirely.

“Y/N, you left a huge gap! You were my best friend and then you were gone! You wouldn’t even talk to me before you left! You didn’t tell me you were leaving. I couldn’t even call you because the mission was supposed to be classified!”

Maybe it was the fatigue, maybe the hopelessness you felt, but you gave him everything you had left as you pummeled into him. Frustration over your situation, frustration at him, frustration at yourself built up inside you.

“I WILL NOT BE YOUR STAND IN! I will not be second best. I can’t look on anymore as you find someone smaller, cuter, littler to fit perfectly into your life! I deserve to be wanted! I deserve to be desired!” you screamed at the man beneath you as tears streamed down your cheeks.

Bucky finally bucked his hips and flipped you under him, pinning your hands to the ground next to your head.

“Get off of me! Let me go!” you had finally had enough. The damn had broken and your emotions and insecurities raged inside you. Your body pulled and twisted to break free from his grip.

“You do deserve to be desired,” Bucky said calmly as he caged you beneath him. “You are nobody's stand in. You’re perfect just as you are.” He wanted to say more but it was all he could do to keep you pinned under him.

The team burst down into the control room to see you openly weeping and Bucky on top of you.

“Nat, I need you to put an electric burst in my arm.” Bucky said looking up.

“I’m sorry, you what?” asked Nat.

“Just do it!” he said as you fought harder against him.

With a nod from Steve, Nat waved her baton and zapped Bucky’s arm causing both of you to scream in pain. When your body finally stopped seizing, the lack of adrenaline and the pain and fatigue caught up to you and you passed out in Bucky’s arms.

“You want to explain why I just pushed fifty thousand volts through you two?”

“Zemo infected her with some kind of nano tech. She hasn’t been in control this entire time.”

Steve scanned around the room. “Alright team, fan out. See if you can find out where Zemo went. I want teams down here with sat links up in 30 minutes.”

Bucky circled the gears around in his arm to get it up and running again before scooping you carefully off the ground.

“Buck, get her on the next jet out. Dr. Cho and Banner will be waiting for you to get back.”

…

For the second time you woke up in an unfamiliar place, and struggled to get your bearings. You felt like you’d been run over by a pick up truck and tumbled through a dryer.

Feeling slowly returned to your hands as your eyes opened and your vision cleared. You were in one of the medical rooms at the compound you realized.

“Look who decided to wake up,” said a gruff voice.

Turning your head you saw Bucky sitting in the chair beside you. He looked fresh and his eyes twinkled at you.

“Bucky,” you croaked as you tried to sit up.

“Woah there. You just relax. Your body is still trying to catch up from Zemo’s nanites.”

You slumped back down in the bed as Bucky leaned forward to take your hand.

“You had me worried there for a minute, doll. You’ve been sleeping for days. Wasn’t sure when you were going to pull through.”

“You doubt me, Barnes?”

“Not for a second, sweetheart, but I sure as hell missed you.” Bucky smiled, then looked down for a moment as if trying to find the right words. “We need to talk about why you left, Y/N.”

“No, Bucky, I...it doesn’t matter.” You say looking away. “It’s not important.”

“I don’t know, I’d say you thinking you don’t matter to me is pretty important.” You turned to look at him sharply, mouth open in a small gasp. “And I’d also say that you thinking I don’t find you desirable is pretty important too.”

You sat in shock as he spoke, not wanting to break the way you had during your fight.

“Y/N, you are perfect. You knew me before I even knew myself. You light up the whole room just by being in it. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. You are strong, independent, kind, and gentle. You’re like a tall Asgardian goddess. Every inch of you is beautiful. I thought back to the last time we talked...before you left, and I realized why you did. I know why you thought I wasn’t attracted to you. That night, Sam’s list,” he paused as if pained at the memory, “I didn’t add you because...well, because I was so confused at how I was feeling. You were my friend. I didn’t realize till it was too late that I was already falling in love with you. And I most definitely didn’t want to give Sam anymore ammunition.”

You looked up at him sharply when he dropped the L word.

Bucky stood to reposition himself on the edge of your bed. Taking your face in his hands he leans forward until your foreheads barely touch. “I didn’t want to ruin things with you. You were my friend. You were perfect and I thought you deserved better so I ran to find something that was everything you weren’t. You are my perfect fit. You are just right. You are the only person I want. Please tell me you’re mine. Please tell me I haven’t lost you.”

You brought your hand up to rest over his as you let his words wash over you.

He wanted you. He thought you were beautiful. All of you. All of the parts people had told you were too much: your height, your attitude, your independence - he wanted it all.

You did something that you wanted to do for months, you brought your lips up to his softly and gave him a chaste kiss. “I was always yours Bucky,” You pulled his hands down and pushed him away to look into his eyes, “but I won’t be taken for granted anymore. I shouldn’t have to leave for you to want me. I shouldn’t have to be gone for you to realize what you had. I left for a reason. It was to find peace with myself. I realized that I didn’t need your approval. I didn’t need your desire to be whole. I won’t settle for someone who can’t see what’s right in front of them. I know my worth.”

Bucky looked at you sorrowfully as he held onto your fingers, memorizing their shape. “I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I never meant to make you feel like you weren’t enough.”

“I know, but it happened. I don’t need you to be happy, Bucky...” Bucky hung his head in dejection. “...But I do want you.”

Bucky looked up at you sharply to find your eyes full of love and warmth. You wanted him. Even after all that happened - how he forced you away, how he made you feel like you weren’t good enough, you were still willing to forgive him. You wanted him even with all his faults.

You brought him closer for another kiss and savored the way his lips fell across yours. Breaking away to look up at him you said what you had been holding in for months, “And I love you too.”

Tags: @princessmisery666 @dreamwritesimagines

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fic #avenger reader #angst #tall girl problems

[iamjungkooked]

Until My Last Breath

↳Pairing: Jungkook x female reader

↳Genre: Smut (mild), Romance, Angst

↳Word count: 13.4k

↳Warnings: swearing, mild oral sex (f receiving), way too much making out, grinding (sort of?), mention of death. More than all of this Jeongguk is just fucking delicious in this fic (that’s the biggest warning i can give you)

↳Rating: 18+ (Don’t read if you are underage)

↳AU: werewolf! Jungkook + human OC

↳Summary: Sporting an undercut and tattoos Jeon Jungkook waltzes back in your life after 5 years of being away. You think you know him– and just when you think you have gotten close, he reveals a secret (or two). Following this, is a series of trials and tribulations that concludes in a way you never expect.

(Alternatively: the one where Jungkook creates a mess out of you)

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Your hands hurt from holding the grocery bags. Mrs. Jeon did offer her help but you refused because she has so much to do. If anything Jimin should have accompanied you considering that he’s always going on about how he’d marry you if he could.

Alas, he wasn’t there either because being the beta of the pack meant he had to run morning training and education with the younger children since Jungkook wasn’t there. Generally this was something the alpha of the pack would do-- but Mr. Jeon was busy with the politics of the werewolf and human world. Had Jungkook been here he would have been running the session seeing as he is next in line to be alpha of the pack. But he was miles away on the other side of the country. He has been for five years and truth be told you can’t even remember what his face looks like anymore.

With thoughts such as that the only accompaniment, you march along with as much energy you can muster at each step. The house comes into view. Once again with no other company but your own to entertain yourself you take a drip down memory lane. You remember the awe you first felt when Mr. Jeon brought you to the house. Your father had just passed away while on a drug raid. Mr. Jeon being his best friend brought you with him.

In the early days, the entire family tried to hide their secret. But then on a full moon, you curiously followed Jungkook out and watched as he transformed from man into a beast. Initially, you wanted to scream with horror, but the air got stuck in your throat when he began approaching you. Rooted to the spot and with no escape, Jungkook-- rather his wolf form nuzzled his nose against your neck and whimpered. The fear was gone just like that. All night long, you accompanied him, roaming the forest behind the house getting into all sorts of trouble. When the effect of the full moon began to fade during the early hours of the morning you remember sneaking back into the house and rummaging through his room to get him clothes for when he transformed back.

You kick the giant black gate open and walk down the cemented pathway flanked on either side by lawns outlined with a variety of flowers. To your left was the gazebo that Mr. Jeon built when you were sixteen as a birthday present because that happened to be your obsession at the time.

As the foyer nears, you see a huge commotion outside. It seemed everyone and their mother was present. With urgency in your steps only worsened by curiosity, you reach in no time. You stand on your tiptoes to get a view of what was happening, however, the five grocery bags in your hands weigh you down.

Momentarily the crowd parts. You see the outline of a face that isn’t recognizable-- the hoodie covering half the profile.

“What is going on?” you gather the courage to speak loudly against the chatter of the crowd.

It is loud enough to get the talking to stop and everyone turns to you, including the mysterious stranger.

He pulls his hoodie down.

The grocery bags drop from your hands, just as your mouth hangs open.

“Jungkook is back!” one of the kids tugs at your arm in excitement.

Well shit. You never could have recognized him even if someone planted his younger version of right next to him. He is probably just shy of 6 feet tall. Although engulfed in a black crewneck, you could tell he was built. His dark wash ripped blue jeans contour his thighs to perfection and just when you think he couldn’t have changed further you notice his hair. He had gone off and gotten himself an undercut. His hair was on the longer side, and it was parted to the left of his head while the undercut was visible on the right. He had even gone so far as to get tattoos that adorned his fingers, and his forearm-- a music note. Well now you were fucked because how could you ever resist a man with that kind of hairstyle and tattoos.

Correction, how could you resist a fucking werewolf who wears an undercut and has tattoos?

“Y/n?” he speaks and you swear you could have heard angels speaking to you.

You keep mum. In fact, you can’t even hear him. You’re too busy undressing him with your eyes. Your heart pounds, your knees feel weak because this man is simply too gorgeous to exist. How the hell is everyone else standing on their two feet while you feel like you’re going to fall any moment?

You say something. You have no idea what exactly because your ears are ringing, but you know something comes out of your mouth which causes everyone around you to giggle. You might as well just turn around and go hide somewhere because you’ve probably made a fool of yourself.

“Huh” comes his deep voice, but it’s faint. His remark only makes you wonder what you spat out.

“It’s hot” you fan yourself with your hand. Your mouth is parched, dry like the desert. “You--  Wow. You look--nice to--- welcome. I mean, g-good— to” you look at him, and pause to collect your thoughts. “Good to have you back. I think...” you are completely breathless and dazed by the end of that word salad. Your forehead scrunches in a frown as you try to shake away the magic spell his presence has cast on you. You don’t even bother to wait for a response as you run back down the pathway you came. You follow it out of the gate and turn the corner. A few paces up the hill you come upon the gated entrance to the forest.

You hear someone calling you out, but you’re a damn mess. You aren’t willing to let anyone see you like that. You run as far into the forest as your legs will carry you-- far, far, away from him.

You can finally understand the phrase “avoid like the plague” because that’s what you have been doing to Jungkook. For the past four days since he has been back, you have done anything and everything you can to avoid him. If you see him in the house, you immediately make a u-turn for your room. If you see him outside, you hide behind anything you can find-- a pillar, a bush, a tree, a car, another fucking human being.

Of course it doesn’t help that everyone tries to keep pushing you to him. Well, mostly his parents. But also random people like the ladies in Mrs. Jeon’s book club who on Saturday made a spectacle out of you.

“Come on, pose for a photo” they had said when they saw you and Jungkook out and about the house. You weren’t even looking at one another when they swarmed you and him, taking you by the arm and making you stand next to one another. They didn’t even ask nicely-- no. They demanded that you and Jungkook take a photo because apparently you two look amazing together. Despite your protests, and vigorous head shaking-- they basically pushed you to him, and thankfully he managed to steady you on your feet by catching your waist.

His arm around your waist as he holds you flush against him and your hand on his forearm while you two looked at one another-- that’s the picture they took. You may as well have just gotten a whole fucking photoshoot done while you were at it.

“Y/n’s probably always had a crush on him” one of the ladies, Mrs. Ri had mentioned while all the others including Mrs Jeon crowded around to look at the picture on the camera.

A tomato couldn’t be more red than you and that's saying something. All Jungkook did in response was shrug at you like he was enjoying it. Normally a man might object to being treated this way. But he didn’t utter a single word. Only he looked quite amused by the whole situation and your reaction as he smiled and chuckled to himself.

On the other hand, his parents always mentioned in his absence that they would love if you and him got together. You never paid any mind to those conversations in particular because it was Jungkook— atleast how you remembered him before he became a fucking Adonis. Not that it’s the only thing that matters. But you just never felt this way before, and now you do.

You tiptoe through the house while everyone is busy at this time of day. Mrs.Jeon is probably with all the other ladies for their book club, Mr.Jeon no doubt is in his study and Jimin is probably with Jungkook, training.

It sucks to be the only human sometimes because they can always hear you, and know what you’re thinking. But you can’t do the same. It makes you feel vulnerable. But everyone is good at reminding you about how lucky you are to be human.

You traipse through the living room, peeking behind from walls here and there to make sure Jungkook isn’t around because if you see him you’re sure you’ll lose your shit. Again.

There is a certain chunk of the wooden floor that creaks under pressure so you take care to avoid it. Because in case Jungkook is anywhere inside the house he’ll hear it.

Creak

“Fuck” you mutter, shutting your eyes tight and carefully lifting your toes from the damned spot which makes another sound.

You hear footsteps on the stairs behind you. Too scared to move, you straighten up.

“I was wondering when I’ll see you again” comes Jungkook’s voice.

“Heeeyyy” you turn around, plastering a smile on your face and it screams fake.

“Four days huh. Good job” Jungkook looks impressed as he comes down to ahalt at the last step . “How did you manage to avoid me for four whole days? I am curious”

“You knew”

“Of course I knew” he’s mouth moves as he chews gum, one brow raised at you, looking absolutely devilish (in the best way possible). “Too bad the streak has come to end” he places his hands in pockets lining his black sweats.

Well fuck. No point in denying it anymore then.

“If it wasn’t for this stupid floor I could have gone the whole week. Probably” you decide to give in instead of pretending you have no idea what he’s talking about.

He steps towards you, one corner of his mouth curved up in a sly smirk. “That would never happen. You’d have made a mistake at some point before that”

“Maybe” you shrug. You’re so surprised that you’re able to find your words this time. “Welcome back by the way” you offer a genuine smile, trying to make up for that botched attempt when he first arrived.

“Thanks. It’s good to be back” he sighs contentedly. “I missed this place and the people.” he looks around and then his gaze comes to rest on you. “Well, one person in particular” he looks you straight in the eyes.

“Your mom” you reply. He loves his mother.

“Yes. But also someone else”

“Who?” curiosity gets the best of you.

“Just someone” he shrugs.

You’re about to respond when Jimin comes in. “What are you two doing here?” he looks at Jungkook as he stops next to you, throwing an arm around your shoulder.

Wordlessly, Jungkook’s eyes change color from his hazel brown to icy blue. He steps towards you and Jimin, and then pulls Jimin’s hand away from your shoulder. He looks at the boy, jaw grinding as he chews gum. “Can I talk to you for a sec?” his voice is calm, but his eyes are absolutely terrifying since they harbour a cold, mean look. They change back to brown in an instant once Jimin nods. You notice how tense Jimin looks but he walks with Jungkook anyway.  

They’re probably only gone for thirty seconds. But when they come back their body language is completely relaxed. They look like two pals reunited after years.

“Everything okay?” you ask Jimin.

“Yeah. All good” he nods. “I was just congratulating him”

“What for?” you look between the two of them, feeling awfully suspicious.

Jimin is about to open his mouth when he catches Jungkook’s gaze. Jungkook shakes his head and you notice, at which point you turn to him. “Fine. I don’t want to know” you huff. You start towards the back door which leads to the backyard where Mrs. Jeon is with her friends.

Just a couple steps in, you’re tugged back. You turn around to find Jungkook holding onto your wrist. There is something about the way he looks at you. You’ve seen this look before in movies—it’s the way the hero looks at the heroine when he thinks she isn’t looking. It’s soft, but it’s wanting-- a complete contrast from the way he glared the life out of Jimin just minutes ago. He looks like he’s got something to say, but he’s holding back.

“What is it?” your voice is quiet, like you’re too scared to speak out. As if your voice will give away the crazy whirlwind of emotions in your chest.

“Nothing” he blinks and lets go of your wrist. “See ya around” he turns on his heels and walks the other way as Jimin follows him.

The woods at this time of the night are majestic. Moonlight bathes the tops of trees in a silver glow. The moonlight filters through gaps in tree branches, and covers the ground in a white sheen. It looks nothing short of magical.There is a slight chill in the wind, but it’s nothing you aren’t used to. The fallen leaves crunch under your feet. Sounds of crickets chirping, owls hooting fills the air.

You walk through the pathway bordered on each side by large trees the branches of which meet in the middle above you, forming an archway. You feel safe in the womb of nature like you’re protected and nothing could touch you. Without fear, it’s easier for you to take in everything. The air you breathe feels fresh, and crisp. If you could, you would make time stop so you could stay in the woods at night and never have to leave.

As each step carries you further into the woods, you feel more and more at peace. The trees become more lush the further you go. The animals are more noticeable deep into the forest. You see squirrels running around the trees, there are bird nests high up in the branches. You can hear mockingjays in these parts of the forest too.

You stop by the clearing in the woods. This side of the woods is your favorite. You sit against the trunk of one of the trees, resting your head. You look at nothing in particular in the sky. It’s clear above you, with a full moon shining. Your mind immediately goes back to Jungkook as you gaze upon it. You feel tortured every time your thoughts turn to him. You don’t know if it’s normal for you to want to cry, but you’re already shedding tears. Your quiet sobs accompany the sounds of nature. The weight seems to be lifting off your shoulders, and it feels easier to breathe. But then you think of him and that someone he mentioned. It causes you to sob even harder. You hiccup, using the back of your hands to wipe away the tears.

“What’s wrong?”

You can’t forget that voice. You look up at Jungkook as he stands with his hands in his jean pockets.

You shake your head. “Nothing. I just-- I miss--” you begin to cry again. “I-I miss my dad” another sob escapes your throat.

“Can I give you a hug?” he asks in a soft voice, which makes you want to cry even harder. “Please”

You nod.

He comes over, sits down next to you and gathers you in his arms. He pulls you into himself, wrapping your arm around his side, as he holds you. You place your cheek against his chest as you hold him close. It may have started because of him, but it continues because you do miss your dad. The moment you said “dad” was when you knew you couldn’t stop even if you wanted to.

“I am sorry y/n” he strokes the back of your head. “I really am” he sniffles.

You pull back to find tears staining his cheeks. “Why are you crying?” you look up at him.

His gaze is locked onto yours. “Because, I can feel what you feel”

“Sorry. I forgot you’re a werewolf” you shift back on your spot, forcing his arm to fall from your shoulder.

He opens his mouth to say something but then closes it. He looks at you a few seconds longer. “Yeah. That’s it” he says, blinking and a lone tear escapes. Your fingers twitch at your side, needing to wipe it away. But it might be too weird so you let your fingers curl into a fist.

“Thank you for doing this” your mouth curves in a soft smile. “How did you find me here?”

“I’ve seen you in the woods for the past four nights. I didn’t know who it was at first because I only saw a flash of your hair, or your shoes. But today I followed you and it’s good I did because pretty girls like you shouldn’t be crying alone”

You snort. “Right. Pretty girls like me”

He raises a brow. “You don’t believe me?”

“I believe you. I just don’t believe your words”

“Then tell me what I can do to make you believe me” he states. You’re sure he isn’t serious but one look at him tells you he means every single word.

“Jungkook, it’s alright. You don’t have to do anything” you shake your head. But then it strikes you. “Although there is something…”

“Anything” the corners of his mouth upturned in a soft smile-- one that made your heart skip a beat (or ten maybe).

“I want to see your wolf form” you look at him tentatively, wondering if he’ll turn you down, or maybe even shout at you for making a request. Asking a werewolf to show their wolf is a sacred request and not something that should be asked lightly. You know how important their wolf form is to them. It’s like talking about sex among humans, but much more of a touchy subject.

“That’s it?” his eyebrows are furrowed together at the miniscule nature of your request.

“So you’ll show me? Can you do it on your own will?” your hands clasp in front of your chest in anticipation.

A laugh bellows from his chest. “Of course. I’ll show you” he stands up, dusts his hands, and the back of his jeans. “You may want to close your eyes because I need my clothes for later”

Without needing to be told in exact terms, you close your eyes and cover them with your hands for good measure. You can hear sounds of feet shuffling, a belt unbuckling and soft thuds—probably his clothes dropping ctx dagainst the soil.

“I’ll count to five and then open. One, Two, Three, Four, Five”

You give it a few more seconds just in case before you’re uncovering your eyes. Standing in front of you is a majestic white wolf, with icy blue eyes-- Jungkook’s eyes. Your mouth falls open, your mind unable to come up with words. You cautiously step towards him, hand reaching out wanting to touch him. He meets you halfway, nuzzling his nose against your hand. You laugh.

“You’re beautiful Jungkook” you whisper as you stroke the fur, which is softer than velvet against your hand.

The wolf whimpers in response.

“What can you do as a wolf? Any tricks?” you ask, forgetting that he’s not a dog.

He growls, baring his teeth.

You throw your hands up. “Geez. Sorry. I was just curious” you reach for his muzzle as you continue stroking gently to help him calm down.

He steps back, turns around and starts further into the forest.

“Where are you going?” you ask.

He whimpers and motions beyond the clearing with his head. You start to follow, when you remember his clothes and grab them. He’s already a few paces ahead of you. It seems that even his wolf isn’t patient.

“Slow down will you?” you yell as you run to try and catch up. He doesn’t listen though as he continues on.

You’re breathless by the time you reach a beautiful meadow full of wildflowers and fallen timber. Flowing right next to the meadow is a stream littered with little stones and large rocks alike. Moonlight shines through the cracks between tree branches above you. The air is cooler than you have ever experienced in this part of the woods. The grass is lush and soft beneath your feet unlike the rest of the forest which is mostly soil. You don’t know how you never came upon this place on your walks. But then again Jungkook probably knows the forest best.

He is stopped at the edge of the stream. You drop the pile of his clothes on a log, and walk towards the stream. You crouch and place your hand in the running stream. The icy cold water sends shivers down your body. You flick some of the water on him, at which point he growls at you again.

“This is fun” you chuckle as you get up.

He whimpers as he tackles you to the ground, and nuzzles his nose in your neck.

“It tickles, it tickles, it tickles” you laugh as you try to push him away. You doubt you could have pushed him away in his human form but as a wolf it’s impossible. You rub your hand against his fur. He mewls and falls on his back next to you and you rub his underbelly. He loves it as he continues to make these cute noises and all you want to do is hug him.

A twig snaps somewhere in the distance. Jungkook jumps up to his feet, growling, teeth showing as he paces in front of you looking in the direction of the sound. He continues to snarl and growl, pacing increasing in speed. He looks ready to kill. You abandon your perch on the grass in favor of standing up. You tread towards him. At this point you’re more scared of what he’s doing rather than where the sound came from. You reach him, stopping by his side. You look at him— at those blue eyes of his, and take a step forward but he’s quick to nudge you back with his head.

“It’s alright” you reassure him as you caress the top of his head.

You try once more to step beyond where he’s standing but he gives another push and you tumble back slightly. He snarls at you as he looks back at you over his shoulder, warning you to stay in your place. He turns back to inspect the woods, pacing from side to side.

“Alright. Fine” you give up. “But please don’t do anything. It could just an animal like a squirrel or something”

Ears perked up, he stands towering in front of you.

“I don’t think it was anything” you stay in your spot, as you place your hand on his flank.

He holds up his nose, moving his head in every direction like he’s trying to smell something out. He starts stepping back, his rump hitting you as he does. He turns around, leaning his muzzle against your shoulder, like he’s trying to comfort you and find comfort in you.

“It’s okay” you whisper, skimming his fur. “We’re fine” you wrap your arm around his neck.

He lets out a small cry as he snuggles into you.

“I brought your clothes by the way” you let go of him and he steps back. “I think it’s best if we go home. It’s already 1”

He steps back a few paces and disappears behind a tree while you turn around and wait for him.

“Give me a sign whenever you’re done” you call out. You wait and wait for what seems like ten minutes but is really only a minute or two.

He clears his throat. “I am good.” he says.

You turn around to face him. You really missed seeing his face-- in the human form. He was majestic in his wolf form, but there is something about the human side of him that you can’t get over. In all honesty, he’s a sight to behold.  

“So, what did you think?” he rubs his hands together in anticipation.

“You’re amazing” you meet him halfway. “I’ve seen almost everyone’s wolf form. But yours is breathtaking”

He chuckles. “Thank you. I am sure he’s happy to hear it too” he closes the distance. He reaches for your hand, curling his fingers around your palm. It’s the warmest feeling you have ever felt.

You open your mouth to protest but he’s already cutting you off.

“I am not letting go, until we’re out of these woods.” he tugs on your hand as he turns around and begins towards the house.

“Thank you. It is sweet of you to protect me”

“It’s my job to protect you. I will always be there when you need me” he squeezes your hand in reassurance.

It’s nice to know that you have someone in your corner. “I wish I could say the same. But you don’t need me to protect you”

He nods. “You’re right. But if I ever need a hug, I know who to come to”

Little does he know that you are ready to give him the whole wide world. “Anytime”

Your eyes lock for a few seconds and both of you burst into grins.

Walking in the forest by yourself is always peaceful. But walking in these woods hand in hand with Jungkook is euphoric.

A pang of dread fills your chest when Jungkook ignores you.

Just when you thought things were going good, he distanced himself. You don’t know what went wrong in the days following the night in the woods. But he was avoiding you. It wouldn’t have felt so bad were it not for the fact that the way he ignored you was cold. It wasn’t like you where it was more benign in nature and it was clear that you were avoiding him for fear of embarrassing yourself. He knew that too. But with him it’s something else

He wouldn’t even look at you. A frown seemed to have permanently settled on his face. He was never present anymore. He was always lost in thought with an inscrutable look in his eyes. If you showed up where he was, he’d leave wordlessly. If you tried to talk to him he’d act like he couldn’t even hear you and that would be followed by his departure. And when he did look at you-- the only way to interpret the expression in his eyes was: resentment. You had no idea why he was doing that.

So as the whole family, including Jimin was sitting in the backyard under the canopy for breakfast, Jungkook made to leave just as you were approaching to join them. But his mother made him sit back down.

“Jungkook, you’re not going to leave” her tone is stern.

He rolls his eyes with a huff as he sits back down.

“What’s wrong with you dude?” Jimin leans in, thinking he’s whispering but his voice is a tad bit louder than that.

Even you can hear him just as you are a few steps away.

“Nothing” his voice is devoid of emotion. He leans back in his chair, sliding down against the back like he just wants to disappear. He fiddles with his fingers.

“Hi everyone” you offer a tight lipped smile. Everyone except for Jungkook replies. “Hi Jungkook” you say after not being met with a response.

He stays silent, holding the same sulked posture as before, not even acknowledging your presence.

