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itslunarwritesstuff · 4 years

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City of Angels (Draft)

Word Count: 2,160

A/N: This is only a draft, barely edited so please be nice. I would appreciate the feedback and if you guys like this enough I will do a repost that is polished up and finished.

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The club life was something that she was unfamiliar with just a few months ago but after moving to this ‘city of angels’ as they call it, going out was as normal as breathing.

The back of Y/N’s neck lightly misted with sweat and the residue of the perfume and oils she put on earlier in the night, her friends were once by her side but have since migrated to different areas with different guys and girls, dancing on each other.

Having her fill of dancing by herself, for the time being, Y/N makes her way to the bar and pushes her empty glass towards the bartender and asks for water to have in between cocktails.

Sitting on the barstool she hears someone say “Hey” and when she spins around in her chair she sees an unfamiliar guy; pretty tall with obvious tattoos and a type of style that makes him serious but goofy at the same time and it worked for him. “Yes,” Y/N smiled showing him that it was okay to continue.

He looked a bit surprised by her reaction but recovered from the shock so quickly it was almost like it was never there in the first place. He pointed to her feet and said: “Just wanted to compliment you on your shoes, very flashy and I can honestly say I have never seen anything like them before.”

Y/N glanced at her the shoes of the topic, she completely forgot about her outrageous footwear.

She was wearing a 6-inch platform boot that was all decked out in rhinestones and a sharp black buckle.

“Thanks...Um, I’m sorry what is your name?” Y/N reached her hand out for him to shake.

Switching his drink to the opposite hand he takes her hand and shakes it gently,” No my bad, my names Pete” he laughs. “Probably should have led with that, And yours is..”

“Nice to meet you, Pete, my name is Y/N. How are you doing tonight” she says continuing the conversation and pointing to the seat next to her for him to take.

Y/N was hoping she wasn’t giving the guy the wrong idea, she was not looking for anything other than a good conversation since her friends were preoccupied at the moment.

“I’m doing pretty good just here with some friends. What about you?” Pete leans forward a bit so she can hear him better. “I’m actually here with some friends too,” Y/N says.

Pete looks a bit confused and says “But you have been dancing alone practically all night”

Y/N decided to joke with him a bit and say “Oh so you’ve been watching me all night” she laughed.

“Well with those shoes, honestly who couldn’t. But no actually my friend Colson actually spotted you.”

“Yeah sure, put the blame on the friend” Y/N laughed, this conversation was going smoother than she thought it would.

“Ha. Ha. Usually, that would be my cop-out but its actually true this time” Pete decided to point his friend out “There he is you can’t miss him, Redshirt and looking right at you...oh god” Pete muttered the last part under his breath, his friend being so obvious it hurt.

Colson quickly averted his gaze as someone behind him was trying to get his attention.

Stunned a bit by the exchange of eye contact Y/N could only mutter a small “Oh I see him” and quickly turned her attention back on the conversation she was having with Pete.

“Since your friends kind of vanished, do you want to come and hang with us? “ Pete asked being genuine.

“You sure they won’t mind me crashing,” Y/N asks just to make sure she isn’t intruding.

“Nah, besides Colson is actually really sweet. You’ll see” Pete grabs your wrist making sure you get through the crowd safely and not to lose you.

When the two of you make it to