You catch Jimin’s eyes. He gestures with his head to Jungkook as if to ask ‘what’s up’. You shrug because you have no clue what has gotten into him. You take the empty chair next to Jungkook and you can see him shifting in his chair uncomfortably. Your heart sinks in your chest, but you dismiss it. You look over at Jimin sitting on the opposite side of the table. He looks between you and Jungkook and you just know he’s thinking something. You both look at each other-- a silent conversation ensuing.

“Oh no. I forgot the cutlery” Mrs. Jeon jumps suddenly. She gets up when you interrupt.

“It’s okay. I can grab it” you gesture for her to sit down. “Do you want that special set?” you smile at her.

“It’s been a long time since we’ve all been together like this. I think it’s time we use it. This is a special occasion. The box is in the attic. Will you be okay?”

“It’s okay. I got it”  you put her concern to rest with a grin.

You glance at Jungkook who still hasn’t moved an inch as he is still playing with his fingers and ignoring everyone around him. You make way inside the house, and up the stairs to the second floor. The entrance to the attic is on the second floor. You turn right on the landing, moving towards your room and at the end of the hallway. You pull the rope which unfolds the ladder. It comes down, you climb it and reach the musty room.

It’s full of boxes. You rummage through them to find the one labeled cutlery. The box is quite heavy, but you manage to climb down with it safely. You push the ladder back up, and the door closes blending in with the rest of the ceiling. You carry the box down the first two flights of stairs, slightly shaking because of how heavy it is.

You lose your footing at the beginning of the third set of stairs and down you go five stairs. The box slips from your hand. A scream rips through the air. You manage not to hit your head. But your ankle twists during the fall. You’re laying on your side attempting to get up when everyone rushes into the room.

Jungkook is the first one to arrive. “Are you okay?” he helps you sit up and you wince.

It hurts so damn much, you can’t stop yourself from crying. “I- I am” you grimace. “I am fine” you croak through a strained voice, tears sliding down your cheeks.

“No. You’re not” he cups your cheeks to make you look at him. He inspects your head for injuries. “You’re not fucking fine” he’s pissed as he’s practically at the verge of yelling. “What the fuck were you thinking?” he slides an arm under your back, and the other under your knee as he picks you up off the floor. You lock your hands behind his neck, keeping your gaze cast down. You don’t want to look at him in this condition.“I am taking her to her room” he announces, and no one even gets a word in because he’s already started up the flight of stairs.

You try to contain your cries, but the pain is too sharp especially at your ankle. You can sense him looking down at you.

“What were you trying to do?” he shakes his head. You should have called for help, you idiot”

“Sorry” you snivel still not meeting his eyes. “I was just trying to bring the box down and I lost my footing”

You reach the room, and he kicks the ajar door fully open. Once you’re in, he kicks it close. He gently lays you down on the bed, adjusting the pillow underneath your head.

You wince in pain, wiping away the tears. For the first time you look at him and he’s pacing, like he was in the woods except he’s in his human form. “Where does it hurt?” he sounds concerned but it’s that angry kind of way. There is no softness in his tone, if anything its gruff.

“You don’t have to worry. I am okay”

“Bullshit” he stops and sits at the edge of the bed, as he takes off your shoe and sock to look at your ankle. He touches the ankle bone, and you inhale a sharp breath. “See” he shakes his head like he’s disappointed. “That looks like it’s sprained. You could have asked--”

“You for help?” you complete his sentence, full well knowing that’s what he intended.

His eyes flicker to you, but he doesn’t say anything. He begins to gently feel around your ankle for any other injuries, brows furrowing in concentration.

You watch him, as he continues to look for other wounds,or gashes-- scanning your legs, arms, and face. You can’t understand the sudden shift in his behaviour. “What are you doing?”

He stops to look at you. “What do you mean? I am checking for any other injuries” he says in a blunt tone and resumes inspection.

“That’s not what I mean” you push his hands away from your forearms just as he’s looking over for more bruises. “Why do you suddenly give a shit? What do you care if I live or die”

He opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again and shuts it, grinding his jaw. “I’ll grab ice” he ignores your question and gets up from the bed.

You tug him back by the hem of his sleeve. “I need an answer”

“I don’t have one” he yanks his arm, and the cloth slips from your fingers.

“This is what I am talking about” you bite the inside of your cheek just as he’s approaching the door “One minute you act like you give a crap about me, and the next you act like you wouldn’t blink an eye if I died”

He’s reaching for the doorknob when he turns around. His brown wide eyes stare back at you He scoffs. “I wouldn’t care if you died?” his disbelief reflects in his partly open mouth. Do you---” he covers his face with his hands, taking in deep breaths and letting his hands run through his locks before looking at you. “You have no fucking clue what you’re talking about” he turns around and reaches for the door when there is a knock.

He sighs in frustration. “Who the hell--” he opens the door.

Jimin stands on the other side of the door with an ice pack in his hand, and a bottle of what looks like medicine. Jimin peeks over Jungkook’s shoulder, about to say something. But Jungkook grabs the ice pack and medicine wordlessly and shuts the door in his face.

He walks back and presses the ice pack to your ankle, while holding the tiny bottle out for you.

“I don’t want it” you say sharply, looking to the side.

You hear him huff. “Do I look like I give a shit right now?” he seethes through clenched teeth.

You turn to him. “You know this whole tough guy act doesn’t scare me”

He pulls his lower lip between his teeth. If this were a cartoon he would have smoke coming out of his ears. “Just take it”

You study him, your gazes locked on each other. Neither of you even blink. His nostrils are still flaring and you’re still breathing heavily through pursed lips. “I hate you” you snatch the bottle from him and chug the bitter liquid down.

His expression changes for a moment-- the look in his eyes softens. He blinks, casting his gaze down momentarily. But then he’s back to carrying a frown on his face as he looks up at you. “You should. You shouldn’t like me at all” his tone gentler than before, hiding beneath it an infinity of disappointment that you catch.

“Well now I don’t. You damn well made sure of that” you grab the pillow next to you and hide your face behind it.

Seconds later you hear the door slam and that’s when you scream into the pillow.

Your ankle gets better in the next couple of weeks, but your relationship with Jungkook doesn’t. You’re still distant from each other. Still angry at each other. Your silent fight has tensed the atmosphere in the whole house. It’s awkward to say the least. Mr. and Mrs. Jeon skirt around you both, walking on eggshells whenever you are in a room together. Dinners are silent for the most part except for when his parents make conversation about their day.

You both ignore each other. Neither of you even looks in the direction of the other person. If you happen to pass each other in the house, you avoid each other.

Perhaps everyone has had enough-- especially Mrs. Jeon since she broaches the subject at dinner one night.

“Alright” she holds her fingers in a steeple. “What the hell is wrong with you two?”

You and Jungkook glance at each other wary of how she’s speaking because she never swears-- not even use the word ‘hell’.

You both say at the same time. “Nothing”

“Bullshit” she slams her hands on the table.

“Honey” Mr. Jeon looks at her.

She dismisses it. “ No. We’re going to address this”

“Mom” Jungkook looks at her warningly. “Don’t”

“What happened?” she looks at you. “He won’t tell me” she glances at her son from the periphery of her vision. “But I know you will”

“Nothing. I promise” you offer a half hearted smile.

“I wasn’t expecting this from you y/n” she sounds disappointed.

“Mrs. Jeon. I swear to you it’s nothing. Even if there is something we can sort it out amongst ourselves”

“Well that’s just the problem isn’t it. You’re not. You don’t even look at each other”

You avert your gaze sideways.

“Just drop it will you?” Jungkook sounds frustrated. “We’re good” he doesn’t even look sincere in the least bit.

You nod finding purchase in your lap, barely making eye contact with anyone.

“Whatever it is, apologize” she demands. She looks to Jungkook, raising her brows at him expectantly. She waits for him to say something. He avoids looking at her but she is persistent. It’s only for a few seconds but he crumbles under the pressure and mumbles a “sorry”

“Look at her and say it” Mrs. Jeon says curtly.

He looks at you, eyes meeting yours for the first time in weeks.

Something changes in you and once again you feel like crying just because he’s there.

“Sorry” he looks away, folding his arms across his chest and chewing on his lip.

“Well you can tell him Mrs. Jeon that if he isn’t going to mean it, I don’t accept it” you glance at her and then back at your lap, leaning against the chair. 

“You can tell her that this is all she’s getting from me” he looks at his mother too.

“Tell him that he’s the one who started it. So, if he can’t even own up to it there really is no point in talking about it” your cheeks feel warm as you keep your gaze fixed firmly on your lap.

“While you’re at it mom, you can tell her that she shouldn’t be talking about things when she doesn’t know what’s going on” Jungkook rolls his eyes.

Your nostrils flare and so do his. You’re breathing heavily, cheeks red and eyes wide. “Maybe Mrs. Jeon you can remind him that he never actually told me what his problem is” you glare at him.

She looks between the two of you and your both lower your gaze.

Jungkook scoffs, returning an equally contemptuous glare towards you. “I don’t have a problem. It’s not my fault she doesn’t understand I don’t actually want to talk to her”

“Great! you throw your hands in the air and look at his parents. “You can tell him he’s the biggest asshole I have ever met in my entire life and I regret ever feeling anything for him” you slam your hands on the table and storm off.

The breeze is cool as it caresses your face. You sniffle away the tears as they well up in your eyes. The woods seem to be the only thing that can comfort you. You walk down your usual pathway, hugging yourself against the chill. As you look around at the moon bathed trees, they look different to you. But they don’t seem as beautiful to you as they did when you were with Jungkook.

The whole forest feels different.

You reach the clearing once more where he found you. You’re overcome with emotion, and your eyes tear up once again. You choke a sob away. You sit against the same tree, look at the same clear sky blanketed by stars. His voice echoes in your head when he asked if he could give you a hug.

You don’t know what happened to that boy. You don’t know where he went and if he will ever come back. You thought he was a friend. But it turns out he wasn’t. He’s just a stranger that you used to know.

You’re immersed in your thoughts. You look down at your hands, a bittersweet sigh passing your lips.

There is a rustle in the bushes near you and you’re immediately on alert. You slowly stand up trying not to make any sudden movements. You look in the direction of the sound and see two glowing brown eyes staring at you.

Your breath catches in your throat. You don’t straighten up fully, for the fear of aggravating whatever animal it is, so you stay in a partly bent position, hands visible by your side.

The animal steps out from behind the shadows.

It’s a wolf-- a black one. It’s not Jimin because his fur is brown. It sure as hell isn’t Jungkook.

The wolf growls at you. It steps towards you like a predator towards prey.

Full blown panic sets in. You’re frozen on the spot. Your heart beats hard and fast, as if the sound rings in your ears. Is this how you die? Alone in the woods? Your whole life flashes in your mind. Among all of that the only name and face that echoes in your head is Jungkook’s  because you would hate to die and not have a chance to talk to him. That would be the biggest regret of your life.

The wolf is still approaching you, and it’s halfway there. It growls and snarls-- saliva dripping from its mouth.

“Oh please no” you whisper, as your knees begin to buckle.

The wolf takes a leap towards you. But at the end second, you see a white one knocking the black one out mid air. They both fly some distance and fall on the ground.

“Jungkook!” you scream running in his direction.

Those blue eyes look back at you as he gets up on all fours.He keeps growling at the other wolf.. You know better than to interfere, so you stay behind him. Both of them snarl at each other. The other wolf howls, probably to try and intimidate Jungkook. But then he howls-- it’s loud and fierce so much so that you have to close your ears. He then makes a sound that is a mix between a roar and a growl as he steps towards the wolf.

“Jungkook no” you hold your hand out for him but he’s just beyond your reach. He looks back at you. You shake your head. He turns to the other wolf and makes a sound that sounds like a threatening bark.

There is a moment where they both just look at each other. Then the other one whimpers and leaves-- tail between its legs quite literally.  

Your knees give out and you fall on the ground, sobbing and hugging yourself. Your cries fill the air. You sob hard enough to make your whole body shake. You have never felt such fear in your life and not just for yourself. You were more worried for Jungkook.

He comes running to you, fully clothed somehow. He immediately holds you in his arms. He holds you close, chin resting on the top of your head, as you bury your face in his chest, body shaking in his arms. You can’t even breathe  properly-- gasping for air with short shallow breaths.“Jungkook” you whimper, holding onto his shirt.

“I am here” he squeezes tighter. “I am right here. You’re safe”

“I-I” you pull back to look up at him, eyes swollen and red, tears still falling down your face in droves. “I thought you were going to...” you bawl again just at the thought of something happening to him. You hide your face against his chest, wrapping your arms against him so tight, you’re sure he’s having a hard time breathing.

“I am okay. I am not even hurt” he reassures you.

“I was so…” you hiccup. “Worried that--that s-some-something w-would happen to you” you manage to choke out the words.

“Look at me” he holds your face in his hands, wiping away the tears with his thumbs. “I am completely okay. I was worried for you. I was scared. I was so so scared” he gazes into your eyes, and you know he’s speaking the truth because he’s beginning to cry too.

You sniffle, trying to control your sobs so you can tell him. “The only thing I could think of was you. I didn’t want to die without talking to you. I was afraid I would never get to talk to you”

“Me too” he croaks. “You didn’t get hurt anywhere did you?” there is panic in his eyes as he suddenly realizes that.

You shake your head. “No. You saved me”

“I told you I’d always protect you didn’t I?” he snivels.

Your lips just in a pout, lips quivering. “How did you know?” you slide your thumbs against his cheeks to wipe the tears.

“I came to the woods to cool off for a bit” he stops to rub the tears from your cheeks as the water works start again. “I was just so pissed, so naturally my wolf took over and I transformed. I was just roaming around, when I could smell you. I followed your scent. I saw the whole thing and trust me, my heart almost stopped. I was waiting for the right moment to intervene and when that wolf jumped at you, I lost it”

“I am sorry I said all those things” you clutch the material of his shirt tighter, looking down.

“No. I started this whole shit and if I hadn’t you wouldn’t have gotten into trouble. I could have lost you tonight and it would have been my fault. I could never forgive myself” he takes your hands in his, curling his fingers in yours. “I am so so sorry”

“So we’re good?” you chuckle.

He doesn’t laugh with you. “Look, if this night has proved anything, it’s that you shouldn’t like me. I told you. Don’t like me. I am not right for you. I am not even good for you. Look at where I landed you tonight” his fingers begin to slip from yours.

“You’re wrong” you hold tight onto his hands.

“I can’t y/n” he avoids your eyes, his shoulders droop. He looks absolutely defeated.

“What’s the reason?” you press on. “Is it someone else?”

“No” he’s quick to shut down that train of thoughts in your head. “There’s no one else. But I can’t. You hold too much power over me. That’s exactly why I can’t”

“I don’t get it. You do all these things for me that no one ever has. Your actions say one thing and your words another. What am I supposed to do Jungkook?”

“Don’t like me. Stay far far away from me” he pulls his hands away from yours. “I’ll take you home”

“Jungkook-”

“I am taking you home” he says firmly, as he lifts you off the ground in his arms.

You hook your hands behind his neck. You let your head rest against the crook of his neck. You let him take you home because you’re too tired to fight. You don’t want to fight with him because you know that you love this man. If the night taught you anything, it was that.

“Y/n we’re going to be leaving” Mrs. Jeon hurriedly comes into the kitchen, opening up cabinets and grabbing food.

“Leaving?” your brows furrowed. “Where?”

“Jungkook’s dad and I have to go to the orphanage in the city for an event. We’ll be back by tonight. But Jungkook is home if you need anything” she packs up a bag full of food, probably for the journey since the drive to the city is 2 hours.

“Wait, you’re both leaving? Jungkook and I are going to be alone…?” your voice trails at the end, having been met with a dreadful realization.

Mrs. Jeon’s nose scrunches as she walks over to you. “Is everything okay?”

You’re too busy worrying so you don’t even hear her.

Mrs. Jeon calls out your name a couple of times before she physically has to shake you. “Y/n, what’s going on?”

You blink rapidly. “Oh nothing. Everything is fine. I just thought he would go with you too”

“We asked him, but he said you’d be alone at home so he’ll stay too”

“He said that?” your eyes widen. You don’t understand his concern.

She nods. “Mmhmm. He also said he will stay just in case you need something while everyone is gone. I would ask you to come too but I didn’t want you to feel bad”

You shake your head. “It’s alright. I’d cry the whole time anyway thinking of my parents” you chuckle. “But you know I can take care of myself”

Mrs. Jeon chuckles. “I know that. But tell Jungkook that because this boy was adamant on not wanting to leave you alone. I don’t understand him” she shakes her head, like any mother aggrieved of her child would. You can’t blame her though. He is a unique specimen.

“Yeah me neither” you purse your lips in a smile.

“Alright. We’ll be off then” she gives you a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “If he troubles you, call me right away”

“I will”

She makes haste of leaving, carrying the bag.

You spend a better part of the day hiding in your room, avoiding Jungkook. It’s the only place in the entire house where he won’t come. Not after everything that has happened between you. He’s honorable in that sense. Things have shifted between you once again. There’s no anger anymore. All of that has been replaced by awkwardness. Now if you see each other, you only nod at one another. Occasionally, you talk too. But it’s always surface level things. Nonetheless, it’s a step in the right direction.

At half past one though, your stomach starts to grumble and gradually all you can think about is food. It’s a relief in a way because it distracts you from him. You spend ten minutes trying to persuade your brain that you’re not actually hungry.

“I am not hungry” you chant it like a mantra hoping that at least for a while it will go away.

After agonizing and torturing yourself for half an hour, you give in.

“Fuck this” you grumble as your hunger gets the better of you. You drag yourself down to the kitchen. Unlike last time though you don’t tiptoe around the house.

You go into the kitchen, open the fridge to find two plates already filled with food. A note, no doubt from Mrs. Jeon is stuck into the cling film: don’t forget to eat.

You grab a plate for yourself, leaving the other one in the fridge for Jungkook. You’re about to shut the door, when you change your mind. This may serve as an excuse to talk to him. At the end of the day, you’re going to be living in the same house. So you figure you can’t go on avoiding him.

You grab the second plate, heat both of them in the microwave.

You head back upstairs, where the bedroom’s are. You turn left at the landing towards his room which is at the end of the hallway. You stop in front of the door, and seeing as your hands are full you settle for calling his name. “Jungkook, you in your room? I got food”

You wait, but there is no response.

“Jungkook” you call again.

No response. Finding yourself with no other choice left, you somehow manage to balance the plate on your forearm. With the free hand, you turn the handle.

You peek your head inside to find the room empty. Just as you’re about to leave your eyes catch something at his bedside table. You know you shouldn’t go inside, but you can’t help it. You leave one of the plate’s on his bedside table  because you can’t lug three things around. You grab it, meaning to ask him about it when you find him.

You close the door, and head back downstairs. You walk the whole of the first floor from the dining room, living room, kitchen, family room calling out his name. But he’s nowhere.

“Maybe he’s in the basement” you think to yourself as you head downstairs. You walk down the steps.

It’s dark save for the blue LED lights running along the ceiling. You walk in further turning the corner from where the pool table, and the arcade game machines are. You remember that before Jungkook left he had set up one half of the basement as his gaming room.

Sure enough as you near the room you hear sounds of gunshots, and rifles and some mild cursing which makes you chuckle.

You don’t bother knocking as you enter. The same blue LED lights adorn the room. You can see his black mop of hair against the couch.

“Are you hungry?” you say tentatively as you stop next to the couch.

He immediately stops playing, throwing his remote on the ground as he turns to you. He takes off his headphones. You notice his hair is tied up in a bun, which manages to make your heart skip a few beats.

“Oh hey” he says, straightening up. “You didn’t have to” he notices the plate in your hand.

“Your mom said you haven’t been eating” you hold the plate for him and he reaches for it.

“Thanks” he offers a pursed lip smile. He takes the plate and sets it aside on the side table. A few beats of silence pass. He taps his fingers against one another, something you notice he does when he’s nervous. His eyes stay fixed on his hands.

“Will you make me a promise?” you look at his profile.

He clears his throat. “Depends on what it is”

You roll your eyes, fully expecting that response. “Just say you will”

Your persistent gaze makes him shift uncomfortably in his spot. He sighs, looking ahead at nothing in particular, while thinking over your request. He turns to you. “Fine”

“Promise me if I ask you questions, you will answer. It can be anything”

“That doesn’t sound very fair” his lips quiver at the corners, a hint of smile making an appearance. “What if I don’t want to answer”

“Too bad” you narrow your eyes at him. “You don’t have a choice. So?” you raise your brows giving him an expectant look.

He considers your demand, looking back at his hands again. “Well looks like I don’t have a choice”

“Good. Because I am asking right now”

At this, he looks at you wide eyed.

“Now?”

You nod. “Mmhmm. Tell me why you won’t act on your feelings”

He opens his mouth to speak but you cut him off. “Don’t deny it. If you didn’t feel anything for me you wouldn’t have lost your shit the day I hurt my ankle and you sure as shit wouldn’t have risked your life for me” you remind him. “And you wouldn’t have put this next to your bed” you bring forward the picture of you and him Mrs.Jeon’s friends had taken-- the one where you’re both looking at each other as he holds you by the waist.

He lets out an exasperated sigh. He rubs his hands on his face, resting his elbows on his knees as he keeps his face covered. He pulls his hands away , crossing them together. He looks at you, trying to determine how he should begin. “You’re right. I do have feelings for you. I’ve been here before y/n and…” he pauses, swallowing thickly.

“And what?” you prod, placing the photo frame next to you.

“She was beautiful. You should have seen her. She was amazing, just beyond I could express. Everyone here loved her. We used to spend every day together. Her parents hated me for it” he lets out a chuckle, a nostalgic look in his eyes.

“What happened?”

“She-- she died”

Your mouth hangs open. “I am so so sorry. I had no idea. I am sorry. Just.. forget I asked. I don’t need to know” you feel guilty immediately.

“No. It’s alright. I’ve already started. There was a fire in the woods years ago and she died in that. Some humans were having a bonfire and they left the fire burning. It caught on and somehow she got stuck in the middle of it with no escape” he looks down at his hands yet again.

You shift closer to him and wrap your arms around his shoulders resting your head on against the crook of his neck. “I am really sorry”

“Thank you” he places a hand on your forearm, leaning his cheek on your head.

“If I had known, I never would have pressed you. I feel like an asshole” you mumble.

“You’re not an asshole” he replies.

“I get it now and I promise you I won’t ever ask you to consider your feelings for me again” you lift your head and place a kiss on his cheek.

His lips curve up in a grin immediately and he is quick to place a kiss on your cheek too. “You’re amazing” his gaze locks with yours.

“I know” you grin. “Can I ask you something else too... ?” you say tentatively.

He nods. “Anything”

“Did you… did you imprint on her?” you ask, noting just how close you’re sitting to him. You can smell his breath, and feel it on your face as he beholds you in the most loving look in his eyes.

A coughing fit ensues for Jungkook, and you unwrap your arms from his shoulder, in favour of gently patting his back. “Sorry. Bad question hey?”

“No” he dismisses with his hand. “It’s just I’ve never been asked that”

“Forget I asked” you shake your head.

“No. I promised. Not her. Only my human side loved her. To imprint on someone all of me, including my wolf has to feel something. That’s the only way werewolves can imprint and it would be a far stronger bond than what I had with her” he sighs. “I have imprinted on someone. Not her” he finally answers your question.

“Oh my god” your heart sinks. “I- I have no idea what to say” you shift away from him, feeling like you’ve violated some rule. As if you have made him cheat on someone with you.

“Y/n” he says as soon as he sees your body language tensing. “It’s not what you’re thinking”

“No” you shake your head. “I am sorry. I am so sorry. I am so fucking stupid” you get up abruptly and march off while he calls out for you.

As is customary every third Friday of the month, the children from the neighbourhood gather around the campfire. This time Jungkook is there so he’ll have to answer all their questions.

Everyone sits around in a circle, some on the logs and others on chairs. Jungkook and you sit on opposite sides of the fire, Your eyes are fixed on the embers burning away. He holds a stick as he’s poking at the coal to keep the fire going. Your eyes meet momentarily as you both look up, but you look away first, busying yourself with watching the fire burn away the wood once more. You can still however feel his gaze resting on your face. But you’re too resigned at this moment to feel anything but emptiness.

“Is everyone ready?” Jimin comes along, absolutely chirpy and the complete opposite of how you look and feel. That’s when you sense Jungkook looks away. Jimin settles into the empty spot on the log next to you. He passes around drinks to the group. He offers you one too, but you decline. “Hey” he nudges you.

“Hmm” you turn your attention to him.

“What’s going on with you? Everyone’s been asking me what’s up”

“Nothing’s up” you shrug. “I am absolutely okay”

“If you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine. But at least don’t lie” Jimin purses his lips in a smile.

“Sorry Jiminie. I am just not feeling great. I’ll be okay I promise” you note with a half assed smile.

“So who wants to go first and ask Jungkook questions” Jimin turns to the group once he’s assured by you. The group is made up of mostly older kids in their late teens. But there are some younger children mixed in the group.

A chorus of ‘me, me ,me, me’ starts up.

“How about we go one by one” Jimin suggests and the sea of hands in the air disappears.

“How was the city?” someone from your side asks. But you couldn’t be bothered to know who.

“It was good.” he sighs, poking the fire logs once again. “But it was dull compared to this place” his eyes flicker to you momentarily.

You catch him, if only for a second and then look at your hands as you fiddle with them.

“Did you find a human mate? I am sure you met very pretty girls” one of the girls asks. The question you piques your interest.

You remember she was the one who excitedly told you Jungkook was back.

He doesn’t respond immediately which only makes you think that he did meet someone there. Why wouldn’t he? She’s probably the one he’s imprinted on. You would leave were it not for Jimin who holds your wrist with a shake of his head as soon as he sees you’re about to get up.

“I did meet girls.” Jungkook says, looking at the little girl. “But they are nothing compared to someone else I know” he shifts his gaze to you once more. “She’s beautiful, but she doesn’t see it that way” he looks right at you, like he’s speaking to you, and you only. Time seems to stand still momentarily because he acts like no one else is around. “It’s a shame because she really is the most beautiful girl I have ever met” he holds your gaze, rendering you unable to look away.

You hear aww’s and squeals from all around you which pulls you away from the trance and blinkingly you avert your gaze.

“Does she know you like her?” someone else asks, this time a boy.

He shakes his head. “I don’t know. I think she does. By the way, I thought this was about exchanging stories about our ancestry” he looks around at everyone.

“Yeah. We hear those every month. But this is much more exciting and romantic” one of the older girls probably in her late teens replies, and everyone agrees as they nod or offer a ‘yes’ in agreement. “Tell us more. What’s it like to imprint on someone?”

“Are you sure we should be talking about this? Aren’t they young?” Jungkook looks at Jimin.

“They won’t tell if you don’t. Right guys?” Jimin chuckles and everyone nods eagerly.

“Alright then” Jungkook continues.

At this point you really want to leave because you don’t want to hear about how she makes him happy, and how his whole life has changed because of her. But you stay because some part of you is still holding onto hope of you and him.

“It feels like gravity is shifting from underneath you. When you look at her, you can see everything clearly. It’s as if your past, present, and future come together all at once and everything makes sense. It’s as if you finally find the ‘why’ of your existence. You’ll be anything for her-- whatever she needs be that a protector, a friend, a lover. Anything… he trails.

“That’s so romantic” the girl squeals dreamily. “I want that too”

Jungkook laughs. “Any other burning questions?”

“When are you going to tell her?” another question comes which only furthers your resolve to leave. You get up, having had enough of it. The moment you stand, everyone turns to look at you. Without a word, you begin walking towards the house.

“Don’t you want to know who it is y/n?” Jungkook yells as you leave,  his words halting you in your steps. You feel everyone’s eyes darting back and forth between you and him.

You look over your shoulder. ‘I already told you”

“I think you’ll want to know,” he replies. You hear the crunch of the grass beneath his feet as he walks towards you. He gently places a hand on your elbow to turn you around. “Just let me tell you”

You glance up at the man. “I won’t be a--able to hear it” your voice cracks.

“I did imprint on someone—“

“Jungkook” you say warningly.

“Just listen to me” his grip on your elbow tightens, his jaw tightening.

“Jungkook please” you beg just as your eyes begin to water. You avert your gaze to the side. “Please. I cannot do this” you shake your head.

“I love her” he continues anyway despite your protests. You know he’s looking at you. But you can’t. You can hear the pain in his voice which makes everything so much more worse because that means he could never love anyone the way he loved her. “ She makes everything make sense and-”

“Just stop” you yank your elbow away from his hand and walk away.

You sit at the edge of the pier which juts out to the side from the boardwalk. just as the sun begins to set behind the mountains. The night market bustles in the distance. Crowds and crowds of people and come and go. Yet you feel calm, just watching the waves ripple beneath your feet. You dip them in the cold water, shivers running through your body. You splash the water, trying to pass your time.

You would have gone to the woods but given everything that has happened in that forest, you’re not too fond of it at the moment. This time Jungkook won’t be there to protect you. He’s out with his friends somewhere. You didn’t bother to ask where, not that it is any of your business.

From the periphery of your vision you can see a group of guys jumping down on the wooden planks of the pier.

You feel disappointed because you won’t have the space to yourself anymore.

They’re laughing, and being boys in general which makes you roll your eyes.

They pass by behind you, being as loud as ever. You ignore their incessant and annoyingly loud voices as you focus on the sun which is still in the process of setting. You close your eyes, the wind blowing softly against your face, and through your hair.

“Y/n?”

You instantly whip around to come face to face with none other than the man who had made a home out of your thoughts.

“Jungkook? You’re here?” You question, using your hands to push yourself up.

“Careful” his hands come out as if to hold you in case you fall.

“It’s okay” you tuck strands of hair behind your ears. “I am fine”

“I was just with my friends” he turns behind, and points to them while they stand a respectful distance away. They wave at you and hesitantly you wave back. “Why are you here?”

“I needed to get out of the house. The woods aren’t exactly my favorite place right now. So I thought why not come here” you shrug.

He nods, sliding his fingers in his jean pockets, rocking back and forth on his toes. “So…”

“So…” you fold your arms across your chest out of sheer self-consciousness.

“Do you maybe want to-” he starts.

“Hey Jungkook” a random girl throws her arms around his shoulders from behind, chin resting on his shoulder.

You look between the two of them.

This must be her. She’s pretty

“I thought we were gonna go eat” she pouts at him questioningly.

He doesn’t look at her as he speaks. Instead he locks eyes with you. He stares at you— wordlessly, like he’s lost in you. “Yeah” his reply is intended for her.

“Well introduce me, won’t you?” she looks at him and then at you.

“This is…” he’s still looking at you and you only.

“I am Alix” she extends a hand, much too cheerfully.

“Y/n” you can only manage to press your lips to feign a smile.

“Ohhh” her mouth opens in realization and she looks at him, like she’s impressed.

This time he looks at her and nods.

“Well y/n, do you want to come to dinner with us?” she offers kindly. But to your ears it’s anything but.

“No. I am alright. But thank you” you look at her. “See you at home Jungkook”

“Just come” he says just as you’re about to turn around to leave.

“I have to do some stuff at home” you say listlessly. “I’ll see you tonight” you reply with a ghost of a smile.

Yet again you turn away from him, not even waiting for his response.

You walk all the way back home, thankful that the way back is quiet, and not many people are around. You take the road from the pier that merges into the street that leads to your house up the hill.

You kick your feet beneath you, sighing heavily every so often. A fluttery feeling intensifies in your stomach the closer you get to home. Your chest feels heavy, a dull ache coming on. Your breathing quickens pace, not so much from the effort of walking up the hill but the mental exhaustion that you’ve faced in the past few weeks.

Love fucking sucks.

Your thoughts are occupied by Jungkook and Jungkook only. Every thought begins and ends with him and soon enough your head is full of memories you spent with him-- good and bad. It’s like a movie playing in your head-- beginning with the first time you saw him after he came back, and just a few minutes ago to Alix and her perfectly pretty face. How could he not love her?

By the end of it, you’re positively bawling your eyes out. Tears upon tears cascade down your face, with no indication of stopping anytime soon. You wipe your nose with the back of your hand, sniffling. Your legs become heavy with the weight of carrying you up the hill. Your head hurts, and you’re sure you’ll faint if you don’t sit down soon.

You quietly continue to sob, head hung low as you reach the gate. You push it open. Your feet drag beneath you, a heavy tread leaving marks of soil from the walk up on the cemented pathway. You open the door to the house, only to hit your head on something.

“Ow” you mumble, rubbing the spot that’s starting to ache. It only makes you sob more. “What the hell...” you lament under your breath, beginning to cry with the force of someone writhing in pain on all fours. You fall on your knees, everything inside you giving up. You cry the way a child does-- hiccuping, heaving to catch your breath only to have it be drowned by another wave of painful sobs.

“Just stop” Jungkook’s voice cracks, as he falls to his knees in front of you too. “Stop doing this to yourself” he croaks.

“I don’t know how to” you strain.

“I can make it all go away y/n” his cheeks are stained with tears too. He gathers you in his arms just like he’s done before. He kisses the top of your head. “Just let me make it go away. Please”

You break the embrace to look up at him through tear soaked eye lashes. “You can’t” your voice quivers.

“If you just…” he stops to take a deep breath, arms loosely wrapped around your back. He’s defeated into silence by your cries.

“It hurts” you clutch the material of his shirt., tucking your chin into your neck “It hurts so so much”

“It’s you”

You don’t even hear him, as you hide your face behind your hands, your body shaking due to your forceful sobs.

“It’s you.” he says again. “Listen to me. For once. Please” he’s begging you at this point.

You uncover your face to look at him. “What?”

“It’s been you all along”

“Wh…” your mouth remains open as you gawk at him. You hastily wipe your face with your hands as if that will somehow help you make sense of it.

“It’s you” he says in a whisper. “It’s you” he looks into your eyes this time--really looks as he says it for the third time almost like he’s saying it as a mantra. “I love you”

As if on cue, you stop crying because his words sink in. You don’t just hear them, you understand them. You begin connecting the dots. “Holy shit” you look at him daze. “I never even gave you a chance to speak” you bemoan that fact.

A bittersweet chuckle softly crosses his lips. “You didn’t. If you had, you wouldn’t have tortured yourself like this. Couldn’t you see it?” he searches your eyes for an answer that will make sense to him.

“How could I have? You’re you and I am me-- clumsy and stupid. You acted like there was someone else this whole time” you rub your eyes to dry the tears away.

“You never gave me a chance to tell you. I tried so many times. That night in the woods when I said I feel what you feel, you misunderstood that as being part of my abilities as a werewolf. But that’s not true. I feel every emotion you feel and I feel it ten times more than you because I imprinted on you .Then I tried to tell you during our conversation in game room and you walked away”

“Then why didn’t you do anything? Why didn’t you just act on it? You should have stopped me”

“You know why” a slight frown adorns his forehead.

You gulp hard, realizing the depth of what you just said. An apology is just at the tip of your tongue. “I know I said I wouldn’t ask you to consider my feelings ever again. But Jungkook, I can’t. Being around you overwhelms me. All I want to do is be around you, have you in my sights and when you’re not I feel disappointed and sad. I miss you every single second of the day when you’re not there. ”

“I have seen the entirety of us y/n-- everything that was, is and all that is to come ”

“I’ve imagined a whole future with you too”

He doesn’t respond.

Your stomach feels tight, your chest feels like something is pressing on it as his silence continues. Your gaze doesn’t leave him for even a second. You feel like you’re naked, as if the whole of you is on display, vulnerable to the point where even a single look will be enough to make or break you.

“I am just asking you to love me” your soft voice doesn’t dampen the gravity of your words.

He scoffs. “That’s just it though. I don’t just love you. I am bound by you. I am bound to you for the rest of my existence. That’s far scarier than love”

“I don’t know how to reply to that. All I know is I am in love with you exactly the way you’re in love with me” you shift closer to him, locking your fingers in his. “Because I can’t deny you any more than you can deny me”

He looks down and plays with your fingers. “That’s true. But I haven’t stopped thinking about the night you got attacked. What would have happened if I wasn’t there? What would I have done with myself if something happened to you?” his words reflecting the guilt he’s been feeling.

“Quit blaming yourself” you chide him. “Anything can happen to me, or to you at any given time. So stop worrying about that and keep your promise of protecting me. It’s not like you can switch this off”

“Not any more than I can stop breathing” he replies.

“Then love me. It’s simple. Jungkook, we either do this, or we don’t” it’s not that you are giving him an ultimatum, but it’s a fact.

“You know as much as I do, that even if in some ridiculous world I wanted to say no, I couldn’t. So you don’t have to worry about me not loving you. Because that just isn’t possible. Not only because I chose you but because that’s just how it is”

“Then what are we doing here?”

“I already told you I love you. You know that I do”

“And that’s supposed to be it?” you raise your brows at him.

His lip quivers into a lopsided smile, the solemn mood beginning to shift. “Tell me what you want”

“Just kiss--”

His lips on yours quiet down your thoughts to nothing. Shivers cascade down your body in waves. He invades each of your senses. The fluttering in your stomach grows intense. His lips feel soft against your own.

Jungkook keeps his eyes slightly open, taking a guilty peek at your face. He still couldn’t imagine if this was a figment of his imagination, or if the universe had gifted him this moment just at the right time. But he felt thankful for it beyond words could express. Every breath he took smelled like you— like water lilies.

“I’ve wanted to do this for a very long time.” he breathes heavily. He doesn’t even give you the chance to speak because he’s pressing his lips to yours once again— softly and gently. His hands run the sides of your body, the material of your shirt gathering together, exposing your skin.

He guides you up without breaking the kiss, pulling you in to erase every inch of space between your bodies. You can feel every contour of his body against your own. You hold him tight, trying to take in the feeling.

His hands slide under your thighs as he picks you up, you wrap your legs around his hips, as he takes you inside the house. He carries you as if you don’t weigh anything— through the house and up the stairs to his room.

“What” kiss. “About” kiss. “Your parents?”

“Not” kiss  “here” he mumbles between a kiss.

He kicks the door open and carries you in until your back hits a wall. He gently lets you down, till the tips of your toes are touching the floor. He breaks the kiss. “You know I won’t do anything you don’t want right?” his gaze, fixated on your eyes.

You nod, running your tongue over your lips and tasting him.”How could I not want this” you pull him by the nape of his neck, unable to bear even one second of distance. He happily obliges, melting into the kiss with a content sigh. It kind of feels like you’re drunk because there is a slight buzz and your mind feels hazy. You’re thoughtless at the moment, and your entire body is burning. Kissing him, touching him-- is all the intoxication you need to feel out of control. Neither your mind, nor your body is acting under your direction anymore

Your whole being is responding only to Jungkook. Every kiss, every soft touch, every caress, every stroke elicits a reaction from you.

“Tell me what you want, baby” he asks, leaving a trail of kisses down your neck and to your chest. “Tell me exactly what you want” his mouth parts against the skin of your neck as he bites down gently.

You can’t help the moan that passes your lips and fades into the air. “You”

He inhales sharply at your words as if that is enough to turn him on. He lifts his head up to look at you “You wanted me to love you right?” he pushes your thighs out by burying his leg between yours. He pushes his thigh against you exactly where you’re aching for him.

“Oh my god….” your voice fails you.

“I’ve thought of you so many nights, for so long” he pushes in more and you grind your hips against his thigh.

“I want more” you can’t help but mumble. “Please”

A corner of his lip raises in a smirk. “Your wish is my command” . He swipes his thumb against your clothed clit. “Is this what you want baby?”

You nod, a whimper crossing your lips as the sound of your heavy breaths fills the air.

You continue to rock your hips against his thigh, while he continues to rub circles on your clit. “Does that feel good?” he asks, but before you can even respond he’s shoving his tongue down your mouth through your parted lips.

You moan into him. eyes shutting tight at the fluttery sensation between your legs. You clutch the fabric of his shirt, unable to hold yourself up longer as you clench around nothing in particular. You feel the adrenaline in every part of your body-- in the pounding of your heart, in your breathless noises, in the way your body grows warmer by the second.

You open your eyes to look at him, cupping his face in your hands. But he’s already looking at you. His pupils are dilated, irises beginning to change colour from his chocolate brown to blue while he continues to kiss you. His hand stops moving against your clit, and he removes his thigh from between your legs. At the loss of friction you feel like a starved animal, needing more, and more, and more. You didn’t think you could ever feel this way, but he was making you abandon all of your inhibitions and want whatever he could give you. You didn’t know if you would ever feel satisfied after what you started.

But Jungkook knows exactly how to pleasure you and then some more as he picks you up and leads you to his bed where he lays you down. He hovers over you, palms pressed into the mattress on either side of you. He gulps.”Are you sure?”

You only nod.

He shifts down, unbuttoning your jeans, and sliding them out from under your legs. He throws them on the floor. He parts your legs, resting his upper body between your legs. He doesn’t waste any time, as he licks a strip on your clothed clit.

“O-oh- oh my….” your fingers curl around his hair, and you push his mouth flush against your core.

He moans against your flesh, laying kitten licks against the sensitive skin. The friction tenses the knot in your stomach even more. Just when you think there’s nothing more he could do, you feel your insides being stretched as he pushes a finger into you. Your back arches at the sensation. He buries his finger knuckle deep,curling it and inside you and hitting that sweet spot. Broken moans and gasps cross your mouth, while your toes curl from all the pleasure.

Seconds tick by and turn into minutes which turns into hours and just like that the night flies by. You don’t know how many times you come undone under him, above him. You stopped counting after the second time because you weren’t even in a state where you could think about thinking anything.

You lay under the sheets facing each other--limbs entangled and noses almost touching. Every few seconds the tip of his nose touches yours as he moves in to kiss you, but then he stops.

“Stop being a tease” you pout at him.

He laughs, showing his pearly whites. His eyes crinkle at the corners just like they do when he’s happy. He leans in, to place a peck on your lips. Then he shifts his head up to kiss your forehead. Then gently, he places a tender kiss at the tip of your nose. He pulls your hand into his as he brings it to his lips, laying down gentle kisses on each knuckle.

“Who taught you how to be romantic?” you tease

“I’ve always been romantic” his gaze locks with yours, a gentle smile coming onto his lips.

“By the way what did you talk to Jimin about that day?” a sudden curiosity shifts the subject.

A look of realization crosses his face “Ah” he says. “I told him about you”

“So that’s why you were pissed” you chuckle.

“Pissed?” his brows crinkle together.

“You were jealous of course. You looked like you were going to kill him” a corner of your mouth lifts into a smirk.

“No. I wasn’t. That’s childish stuff. I just thought he should know that at that time you were kind of taken. Not really but you know…”

You tap his nose. “If you say so” You trace the outline of his face with your fingers. “Are you happy?” you whisper.

“More than I can tell you. Are you?” he licks his lips as his eyes flicker to yours.

“Mhmm” you nod. “Happiest I have ever been I think”

“Good” he kisses the back of your hand. “That’s all I want for you baby”

“I can’t believe you’re mine” you look into his eyes-- finding yourself falling in love all at once.

“You better believe it” his lips turn up at the corners into a grin. “I don’t know how much humans mean it when they say ‘forever’. But let me tell you us werewolves tend to take the stuff pretty seriously.”

You chuckle silently, huffing through your nose. “Your point being?”

“You better believe I am yours, because you’re forever y/n. Until my last breath”

THANK YOU IF YOU READ THIS! REBLOG, COMMENT, LIKE! 

#bts #bts smut #jungkook smut #bts werewolf au #jungkook x reader #bts scenarios #bts fic #jungkook fic #jungkook scenarios #bts fluff #bts angst #jungkook angst #bts jungkook x reader

[lightsovermonaco]

Body Shots (Pierre Gasly)

Inspired by (and beta read) by the amazing @limp-wrist-max​ thank you Mea! 

Masterlist

Word count: 3.5k

Recommended song: “Lucky You” by Sim Dane

Vacationing in Milan had its perks. Fine dining, luxury stores that were prime for window shopping, and the proximity to your best friend, to name a few.

When you'd touched down in Milan you had had no intentions of visiting Pierre. You had just finished your exams for your summer class and had a week before the next semester started up, so you had simply booked the cheapest ticket and boarded a plane. 

The intent had been to have some good wine, good food and unwind. Pierre saw your Instagram story minutes after you posted it and recognized the bakery you stopped at for lunch. And once he found out you were only a few minutes away from that weekend's grand prix, he had ideas that didn't involve you reading a novel all day.

Pierre had insisted that a last minute cancelation by a family friend had left a paddock pass unclaimed and had suggested you take it.

"You're my best friend, it'll be fun to have you experience a weekend through my eyes for once instead of sitting in the stands. Come visit me."

Something in the inflection of his voice made the simple request rub you raw. He missed you. It had been months since your last get together and you couldn't blame him. The last year had been rough for him and he  rarely had anyone physically at his side to help him through it.

Inviting you instead of one of his parents was about more than your current proximity to the track. He hadn't missed a beat in asking you, not hesitating to consider anyone else being with him this weekend.

Your stomach had turned as you climbed in a cab Sunday morning, not out of fear of something going wrong but because of the nagging feeling that something was about to change.

You'd known Pierre since you were kids. Your brother had raced in karting before pursuing another dream, but in the few short years you'd hung around European tracks you had managed to forge a bond with one of your brother's rivals. That friendship carried on regardless of the distance that separated you, kept alive by visits in the off season and once a year trips to the racetrack at Silverstone.

Pierre met you at the gates and you had barely seen him since.

A decent qualifying session saw the Frenchman start P10 on Sunday's race. He didn't hide the fact that he was disappointed, but come time for his final meeting with the team you'd never guess he was anything but ecstatic.

You had to be conscious about your mouth hanging open when Pierre stepped into the garage in his fireproofs with his suit half undone. The tuft of blond hair peeking through his backwards cap floats on an invisible breeze and he bounces on his toes. His brow furrows when he is handed a data sheet, listening intently to what the engineer points out.

Butterflies riot in your stomach when Pierre catches you staring and winks. You pray he writes the blush on your cheeks off as the heat and he must, because he raises his eyebrows and flexes a bit.

You laugh to cover the way you want to do nothing but strip him out of that tight fitted white shirt. Your crush was getting out of hand. Pierre's shameless, friendly flirting only escalated matters.

You told yourself it was nothing. He was like this with every girl he met, making a fool of himself to earn a laugh. You were no different, except maybe that you were a constant where most other women only got to enjoy his playful personality for a short time.

You're treated to a few long minutes of watching Pierre prep to climb into the car before he's heading out on track to line up at the grid. 

The race starts off fine, Pierre's pace is better than expected. One of the Haas's breaks down at the pit entry and Pierre's strategist decides to bring him in for a fresh set of tires. A kiss seems like the proper reward for their stroke of brilliance, which affords Pierre the advantage when the pits close soon after. 

Restarting on lap 28 is nail biting. Hamilton, Stroll, and Pierre make up the podium places. The entire garage gasps when Stroll goes wide at turn four. Hamilton serves his penalty and Pierre inherits the lead. Sainz jumps on the opportunity to attack.

Pierre defends brilliantly until the final lap. The team erupts when he crosses the line first, bringing home the win.

Red, white and green confetti sticks to his skin as he sprays the champagne over all of you. In the heat of it all, Pierre sits on that top step and shakes his head. You already know that the photos of him being snapped from all angles will be gorgeous, the sun shining down on the first French grand prix winner in decades.

A legend in the minds of his people and in yours.

You could scarcely believe it yourself. Your best friend had finally, after years of being pushed down, won a grand prix at the temple of speed. Red Bull had been wrong, just as you'd insisted when Pierre cried over losing his seat and his friend in one weekend. But god, did Pierre rise above it all.

Pierre catches your gaze just before he leaves the podium. A lifetime of emotion swirls around him like an enigma, begging you to find out what it was hiding. Your wave is barely more than a lift of your hand but Pierre notes it nonetheless, tipping his trophy in your direction.

You wait patiently on the sidelines as Pierre poses for pictures with his team on and off the track. His attention constantly falls on you, his grin widening each time he sees you tucked under the arm of an enthusiastic mechanic or crew member. Alpha Tauri was a family and you were an honorary member thanks to your connection to their driver.

An action packed hour of cameras passes before Pierre is able to break away. As soon as he's given the go ahead he passes his trophy off and marching to you. You're both practically running by the time you meet in the middle. You crash into him and he lifts you off your feet in a crushing hug.

"You did it," you whisper, overwhelmed by his success now that you've gotten the chance to celebrate with him. "I'm so proud of you."

Pierre laughs as he sets you on your feet. His smile is wider than you've ever seen it and you're sure his cheeks must be sore.

"Wish they allowed us to bring a friend up there," Pierre says softly, a smile melting into a sly smirk. "Seeing you doused in champagne is an image I wouldn't forget."

You shake your head, caught up in his ceaseless flirting. He had no idea that his honeyed words and gentle touches lit something inside of you, rattling your brain and making it impossible to form a coherent sentence. Instead you snatch the black and gold Pirelli cap off his head and place it on your own, earning you a peal of laughter.

"Looks better on you anyway." Pierre runs a hand through his sweaty, champagne doused hair, leaving bits sticking up at odd angles.

Someone calls Pierre's name, far enough away that there's no rush. Pierre's hands remain planted on your waist and yours stay wrapped around his neck. By the way his bright blue eyes bore into yours, you swear he's thinking the same thing you are.

"Thank you for believing in me," he murmurs, gaze falling to your lips.

"I knew it was just a matter of time," you tell him, inching up on your tiptoes. Tempted by his win, you want to ruin the best friendship you've ever had. You want to discover if the lips you spend far too much time dreaming about felt as soft as they looked. You want to know how it feels to be lost in Pierre, newly minted race winner, and find out just how he dealt with the adrenaline and euphoria of his incredible drive.

"Well done mate!"

Max Verstappen startles the two of you apart. You take a healthy step back and drop your gaze to the ground to hide your burning cheeks.

"Thanks." Pierre accepts the Dutchman's embrace and claps him on the back. "Sucks I didn't get to fight you for it."

"There will be more chances in the future. And I didn't expect to see you here, that's a nice surprise." Max knocks you with his shoulder, tipping you off balance. On instinct you latch onto Pierre's arm to steady yourself. You wait a heartbeat too long to remove your hand and both of you find anywhere to look but each other.

"So where's the party?" You ask, searching for a distraction from the way your palm still burns.

"Definitely not at Red Bull." Max shudders and you laugh because that's what you do when someone is being over dramatic. It rings hollow in your ears.

"I hear there's a few guys with adjoining rooms at the hotel who bought plenty of booze," Pierre says. "You and Dan wanna come by?"

"Is that really a question?" Max grins, already typing out a text as Pierre feeds him the details.

**********

"You should do body shots," Max suggests, which earns a roaring laugh from Daniel and a half hearted one from Pierre.

"I don't think so," Pierre says, "there's no one here I trust enough to let that happen."

"Not even your best friend?" Max gestures to you and shoots you a wink when Pierre glances over. "I think she's trustworthy."

"No thanks." Pierre holds up his plastic cup and salutes Max before draining it to the dregs.

Pierre's immediate refusal hurt more than it probably should have. You hadn't expected him to jump at the offer but having him shut the idea down so thoroughly hadn't been what you wanted either.

Max notes your pouty lower lip and speaks on your behalf. "Come on mate," Max insists. "You just won your first prix, live a little! It's not like you've got anything to lose, she's your best friend."

"That's exactly why-"

"Shut up, it would be fun! Wouldn't it?" Max says this last bit to you, a wild grin on his face.

Max expects you to turn red and object. That was his end goal. But what the Dutchman hadn't counted on was how drunk you already were on Pierre. On his smile. On his bright blue eyes, swirling in the aftermath of his unlikely triumph. And mostly on the not-so-sneaky way he glances at you every few minutes.

"Let's do it."

Pierre blinks, searching your face for any sign of distress. "Wait, are you serious?"

"Yeah, why not?" You shrug, suddenly fearing that you'd read him wrong and he really was against this whole thing. "Unless you don't want to-"

"Get the vodka," Pierre interrupts, nodding to Max though his stare remains pinned on you. Pierre latches onto your wrist and drags you around the room until he finds a table long and sturdy enough for his liking. 

"This a good height for you?"

The coffee table is low enough that you'd have to kneel. Luckily getting on your knees isn't something you'd mind doing for Pierre. You lick your lips without thinking. Pierre's pupils blow wide, black swallowing the swirling oceans of blue.

"Sure," is all you manage.

"Good." Apparently neither of you were able to focus on speech. You work together to clear the empty plastic cups and used napkins from the surface. Your hands brush when you both reach for the last cup and you just catch the way Pierre's breath hitches.

You and Pierre have danced this dance since you were teenagers. Each of you knows the steps by heart. The only difference is tonight neither of you were poised to bow out before the final lift.

"Beep beep, bitches!" You yank your hand away when Max's shout reaches you. Pierre's hand lingers in front of him,  outstretched as if your palm remained grazing his thumb. 

Max holds the bottle of vodka over his head as he wades through the crowd. "You're all about to be very, very entertained."

"Where's your chaperone?" You ask Max, searching for Daniel in the low lighting. You press your palm to your thigh, dissipating Pierre's lingering heat.

The Dutchman waves you off. "Went to get us more drinks. Pierre, isn't it kinda hard to do body shots if you're still fully clothed?"

"Who says I'm the one getting undressed?"

Max's grin dimples his flushed cheeks. "I mean you can ask her to take her shirt off in front of all these people if you want to."

"No," Pierre responds quickly. "Fine. I'll do it."

When Pierre strips off his shirt he gets more than a few whistles from men and women alike. That tended to happen when someone was built like a Greek fucking god, you supposed. Whoever voted for People Magazine's "Sexiest Man Alive" and decided on Michael B. Jordan had clearly never laid eyes on Pierre, with his bronzed skin, endless expanses of muscle, and brilliant cheshire grin.

Michael B. Jordan who?

Pierre hands the team branded shirt off and lays out on the table. He pillows an arm under his head, bare bicep flexed as he gets comfortable. Leaning in to kiss along the hard muscle was out of the question, however tempting it was.

Pierre looks up expectantly. "You coming?" 

Holy shit, this was actually happening.

"Yeah, I'm coming." You sink to your knees and Pierre laughs.

"Up here." He pats his thigh with his free hand and beacons you forward. "Please."

Screw it, you've already thrown your friendship out the window. This night ended either in heartbreak or awkwardness, might as well get your money's worth.

A few whoops break out above the music. The bassline isn't the only thing thundering in your chest as you straddle Pierre's thighs, hands braced on his chest.

"Okay?" Pierre whispers for your ears only. You nod with what you hope is a charming smile.

"Alright move," Max says, shooing you back until you're resting on your haunches. Max flicks the cap off the bottle and you grab it to take a long sip.

Max gapes at you and you wipe a hand over your mouth. "Close your mouth, you'll catch flies."

Pierre's thighs tense beneath you in response to your bold declaration. Dozens of Pierre's friends and team members gather around. For all you care, Pierre is the only person in the room.

"Last chance to back out," Max warns. You're too busy tracking the drop of liquid that falls from the neck of the bottle to splash onto the crease of Pierre's abs to bother responding. 

"Pour it out." Pierre's chest sinks with his demand, doing nothing but sparking your imagination, creating images of him heaving beneath you. You'd sell your soul to recreate the way you're currently poised above Pierre's hips with a little less clothing and no audience.

Max gives up hope on you replying and dribbles the alcohol up Pierre's abdomen, stopping just below his pecks.

"Have at 'er-"

Your tongue is on Pierre's skin before Max has finished his sentence. You feel the muscle tense beneath your tongue, going rigid at the first contact. The burn of the vodka doesn't even register as you lap it up, catching the drips that fall over his sides. 

You aren't sure either of you is breathing. Salty sweat mingles with the sharpness of the alcohol, an afterthought barely worth mentioning.

Blame the liquid courage or blame the high from Pierre's win, but you were confident Pierre was enjoying this just as much as you. 

Planting a hand on Pierre's hip, you steal a glance up at him to find him locked on you. You take that as permission to continue, dragging your tongue flat up his stomach and continuing well past where the vodka had been poured. Up between his pecks, over the curve of his throat that bobs beneath your tongue, over his chin until you meet his lips, already parted and waiting. 

Neither of you pay the shouts cresting around you any heed. You've both waited too long for this, endured too many almosts and what ifs to let the opportunity slip through your fingers. Your sticky hands cradle Pierre's face, angling it in a way that's to your liking so you can explore more of his mouth. He tastes like whiskey and mint, the juxtaposition of hot and cold scattering your thoughts. One of Pierre's hands finds the nape of your neck when you gasp for air, refusing to let you end the moment.

And it's pure, unending bliss that floods your veins when he nips at your lower lip, swollen and surely reddened from his kiss. His thumb sweeps across the back of your neck while you both fight to catch the breath currently evading you.

Daydreams didn't hold a candle to the real thing. One taste and you were addicted, craving as much as Pierre was willing to give.  

"Hey," he murmurs, the corners of his mouth tugging up in a stupidly gorgeous smile.

"That was nice," you tease, tangling your fingers in the silky blond strands of his hair. "I wouldn't be opposed to doing it again."

"Me too. Maybe somewhere where it's just us though. I wouldn't want to scandalize my team any further." You manage to steal another sweet peck before Max hauls you off Pierre.

"Fucking finally," Daniel says, clapping when you're upright again. "Do you know how long I've been trying to orchestrate this? The two of you really are dumber than a box of rocks. I can't believe all it took was Max suggesting body shots to get you two to kiss."

The arm that wraps around your waist feels right. Pierre hasn't hugged you like this before, with his chin resting on your shoulder and his nose nuzzling your neck, but it already feels like home.

Pierre ignores Max completely in favor of pressing a kiss to the shell of your ear. "Why don't we go back to my room? I'll pour more alcohol on myself if that's what it takes to convince you."

You're just about to take him up on the offer when one of his team members taps his shoulder. He glances at them impatiently, which the man thankfully doesn't take personally.

"They want some photos with you holding your trophy," he explains, handing a shirt and the star shaped interpretation of the Italian flag to Pierre. "It will only take a few minutes,  they promised not to keep you long."

Of course everyone knew exactly where your minds were. Sanity had long since left the premises, tangled up in crisp white sheets. Pierre's entire team and half the Red Bull garage had seen what had gone down while the prix winner was sprawled on that coffee table. There would be no chance of denying it in the morning. 

And while you'd never imagined that the first time you'd kiss your best friend would be directly preceded by licking copious amounts of shitty liquor off his super-heated skin, now that you'd experienced it any other way seems forgettable.

Pierre sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "I mean, I already have my trophy, but…" your stomach lurches when you realize he means you. Pierre catches the way your mouth hangs open and he shoots you a grin before accepting the real trophy.

"You carry it," he says, not giving you much of a choice as he thrusts it into your hands. "I'm occupied."

You're about to point out that his hands are, in fact, free and that the more likely reason for insisting you carry the trophy was his usual post-race laziness when he slings an arm around your shoulders and tucks you tight to his side.

"Is this okay?" Pierre asks when you involuntarily stiffen. God, it was more than okay, it was perfect, it had just caught you by surprise. You'd only kissed him a handful of minutes ago and Pierre was already wrapped around your finger, smitten as if you'd been a couple for years.

"Yeah no, it's perfect. Simply lovely," you say quickly, stumbling over your words.

"Can I kiss you again?"

Your answer comes in the form of a hand on his chest, stopping him in his tracks. You prop the trophy on your hip and smile up at your race winner.

"You don't have to ask that ever again. My answer is always yes."

#pierre gasly #pierre gasly oneshot #pierre gasly x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 rpf #f1 #formula 1 fantasy #formula 1 fanfiction #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #f1 fic #f1 fantasy #f1 rpf

[princecharmingmendes]

Invisible String | Werewolf AU | Raul Mendes

Raul is a werewolf and his mate turned out not only to be human, but his best friend's little sister. And as much as he tried, he could not ignore that invisible string tying her to him.

Hello hello! This is a bit of an experimental thing and I'm really excited about it, I've always been highly interested in everything about alternative universe and fantasy in general, and ever since I received the first ask to write a werewolf piece I've been wanting to do it but also a bit nervous. So hopefully this meets your expectations and you guys like it! Let me know if this was any good and if you guys would like to see something else like this! 

*Word Count: 8K+;

*Warnings: a few curse words, a little angsty (i guess), minor drinking;

*Posted: March 28th, 2021.

                                               -*-

Raul felt like life liked playing sick little tricks on him.

Like the fact that werewolves had a very strict hierarchy and normally it worked nicely. The Alphas are the ones in charge and responsible for keeping the pack safe and in order. Betas normally were kind of the strength of the pack, trained to listen and do whatever the pack needed and physically skilled to fight off anyone. And the Omegas were the glue to all of it, the sweet and naturally more caring ones, and it was an ancient thing that was followed to this day. Until Raul and his twin brothers were all born Alphas. It was hard informing the pack that they’re all going to be the Alphas of their pack. And since normally it was only allowed one wolf to claim that position, it was harder to make older ones respect their decision and actually accept, but at the end of the day, they didn’t have much of a choice. The Alpha genes ran in the Mendes family for generations and thankfully their dynamic was actually great and the triplets formed a great group of wolves. 

And that was just an example of the things Raul blames on fate or whatever for making his like a bit more difficult. But maybe the hardest one was having mated with not only a human, but his Beta’s younger sister. His best friend’s and right hand’s sister, one of the only girls that was off limits had to be his mate. 

And it wasn’t even his choice. Mating is a common thing between werewolves and other creatures, often seen as a blessing, a reason to celebrate. It’s similar to what most people have as a soulmate. It’s two souls that were meant to be together and are deeply connected to the other. Sometimes it’s harder to notice, it can take a few years and sometimes it’s almost instantaneous, and it can’t be undone or ignored. And even though sometimes it can be denied by one of the sides, according to the ones who’ve been through it, it’s an awfully painful experience. Some even go as far as describing having a piece of you being pulled out of your heart. 

It also doesn’t have to be necessarily tied to a romantic relationship, you can simply be friends with them for the rest of your lives, even though it doesn’t happen most of the time. Most of the time it isn’t even something to think about, it just feels natural, you feel whole when you’re around that person, they’re meant to be your other half and normally it just clicks. And when you grow up surrounded by wolves, it’s normally a beautiful connection to witness. Raul always found their parents relationship amazing, and deep down longed for a similar deep relationship with someone, finding his mate and falling in love. He just didn’t expect it to happen the way it did. 

It was over four years ago and he was running a bit late to Mike’s, his best friend, nineteenth birthday he was having at his parents’ house. Raul got caught up sorting through some pack stuff and when he was finally done with it, he was already half an hour late and it was outside their little secluded “neighborhood” in the wooded area. It was a bit far from the town so the wolves wouldn’t have a problem with the humans since their existence was still a secret. Only very few and selected humans knew about them. So it was best for everybody if they built their little community on the woods just beside the town, and keep their presence among humans only when seen necessary. 

Mike’s father, who is a werewolf, fell in love with a human (Mike’s mom) and they decided to move into town to be closer to her job since she was a nurse and needed to be near the hospital in case of an emergency. And when Mike was born a wolf, they decided that he was going to be raised like his dad was in the wolf community and would make his decision in joining it or not when he was older. And he did choose the pack life since it felt more natural to him. But Y/N, his younger sister, was actually born a human and was raised by his parents like any human kid, and she was never taken to their community since she was three years younger than her brother and Mike was very protective over her, not knowing how his pack would treat her or react to her.

So when Raul parked his car right outside the address that was sent to him and ringed the bell, he wasn’t expecting to be met with his mate. But there she was, Y/N stood with the door open as her eyes widened the slightest bit and he was sure he wasn’t breathing. He felt like he was floating and her sweet scent of something like Roses and Strawberries was all he could feel. All his other senses were clouded by her presence just a few inches away from him. He didn’t know how to react or what to say, and for the first time in his life he was completely speechless. Raul was normally a very socially skilled person, he was good at talking to people and reading someone’s expressions like a book, always had a sharp answer at the tip of his tongue and knew what to do at most situations, but Y/N caught him off guard. 

She seemed a bit confused as well. Her mouth slightly a gape as she held to the wooden doorframe.  Y/N was really happy she was finally meeting all of her brother’s friends and getting to know a bit more of this part of his life she was deprived of. And she was a bit shocked to notice how big and strong all of his friends were, specially Shawn and Peter, who Mike explained to be the Alphas. They were also incredibly nice to her, she suspects it was her brother’s doing since every time they would say something or curse, they would always look at Mike first. But when the doorbell rang again, she knew it was Raul, he was the only one missing and they knew he was late due to “pack stuff” as they explained. She felt a bit jittery and basically ran to the door from the spot she was sitting next to it on her phone, wanting to get to know her brother’s best friend for a while now. But she wasn’t prepared to meet him.

Sure, he was identical to his twins, but there was something different about him that hit her hard. Of course, he had more tattoos and a few more piercings, he looked a bit rougher in the edges with his leather jacket and wild golden eyes, but there was something that wasn’t about his appearance that took her breath away. And suddenly she didn’t know what to do, they’re both stuck in their place staring at each other. And even though her mind was screaming at her to stop being awkward, invite him in and actually act like a decent being, Y/N couldn’t move a muscle, and he’s probably thinking she’s an idiot and too polite to invite himself in. And in the middle of her internal turmoil, he regained some self control for the sake of both of them. 

Raul cleared his throat shaking his head a bit “Hi, I’m Raul, you must be Y/N” he said and she swore she melted at the sound of his voice “it’s really nice finally meeting you” 

He offered his hand to her to which she swiftly grabbed, feeling his warmth seeping throughout her palm, his fingers curling around her much smaller ones. He had a beautiful design tattooed on the back of his hand and she got a little lost in it. 

Y/N sighed relief he broke the awkward moment and looked up back at him, trying to control her thoughts “Yeah, that’s me, nice to meet you too, would you like to come in?”

Raul smiled as he let go of her hand a bit reluctantly “sure” was all he said as he stepped in closer to her, being hit with a fresh wave of her sweet scent, forcing him to take a deep breath. 

“The boys are outside in case you’re wondering” she said placing a strand of hair that fell out of her little updo behind her ear.

Raul held back the urge to do it himself “Oh, so they annoyed you into staying in the living room?”

“No no” her eyes almost budged out of their socket “I was just- I was just waiting for you since I knew you were running late and they’re all talking, so I didn’t want to intrude and I-“

“Y/N it’s just a joke” he said through a chuckle as he saw her face flushing “relax a bit, honey”

Y/N giggled softly as she closed the door “I’m sorry, I-“

“Hey, dude!” Mike called from across the room, making their heads snap towards him “how’s everything back home?”

“All settled” Raul said taking a step closer to his Beta “just arrived actually”

“Oh, so you met my little sister” and even though it seemed like a normal sentence, Raul knew Mike and knew his posture like the back of his hand, he knew this was a reminder of the conversation they had back home about staying away from her.

“Yeah, she opened the door for me” he said and from his peripheral he saw Y/N nodding confirming his line.

“I see, the guys are outside, let’s go grab a burger for you” Mike said patting him on the shoulder and dragging him away from the front door where Y/N seemed to be frozen in place. 

Raul remembers vividly every little second of that night. Remembers how he decided he should keep his distance for the sake of his friendship and for Y/N herself. She was only sixteen when they met and she is human, which means the bond isn’t too strong for her, specially at first glance, and dating a werewolf was hard. He lived far into the woods and didn’t necessarily mingle with people in town, who were probably her friends and she wasn’t raised with his type, so maybe it would be too much for her. And Raul’s sure Mike wouldn’t be happy about it, at least not now where they first met and she’s that young. So he kept his distance, only talking to her when extremely necessary. 

And that was a pattern he kept for the remaining four years of their limited interactions (which he intended keeping that way).  

As older as Y/N got, the closest she got with the pack. She was always close to Mike, but since she was young she wasn’t allowed to walk or drive alone to the community, but as soon as she was old enough she was always around on the weekends and important dates. And she was just lovely, so everyone adored her, always wanting to have her around for monthly movie nights and even going as far as inviting her to spend the night. Raul couldn’t really blame anyone for wanting her around, he did too, but he couldn’t, so he didn’t say a thing about it. And he knew he made her hesitant on accepting those invitations, cause at every attempt she ever made to get closer to him, he shut her off. And he could see Y/N was hurt, but it was for the best. 

He even tried dating someone else for a while  and he noticed Y/N didn’t like it even the tiniest bit. The girl he was dating was a Beta that was temporarily living with them as her pack solved something around the area, and she was nice. But it didn’t last long, she was only staying for a few months, and on the day she left, there was a barbecue in celebration to one of the older wolves and of course Y/N was there. Raul was late since he was taking his ex to the airport, and Y/N didn’t even look at him when he stepped into the little location they were all settled. He found the act odd but didn’t say a word, only walking towards his brother’s and Mike who were laughing probably about something dumb one of them said. Raul spent a few minutes with them, but he kept looking over his shoulder where Y/N was sat, noticing after an hour she was missing and he instantly started trying to find her.

He dismissed his friends as he walked into the pack house, trying to clear his senses to track her in case she was hurt (since she was a bit wobbly on her feet already), but only to be met with her staring at her phone while sitting on the couch with a huge pout set on her lips. Raul was about to turn and leave when Y/N looked up, noticing his presence and he swears his heart stopped at that moment. She had tears filling her eyes and her lips were trembling slightly, a deep frown set on her brows.

“I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t be here” she mumbled sniffling softly “I just needed to clear my head a bit”

Raul nodded with softer eyes as he walked closer to her “it’s okay, are you hurt? Are you in pain?”

Y/N shook her head “I honestly don’t know why I’m so upset, I didn’t even drink that much or anything, I just-“ she sighed heavily and looked up at the celling.

“Tired?” Raul offered gently and she nodded her head slowly “want me to drive you home?”

“No, please, just go enjoy the night, isn’t Samantha here?” she said as he sat down beside her, still keeping some distance. 

“We broke up, she left today” was all he said and she looked up at him with wide eyes, but before she could start apologizing, he just pressed his hand to her knee gently “it’s okay, it wasn’t anything serious, no need to apologize, sweetheart” 

“I- okay”

“Still wanna stay?” he pressed gently “I can still take you home”

“No, it’s okay, I was supposed to spend the night anyway” she shrugged.

“Wanna go upstairs and take a nap?” was all he asked and she shook her head. 

“The thing is I was supposed to stay at Stacy’s room tonight, but her boyfriend showed up, so I guess I got the living room” she explained “which is totally okay, and I don’t want to seem ungrateful, I know you don’t like me much, and I don’t want to make things worse” 

And at that his heart shattered “wait, what?”

“Oh no, I really don’t mind, I can call a cab too, I can leave in twenty minutes too, I’m sorry I-“ she started breathing a bit heavily as he picked up her heart racing more than usual.

Raul shook his head, turning on the couch to face her better “No, it’s not that, I’m not mad at you or anything, I just- who said I don’t like you?”

“I- no one” she opened her mouth a few times before closing it until she said something that shattered his heart in a billion pieces “no one, it’s just something I’ve noticed throughout the years”

“What do you mean?”

Y/N sighed deeply as she glanced down at her lap, fidgeting the bracelet she always wore, which Raul caught on a long time ago to be a nervous habit “I know you get uncomfortable when I’m around and Mike told me it was probably something about you not being used to have humans around, and I totally get it, it’s just sometimes it seems like my presence is enough to put you in a sour mood and I don’t think it’s because I’m human or anything, and I shouldn’t be saying this to you, I’m sorry”

Raul took a deep breath as he squeezed her knee gently and seeing her relax a bit at his touch “stop apologizing for everything, you did nothing wrong, sweetheart, well, besides assuming I disliked you”

“Oh” was all she managed out as her brain ran a million mile per hour.

Y/N has had a crush on him for years now, ever since the first time they met. He was the literal description of her type, but the dreamy part ended there. Of course Raul was always polite and never made anything to directly hurt her, but he kept pushing her away and avoiding her like the plague, and maybe it was all in her head, but he didn’t seem like that whenever he was around others. And that did nothing to help her case. She knew nothing would ever happen between them, he made it pretty obvious he wasn’t attracted to her, but she’d like to try and be friends with him but even that didn’t seem to interest him. And it wasn’t his fault, she didn’t even knew the reason as to why she felt the need to have him around, but she just did. So Y/N just lost hope after all the attempts to make him like her, but he was always so distant and it still affected her after all this years. 

In the other hand, Y/N had no idea how hard it was to push her away. Raul was certain she knew exactly what to do to get to his heart, she had to. Every little thing she did made his heart flutter and she was just so good at having people wrapped around her fingers that she made her way through all of his friends lives. He thought they were mates at first glance, her scent was a great clue, but as they got to know each other better, even indirectly, just made him sure of it. Y/N meant much more than what he thought was possible, seeing her stressed over school stuff or sad about whatever reason was enough to put him in panic, not knowing how to keep his distance and stop her from hurting. And all his cold exterior wasn’t necessarily his choice, he knew Mike confessed he hoped his sister would not get with an Alpha, that meant she would have to give up a few things in her life and that would herself in danger for having Raul’s scent all over her. And Mike also told him he would do whatever he could to avoid that to keep her safe.

So he did it for her, to keep her safe from the problems that came along with living in a pack, dating a werewolf and being a human. But it was getting harder, and tonight he decided to ignore it, that she needed him more than she needed to stay away from him. And that’s what pushed him to wrap his fingers around her wrist, making her look up at him

“Do you want to watch a movie or something?” he offered in a lower voice “maybe it will help you clear your head a bit” and Y/N seemed a bit shook, looking up at him with wide eyes and she nodded slowly.

Raul smiled fondly at her as he got up with her following him up the stairs to the little movie room the pack out together for movie nights. They sat down side by side as he offered her to pick something for them, then Raul proceeded to reach for a fluffy blanket that was thrown on the corner of the sofa. When he turned back to her she still looked a bit lost, so he offered to put on a show he knew was her favorite, and she just nodded in response. Y/N was too nervous to do anything wrong that would push him back into being his closed off distant self, and she knew she looked ridiculous all tense and barely breathing by his side. 

Raul noticed her stiffness right away and decided to turn off the lights hoping this would make her relax even a little bit. And as the episode progressed he noticed she was getting more and more loose. An hour later, in the middle of the second episode, he felt her leaning closer to him, probably searching for a bit more warmth, so he lifted his arm to rest on the back of the couch and to make room for her in case she wanted. It only took a couple more minutes for her to be basically leaning most of her weight on him, and when her arm slipped, she fell mostly laying on his chest. And as soon as Y/N was ready to start apologizing, Raul shushed her softly, asking her to relax and pulling the covers up both of their bodies, and so she did.

He didn’t notice he was falling asleep until he woke up many hours later with the sound of voices downstairs from his brothers. Raul looked down at his chest to find Y/N cuddled to him, sound asleep as his arm wrapped around her waist held her still. He took a deep breath and almost chose not to wake her and just go back to sleep, to deal with the stiffness due to the sitting position he held and the consequences of sleeping there with her in the morning. At least until he heard the door cracking open slowly and Shawn’s head popping in. 

“Are you two okay?” his brother whispered as he noticed the girl asleep on the couch, and to that Raul nodded in response, afraid to wake her up “take her upstairs to your room, dude, Mike will find out you like her sooner or later and he’ll deal with it, just don’t let her sleep on the couch”

Raul sighed and nodded. Shawn bid his goodnight and closed the door with a soft click. Peter, Shawn and his mom were the only ones to know about his mating situation, and he liked it better that way. They tried convincing him to tell her at least, but they understood that maybe it wasn’t the right time just yet and let him decide what to do with his feelings. 

So he ended up taking his brothers suggestion and as gently as he could, he rearranged the girl in his arms to he could carry her upstairs to his bedroom. Y/N grumbled softly in protest, nuzzling her face further on his neck as she quieted down. Raul had to stop himself from cooing at her. As he walked out into the bright hallway she mumbled something unintelligible before calling his name.

“It’s okay, sweetheart, I’m here, it’s just me” he whispered as they walked into his room, before placing a kiss to her hair, gently lowering her to his mattress. 

Y/N slowly opened her eyes “Raul? I’m sorry, I fell asleep on you” she mumbled quietly. 

“It’s okay, just thought a bed would be a better place for you to sleep other than the couch” he said standing up to his full height and bringing the covers up her body “that’s why I brought you to my room”

“Thank you” she said grabbing his hand and he just nodded at her with a gentle grin on his lips “why are you up?”

“I’m going to crash downstairs on the movie room” he stated caressing the back of her hand with his thumb and she started shaking her hand. 

Her hold on him tightened “No, not a chance, I’m not taking you out of your bed for you to sleep on the couch, please stay here with me, please”

And how could he possibly say no to her looking so sleepy and so sweet?

He breathed a chuckle with a nod “just let me change first, do you need a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt instead of what you’re wearing?”

“Yes please” she murmured feeling a bit embarrassed for making him do all of this for her.

And as if he could read his mind “Don’t look at me as if you’re being a headache, yeah? It’s okay, sweetheart, let me just grab you some clothes” he squeezed her hand before letting go of it in favor of picking up what he promised.

He came back from his closet in only a pair of sweats and a thin white t-shirt, a similar paring folded in his hands for her. She got up to change on his bathroom as he climbed on his bed, trying to contain the excitement of the prospect of having the girl he’s been fond of for over two years, the possible love of his life. Y/N quickly returned in his clothes, following suit and diving under the covers, laying on her side away from him as he stayed on his back, trying to control his breathing after turning off the lights. A few minutes passed and he’s sure she was asleep, the room dark enough so he could only see the silhouette of her body by the faint glow of the moon seeping through his curtains. But then he heard the soft rustle of his sheets as she turned to face him, and he only turned his face on the pillow to properly look at her. 

“Can I ask you something?” she whispered almost as if she was afraid to break the comfortable silence that fell over them. 

Raul hummed in response “anything you want” his voice a soft and raspy tone, making her shiver slightly. 

“Why are you being so nice to me?” her voice barely audible as if she was nervous to ask, or maybe the answer frightened her more. 

“You don’t have to worry about it, you should just rest for now” was his response and she sighed in defeat, nodding her head before facing him away again. 

The clear defeat on her features, despite the darkness was enough to make him regret his words. So Raul turned on his hand, raising a careful hand to caress her exposed bicep. She flinched at first, not expecting his touch, but quickly relaxing to it as he felt goosebumps raise on her skin. He decided to scoot a bit closer almost as if he were testing the waters and she shuffled closer in response. Soon the hand on her arm slid to wrap her waist gently and Y/N sighed happily in return, finally resting her back on his chest. Raul placed a kiss at the top of her head as she melted under his sweet gesture. 

When she was in transition to dreamland, she swears she heard him whisper into her hair, the place he decided to muzzle his face “I’m sorry I made you think I disliked you, Y/N that’s not the case at all” he took a deep breath and she was far to gone to say anything back “You just seemed like you needed me tonight, and I’m sorry if I ever made you think your presence here was unwanted, you’re just too good and I don’t deserve you, sweetheart”

And not knowing if this was true or not, his whispered confessions with that slightly raspy and almost honeyed at the same time voice lulled her completely to sleep. 

                                              -*-

In the weeks prior to that event, neither of them said a thing about that night, not even in an indirect way. Raul barely spoke to his brothers about it, but they already knew what happened, and Y/N didn’t feel like telling Mike would be a genius idea, so she decided against it. And to her disappointment things got back to the old normal, at least for the most part. She felt like Raul was a bit more comfortable around her and didn’t try so much to stay away, but it wasn’t like that day, and it still hunts her that she actually caught a small glimpse of what their relationship could be. But it was also taking its tool on him, that night he slept like a baby and allowed himself to daydream that this could’ve been their reality if things were a bit different.

He woke up that morning pretty early as usual, for his perimeter check, but only this time Y/N was sound asleep on his chest, and maybe he stalled a bit to enjoy her sweet scent a bit more before slowly peeling her off of him and gently laying her back down on the pillows. There was only a bit of resistance in form of a whine but she ended up pulling his pillow to her chest before settling down. It was harder than he thought leaving her on his bed as he quickly changed and jogged downstairs to go on his run, but maybe it was better like this, this way he could run and put his head at ease and actually come up with his next moves. So that’s what Raul did, but as soon as he was back on the house, already in two feet only, she was already wake and preparing something in the kitchen as she chatted with Peter.

Raul leaned on the doorway as he watched her, back on the clothes from last night, talking about her next college project as his brother sipped on his coffee mug, so he cleared his throat not to scare her as he walked in “good morning”

“Morning, Raul, can you keep her company as she eats her breakfast? I actually need to run to Sam’s house to pick up some stuff before he leaves for work” Peter asked, a knowing look on his face as Raul just shrugged it off “thanks, got to go, Y/N, good luck with that sheet!” his brother said before leaving the kitchen completely.

“Hi” she said, eyes trained on the eggs she was making as he stood beside her, his hip leaning on the kitchen counter “would you like some?”

“Sure” he said looking around the room “did you sleep well?”

Y/N’s body visibly stiffened as she cleared her throat before answering “yeah, thank you about last night, by the way”

Raul nodded before changing the subject and seeing her relax at that, knowing it was for the best, mentally deleting the speech he came up with. And that’s where the whole conversation died.

                                              -*-

Months later Raul found himself in an equally as hard situation.

Y/N was spending the weekend at the pack house that was a bit more empty than usual, since a few of the wolves (including Mike) decided to go on a little getaway to run from the cold that was arriving sooner than expected, and since her parents were out of town, his best friend asked if she could stay with them so Y/N wouldn’t be all by herself for four days during the possibility of a storm that was estimated for that weekend. And of course they couldn’t deny it, specially since she was very sweet and everyone loved her.

And tonight was the second night of her in the house and Raul was pacing back and forth on his room, probably about to open a hole on the floor from pacing too much, but he didn’t know what to do. She was downstairs on the living room working on some sort of paper for college and he decided he was going to bed, but as soon as he reached his room, the storm that was expected to happen finally arrived and he literally heard her heart rate speeding up exponentially, but didn’t know how to approach her or even if he should. However, when he heard her curse under her breath when a lightning lit up the whole house he knew he could not do nothing, so he opened the door to his room and basically ran down the stairs. 

As Raul reached the bottom of the stairs, he identified Y/N to be the little ball wrapped up in a fluffy  blanket in the middle of the couch. He took a deep breath before carefully walking towards her, he tried making enough noise so she wouldn’t get caught off guard but not enough to disturb her. But as soon as he reached the side of the couch she looked up at him with wide teared eyes from the little cocoon of blankets she was. Raul physically stopped himself from cooing at her and pulling her to his lap.

Y/N gave him a little sad laugh as she rubbed her eyes harshly “I’m sorry we always end up meeting like this, I must seem like an idiot, right?”

Raul shook his head sitting down beside her “You’re not an idiot, what’s making you so upset?”

She took a deep breath before answering “I guess I’m just tired, and this paper is a bit harder than I thought and I’m actually a bit afraid of storms, and this is all stupid and I-“

“Hey, it’s not stupid, it’s stressful and it’s okay, no one really like storms, they’re dangerous and pretty scary”

“Sure, when you’re five” she said playfully rolling her eyes as he chuckled softly.

“Oh, darling, you know that’s not true”

“Are you scared of storms?” she asked with an arched brow.

“No”

“See?”

Raul chuckled as he shook his head “you’re really something, aren’t you?”

Y/N shrugged as she saved the document before moving to the book she was using as reference “Why are you up if you’re not scared then?”

“You are”

Y/N turned her head in his direction “Oh, I didn’t mean to wake you up”

“You didn’t, I just knew you were afraid and decided to come check on you” he said already regretting admitting to it.

“Oh, I’m sorry, you didn’t have to come though, I’m a big girl, I can take it”

Raul gave her his signature lopsided smile that she had only seen a few times directed to her, making her insides a bit toastier than before “I know you can, sweetheart, just didn’t want you to be alone if I could come down and try to help”

“Yeah, that’s the Alpha spirit, right?” and with that sentence Raul rested his head on the back of the sofa with a laugh. 

“Maybe” Raul turned his head to face her, deciding he was going to ignore the whole ‘pushing her away’ speech, at least for a moment “I was thinking that maybe we should make some hot chocolates if you want to finish this paper tonight”

“Are you serious?” Y/N had to confirm she wasn’t going mad and that he was actually willingly wanting to spend some time with her.

“Of course I’m serious, you can’t joke about stuff like this”

“What? Hot chocolate?” she asked holding back a laugh.

“Well obviously” he pushed himself up from the couch, relieved to see she seemed distracted enough to forget about the whole weather outside “I’m aces in the kitchen”

Raul offered her his hand and she smiled at him shaking her head before closing her computer and pushing it aside, taking his outstretched hand and letting him pull her up carefully “well, how did I just find that out?”

“Because I’m normally too tired and busy most of the time to actually make a meal”

She noticed he didn’t let go of her, and she wasn’t going to be the one to do it or point that out “oh yeah, being the Alpha and bossing everyone around must take a lot of your time and energy”

Raul chuckled as he walked her to the kitchen, letting go of her hand against his will in favor of grabbing the ingredients “Mike’s a bad influence, I bet his the one who told you that”

“You certainly didn’t, we barely talk at all” and as soon as the words left her mouth she regretted it. 

Raul was with his back facing her as he sorted through the stuff to prepare their drinks, and she was ready to start apologizing, afraid he was going to push her out all over again. Why did she have to go and say something like that? As much as the mood between them was playful, mostly cause he was trying to distract her and she knew it, but it was light and fun, she had to say such thing and ruin it. Sometimes things felt so natural with him that she just forgets that they aren’t that close. But before she could freak out and start spitting strings of ‘I’m sorry’ he did something Y/N wasn’t expecting. Raul started laughing out loud, turning to face her and she ended up laughing as well, maybe out of nervousness or out of relief, either way she laughed.

“I deserved that” he pointed out “but I guess that will have to change since you have such a distorted vision of the Alpha role”

“I wouldn’t particularly mind” she added softly, in hopes he wouldn’t pay much attention to it, but again, Raul was, apparently, a little box of surprises.

“Me neither, darling” he said before turning on the stove.

Y/N felt heat rising up her chest to her face and decided to clear her throat before changing subjects “Who taught you how to cook? Shawn’s a mess in the kitchen, Peter’s good but I know he took lessons”

“I guess I just learned from watching my mom, when I was little I used to spend a lot of my time in the kitchen with her whenever she was using it, my grandma too, and I guess I somehow absorbed that”

“Oh, they’re good?” Y/N took a tentative step closer to him, eager to learn about him and taking the opportunity of his sudden interest in spending time with her to milk all the information she could.

“My mom’s good, but my nan is just fantastic, she told me she used to sit on the counter by her father and watch him, and I guess I did the same”

“Well, I guess I’ll have to do the same cause my kitchen experience resumes to making toast, sandwiches and eggs” she said and he looked at her from the corner of his eye as if he was pondering.

“Then do it, I don’t mind a little audience” he said and she giggled, hoping on the counter beside where he stood. 

And that’s how they spent most of their night, with light chatter and a bit of healthy teasing going around and they were ecstatic about it. Y/N felt like she was finally able to relax after all the stress and she felt weirdly complete, almost as if before she was missing a piece. And Raul, he was over the fucking moon and already regretting keeping her away for that long, avoiding every type of contact with her and he was almost telling Mike to piss himself and ignoring all this stupid made up rules he made. He sat down by Y/N’s side as he helped her finish her paper and he was actually able to, finishing it in less than twenty minutes, so they just sat down side by side talking about random stuff, until he noticed she was starting to get sleepier and sleepier with every passing minute. 

“You should go to bed, sweetheart” he pointed as she was basically leaning her weight on his side, not that he minded, but they got really close really fast 

“Already trying to get rid of me?” she joked and he laughed despite being afraid that was something she actually believed in, and maybe that’s what drove him to ask her what he did next.

“Never, and if you’re still a bit nervous about the rain you can sleep in my room, I can always take the couch”

“I can’t kick you out of your bed” she said looking up at him

“You’re not kicking me out, I’m inviting you and offering to stay elsewhere”

Y/N shook her head “I don’t mind sharing if you do”

Raul didn’t expect it, but he also wasn’t mad about it “If you really don’t mind, then yeah”

“Okay, I’m ready for bed if you are” she said grabbing her stuff.

Raul nodded as he helped her to carry her school material up to his room, which he placed on top of his dresser before turning around to face her standing awkwardly in the middle of his bedroom.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“Hmm, nothing I just-“ she mumbled as he chuckled.

Raul stopped by the end of his bed “I can still take the couch if you’re uncomfortable”

“It’s not that, you don’t make me uncomfortable” she said as she walked up to him “I don’t know what it is, I just feel safe around you, is it weird?”

Raul was not expecting it as he looked down at her “No, not at all, you can climb on the bed, darling” he offered as he did the same on his side.

She ended up taking up on his offer and laying down on the other side, pulling the covers up her body “you can be really sweet when you want to, you know?” she mumbled softly after a while, after the lights were already off and the only source of light in the room was coming from the lamp on his bedside table.

Raul said turning to face her, only to find Y/N already on her side facing him “Don’t think many think the same”

Y/N laughed and shook her head “guess you’re just good at pretending you’re this big bad Alpha when you’re just a big softie”

Raul laughed throwing his head back and she couldn’t stop herself from admiring the sound, his neck and his beautiful face, looking a lot more soft than normally.

“I really like your laugh” she blurted out before she could think. 

His laugh was cut short when he realized her words and he smiled at her “I like yours, wish I could hear it more often”

“Well, it’s not really hard to get me to laugh”

Raul smiled at her “yeah, hm- I wanted to apologize”

“For what?” she asked, genuine curiosity shining on her eyes.

“For being a dick to you, for such a long time, there’s not an excuse for that, as much as I tried to come up with one” he finally admitted running his hands through his curls. 

Y/N bit her lower lip as she looked at him “you’re never a dick to me, you’re a bit closed off, yeah, but never a dick, you never made me feel uncomfortable or anything like that, and ever since that night where you made it clear you didn’t dislike me, a few things started making more sense to me”

“Like what?” it was his turn to get confused.

She sighed heavily “I thought for a very long time you just hated my guts or didn���t want me near for being a human or an outsider, but then you said it wasn’t the case and you were so sweet to me that night, and the morning after, and ever since that day, even though you weren’t necessarily cuddling with me and being around me all the time, you were slowly opening up, spending more time around me when I was here and at first I was confused, but then yesterday I was talking to Peter and he may or may not have told me this was something to do with Mike”

“What?” Raul almost sat up, but he didn’t want her to stop talking, so he held back his impulse and just kept laying down.

“And I also talked to my mom about it, very recently, and she said my dad had a similar reaction to her when he found out they’re mates… I’m not implying anything, and I can be totally wrong about it, but I thought about it for a second and I swear it made sense, it explained why I felt so drawn to you since I first laid eyes on you” she admitted, coiling into herself a bit.

Raul was completely taken back, not knowing what to do or what to say, not expecting her to come into realization and not knowing how to proceed, that until she mumbled a soft “please say something, anything, just don’t shut me off again”

“No, darling, it’s not that, I’m sorry” he said reaching for her hand as grabbing it in his “I’m just speechless, I- you feel it too?”

“Is it true?”

“I- yes” he sighed in relief.

“You’re my mate?! Or I’m yours, I’m sorry, I don’t know how this works” she giggled nervously.

Raul couldn’t stop his smile to blossom on his lips as he nodded his head what felt like a thousand times “whatever you want, I don’t mind”

“So what does that mean now?” she said shuffling closer to him.

“It doesn’t have to mean anything, I know your brother wouldn’t appreciate the idea and I don’t want to hurt you or cause any pain, darling, I just want what’s best for you” Raul said squeezing her hand gently.

“You could never hurt me, and I don’t honestly care about what Mike thinks right now” she said placing a hand on his chest “what do you want?”

“Honestly?” he asked and she nodded eagerly, which made him chuckle “you, in any way you’ll have me, but I also don’t want to rush you into anything, this works differently for me since I’m a wolf”

“Yeah, I know how sensitive you guys can be” she joked and he laughed, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead “but I want you, I feel the pull to have you near me almost as a need”

“I know, sweetheart, I feel the same way” Raul admitted pulling her closer by her waist “just don’t want to skip any steps with you, but I kept you away long enough”

Y/N nodded tipping her head back to look at his beautiful face better, their noses brushing due to the proximity “agreed, but I still want you close”

“We’re already close, darling” he breathed a chuckled and she shook her head.

“Are you afraid of kissing me? What are you? Twelve?” she teased and he laughed, pressing a kiss to the tip of her nose.

“Of course not” he whispered leaning a bit closer.

“Then what’s taking you so long?”

“Bossy little thing” he teased one more time before closing the space between them in a gentle kiss.

Y/N tangled her fingers in his wild curls as he cupped her jaw carefully, afraid that if he squeezed her even a tiniest bit she was going to disappear. But his gentle touches soon turned into a bit more urgent ones and she pulled his hair, encouraging him to deepen the kiss. Raul tighten his hand on her waist, trapping her bottom lip between his teeth, pulling it to him softly before lessening the sting with a swipe of his tongue. And unfortunately Y/N had to pull away too soon for her liking due to her stupid lungs needing oxygen. Raul leaned in to press a bunch of soft, barely there, kisses all over her face. 

She giggled a bit breathlessly as she murmured “Mike will murder me when he finds out”

“Shh, we can worry about that when he’s back, he’ll have to get over it eventually”

Y/N giggled before leaning in for one more kiss.

“Okay, love, we really should sleep, and then tomorrow I can maybe take you on a date if you want” he said pressing a chaste kiss to her lips before resting his forehead on hers.

Y/N smiled up at him “Or we can have a little movie marathon here and you’ll make me dinner”

Raul laughed “you’re a mean one, you know that?”

“Why?”

“Because you know I can’t say no to you” he said and she smiled at him.

“Good boy, you’re such a good puppy” Y/N teased and he laughed.

Raul shook his head “okay, it’s definitely time for you to go to bed”

                                                -*-

*Please reblog or like this post if you liked it so I’ll know.

*I’m sorry if there are any spelling mistakes.

*Please do not repost this without giving me the credit, this is a completely original piece and I do not give permission to copy this!

*Hope you guys enjoyed it!

*xoxo

-🌙

#shawn mendes #shawn #mendes #shawn peter raul mendes #raul mendes #raul mendes writing #the mendes triplets #mendes triplets #mendes triplets AU #au #alternative universe #werewolf au #werewolf shawn #werewolf raul #raul mendes fanfic #raul mendes fic #raul mendes fanfiction #raul mendes oneshot #shawn mendes writing #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes fan fic #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes oneshot #shawn mendes x y/n #shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes x you

[favoniuscodex]

inheritance scarf scene - diluc’s pov

ahahahaahahhahah ask and you shall receive! for the lovely @chapioca ,,, a reward for drawing me a pic of diluc smiling ,,, :3333 ,,, sorry for anyone who has notifs on and sees inheritance in the title of the post.

side fic to inheritance, my (decently?) long diluc royalty!au series. find the series here if you’re interested!

pairing: prince!diluc x f!knight!reader word count: 1.8k plot: diluc’s point of view of the scene in inheritance part 1 where he gives the knight his scarf. warnings: spoilers for inheritance part one and act two scene 2 if you haven’t read them already. a/n: haha look at this emotionally constipated dude. the knight should’ve picked kaeya lmao. no beta reader for this one and i havent read over it so sorry for any mistakes!

Much to his behest, Diluc enjoys your company.

The prince has never been one to make such informal attachments to others. Granted, he’s never really been given the chance, but that’s besides the point. For Diluc, the Venn diagram of people he cares about and his family members was a single circle, until, of course, you barged your way in. Sure, he could give a good public relations answer about how Diluc was indebted to the people of Mond for respecting and acknowledging his family’s authority over the territory and allowing his father to lead, but as of now, nineteen-year-old Prince Diluc couldn’t really give a single shit about whether the people of Mond liked him or not.

Of course, Diluc had basic human empathy to wish for his constituents’ needs to be well taken care of, but he had no desire to be viewed as some great savior or leader in their eyes. He wanted to bring honor to his father and be viewed as a righteous man in order to bring the Ragnvindr family honor, but, for himself, he longed not for the praises of his citizens but rather to be left alone. A mutual respect of his boundaries while he respected theirs, if you may.

But you? You had barreled past his walls without him even knowing it, whether it be your smug expression hidden behind a thin veil of stoicism whenever he begrudgingly admitted you were right about something that he had previously asked your advice on (and ignored, of course) or the way you stare at him with steely resolve in your eyes as he challenges you. In those moments, Diluc fails to understand how you don’t have a Vision, as the pools of your irises crackle with the electricity of subdued defiance and you set his heart ablaze with invisible flames.

In the midst of the winter chill that surrounds the both of you, Diluc fails to understand how, even now, you make him feel warm inside. You walk beside him in silence, your eyes looking past him, always looking past him as you scan for threats. Your posture is always on the defense, ready to reach up and grab your sword at any moment. Diluc wants nothing more than to sling an arm around your shoulder and ease the tension within them, to tell you that he isn’t fragile and that it’s okay to drop your guard at times.

However, duty calls your name like a siren luring a sailor and Diluc is left standing at the shore, watching you drift further away from him on the tides. Your back faces him as you swim toward righteousness, a perfect subject of the throne, a perfect potential quee-. The prince shakes his head slightly to clear such intrusive thoughts out of his head and as you look at him out of the corner of your eye, alerted by even the most subtle of movements, he hopes the wintry air gives you a reason to overlook the slight flush on his cheeks.

You do not smile at him and instead continue marching onwards. You’ve always been quiet and Diluc has been the same, never enjoying forced small talk and instead relishing in the silence between the two of you. He was never sure if you enjoyed the quiet moments you shared together or if you were simply counting down the seconds until your shift ended. Diluc wishes he could find the courage to ask what you truly think of him, but he knows that you would simply plaster a false smile and tell him what he wants to hear in your neverending duty to protect the throne. Whether such information would be true or false would fall beyond Diluc’s realm of knowledge, but maybe he just tells himself that you would lie in order to avoid finding out the truth, in order to avoid fraying the tapestry of your relationship with him. Maybe, if Diluc had not been of noble blood, the two of you could have been far better friends than you are now. Maybe, if Diluc had not been of noble blood, the two of you would have-

His gaze pierces into you as you walk slightly in front of him on the defensive. Diluc doesn’t realize he’s staring until he witnesses you shiver, which snaps him out of his morose thoughts. You’re cold. Of course you are. While Diluc is bundled up with a scarf and a proper coat, you’re wearing a thin coat designed for autumn and the armor upon you likely only attracts the cold rather than repelling it. He’s a fool for not realizing it sooner and feels sick to his stomach at the thought of you having gone through unnecessary discomfort for the sake of his own whims.

Diluc has never been fond of the throne but has always prided himself on being a good heir, but how can he pride himself on such things when he makes the woman he cares about most, his most loyal knight, face the winds of winter all due to his own selfishness? He stops in his tracks, which causes you to pause as well and turn around to look back at him.

“Are you cold?” Diluc asks, regretting the way his voice sounds annoyed, but feels too awkward to correct it. You seem to take no offense to his question, yet he sees a nervousness arise in your eyes.

“No.” The word falls from your lips and suddenly Diluc understands your nerves. You were afraid to lie to him, yet you did. Unfortunately for you, the prince was more than willing to call your bluff as he narrows his eyes at you.

An idea hatches in his brain and it’s terribly selfish. Unfortunately for him, Diluc wasn’t afraid to be selfish.

“Take my scarf,” He insists and he watches your eyes widen slightly in surprise and confusion before your neutral expression returns.

“I couldn’t possibly do such a thing.” You insist and he feels his heart rate quicken at your polite tone. Diluc wants to both yell at you and kiss you due to your insolence and your refusal of his orders, even if your intentions are kind. He wants to do something for you and he’s willing to drop onto his knees and beg you to let him do this for you.

“You’re cold, therefore take the scarf.” His explanation is simple, but it is one of annoyance. He doesn’t trust himself to speak any further.

“It’s my duty to ensure your comfort. Therefore, you keep the scarf as you should stay warm,” You explain and Diluc’s inner conflict on whether he should embrace you or scream at you subsides with an odd warmth in his chest. The prince wants to kiss you, he wants nothing more than to warm your face in his hands, to wrap you up in his coat and watch as you walk around in what is blatantly his, a mark of possession that announces to all that you belong to him.

However, you don’t belong to him and Diluc is far too aware of such a fact. It eats away at him at night, it eats away at him as he stares at you when your gaze is turned the other way, and it eats away at him when the two of you are apart. Therefore, he can offer you no more than his scarf at the moment and will have to make do with the more subtle of the options he can provide you at this point in time.

“It would make me more comfortable if you wore the scarf instead,” Diluc insists and he knows he’s coming off as an asshole at this moment, but he would give you the world if you let him, so why won’t you take something as simple as a scarf? He decides this is a battle that he must win and preps the arrow of his words on the bow of his lips and fires, aiming for the bullseye of your pride. “Plus, what kind of prince would I be if I let my constituents suffer on my behalf?”

You freeze at his words, eyes widening in surprise and indignation as you realize exactly what game the prince is playing at. He’s aware that you’re aware of the implication of his words, yet he can’t bring himself to care as he seizes your hesitation to transfer the scarf from his neck to yours. His gloved fingertips brush against your neck and Diluc wonders once more if you have an Electro Vision hidden within your uniform from the way the mere gesture sends lightning bolts rippling through his fingers and up his arms, shocking the butterflies within his stomach into overdrive.

Diluc steps closer to you as he adjusts the fabric around your neck, narrowing his eyes as he does so. You deserve nothing less than the best, so the prince makes sure it looks perfect before stepping away from you, still staring at the scarf. Heat spreads throughout his body at the sight of you in his scarf, but he decides to tear his gaze away from you before the thoughts can consume him whole.

“There. Now was that so hard?” The words come out as a sneer and Diluc doesn’t want to sound so mean, but his emotions are a whirlpool inside of him as his heart beats in overdrive and adrenaline rushes through his veins at the thought of you wearing his clothing. Before his face can fully blossom into the color of a cherry tomato and before Diluc would be unable to blame the red flush on the chilly air of Mondstadt, he elects to move in front of you this time.

He notes how it takes you a moment to scamper after him and he notes your silence on the way back to the castle. Diluc is appreciative of the avoidance of the subject at hand, but when you catch up to him, he notes that you no longer shiver. While his heart soars with pride at being able to get away at such a brazen act of affection, his stomach can’t help but drop at the thought that you likely view it as no more than the chivalrous actions of a prince and not one of a…

Diluc refuses to dwell on the thought, nor does he ask for the scarf back. Maybe, just maybe, if you take a piece of him back with you to your chambers, you’ll think of him in a way that extends past the realms of your knighthood. It’s a hopeless dream, yet one Diluc cannot help but indulge in nonetheless. After all, the prince has always known himself to be selfish.

#diluc x reader #kinda nervous to tag it as that since it's a side fic BUT still it counts #anyways #//diluc #//inheritance #//writing

[rufousnmacska]

Only You

A manorian arranged marriage fic from an anon request -

Do you think you could write an angsty manorian drabble where political/royal pressures and such has Dorian marry someone else + Dorian being mortal has Manon encouraging him? just all that manorian heartbreak+pining. also really love your fics!

This turned into much more than a drabble, but I hope everyone enjoys it! 🤗

Many thanks to @itach-i for beta reading and helping plot things out! ❤️

*

PART ONE

*

Dorian hadn’t noticed the cold until his valet wrapped a furred robe around him. How long had he been standing out here? The sun had just broken from the horizon and his breath was pooling in front of him with each exhale. The valet, a gray-haired man named Ruben, disappeared back into the royal suite, muttering something about the foolishness of young men. Dorian smiled grimly, knowing he was indeed foolish. Worse. He was a godsdamned idiot. And he felt numb, as though his body was somewhere far from here, his mind with it. None of it was due to the winter chill. Staring off towards the hills west of Rifthold, his eyes glanced over the many red and gold banners attached to the city’s roofs, snapping in the wind. Part of him loved seeing his people so excited, so proud for the coming celebration. They’d suffered greatly during the war and had worked hard in the rebuilding effort of the last two years. But that small joy for his kingdom was overshadowed by his own despair. How many times had he stood in this spot, watching and waiting and holding his breath until he caught sight of those silvery wings and moon white hair dancing in the sky? He’d known today would be his last chance to watch for her. And since sleep was a fool’s hope, he’d come out to his balcony and stood here for hours, his gaze on the west, wondering where it had all gone wrong.

***

The rising sun shone brightly off the tops of the castle towers, giving the small group of witches their first real view of Rifthold in the distance. In the past, this sight would leave Manon breathless with anticipation, pushing Abraxos to speed up in her excitement. There had been times when her giddy desperation to reach the castle was almost humiliating, forcing her to contain her emotions before she landed. But no matter her control in those moments, Dorian would greet her on his balcony with a ferocious embrace, seeing right through her mask. He always had. Now, Manon wished that truth away, pushing it deep down, along with the nausea roiling in her gut. As they drew nearer to Rifthold, she could just barely make out the decorations hanging from the castle. It almost brought up the meager breakfast she’d eaten not long ago. With the brightening sky, she realized the entire city was decked out, covered in colorful banners and garlands. Of course, a royal wedding demanded finery. She had expected it, guarded herself against it. But her expectations were dealt a swift blow by the reality now facing her. Manon was on her way to Dorian’s wedding. Not as the bride, but as a royal guest. And she had no one but herself to blame.

*****

Six months earlier…

Manon frowned as Abraxos landed on an unusually empty balcony. Though she’d never asked for it, the space had been rebuilt to provide a large enough area to comfortably hold a wyvern. Wrapping halfway around the king’s tower, the balcony offered magnificent views of the ocean to the east and the mountains to the west. As she dismounted, Manon realized that vast western view was what gave Dorian the ability to know she was almost there. Normally, she wouldn’t notice the view because he would be there, scooping her up and taking her inside to say hello in her favorite ways. But tonight, she and Abraxos were alone.

Quietly, so as not to startle Ruben, Manon stepped through the doorway. She needn’t have bothered. The bedroom was as empty as the outside and she heard no sounds coming through the door to the other rooms. Wondering if he hadn’t received her last message telling him when to expect her, Manon sat on a sofa to wait. She lasted less than five minutes before pacing around the room, then finally deciding to go in search of Dorian.

The office was empty and as she continued through to the exterior door, Manon rolled her eyes at the messy desk. How Dorian managed to keep everything straight in the piles and stacks of papers was beyond her. She wasn’t in the corridor long before she heard angry voices echoing up the stairway. Chaol and Dorian had stopped part way up the tower.

“You can’t afford to just dismiss this threat of rebellion. Lord Frey is an ass, but he has the ear of too many other nobles to be ignored.” Chaol sounded winded. Manon didn’t think he came up here very often since his mobility was tied to his wife’s magic. That he was here now to continue this conversation was significant.

“I refuse to give into his demands,” Dorian growled. “He complains about me leaving the kingdom to Erawan, and yet he brags about how he profited from the war. Whatever gold he has in his coffers did not come from me.”

Manon inched back to the door on silent feet. She knew Dorian’s lords were causing trouble, but he’d refused to go into detail about it with her. The thought of anyone claiming Dorian had willfully abandoned Adarlan to Erawan made her blood boil. The valg king and his armies had left a path of scorched earth and devastation on his march to Terrasen. And Dorian had spent the last two years of his life dedicated to rebuilding his kingdom.

Chaol sighed. “Yes, but what he’s proposed in exchange—”

“What he’s proposed will not be considered,” Dorian interrupted. It was a voice Manon had never heard from him.

After a long pause, Chaol continued. “I know how you feel, Dorian. But we need to put emotions aside and think this through. I’m not saying we go along with it. But right now, we have to look at every option.”

“You say ‘we’ as if you would be the one marrying his daughter.”

Manon gasped, covering her mouth to remain quiet.

“It would be a political alliance,” Chaol reasoned. “You wouldn’t have to end things with—”

Again, Dorian refused to let him finish. “Stop. I’ve told you my decision. We will find some other way to placate the rebellious lords. I am not marrying her.”

Soft footsteps punctuated by the clack of a cane sounded as Chaol left his king and descended the tower. When he was gone, she heard Dorian smash his fist into the stone wall, pieces of mortar crumbling and raining down onto the floor. Manon was paralyzed, her hands balled up into tight fists, eyes wide. And that was how Dorian found her when he took the final steps up to his suite.

***

“You misunderstood. Frey doesn’t have enough clout to demand such a thing.” Dorian was frantic, spending the last two hours trying to explain away what Manon had heard. But her face had frozen into a mask, nothing he said could tease out even the slightest reaction.

“You can’t be so flippant,” she said, the stony resolve in her voice starting to scare him. “He’s offered you an out from civil war. If you care about your kingdom, you must do it.”

He was going mad. First Chaol, now Manon. Where was Yrene to talk some sense into them? He cared about his kingdom and his people. He cared so much that he had no life whatsoever beyond the endless meetings and negotiations and squabbles. His sole joy in life was standing before him now arguing that he should marry someone else.

“If I care?” he asked. “I was prepared to die for it. On many occasions. I would gladly give my life. But I won’t give my heart.”

Manon blinked slowly, and he realized she was looking past him. “You once told me you were prepared to give up your throne for Sorscha. Then the war taught you how foolish, how childish that was. And now, as if you learned nothing, sacrificed nothing, you want to do the same thing. Your life and your heart are one in the same.” Finally, her golden eyes met his. “I am immortal. You are not. You need a human queen to give you heirs and unite your kingdom. I will not play a part in disrupting that.”

Dorian searched for any sign - an unshed tear, a twitch of her lips, a clenched jaw. But there was nothing. Nothing on her face except a cold certainty that left him feeling lost, alone. He knew this was an act, a means of protecting herself. And yet, she was right. When they’d parted ways in Orynth after the war, he’d ignored the desire to ask her for some sort of commitment beyond “We’ll see.” They both had countries to rebuild and had chosen that greater responsibility over personal wishes. Dorian told himself then that they had time. Yes, he was a mortal. But he still had a plentiful well of raw magic on which to draw upon, magic that would give him a much longer life than a normal human. And only two short years later, out of nowhere, everything was falling apart.

No, he would not let his people suffer through war again. But giving in to extortion was not an acceptable alternative. He thought of Aelin, wondering how she would handle a situation like this. With the way her people adored her, he knew she’d never reach this point. Maybe Frey and his allies were right. Maybe he’d left them to fend for themselves out of cowardice instead of prudence. Suddenly, Dorian was exhausted, tired of being king, tired of giving up everything he wanted. He rubbed his eyes until they were red

“You know it has to be this way,” she said, having watched him sort out his thoughts. “No matter what they claim, you’ve never once abandoned this kingdom. Which is why you won’t do it now.”

Dorian stared at the ground, grasping for a way out, but his mind felt like aspic, soft and muddled and useless. “I won’t be a king who takes a queen and still keeps a lover.” The ultimatum was hard to voice, but it was true. Despite his rakish history, he’d never taken a new lover without breaking things off with the old one. If ever an exception was to be made, it would be with Manon. But he would never disrespect her, a queen in her own right, by reducing her to a secret paramour and source of castle gossip.

Still stoic, she replied, “I would not expect you to.”

They had always pushed and teased each other, seeing which one would break first and admit their feelings or give in to the desire. Desperately hoping that they were playing that game now, he surrendered. “I want you, Manon. No one else.”

The slightest hitch in her breathing and a tiny flutter of her eyes sent his hope soaring. But, with a firm tone that meant she would say no more, Manon said, “Marry her, Dorian. Save your throne and keep your people from more bloodshed.”

Before he could respond, she walked out the door and climbed into the saddle still strapped to her wyvern. Manon was in the air without a look back, and Dorian sank to the ground, his head in his hands.

*****

Rumors were flying through the witch city faster than the most agile wyverns. Mere months ago, the witches had expected an announcement from their queen, happy news that their kingdom would be united with Adarlan. Some were not in favor of their queen marrying a human, king or not. Others, especially those in the queen’s council, saw it as a good match. A love match, they claimed. But now, after the royal messenger from Adarlan had arrived, the gossip was spinning out of control.

Manon stared at the thick envelope sealed with red and gold wax, the wyvern stamped into it watching her with a single mocking eye. Dorian had once laughed about how significant it was for his royal crest to include a wyvern, a connection forged between their two kingdoms before they had even met. She’d brushed the thought away at the time, rolling her eyes at his insistence that fate was at work. But now, the memory of his teasing voice sank into her chest, adding to the heaviness and pain that had been choking her since she’d left him on that balcony months ago.

“You don’t have to go. No one would fault you for it. We can send Petrah as a representative,” Glennis said, her voice stiff and formal. It was a tone usually relegated for council meetings, not a conversation with her granddaughter.

She was silent for a long moment, still looking at the envelope. Instead of answering, Manon picked it up and ripped apart the seal. The invitation was written in fanciful blue ink with a border of red berries and ivy stamped into the parchment. She frowned at the flowery words that matched the design, knowing the girl must have been behind all of it. The girl. Manon knew she was likely close to Dorian’s age, but she didn’t care. The future queen of Adarlan would forever be the girl in her mind. Even so, it was impossible to miss her name in elegant calligraphy.

Your presence is requested at the royal wedding of Lady Eveline Frey and His Majesty Dorian Havilliard II, King of Adarlan

Manon stopped reading at his name and continued to flip through the remaining pages. They contained notices of the pre-wedding events that the ‘happy couple’ hoped people would attend, despite the possibility of poor weather at that time of year.

Happy. Her eyes caught on that word and didn’t move. She knew it was a lie. And yet, her old doubts and fears flooded back into her mind. She was still heartless despite her efforts to change, he deserved someone who could sufficiently return his affections. She was immortal, he was not. Manon had reasoned that she would rather lose him like this than watch up close as he aged and died. Rather lose him now, when they could both move on to full lives, than be forced to somehow carry on after his death. A magically extended life or not, she could see no other scenario if she continued with him. And if that was truly how she felt, then she wanted to be there and show him they were both better off this way.

Glennis watched her, likely reading every thought that had gone through her head. For when Manon said she was going, her grandmother’s head dipped in resignation. “Then I will accompany you.”

Manon lost count of her attempts at crafting a reply. She began with a simple list of witches who would attend with her, which morphed into a long drawn out explanation of why she wanted to be there. Then she backtracked into a brief, two sentence response. And even then, she had to make several copies until one was legible. The anguish of what she faced kept showing itself in her shaking hand.

Her eyes keep going back to their names and she found herself wondering what the girl was like. Did she like to read? Could she fight with a sword? Would she stand up to the nobility who claimed Dorian was not worthy of his throne? How would she react to him waking up screaming in the middle of the night from a nightmare in which he’d been torturing people?

That last thought made her feel sick. Not because of the dreams that still plagued him - she was well versed in helping to comfort him, just as he knew how to ease her grief and fear after a nightmare. It was the idea that they’d be sharing a bed that turned her stomach.

Gods what was she thinking? There were two months until the wedding. Was that long enough to forget everything Dorian was to her?

Manon knew the answer. And yet, when she read over their names again, she made herself remember why things had to be this way. Adarlan could not survive another war, especially one which tore it apart from the inside out. This was for the best. His and hers. This wedding would be closure, and afterwards, she could move on, search for a suitable consort. Not to become her king. She could not bear seeing anyone else beside her in that capacity. But finding an acceptable male to produce an heir would help to stabilize her kingdom. If Dorian was forced to set aside his heart to help his people, then she would do the same.

When she gave the reply to Glennis later, her grandmother frowned. “I find myself not wanting to send this.”

“It will be us and two sentinels. That’s all,” Manon said, ignoring the witch’s reluctance. “We will arrive the day before and leave immediately after the ceremony.” As Glennis nodded in agreement, Manon noticed she held a royal envelope in her other hand. “What is that?”

Again, that frown. “It’s from Prince Fennick Whitethorn of Doranelle. A cousin of Rowan’s I believe.”

“Was he in Orynth?” She didn’t recall him being there, but her memories from those early days battling Erawan’s army were foggy.

“I don’t think he was.”

Manon took it, examining front and back. The wax seal matched that of Queen Sellene Whitethorn. “What could this be?” she wondered aloud.

Glennis was already walking away, but she turned and said sharply, “I can only imagine.”

Manon was glad she waited until she was alone to read it, for by the end of it, she was sitting motionless, the letter forgotten on the floor.

Prince Fennick Whitethorn, a cousin to both Rowan and Queen Sellene, had written to express his regards and dismay at the news that the King of Adarlan would marry a noble from his own kingdom. He’d felt compelled to write her directly, offering her his support and friendship since he’d experienced something similar a few hundred years before. As Doranelle’s representative at the festivities, he hoped they could meet in Rifthold. In not so veiled terms, he suggested they might establish an alliance of their own, one that would be amenable to both their countries.

Mere hours after speculating about taking a consort and here she was, staring at a proposal. She couldn’t decide between outrage or amazement at the audacity of the fae male. It had certainly taken balls to approach her this way. And at this time. Picking up the letter, she read it over again. From the sounds of it, Fennick had been left heartbroken in his past. A past that extended even further back than her own. Had she not used her own immortality as a reason that Dorian should wed another? Here was an immortal throwing himself at her, eager for alliance. But she wondered if his interest would wane when he was told that at best, he might become her consort. There was only one man who she’d accept as her king, and he was now outside her reach.

She decided not to send a reply. If the fae prince was there, she would meet with him, see what kind of male he was and whether he might bring anything of worth to an alliance. If not, it would be one less thing to worry about.

That night, as she tried and failed to fall asleep, Manon found herself imagining how she might say goodbye to Dorian. They never used the word, choosing instead to focus only on their hellos. It made a twisted sort of sense that this goodbye, this parting that would be permanent, would be the first and last time it was spoken between them.

***

Yrene found Dorian in his office, watching the brutal winter winds send snow whipping through the air outside his window. Judging from her expression, she knew why he’d sent for her. When her eyes went to the letter on his desk, her shoulders seemed to slump, and she sat down heavily across from him.

“She will be attending,” he said, pushing the short reply across the desk in case she wanted to read it. After immediately recognizing the handwriting as Manon’s, he’d stared at it for a long time. As if there might be some sign of hesitation on her part, he’d examined the note, his eyes running over each stroke of ink, again and again. It was flawless. Just like her, he’d thought miserably.

“I didn’t think she’d actually come. It was meant as a formality between two allies.”

“Perhaps that’s why she has agreed. Formality, nothing more,” Yrene offered.

“How do you think Eveline will handle it?” Despite a wedding date only a few weeks away, Dorian barely spoke to his future queen. Yrene had been acting as a go between, keeping Dorian from having to feign pleasantries and interest in someone who he’d claimed looked and acted like an empty doll.

“She has been trained as a courtier since birth. I’m sure she will be as polite and ladylike as she always is.” Yrene rose and came around the desk, standing in front of the window to make Dorian look at her. “She may appear timid and vapid in front of her father, but she is no fool. She knows what this arrangement is and why it’s happening. Your involvement with Manon was never much of a secret. Eveline knows she is not your choice. But like you, she is doing her duty.”

Dorian didn’t reply. He knew his opinion of her was misguided, that it was based on anger at the situation, at her father. Which was why he kept his distance. If he couldn’t keep himself in check in private or with his friends, how could he expect to refrain from unleashing his rage on her with hurtful words? At least, that’s what he told himself. It was true, but some part of him knew that if he gave in and spent time with her, it would make this all the more real.

Yrene’s eyes darkened as she said, “Lord Frey has a reputation to match Chaol’s father. With her mother gone, I suspect Eveline has not had much control over her life. This would be nothing new to her.”

Now fully ashamed of himself, Dorian only nodded. If there was anything he could understand, it was not being able to defy a bullying parent. A new sense of sympathy filled him as he wondered how desperate Eveline must be for a new life. Freedom from an abusive father would be worth the heavy responsibilities and loss of privacy that came with being a queen. Maybe it was time to make an effort. He couldn’t envision a future where he would ever develop actual feelings for Eveline. But he could at least become her friend.

“What else have you learned about her?” he asked.

Yrene shrugged. “Her education has been extensive, and she knows much about the court and how it runs. She enjoys art and music, embroidery …” She trailed off, trying to think of any other attributes worth sharing. “Horse riding. She always seems to be coming back from the stables when I see her. I’ve gotten the impression her father does not approve of that hobby, but she maintains that being a good horsewoman befits a true lady.”

“So, she does disobey him then …” Dorian smiled slightly, recalling how he used to rebel against his parents. Horse riding was much less scandalous. “Does she need any help with the wedding plans?”

The suddenness of his change in tone had Yrene blinking at him. “I don’t believe so. But I can ask her.”

Dorian stood and walked towards the door. He knew if he didn’t start now, he never would. “I will go ask. I’d like to recommend some music.”

“Wait,” Yrene cried, trailing him out into the corridor. When she caught up to him, she asked, “What are you doing?”

The fear in her eyes almost made Dorian turn around and forget his pledge of moments ago to try and accept this. Yrene had always been the biggest supporter of his relationship with Manon. Whether she was helping them arrange a short, secret escape from their duties, or using her sharp tongue to tear down any detractors of the Witch Kingdom, or giving him advice on how to help Manon recover from the loss of her coven … Yrene had always been there. And now, for the first time, it seemed to be sinking in for her that what she had dreamed for her friends – a happily ever after to rival what she had with Chaol – was impossible. It pained Dorian to see it and he pulled her into a hug.

“If there was another way, Yrene, I’d do it. You know that.”

She hugged him back fiercely, her voice shaking as she said, “I know. She is my friend too, Dorian. And I don’t want to lose her.”

Gods, Dorian thought his heart couldn’t break anymore. And here it was, cracking into even more fragments, each time becoming smaller and smaller. “I know.”

Yrene backed away and let loose a string of curses and insults about Lord Frey that left his eyes wide and mouth agape. He’d never heard her speak like that before, had never thought her capable of such filthy language.

Before she could think to apologize, he laughed. “Well said, Lady!”

Red with embarrassment, Yrene burst into laughter too. When they’d both regained their composure, she said, “Come. I’ll walk with you to Eveline’s rooms and catch you up on her wedding plans.”

“Thank you,” he said, and meant it. “She is as much a pawn in this game as anyone, and she doesn’t deserve my animosity.”

Yrene nodded. “As much as I hate to admit it, she’s a perfectly lovely young woman. It makes things worse in a way.”

When they reached her rooms, Yrene led him inside.

“Your Majesty,” Eveline said brightly. Her dark hair matched her eyes and she gave him a beaming smile. “I was not expecting you today.” She was going through a stack of replies to the invitations.

“Please, call me Dorian. I insist,” he said. “I have one more to add.” Slowly, as if not wanting to give it up, he handed her Manon’s reply. He and Yrene both watched her carefully as she read it.

With the same smile as before, Eveline said, “I’m so pleased the Witch Queen will be attending. None of your other royal friends are able to come due to the weather. Though Doranelle is sending someone.” She paused, thinking. “I can’t remember his name.”

As the two women went through the replies and spoke quietly, Dorian pretended to listen. For one terrible moment, he wondered what the word princeling might sound like from Eveline’s mouth. The thought felt blasphemous, leaving him spinning and trapped between two worlds: the reality sitting next to him, this perfectly lovely woman for whom he felt nothing, and a dream world where he’d wake up happy each morning to snow white hair and golden eyes. A dream that had slipped through his fingers, like the wind gusting wildly outside.

Perfectly lovely. Eveline was lovely, and perfect, with exquisite manners, an impeccable wardrobe, and a distinguished education. But despite that loveliness and perfection, he knew without a doubt that his feelings towards Eveline would never come close to what he felt for Manon. Manon was his mirror, his equal. If beings other than fae were able to have true mates, she would be his.

The thought struck him like a dagger, straight to whatever bits of his heart yet remained. Shaking his head, Dorian tried not to think of Manon, of how this next visit for the wedding would likely be her last. Tried not to dwell on how he would have to live the rest of his life without her, his mate in every way that counted.

Of course, he failed. And when Eveline asked him about what music he’d prefer, Dorian used every ounce of strength he had left to force a smile on his face and answer.

To be continued...

***

Thanks for reading! You can find my writing master list here or on AO3.

It’s been a while since I’ve written and I’m not sure who all is still out there. So if I missed you, or you’d like to be tagged/removed for parts two and three, let me know.

@itach-i @bookishwitchling @manontrashbeak @awesomelena555 @jimetg98 @over300books

#manorian #manon blackbeak #dorian havilliard #throne of glass #yrene westfall #chaol westfall #glennis crochan #my writing #manorian fanfic #throne of glass fanfic #only you

[ziamhaze]

My Future in Fic

Yeah, so, the 100k fic that I’ve been working on for the past six months?  The one that was going to be uploaded to AO3 last week?  Yeah, it’s accidentally getting published...

Where do I start?

I suppose with a massive thank you to anyone who’s clicked on any of my fics over these past two years.  I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again.  I never ever thought about writing as a career.  I’ve never written anything prior to my Harry Potter AU Compartment 451.  I didn’t even take an English class in undergrad or grad school.  I genuinely just had an idea for a fic I wanted to read and since no one had written it, I had to do so myself.  Since then, I’ve written every single day for 2 years.  I left my job in the entertainment industry, got accepted to one of the best creative writing programs in the world on a scholarship, and now one of my stories is being considered at Harper Collins.  Yes, the Harper Collins.  It’s the longest shot in the world, but for legal reasons I was not allowed to upload the fic version on any website prior to submission.  Even if they don’t pick it up, I’ve been advised to continue to shop it around to agents.

What I can do, however, is share the premise.

If you’ve been following my tumblr and watching my tags - I SEE YOU ALL OUT THERE - then you’ll know that this fic was meant to have Zayn with his signature undercut hairstyle and one more little thing...

Someone sent me an ask a while back about what this fic was supposed to be about.  I believe I said something about it being an adaptation fic, but not from a film/tv show/other piece of literature, from a song.  This next fic was meant to be an adaptation of the song Younger by Ruel.  Later on, it also took shape with the help of Remember by Liam and a few others that you can find here.

The miniature summary is as follows:

When his father suddenly passes, twenty-nine-year-old Liam Payne is brought back to the Sydney suburbs where he grew up.  He doesn’t plan on seeing his childhood best friend, Zayn Malik, at the burial service.  They haven’t spoken since going from brothers to strangers one fateful day fifteen years prior.  But Zayn puts an end to this when he approaches Liam after the burial, offering his condolences and asking if Liam can help his archaeological research team with photographing their newest project.  The unexpected closeness forces each man to wade through uneasy emotions.  For Liam, a mixture of grief, lost identity, and confusion over why he’s willing to interact with the one person he swore he’d never forgive.  And for Zayn, a tidal wave of anxiety that comes from finally facing a part of himself he’s always chosen to deny.  When We Were Younger is a story heavily rooted in blurred identities and exploring what loss can look like in two different scenarios: death and friendship.

For obvious reasons, their names will be changed.  Liam, to Hutton.  Zayn, to Cairo (his ethnicity will also be changed to Egyptian).  As you can see, it was meant to be my big ‘enemies to lovers’ fic.  Technically, it’s ‘best friends to enemies to lovers’, but you know.

Right, so what does this mean for me going forward?

I still have so much inspiration when it comes to writing Zayn and Liam as characters.  I don’t plan on putting a complete stop to writing them, but with my career taking this large of a turn, I do have to prioritise my time.  That said, as of now, I can’t afford to write long-form fic any longer.

Soon, I’ll be starting a PhD program where I’ll be writing another full-length novel for mass publication.  For fun, here’s a little insight on the two ideas that I’ll be pitching:

1.  Underground boxer (loosely based off Liam) falls in love with arms gang leader (loosely based off Zayn).  Throughout their love story, the latter has to outrun the psychological trauma his father (the leader of Zayn’s rival gang) still throws his way. 

2.  Cold War AU.  Paris, circa 1950/51.  Ambassador’s son (loosely based off Liam) befriends new student (loosely based off Zayn) at the international school.  Paris is a ticking time bomb; war is about to break out at literally any second.  The two clearly have feelings for each other, but can’t act on them because homosexuality in the 1950s...yikes.  When war does break out, the two are separated, and as Liam’s character goes out to find Zayn’s, he learns a secret of his that changes everything.

Whichever I don’t write for the PhD will be the novel I write following it.

In the meantime, I’m going to continue to write (and edit) like crazy.  Ever since I randomly wrote C451, there hasn't been a day that’s gone by where I haven't written something.  It may have only been a paragraph or two, but never zero.  This is how you get better.  This is the equivalent of going out and shooting free throws for 30 minutes a day.  You have to put in the work in order to get better.  I'm very lucky that I'm incredibly self-disciplined and I've been able to crank out as many stories as I have over the past 2 years.

That said, I’ll be writing shorter little oneshots.  I have several ideas that I’ve been sitting on, but haven’t ever thought to write because I HATE writing short stories.  Little ideas that don't have huge plotline/climax potential, but that I want to just see on paper, I'll probably end up writing.  If I had to guess, I'd say they'll come out to around 10-15k.  Also, sequels?  Prequels?  Haha, you never know...

I’ve also got a series called “Sleep Drabbles” that are, yes, you guessed it, a series of drabbles based around one theme: sleep.  I also have a few scenes that I want to write which are based on ziam’s kids, not actually ziam themselves.  If there’s enough demand for that, I can upload those too, but they’re quite niche, so I don’t think the general fandom would be very interested.

As far as frequency for all of this, I have no idea.  I’ve always done things at my own pace and written stories that I want to write, for myself.  That won’t ever change, so I don’t want to commit to one drabble a week or one short-length fic per month.  It takes me weeks (months for this last fic) to research and interview the necessary people to get character arcs correct/believable.  I love that part of writing, and so if I have a little story that I want to write that may only be 10k but takes me ages to put together how I want, then so be it.  I will always be around to answer asks/messages and please, continue to tag me in your writing tag posts!  But please, no prompts.

So, that’s my future with fic.

Again, I cannot say thank you enough to every single one of you.  Every single thing that people tag me in (@malik-payne , @zqua1d , @zentiment , @liamisthesun , @redyellowberry I’m looking at you), I appreciate and love!  The recommendation lists that people have put me on, THANK YOU!  It’s wild to think that I used to look to rec lists for years and now I’m on them.  @ziamfanfiction THANK YOU for always having my back with exposure!  @paynefulperiods , my beloved beta reader, THANK YOU for always encouraging me and putting up with shit first drafts.  @march-z5 , THANK YOU for always being on call for ideas and listening to me bang my head against the wall at 4 am.

Now, might fuck around and make a fake picspam for the fic that never was...

Also, all of the behind scenes pages for each of my fics are now public, so feel free to check those out here.

I want to thank you all from the bottom of my heart for making this journey possible. I know people say that a lot when they gain a following of any sort, but I truly truly mean it.  You have to have talent in order to be an author, but you also have to have people who want to read your stuff.  Proof of concept is a real thing.

So thank you a million times over.

Speak soon my friends.

#ziamhaze #my writing #ziam #ziam fanfic #ziam fanfiction #not sure what to tag this #also gonna be reblogging for a while bc I know people are going to be curious about where the next fic is and won't have seen this

[raekahwritings]

Shindo Yo: Rankings Don’t Matter (Part 1)

Pairing: Shindo Yo x Reader Rating: General Audience Word Count: 5682 Words A/N: Huge shout-out to @bezczelnyguy​ because I promised to get a work out this weekend <3 But this will have a part 2 to continue the story and ~smut~ later. Not beta-read so pardon any mistakes!  

You were simply an ordinary civilian, a quirk-less person lost in the sea of Tokyo where many pro-heroes resided. Heroes, rankings, and media were part of the everyday life here. It wasn’t uncommon to see them patrolling or to see some incident here and there.

You simply took it all in stride. Despite heroes and villains abound, it wasn’t as if you didn’t have an ordinary life, a place where you liked working, hobbies to do, and friends you could meet.

But there was one person who disrupted the normalcy you’ve always come to expect.

Hence why you were at a nondescript café that was close to work and offered a cozy atmosphere.

“I hope I’m not too forward but are you expecting somebody?” A college-age student had approached you and was gesturing to your empty seat—you gave them an apologetic smile in return. You had been sitting here for awhile by yourself, idly reading a book.

“I’m afraid so.” He looked a little disappointed at the answer. But you pointed out to a table where someone else was leaving. “I think the seat is opening up over there.” You were careful to give a small friendly smile but nothing more. He threw you a lingering glance, but you didn’t really notice since your attention was elsewhere.

How could you notice? Butterflies were jumping around in your stomach; you were nervous yourself. You tried to sip at your tea nonchalantly and conspicuously glancing at the door. Your days were ordinary… with one small exception. Shindo, Pro-Hero Grand from the neighboring agency, had taken to joining you on Sunday mornings. Granted, you had to sit through his rambling about his heroic antics, patrols, and hilarious stories of his fellow comrades. You weren’t sure when Shindo became endearing— he used to be an arrogant asshole that you wanted to take down a peg.

But you got to see past his cocky, smug façade to see the vulnerable pro-hero who was desperately trying to make top ten. You had seen him work over-time, bumping into him at the late hours of the night, and watched him try to laugh off his hard work and dark eye circles as ‘partying’. You knew better—you even sneaked him coffees at his office at those late-night hours. You used the excuse: you were in the area and had seen his office light on. Sure, most people thought he was an asshole—like Bakugo. You had seen him aggravate other heroes but in turn, help them recognize their shortcomings. You knew how preciously loyal he was to his friends.

“Miss me?” Shindo did not disappoint. He strolled through the door and dropped himself into the seat, without a word of askance and simply assumed it was for him. Which you didn’t bother correcting— he knew too well otherwise.  You rolled your eyes at his ‘grand’ entrance, sighing with faux irritation. Not that you really were irritated—Shindo was too handsome today, a black shirt and dark wash jeans fitting perfectly to his toned body.

“What if I was expecting somebody else?” You played off his words with your cultivated façade and blasé indifference. Not that it made a difference because Shindo simply smirked with roguish charm.

“Then you should’ve stopped me.” He waved the barista over, giving her a charming smile. “Darling, would you mind getting me a coffee?”

“Um..” She looked uncertain, holding her hands up in a fraught gesture. “You have to go to the counter to pay…” She nervously stuttered, unused to refusing a pro-hero and unsure.

You stood up, shoving a hand into Shindo’s smug face.  “Don’t worry, I’ll come to the counter and pay.” She looked a little more at ease now, she was clearly nervous about dealing with a pro-hero’s demands. It was good that you dealt with enough of them in your line of work that you were no longer dazzled by them. “With his money of course.” You held up Shindo’s wallet, clasped between two fingers-- Shindo looked up and down in alarm.

“What the fuck?” He looked at his empty pocket. He didn’t even know you could pickpocket, much less sneak past him—he was a pro-hero for god’s sake.

You gave him a saccharine sweet smile—“You don’t get to order the barista around like your waitress, darling.” You used his little pet-name, throwing it back at him. You flipped your hair in an exaggerated gesture, prompting Shindo to laugh despite himself. He didn’t mind sitting there alone as you chit-chatted with the barista while they made his drink. They knew you quite well since you often came during the week.

The coffee barista happily made his drink, especially as you fished out an extra five dollars as tip from Shindo’s wallet, and you leaned forward in anticipation. Smells wonderful. You always enjoyed the fresh scent of coffee. The door opened and you didn’t give it a passing glance. But maybe you should’ve.

You really should have.

Camie and Yaoyoruzu, the two prettiest pro-heroes had walked in through the door. Yaoyorozu with her huge chest and Cami with her flirtatious demeanor. Their laughter rung out in the coffee shop, all eyes turned to them and they provoked a sinking feeling that had your stomach lurching. You hoped they were just passing through. You drummed your fingers anxiously against the bar, hoping Shindo wouldn’t turn around.

But he did. Shindo looked lazily over to you and looked delicious in his seat. From the way that the two other pro-heroes turned, they also appreciated the sight. You could see Camie look coquettishly over and Yaoyorozu put on her most charming smile. And the fucking nerve, they went over to him and you could hear, “My oh my, is this seat taken?”

Shindo didn’t even get a chance to reply before Camie slid into your seat. “Well, I’m sure they wont mind if we wait here a few minutes with you?”

The way she just said that, the way she assumed no one would ‘mind’ had you taking action. You collected your drink and marched on over—the barista even giving you a sympathetic glance. “Excuse me, I think that’s my seat.” You dropped Shindo’s wallet and drink on his table, giving him a heated glare—silently signaling to him that you should’ve stopped them. It was your table that you’d been holding onto.

Camie didn’t even bother to look your way, just cooing to the male pro-hero. “My my, you’ve even got your assistant to bring you a drink? Or is she simply the help?”  Momo giggled at the demeaning statement, leaning over to teasingly snatch a sip of Shindo’s drink and murmured in a coy voice, “My, my, you like it dark and strong?” Camie even pressed a hand to the male’s arms, running her fingers lightly up his arm.

You cleared your throat loudly. “I’m not his assistant or help. I was actually the the one sitting here first so if you could kindly give me back my seat.” You look pointedly at Camie, tempted to snap your fingers in her face and see if she would deign to give you her attention.

When it was clear you weren’t leaving, she finally looked your way and gave you an eye-roll.

It only took a moment to assess you, you were no threat. “Honey, I’m a pro-hero. I need to talk some ‘business’ with Grand over here.” Her voice dripped with disdain, for you, a civilian. “Or did you want to ask for his autograph? That’s a little annoying of you, but fans are so disrespectful now.”

Momo, the creation hero, looked at you with faux-sympathy. “We are sorry to interrupt your ‘fan moment’ but as my partner said, please cooperate since we have patrols with Grand to discuss.” To make things even worse, she was still holding Shindo’s drink, her pink lipstick staining the cup. She licked her lips with obvious innuendo to Grand.

You stood there… a little in shock. They were lying to your face and it was somehow alright because they were pro-heroes? You tried to find words, trying to quell the nuclear fury rising up in you. But Momo put her arm on you, giving a gentle chastising ‘tut tut’ and pushing you gently away. “You’re looking quite emotional. As a fan, please learn to control yourself.” Your indignation shrank rapidly as people started to murmur around you—some even looking at you with a shaming look. Did they hear what happened? No, but Momo had fooled the others with a fake-sympathy look.

“Shindo, you can’t be serious?” You looked at him, he actually looked uncomfortable. Probably because he knew the truth.  Even worse, you noticed he didn’t shake off Camie or Momo. Which made your stomach drop—not only were all eyes on you but Shindo didn’t even offer a word to your defense.

I guess he’s the same as the others…

You swallowed your anger, trying not to let the sickening insecurity overwhelm you. Because, obviously. Every guy is just aiming for a beautiful pro-hero. You probably never had a chance with Shindo—he was probably passing the time with his adoring, annoying fan.

Did he ever even like you? Was he just putting up with you?

“Fine. Whatever. I don’t need anyone’s autograph, Grand.” You injected his pro-hero name with disgust. Hurt, heart-aching, disappointed disgust.

You turned on your heel, boots because you weren’t traipsing around in six-inch heels like Camie, and walked out. Because you were fucking mortified, being humiliated in your favorite café in front of everyone and labelled as a desperate fan.

Surprise, surprise, no one followed you.

You took a brisk walk home. You were too angry to even signal for a taxi or go onto the subway…. You weren’t sure what was gonna happen if you had a moment to stop— you’d probably cry on the goddamn subway. You rubbed your arms, trying to soothe your volatile emotions because you refused to cry in public.

You really thought Shindo was better than this. But no. You pulled out your phone to block all mentions of Shindo across your social media, to block the other pro-heroes. Because you knew if you saw mentions of any of them from today, you probably would die from embarrassment and the cringeworthy memory. For all that it was worth, this incident was gonna be tweeted in a matter of minutes and you only hoped no one would identify you.

You came home, collapsing into your bed and trying to gather yourself. You could’ve called your friends to vent—but god, you felt so stupid. You had waited in that café all morning on your day off. You had stupidly looked forward to seeing him. If you told anyone now, they would know about your crush on the hero. People would think you were the wanna-be fan that Camie and Momo had made you out to be. So you turned on Netflix, drowning out the day’s shitty feelings with numerous rom-coms. Did it make you feel better? Not by much but it helped you not to focus on the hurtful ball of anxiety burning its way through your stomach.

You eventually fell asleep. You eventually woke up and dragged yourself to work. You faked a smile to your co-workers, pretending everything was fine. Your work was done. You avoided the café like a plague. That was day one.

Day one of not seeing Shindo ever. He didn’t even know your phone number, you had always left the meetings to chance. His chance. To tell the truth, you had sat there every Saturday in hopes he would come.

You eventually made it to two weeks—but something happened that you never expected.

You ran into the barista whom you got Shindo’s coffee from. “…Y/N?” The same one that had been there. She looked down at you in the convenience store with you bent over and awkwardly trying to look at coffee grinds. You wanted to duck out and pretend you never heard her. But that was cowardly of you and that wasn’t you. So you gave her an awkward smile—“Hi.” You tried not to look embarrassed. “What brings you around here this late?”

She gave you a commiserating look. “Work ended late. How about you?” You gave her an empathetic nod, you had been putting in a lot more time than usual.

“Same.” You didn’t say much. Images flashed by, little taunts from Camie and Momo and you kept your mouth shut from sounding more like a ‘desperate fan’. She looked at her purchases, seemingly a little... nervous? Well, you were too. So you would make your excuses and leave before she thought worse of you. You gathered your items, trying not to seem in an obvious rush and making an excuse to go—

“Wait!” She blurted out. You froze. “You never come anymore. Is it because of last time?”

Oh god. You wanted to die. Even your friendly barista saw that and commented.

Who were you kidding though, everyone probably saw that.

“Well, it was really embarrassing.” You... admitted. Because this was really hard for you to talk about. “I can’t show my face around right? Everyone probably thinks the worst of me.” Even though I’m not, you wanted to say.

“Um…” She looked around, pitching her voice low. “I know it’s not my place to say but… something happened after you left. And the pro-hero you were with? He keeps coming back and I’m pretty sure he’s looking for you.”

Shindo, looking for you? A small kindle of hope flared but it was crushed nearly immediately. How much more do you want to delude yourself? You shook your head in sad denial. “Believe me, he’s not.”You were an inconsequential ‘civilian’ that was around for him to brag to. He could find those girls, a dime in a dozen, who would probably prostrate for a chance to be seen with him. You wouldn’t humiliate yourself anymore by pretending it was something more. “Thank you though. It’s..” Probably shows how pitiful I am, probably.

But the fact she came out of her way to talk to you… That was really kind of her. “….Nice to know someone noticed I wasn’t around. I hope you believe me when I say, your shop makes wonderful coffee and has wonderful employees.” You smiled, a little more genuinely than before. “I’ll miss it but I’m sure that’s why people, even Grand, comes back.”

You genuinely meant it. They were your favorite coffee place and they deserved to know it. The barista gave you a flustered look, she hadn’t expected the sudden compliment from you. “So…” You didn’t want to make the moment too heavy. “Would you tell me your coffee secret? I honestly need to know what kind of beans you use so I can buy some at home.” You gently changed the subject.

She enthusiastically gave you a recommendation and you both parted ways with a bit of a smile. Your heart weighed painfully but a little less heavy than before.

The next day, you tried to pick up the pieces of your life. You went out for lunch. You laughed a little more genuinely at a a co-workers crazy business antics. You accepted an assignment to help market another pro-hero agency, making preliminary notes on their current heroes and sidekicks.

“You want me to meet up with them now?” You looked up at your manager, a little confused. You didn’t usually handle the interview or meeting side, preferring to work on the back-end computer-crunching and paperwork when it came to marketing and deals. Your manager nodded and gave you a folder.

“This one likes a more personal and hands-on approach when it comes to their team.” What an unusual approach. You… took the folder.

“Hm. Uravity, huh?” You knew this pro-hero—she was definitely one to look out for. Everyone had said she was one of the sweetest pro-heroes around, preferring a personable approach to her business. She could make friends with even the surliest of pro-heroes  That’s how you found yourself in her office with tea and cookies; you had politely refused but she firmly believed in having delicious sweets to accompany the meeting.

Which you couldn’t resist once she shoved a plate at you. “Gosh, this dessert is fantastic.” You almost couldn’t bear to eat the deku-themed matcha pudding. She laughed as you eventually, ever-so-slowly and sadly ate it.

“Y/N, thank you for assisting us! Call me Ochaco, I look forward to working with you…” She eagerly shook your hand. You had been with her for an hour beforehand, discussing potential marketing strategies and merchandise before gathering up your documents and getting ready to go.

“I’ll send you the preliminary marketing outline by the end of the week..” You didn’t get a chance to say much more since the door opened very abruptly, slamming and startling you. Uravity—no, Ochaco didn’t seem surprised when Lord Explosion Murder, Bakugo shouted aloud, “Get this poser fucking away from me! I don’t want to work with two-face here!” The explosion hero shoved someone behind the door, someone you couldn’t see…

Ah. I should’ve left sooner.

You managed to steel yourself because you heard him before you saw him—Shindo. No, you corrected yourself, Grand. He followed Bakugo in, frustratingly trying to re-iterate his side of the story. You inched towards the door since he seemed focused on Bakugo… You tried to look engrossed into your clipboard and rush past.

“Y/N?” He looked at you incredulously. You nearly escaped without a second look but there seemed to be a brief pause in the conversation between the pro-heroes.

You mustered a tight smile. “I’m sorry but I have to head out.” You pushed past him into the hallway. “Please excuse me.”

You speed-walked to the elevator but diverted to the emergency stairwell, hoping for a moment to pull yourself together.  Shindo was as handsome as when you walked away at the coffee shop. Was it too much to hope that he magically got uglier? The low burn of humiliation still stayed at the pit of your stomach, tempered by time but still there. You could keep your composure but for how long?

Shindo abandoned his argument with Bakugo to follow you. He was a moment too late though, he tried to head for the elevator but saw no one. Damnit. He walked back to Ochaco, determined to find out why you’d been there. He had been looking for you for weeks but you hadn’t come back to the café and he never got your full name to start asking for you.

“Uravity!” She looked startled at both your sudden departure and Grand’s abrupt return. “What’s Y/N doing here?” Ochaco tilted her head in confusion. “She’s one of the civilians on our new marketing campaign.” He gestured impatiently for her to continue. “I can give you her company information and business card if you’re looking for her?”

Shindo nearly tripped over himself to get to Ochaco. “Yes.” He, with cool finesse, don’t let Bakugo tell you otherwise how he fumbled with the card—noted your information and took a picture.

You made sure to throw yourself into work for the rest of the afternoon, ignoring the growing pit of anxiety in your stomach. Shindo was a bad premonition. Like when a black cat crossed your path and mirrors would crack. You weren’t superstitious though so you tried to push it out of your mind.

Work was where you were safe and comfortable. Nothing bad will happen, you reason. So when you finally decided to call it a night much later than usual— it was already 8 pm? They would lock your building soon. You wished you could stop by the coffee store to get more work done… Like I can go back there. You tiredly tried to massage your frown away, rubbing between your eyebrows as you packed up and left. You even thought you smelled their special brew…. No, you were probably imagining things.

Right up until you saw Shindo outside your office door, holding an iced latte in his hand. You stared at him; honestly you thought you were dreaming— so you decided to slam your door shut.  

You gave yourself a moment to breathe. You had run into him earlier today so surely you were hallucinating.

“….Seriously?” You heard his muffled voice through the door.

I’m not dreaming then. You, honest to god, wondered if you could get out of the fire escape. But the likelihood of you climbing out your window and breaking your neck outweighed the nervousness and fear of opening your door, like a normal human being. Just be normal, Y/N, don’t freak out.

So you did open the door.

“Did you find the wrong person? I don’t recall having an 8 pm meeting.” You tried to be curt and short. If not... who knows what you would say?

“Uh.” Shindo was thrown off by your brusque words. Honestly, he didn’t think this one completely though. He had decided to see you, maybe catch you before you could disappear again. He’d been at the coffee shop, dropping by with a hope of seeing you. And with each casual look, with each hopeful inquiry, he realized you hadn’t stopped by since the time with Camie and Momo…

He had sat there on Sunday, hoping you wouldn’t be holding any grudges— but thirty minutes in, Shindo had left. You weren’t coming anymore.

So what though? He had sullenly stayed quiet. It wasn’t like you two were dating, it wasn’t like you two had promised anything. He had nothing to apologize for. He didn’t need to sit in a coffee shop, you didn’t help his rankings.

But he didn’t get to see your laughing face when he re-told his arguments with his fellow heroes. He didn’t get to see the fond smiles you threw his way. He didn’t get to see you standing sheepishly outside his agency with ‘extra’ coffee just the way he wanted it. Black as hell, and not your usual sweetness. He didn’t get a chance to walk you to the station.

He had seen the hurt flicker on your face, he had been at a loss for words. And the worst part was that no matter how he justified himself, he couldn’t get rid of the acrid feeling that lingered in his stomach.

“I wanted to make sure you were okay. I haven’t seen you since…” He trailed off, not quite sure how to put this. Shindo was rarely at a loss for words, he usually had a number of things to say. He knew what people were like and what they wanted to hear. It was just a matter of pushing the right buttons.

What every girl wants to hear. Shindo lathered on the charm a bit and held the latte for you. “I just wanted to see you. Is it a crime?” He knew the drink was one of your favorites. “It’s a hero’s dream to walk a beautiful girl home after a long day of work, hm?”  He gestured to you and the late night, holding out a hand to you. Hook, line, and sinker.

He knew he got you when you finally looked at him. When you reached out to take his hand… Now everything will be fine, you’d be happy, he’d be fine—

“Go fuck yourself, Grand.” You held up your middle finger.

Shindo was in fucking shock. Shit, if you had a camera out, you would’ve loved to take a picture. You had never seen Shindo’s mouth hang open, the delayed look as he tried to process your words. 

“Oh, I’m sorry? Maybe I should’ve told you more clearly.” You had time to think, you weren’t scared off by public shaming—not here and now. No cutesy, bitchy pro-heroes to stop you now. “I’m not one of your fangirls who’ll fall for that little line. I’m not sure why you’re here but you need to leave.”

You locked the door behind you and walked away.

Walked away from him.

“Y/N.” Shindo tried to stop you. “Why are you being so cold? I thought we were friends, I thought we had something more going on for us.”

You turned around, indignation fueling your sudden and startling courage to walk back and get into his face. You grabbed onto his shirt, pulling his infuriating face to yours. “Us? Shindo, you think I’m something more than a little fangirl who adoringly listened to your stories?” You waited a beat for his answer. “Because you made it pretty fucking clear, that’s what I am.” You both knew what happened in the coffee shop that day.

“Y/N, are you seriously mad about that? What did you want me to do? What did you want me to say?” Shindo glared down at you. What the hell did you want from him? Why were you so angry?

You laughed but it was harsh and acrimonious, to both of you.

“Oh god, is that your answer? You really think I’m just a fangirl. You come up to me, you say these sickeningly sweet lines and you think I’m just gonna fall over for you? You think I’ll follow your script? Did you come because I stopped showing up and losing one of your little worshippers?”

Shindo…. Couldn’t deny it. And you saw from the split-second look of guilt before he schooled his expression into a cajoling one. You knew because you had seen it a million times before, every-time he would face the public, every time he would get on TV. Two-faced was the right word. If you didn’t know better, you would’ve fallen his sugar-sweet words and missed the flash of guilt.

“Y/N…” Shindo knew he could get you to calm down, to soften up towards him….

“Don’t say anything Shindo. I can pretty much guess what one-liners you’re gonna feed me next.” You shook your head, a little in disbelief and a little in hurtful realization of what you’d say next. Because this was the moment, this was when you could face him honestly and get it over and done with.

“Shindo, I like you.” You could finally say it aloud. And you could feel relief wash through your chest at finally saying it. “I came every Saturday because I stupidly hoped you actually liked me and enjoyed my company.”

Shindo’s look soured. “I didn’t promise you anything and I most certainly didn’t encourage—”

“You didn’t.” You gestured to him, a melancholy look peeking through your resolute face. “You hate agendas, you hate when people lie to you, and you didn’t ask for it.” You said this as a fact, and Shindo couldn’t agree more. He despised it. You knew how much people forced things onto him and the overbearing expectations that came with being the so-called perfect hero.

“And that’s why I never said anything, I just wanted you to know that someone actually cared, that I want to listen to you and make you laugh.” The memories washed over you—you both had shared stories in the coffee store until your ribs hurt. There were hours of conversation and stories between you two. You had never asked for more— he gave all that he could give.

You barreled on. “That the heroes that everyone sees? They actually are people, and you don’t ask for people to fall in love and become, I don’t know, become crazy stalkers and shit.” He had numerous experiences with those. He had told you that he moved apartments a number of times. “That you don’t need to be this dumb Casanova everyone thinks you are and you can just be a huge dork.” You loved it when Shindo had admitted to you that ‘cool and manly’ things were kind of shit, that he had secretly made references to dumb rom-coms that you both pretended not to watch.

What little you knew; you knew for certain. “So yes. You didn’t ask for me to fall in love and I never wanted you to know. Friends was more than I could’ve asked for.” You could feel your eyes watering and you wiped it on your sleeve. You looked at him, really looked at him through a hurt smile. Shindo was letting you talk and at least for that, you were grateful you could get this mess of a confession off your chest.

“But I never thought, never thought you’d be cruel enough to let Camie and Yaoyorozu talk to me like that.” You got a little choked up and consolingly ran your hands up and down your arms. The warmth gave you courage to ask about the doubts that had been plaguing you. “What were we? Fangirl to a hero? Friends? Acquaintances?” You no longer knew. From the looks of it, Shindo didn’t know either.

“Whatever we were, I know that I didn’t deserve that. No one deserves that.” Shindo looked like he wanted to find the chink in your logic, something to say—but there was no way around it.

“Y/N, that wasn’t what it looked like.” He tried to find the words, he tried to justify himself.

You genuinely wondered what Shindo had to say. “Tell me more.” Because you couldn’t see how it could be anything else.

Shindo…. Found himself grasping at straws. “I wasn’t trying to be cruel, I just didn’t think it mattered to you—“ You both heard what was unsaid. If you were ignored. Some words, even unsaid, couldn’t be taken back. “Shit, I didn’t mean It like that. I just thought you wouldn’t mind waiting. They’re pro-heroes, I can’t look bad in front of them.” Shindo said frustratedly.

“Waiting.” You nodded. “Looking bad.” You shifted the bag on your shoulder, coming to a conclusion by the way you extricated yourself from the situation. “I guess that’s that.” You brushed past him.

Shindo watched you brush by…. Watching you walk out again. Damn if he would let you leave with such an arbitrary statement— he swiveled you and caught your shoulder. “What do you mean by that?”

You gently pried his hand away. “Good luck finding someone waiting as you climb those pro-hero rankings…. Grand.” You pushed him softly back, away from you. To Shindo, this was nothing. You had little strength; it was a gentle tap at best. But damn, did it make him feel like the air got taken out of him. It left him with a dirty, gut-wrenching pit in his stomach with the finality of it. “You don’t need a civilian like me holding you back in front of all those oh-so-successful pro-heroes.”

Shindo watched you walk away from him, latte ignored, and you left the office. Because what could he say? You were right, he desperately wanted to get to the top ten pro-hero rankings and no civilian would stop him.

#shindo smut #bnha smut #shindo yo #bnha x reader #smut #shindo yo x reader #boku no hero #shindo x reader

[dathen]

Word Search

Characters:  Jonathan Sims & Sasha James Word count:  1,172 Spoilers:  None Other Tags:  Nonbinary Sasha, Nonbinary Jon, Agender Jon, Autistic Jon, Autistic Sasha Link on ao3

Summary: 

Despite the unwelcome shift his promotion brought to their interactions, rambling about linguistics with Jon was an easy pastime to fall back on. -- Featuring burgeoning Jon and Sasha friendship, mutual infodumping, and Fun with Gender (or lack thereof).  Set during early season 1; written for the @t4tma event.

Sasha fidgeted with her jewelry.  It wasn’t the usual nervous energy that she rode like an ocean wave while chasing down a lead or digging into a subject that snagged her attention.  No, today, she just felt...off.  Was it the new outfit?  It was a bit dressier than her usual trousers-and-cardigan style, with a full length skirt that she’d finally found to be long enough for her height, and a scarf that she bought for the soft texture alone.  Maybe it was the jewelry…?  But that was the same as she usually wore, and yet each time she passed the mirrors in the break room or washroom that off-balance feeling returned.  Finally, she gave in to the impulse to take off her earrings before snatching a file from her desk and marching towards Jon’s office.  A distraction would help.

“Found that statement you said was missing in the sequence, Jon,” Sasha announced as she opened the door and poked her head in.  (Oh good, he wasn’t recording.  Though she was pretty sure the others were exaggerating how grumpy Jon got when interrupted; he never seemed too bothered when she dropped by out of unannounced boredom.)  “Looks like it’s still missing a page, though—no translation with it.”

Sasha was surprised that Jon’s answering sigh didn’t send papers flying off his desk.  “If it was translated at all.  Nothing about the state of this place would surprise me,” he answered.  Jon took the offered file and peered at it with what was now a too-common scowl, but the sourness radiated exhaustion.

Oh, he was wearing earrings again today.  Small silver hoops not too different from a pair she saw Tim wear sometimes.  I wish I could look like that when I wear earrings.  She stomped on that thought with a short shake of her head.  Where on earth did that come from?    

“Looks like my staples were a good idea,” she pressed on with as much brightness as she could muster.  “At least if we get a translated copy, we can be sure it won’t get separated from the rest.”

The tired scowl melted into a tired smile. “Thank you, Sasha.  That has been a very helpful solution.”

The gratitude in his voice stifled the usual irritation she felt at being called "helpful" by someone she’d seen fidgeting before his first interview with Mr. Bouchard.  How someone who’d been hired during her fourth year here ended up with her dream job...no, she wasn’t in the mood to wallow in that on top of everything.  Instead, she flopped down into the chair across from him.  “Mandarin, looks like.  Don’t we have a sister institute in Beijing?  The Pu Songling Research Centre?  Maybe it’s from their archives.”

Jon hummed.  “We can inquire if they originally lent it to the Institute; I don’t know if they translate to other languages in their collection, but perhaps they could put us in touch with someone who can…?”

“Either that or run it through the ol’ google translate.  My Mandarin is a bit rusty.”  At that Jon laughed, a tight-lipped huff of a thing.  He used to laugh a lot more before his promotion, and she found she missed it.  Sasha grinned before she continued.  “I did try learning some once!  When I was sixteen.  I thought the writing was so nice, and wanted to impress my Gran.  Didn’t last long, though.”  

“I’ve heard it’s remarkably difficult to learn,” he said.  

“Oh, for sure.  Switching to French was easier, though I wasn’t a fan of memorizing word genders for everything.”  Her thoughts skipped ahead a step or two, and she found herself adding, “Did you know that Mandarin only has a single pronoun for all genders?”

Predictably, Jon brightened and sat up in his chair, suddenly looking like someone who’d slept sometime in the past few days.  Despite the unwelcome shift his promotion brought to their interactions, rambling about linguistics with Jon was an easy pastime to fall back on.  “Is that so?”  

“Yup!  I won’t pretend that the rest of the grammar wasn’t brutal, but that almost made me jealous, you know?” Sasha answered, toying with the edge of the cardboard folder.

Jon’s attention was like a physical weight.  “Jealous how?”

“Dunno, I kind of wish English had something similar, you know?  Instead of needing words that say right out ‘I’m a woman’ or ‘I’m a man!’”  She kept her voice light, but shifted in the stiff-backed chair.  Sasha hadn’t expected the sudden discomfort, but saying the words aloud felt suddenly vulnerable, like pressing a finger just beside an old bruise—just enough to ache.

The Encyclopedia Look immediately fell over Jon’s face (apparently, according to Tim, Sasha had one too; she wondered if it was as obvious as his).  “You know, even in English some people use singular ‘they’ for their pronouns.  It’s been used as a singular gender-neutral pronoun for hundreds of years; examples easily date back to the fourteenth century.  Did you know that ‘you’ used to be plural as well?”

“I did know that!  And formal, too—it’s funny to think how ‘thee’ and ‘thou’ were the informal means of address.”  Sasha forced down the urge to continue the thought; English shedding the formality divisions in its grammar was a subject she could talk about for hours, but she was curious where this was going.  “Still, I had my papers marked up with enough use ‘he or she,’ not ‘they’! back in secondary to know I can’t get away with it now.”

“That’s changing,” said Jon with a sudden fervor.  “And besides, people aren’t research papers.”

Sasha hesitated, that off-balance feeling suddenly returning.  It wasn’t discomfort this time, but why did it suddenly feel so personal?

Jon seemed to notice her faltering.  “O-of course, it’s not the only way to depart from the binary,” he rushed on.  “I mean, I still use 'he/him' because those are comfortable for me, and—“  He froze, eyes flicking towards the wall before he picked up the statement and held it in front of him like a shield.  “A-anyway, ah...yes.  If someone asked me, I’d have no issue using ‘they’ for someone who asked me.  Regardless of what the Chicago Manual of Style has to say about it.”

It didn’t seem to be a pointed comment (except a grudge against the style guide), but Sasha felt the sudden conviction it was meant for her, even if Jon didn’t mean it for her.  Sasha felt the familiar bite of curiosity that she knew wouldn’t let go, but for once she wasn’t sure if it was directed outwards or inwards.  But Jon looked a bit flustered, still feigning interest in the unreadable document in his hands, and it was getting near the time that she agreed to meet Tim for lunch.  “Good to know,” she answered easily, then tapped the top of the statement. “I’d best get back to work—let me know if you hear back from the Research Centre.”

She had some thinking to do.

------

Thank you to the Magnus Writers discord for answering the absurd amount of questions and fact-checking I somehow needed for a 1k word fic, to evanescentjasmine and Ixempt for the beta reads, and to TheDeafProphet for inspiring the concept! Also an extra shout-out to the Magnus Writers mod team for being my own Linguistics Mutual Infodumping Squad. 

#tma #the magnus archives #t4tma #tma fic #jonathan sims #sasha james #my writing #HEY HEY I WROTE A THING!!! #FINALLY!!!

[moonlight-prose]

Written with Love

A/N: I missed vintage Bucky so I thought since y’all aren’t getting Steve’s new chapter I’d give you this small little drabble. Not beta read or edited so apologies for mistakes.

Tag lists are open!!

Summary: A letter. That’s all you had left of him, hoping that something would come of it. Perhaps one day it would.

Word Count: 1.5k

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: angst, some grief, fluff, i think that’s it.

March 15, 1945

Doll,

       They gave me a chance to write this letter just in case things go south. I don’t know what’s going to happen, or what’s going to happen to me, but I just want you to know that I love you. I know I’ve never said it out loud, but I’m writing it in this letter, because I figure you should at least see me say it somewhere. If I’m lucky enough to survive this. If I can get home to you, then I promise I’ll spend every damn day telling you those three words.

       I can tell that you’re crying as you read this, so do me a favor and wipe those eyes for me. Because you’re stronger than this. You always have been. This isn’t goodbye doll, I promise. It’s just me saying I love you for once because you have to know it finally. I’ve been holding in the words for months, and when I tried to tell you at the train station before leaving, I got scared. I didn’t know what to say.

       Promise me you won’t hate me if I don’t come home. You can be angry at me, yell at me, fuck scream at me, but please don’t hate me. I’m going to get home to you, I swear it on Steve’s star-spangled ass, that I’m coming back.

       I hope this letter reaches you. If you read this before I get home, don’t take it as me dying. Because I’m not dying, not even close. They’d have to hold me hostage for me to not come home to you. It’d probably be too selfish of me to ask you to wait for me, but I’m going to ask you to do it. Not for long. But just don’t think I died yet.

       You can’t get rid of me that easy doll. Not even close.

       I love you so much.

Yours forever,

Bucky

       The tears rolled down your face as you read the letter for what seemed like the millionth time. His words still setting the ache deep in your heart. When it was delivered, you told yourself you’d wait, that he’d come home to you just as he promised. Except now you weren’t sure anymore. Would he come back to you? Or would you be left with just his words of love being the last you heard of him.

       Wiping your cheeks and under your eyes you stood up. Another day of mourning the man who left, who went off to fight in the war, who wouldn’t be returning. You wished it weren’t true, but holding hope hadn’t always been your forte. He asked you to wait though, to continue to clutch that single sliver of hope, and you did. You held onto it like it was your life line, because in a way it was. He was your life line.

       Heading outside to get some sun and possibly go for a walk to clear your head, you placed the letter in your coat pocket. It went with you everywhere, the last piece of him you had until something happened. You don’t know how many times you pulled it out while you were merely doing nothing and allowing your mind to wander. How many times had you looked at the words he’d given you? His own declaration of love.

       For Bucky to tell you that he loved you through a letter was just so him it made you smile. You continued to re-read it, continued to yearn for him in every way, because he asked you to wait. So, wait you would. This was a determination only people in love had, a knowledge that you had to do this, because there would be nothing else. Without him, there would be a bleak sky rather than the bright colors he brought.

       The city around you in Brooklyn didn’t hold the same shine to it. People didn’t feel the need to smile as often and you couldn’t blame them. This was the aftermath of a war, of dealing with the gruesome knowledge that people you loved may not return. You offered to go, but he asked you to stay and wait; keep the small apartment that you shared warm for him.

       So, you waited.

       The café down the street held some of the best coffee, but you veered off to the park on the right. Sitting at a bench would maybe help brighten your mood, may even drag your thoughts away from the pain you suffered through. You clutched the letter in your hands, once more reading his words. Once more clutching the mere glimpse at hope you had.

       And then your name was called throughout the park. You played it off as perhaps a friend seeing you, but the tone of voice, the baritone of it sounded too familiar. Maybe you were finally going insane. You had lost sense of everything and were driven off the cliff head first into insanity because of love.

       Except you heard it again.

       Standing from where you sat you turned and glanced through the park, past the people walking, and saw it. The blond hair sticking out among the crowd, in a brown soldier’s suit. Steve Rogers, the man who was best friends with your Bucky. You couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your face, couldn’t stop the small number of tears to fall, because if he was home, maybe someone else was too.

       “I thought that was you!” he shouted.

       “What are you doing here?”

       He embraced you in a quick hug before pulling back, only to see the glimmer of tears falling down your cheeks. A sad smile spread across his lips, before he was taking your hand and walking. You asked him where you were going, what he was doing, and would he like coffee first, but he just continued to drag you along.

       “Rogers slow down, you’re not as small as you used to be,” you called out with a laugh.

       “Sorry I’m just excited.”

       “Excited for what?” You had to ask, because after not having seen him in almost a year, he didn’t even want to take the time to catch up.

       He stopped you in front of your apartment building. Except he didn’t go in when you entered, he didn’t follow you up to your door, and he didn’t even say goodbye. You wondered why, but then you froze. The sounds of music filtered through the air coming from your home, the familiar song that was the first ever song you and Bucky danced to. He was nervous when he first asked, but then he saw you smile when you said yes, and that’s when he knew you were it for him.

       That he’d go to the ends of the earth to be with you.

       The nerves jumped underneath your skin as you walked up the steps and only grew when you pushed the already open door further. Smells of coffee and breakfast filled your senses, a scent that hadn’t been in this apartment in a long time. That wasn’t what made you break down into sobs as a fresh wave of tears fell down your face. The song that caused memories to fill your head wasn’t the thing that caused it either.

       No, it was the man who stood in your kitchen, his button-down sleeves rolled up and hair a mess as he cooked pancakes on the old grill that used to belong to his mother. You froze in the doorway, just watching, hoping with everything in you that he was real, that this wouldn’t end up being a mirage. And when he turned, that smile you loved showing and lighting up the room, you knew he was very real.

       “Bucky?” you whispered through tears.

       He set down the spatula he was holding, before practically rushing to you. Fuck the food, you couldn’t care less, because he was pulling you close and slotting his lips against yours. The tears mixed with his as he kissed you, as he reminded himself of what you felt like. All of it had become a distant memory in the harshness of war, but now, in this moment, he could recall it all. The moments of just kissing you in the mornings, of how soft you were underneath his calloused hands.

       “Please tell me I’m not dreaming,” you said.

       Bucky smiled. “You’re definitely not dreaming doll. I did say I’d come back didn’t I?”

       He pulled away much to your dislike before pulling out a stack of letters all tied in a bundle from his pocket. You took them with shaky hands, a fresh wave of tears already spilling over. His eyes widened when you reached into your coat pocket and pulled out the creased and worn in letter that you carried with you always.

       “You kept it?” he asked.

       “It gave me hope that you’d come home. You are home right? For good?”

       He nodded. “I’m all yours for as long as you’ll have me, because I love you. I’ve been wanting to say that for months and I’d say it over and over again to myself at night. I love you Y/N.”

       Another kiss, another breathless moment, and another bittersweet memory. “I love you,” you whispered.

       And it was true. You loved him more than words could say, more than he probably would ever know. You had done the impossible and waited for him, but not because he asked you to. But because you loved him.

Masterlist

Fic Tags:

@themarcusmoreno

Bucky Barnes Tags:

@karasong @aaliyasaurus @queenbbarnes​

Permanent Tags:

@pamguini​ @blondekel77​ @ezrasarm​  @the-purity-pen​ @princess-and-pedro​ @phoenixhalliwell​

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes drabble #bucky barnes imagine #marvel #bucky barnes #1940s bucky barnes

[gotnofucks]

Parts of Whole

(No images are mine, but I did edit them. If anyone knows the owners, do let me know so I can credit them)

Pairing: Sam Wilson x Bucky Barnes, Sam x Steve (platonic)

Summary: Steve would see his OTP’s ship sail, even from across the grave.

Words: 3.9k

Warnings: mentions of death (nothing graphic and not very sad), language, angst + fluff

A/N: I saw the trailer for tfatws and I just had to write this. This is also my entry for the amazingly talented @sagechanoafterdark and @sweater-daddiesdumbdork challenge (pic prompts above). Thank you for hosting this and being wonderful. The beautiful dividers are made by @firefly-graphics . Huge thanks to @the-inquisitive-hobbit for beta reading and giving me her very valuable insight.

 It never felt right in his hands. It was his to wield, his to claim, and yet it never felt more foreign. The concentric red and white circles with the star embedded in the blue center glared back at him from the mirror. It had been months, but Sam had never taken this shield with him to any mission. He couldn’t.

It felt starkly cold in his hands, lifeless and materialistic. It was Steve’s symbol of strength and hope. It used to hang on his back, warmed by his body heat. Now, it seemed like the shield only existed to remind him of Steve’s absence. This shield was made for Steve. It belonged to him, it always would. How could he ever stand where he stood? How could Sam ever be the captain that Steve was, take this shield that held more power than a crown on a head?

He put it down again, covering it with a cloth before shutting the door on it, leaning heavily against it. He missed him, he missed him like a throbbing wound that refused to heal. If only he could see the sun shining on those golden locks again, have those baby blue eyes smile at him again. What wouldn’t he give for that.

He didn’t notice he wasn’t alone until a heavy hand was on his shoulder, squeezing gently. Sam didn’t open his eyes, just let the weight of it anchor him, let it bring him back from the chaos that was his mind. The cold metal hand felt like a relief against the overwhelming burden of grief that penetrated his being whenever he touched the circular shield.

“I miss him too.” Bucky said, and Sam opened his eyes. Bucky’s eyes were blue too, slightly grey where Steve’s were green. He could see himself reflected in them and he straightened, looking away, hiding his weakness.

This mantle of Steve Rogers that he was supposed to assume, this legacy he was supposed to take forward felt like cheating. His friend, his mentor, his brother was no more. How could people just expect him to move on? But they did. It didn’t matter he was emotionally compromised, it didn’t matter he wanted to drown, like Steve nearly had at the Potomac all those years ago. The world didn’t wait to create one disaster after another. They needed Captain America then, and they needed him now. Like Fury said, trouble always sticks around.

Sam cleared his throat, making sure he was collected before looking at Bucky again.

“Everything loaded in the Quinjet?” He asked and Bucky nodded. They’ll be leaving for another mission soon, and Sam was glad he’ll have the sounds of battle to drown the war in his heart.

“Sam.” Bucky said once Sam started leaving. “Take it.”

Sam looked at Bucky over his shoulder, his gaze equal parts pain and accusation. Of everyone, Bucky shouldn’t be the one telling him this.

“I’ll meet you in the jet.” He said firmly and quickly marched to his room, shutting the door behind him. He hated coming back to the compound, the lingering memories of their fallen warriors whispering in his ears every time he was here. He preferred his little house in the woods where it was only Bucky and nature with him.

He took out his tactical gear, laying it on the bed and getting out his wings when he heard it.

“You are punishing yourself Sam.” Came his voice.

It was this moment where Sam broke, sliding down the wall and letting a few tears escape. He was gone but he never left him.

“How could you have been so selfish Steve. Why?” He asked, looking up to glare at Steve. Even dead he looked so handsome, so put together with his hands on his hips. He didn’t look like the old man they had buried a month after the battle. No. He was their Steve, their young, beautiful Steve who left them behind.

Sam didn’t know why he saw him. He didn’t know if this was a ghost or a creation of his mind. To him, it was Steve. It was Steve and it was a beautiful suffering to see him again every time he reappeared.

“I am sorry.” Steve said and knelt before Sam, looking apologetic. Sam didn’t try touching him. Not when the first hundred times his hand just went through him.

“You are? What for?” Sam asked. “For leaving behind your shield and title, for leaving me behind, or for abandoning a best friend you promised to walk till the end of the line with? What are you really sorry for Captain?”

Steve didn’t answer, he never did. He let Sam take out his hurt and anger, and Sam cried. In the privacy of his walls, he cried. He was so tired of pretending to be strong, to be happy. He hid behind his jokes and smiles, fooled the world which was so ready to move on while Sam was buried somewhere with Steve in the cemetery, half dead, half alive.

“I am sorry Sam, for everything.” Steve insisted. “But you need to stop punishing yourself for mistakes you never made. You can’t live this way.”

Sam snorted a laugh for even in death Steve was a humanitarian bastard. He didn’t come back to haunt his enemies; oh no the centenarian came back to help his friends. Why didn’t people see that he could never be Steve? That Sam Wilson can never, won’t ever be the Captain that Steven Rogers was.

“I hate you so much Steve, I really do.” Sam whispered, wiping his nose and getting up. Steve watched him getting changed, no barriers of shame between them from that side of the grave.

“You always said that. I have never heard a ‘I love you’ more pronounced than I do in your hate.” Steve commented with a soft smile, it widened when Sam gave him a half-hearted glare. It was amazing how they could go from having a painful conversation to joking, but that was how it worked with Steve. He knew Sam, he knew everything that made him laugh and made him smile.

“What are you doing here anyway? Don’t you have a tea party with Gandhi or some other do-gooder like you in the afterlife?” Sam grumbled, tightening the belt in his suit and attaching his wings to it. Steve chuckled, sitting on the chair and watching Sam with a relaxed smile.

“They are too uptight for me. Mother Teresa tried to adopt me the other day” Steve said, and Sam laughed. His wings were the colours of American Flag, a new change. He grabbed his weapons and fixed Steve with a look, hating and loving him for being so him.

“I’ll see you after the mission?” He asked tentatively. He would never admit it, but he feared one day Steve would disappear again. It was crazy, it was not normal to see dead people, but Sam would rather have a shadow of Steve than just a memory.

“I’ll be here as long as you need me Sam. Always.” Steve said, a sad smile on his face when he saw Sam leaving without the shield.

Sharon greeted him in the jet, talking to Bucky and the other agents over the blueprint spread before them. Sam nodded his hello, snatching the half empty pack of Cheetos from Bucky’s hand and munching on it.

“So now you want to steal the show and my food. You’re such a dick Wilson.” Bucky said, poking Sam in his shoulder and Sam poked his tongue out at him, a gap-toothed smile on his face. Their previous somber interaction would not be mentioned, filed again like so many inside the neglected corner of their minds.

“Bitch, I paid for grocery this month. This is technically mine.” Sam replied, making Bucky scowl. Sam knew there was a 70-30 chance he’ll find his bed crawling with centipedes when they got back home.

“Charming, boys.” Sharon remarked rolling her eye. “What are you guys doing for Christmas? Must be nice to have a holiday.”

Bucky shrugged, sharing a look with Sam. It was their first Christmas without Steve, a 6 feet 2-inch void always between them.

“Nothing special. Stay home, watch movies, eat a lot.” Bucky said. A lot remained unsaid, but they rarely needed words to communicate anymore. Sam bumped his shoulder in his, offering him some Cheetos to munch while he silently grieved.

“Well, I’ll leave my address here for you to deliver your presents to me.” Sharon joked and Sam laughed softly, mentally making a note to get her something.

“Alright then, and I’ll just casually remark that my phone and laptop are both in serious need for an upgrade. Just saying.” Sam said. “Hey Buck, what are you going to gift me?”

Bucky crumpled the empty chips packet before sending Sam an amused glare, flipping him off.

“A ball gag, so that I can hear something other than your stupid voice.” He snarked.

“Damn dude, at least ask me out for dinner before getting kinky.” Sam winked and Bucky swelled with indignation, pointing an accusing metal finger at Sam.

“I cook dinner 3 times a week you bastard, and I don’t even burn it!” He protested making Sam laugh louder than ever. He loved making Bucky mad, teasing him into an incensed rage that usually ended in a pillow fight or sometimes with Sam’s head in a headlock.

They straightened as they saw the incredulous looks on the new agents’ faces, baby agents as Bucky liked to call them. It was times like these, when both the battle-hardened veterans missed their lost teammates, the inside jokes that were shot around with as much precision as bullets and arrows on the battlefield.

They got to work again, discussing the mission and its details with the other agents. Sam would run point on scaling the territory and fly down to the enemy base with two agents while Bucky would guide him from up here and take out potential threats. They just needed to secure a technological innovation and it didn’t seem too like much work. As Sam poured over the briefing, his eyes subconsciously went over to Bucky who was fiddling with the equipment, making sure everything was in working condition.

If someone had told him a few years ago that Bucky would become his anchor, his solace in his darkest hours, Sam would have punched them in the face. But as it happened, they came to lean on each other, the only unchanged part of their older lives, the only person who made each feel that were still real, still alive. They were still annoyed by each other, but the arguments were more of a routine than an actual expression of resentment.

He didn’t realize he was staring until someone deliberately coughed behind him.

“He is so pretty, isn’t he?” Steve asked, though it was a rhetorical question. Bucky Barnes was a beauty, from his blue grey eyes to the new golden streaks running through his new arm. Sam tried not to notice the way Bucky’s armor clung to his muscles, his face looking almost boyish as he forgot the world and focused on his task.

“I thought you said I’ll see you after the mission.” Sam muttered, taking care that no one noticed him talking to air. He hurriedly looked away from Bucky when their eyes met, a heat rising in his cheeks that made Steve chuckle.

“I said I’ll be there when you need me. And it seems like you do.” Steve commented. He took the seat next to Sam, so near that Sam swore he could feel the heat emanating from his body.

“I don’t know what you mean.” Sam snapped, the smug look on Steve’s face making him wish he could touch him if only to be able to punch him. Stupid blonde best friends with perfect teeth and beautiful smiles and an ass that looked just as round after being dead.

“Oh, I think you do.” Steve said, shifting his gaze to Bucky. “I liked his hair longer but the shorter is going well with the new arm. Don’t you think?”

Despite himself Sam found himself nodding, admiring Bucky as he’d done a thousand times before. He liked his longer hair too, but without them falling in his face, he could see him better. And the arm. The new arm that gave Sam tingles in the most delicious ways, it had him flustered for three whole weeks after Bucky first showed up with it on him.

He didn’t know when it started, but Bucky had somehow become the most beautiful person to Sam. From the way he would make him the perfect mug of coffee to their little kitchen garden they started to keep themselves busy, he loved everything about him. Those moments where he would sense the turmoil inside Sam and silently slip his hands in Sam’s to assure him that he was there, these little moments endeared him even more.

Sam had lost count of how many times Bucky and he had woken up on the couch, sharing a blanket, both silently afraid to sleep alone. He had forgotten how many times he had spent kneeling at Bucky’s bedside, coaxing him out from a nightmare. Every moment spent in each other’s company, laughing, joking, mourning together, it brought them together in a way Sam had never imagined before.

“Tell him” Steve said, a wistful look on his face as he looked at his best friend. “He feels the same. I know.”

Sam shook his head, tearing his eyes away from Bucky with reluctance. He’d already lost so much, he wouldn’t lose Bucky too. Not because he has a minor, very minor teensy tiny crush on him.

“Man, shut the hell up.” He snapped.

“Who’re you talking to?” Bucky called out from across the jet and Sam’s head snapped up, mouth parting a little before he mumbled out a ‘no one’ and focused on the papers in his hand. Sometimes he felt guilty for keeping Steve a secret, for keeping Bucky away from his best friend. He knew Bucky cried into his pillow at nights, he knew because he’d held him then, tried his best to fill the cracks that appeared in the walls of Bucky’s heart as well as his own.

But then, Steve chose to come to him. Chose to talk to Sam. And he was afraid that telling anyone would disturb this magic, whatever this was. That he would once again have to bury Steve. So, he kept quiet. He buried this secret in the deep recesses of his mind, the initial worry of insanity long forgotten in favor of seeing his friend again.

“Do you even have a plan?” Bucky questioned, watching him prepare for the jump. Sam had a job for every agent accompanying him, but the idiot had not outlined anything for himself.

“I do.” Sam said, and when Bucky looked unconvinced, he lightly punched his shoulder. “You’re my plan, my backup. I scream, jump down and get my ass back up.”

Saying this, Sam jumped, the exasperated look on Bucky’s face imprinted behind his eyelids as his wings flared out and he floated.

Everything that could have gone wrong on this mission did, and Bucky was hysterical even before Sam’s call for backup came. He was going to kick Nick Fury’s ass, but before that he was going to bring his friend back in one-piece and chew him out for giving him a heart attack.

Sam’s wings took most of the weight of the fall, so he came back with a sprained ankle and bruises. Bucky was getting increasingly irritated when they came back home, their little secluded spot in the woods welcoming them with the smell of pine and wild grass.

“It’s not my fault Fury gave us shitty intel.” Sam groaned, “You can stop being salty now.”

Bucky remained quiet, the silent treatment going for almost the third day in row and Sam was at his wits end. It was stupid and ridiculous because Bucky almost always pulled the stupidest moves in the field, like stopping a bomb with his hand or listening to the villain’s evil monologue.

Steve was grinning as he leaned against the edge of the table, and with every suggestive wink he gave Sam, the new Captain America resisted the urge to throw a vase at him.

“He cares so much that he’s speechless.” Steve commented and Sam flipped him off. Dickhead has been giving running commentary of the thick tension in the air since they came back, and Sam was on the verge of calling for an exorcism.

“Why do you do that?” Bucky asked suddenly and Sam was so glad to hear him talk again it took him a while to understand the question.

“What?”

“This thing, looking somewhere and talking to yourself, or – I don’t know, you keep being weird.”

“You’re the one with the cyborg brain and arm and I’m weird” Sam tried deflecting. Bucky frowned, coming closer to sit near Sam, leaving abandoned Christmas decorations scattered around them. Clint had delivered it for them but neither had the heart to put them up.

“Sam.” Bucky deadpanned, and Sam sighed, resting his head back and avoiding eye contact. He looked at Steve who was still smiling, his beautiful face like a slap on the face and caress on the head at the same time.

It was more difficult than one would assume to explain. Why did Sam see Steve, and why did only Sam see Steve? Was it a hallucination, or his spirit? Would Steve go away if Sam confided in Bucky? Would Bucky be mad he didn’t tell him? There were so many questions, so many doubts, and yet as Sam looked into Bucky’s eyes, shining like sapphires, he couldn’t keep it to himself.

“Its…Its Steve.” He said, looking down and playing with the soft lint on his blanket. He didn’t hear Bucky say anything but moments later a metal hand gripped his, stopping its nervous movements.

“Steve?”

Sam gulped, the coolness of Bucky’s hand in his warming his heart, swelling it with hope and an emotion Sam was too afraid to acknowledge.

“Steve, he – he talks to me.” Sam confessed and tentatively looked at Bucky whose eyes were brimming with emotion. He expected him to call him crazy, or to get mad, but what he did not expect was Bucky to shift closer and take Sam’s other hand in his too.

“He talks to me as well.” Bucky said. Sam was breathless, both by the slight smell of cinnamon that came from Bucky and the way Bucky came even closer, close enough that he could count the flecks in his eyes.

“He does?” Sam asked and Bucky nodded.

“I don’t know how he does it with you, but whenever I need him, miss him, I feel him speak to me from here.” With this Bucky placed one of Sam’s hand on his chest, the beating heart under thumping strongly. Unconsciously, Sam’s hand caressed Bucky’s chest, mapped its muscles and the jagged scars that bulged under his left shoulder.

“I see him.” Sam admitted, unable to look away from Bucky. “I can see him”

Tears blurred his vision until they dropped on his cheeks, sliding down, and forging a river down, leaving a trail of hurt, betrayal, and loss in their wake. Bucky’s hand came up to wipe them away, staying on Sam’s cheek, playing with the soft hair on his chin.

“I see him too. In you.” Bucky said and they didn’t know who moved first, but their foreheads were touching and then their lips met in a chaste, hesitant kiss. Sam melted into his touch, molding himself to fall into Bucky’s larger frame, his arms circling his waist and pulling him closer. They kissed as if they had walked a hundred miles just to kiss each other, as if they had saved every last breath just to live this moment.

“I – I, Buck –” Sam began but Bucky shushed him, pulling him into another soul-searching kiss before pulling away.

“I know.” He murmured.

As Sam relaxed in Bucky’s warm embrace, lost himself in the blues of Bucky’s eyes, he noticed Steve from the corner of his eyes. There was sadness on his face, the pain of a goodbye in the creases around his eyes. But when he smiled, he smiled with genuine love and happiness. The two parts of his soul he’d left behind seemed to have found themselves, and with them Steve felt himself complete.

“Till the end of the line pals.” He whispered.

Sam never saw Steve again.

Their Christmas was not very festive in terms of decoration. There was still too much pain, too much suffering in their hearts. Steve and Nat’s pictures beamed at them from the walls, and Sam sent Pepper the confirmation that they’ll come over for New Years.

It was a beautiful thing about human nature, about how one rises from the ashes to become stronger. Sam and Bucky lost someone, but they found each other. In the shared grieve of their hearts, they discovered the love long buried in there, eagerly waiting to be spread and shared.

They stayed warm under the blanket, wearing oversized sweaters that they wouldn’t be caught dead wearing outside. The sweaters may or may not have been Steve's; the soldiers mutually decided to hold Steve close in this way. Sam’s heart was tripled in size, as his head rested in the crook of Bucky’s neck, the smell of chocolate and cinnamon melting together to make a little world of their own. Sam wondered if he would mind growing out his hair again.

“So, what did you get me?” Sam asked, knowing he wouldn’t mind if Bucky did get him that ball gag. Part of him almost hoping for it.

“How rude Wilson, here I’ve given you all of myself and you still thirst for more.” Bucky mocked and Sam tackled him into a hug, peppering kisses all over his face.

“Bitch, you’re lucky I lo-” Sam cut himself off, suddenly shy. The smirk on Bucky’s face melted into a smile, a hungry look in his eyes.

“Say it” Bucky ordered. And Sam did. The Captain obeyed his Sergeant without hesitation.

“I love you. I love you so freaking much! I got us the cheesiest gifts.” Sam said in excitement. He pulled away long enough to grab his gift from under the bed, giving it to Bucky to open. He watched with his bottom lip between his teeth as Bucky opened the box to pull out two chains, each dangling with a rectangular pendant.

Dog tags.

Their dog tags. Bucky raised his eyes to Sam’s, fisting his hand in Sam’s t-shirt to pull him closer into a searing kiss, all tongue and teeth and moans, hips grinding as passion merged with love and emotion.

“I love you!” Bucky growled and kissed Sam again. “And I got you chocolates that look like dicks. I didn’t know this would happen between us when I bought them, and I was going to give you a hint with them.”

Sam’s laughter echoed around their small house, the dopey smile on his face remaining intact as they ate candy and burnt sparklers into the night. In the colourful light that played on their faces, they held hands together, filling the void that was there with the warmth of each other.

“We can use the shield as a sleigh until you’re comfortable using it as a weapon.” Bucky mused and Sam smiled into his neck, thinking of a certain blond asshole who may have gone away, but will never be lost.

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#ssholidaychallenge #sambucky #sam x bucky #sam wilson x bucky barnes #sam x steve #tfatws #fluff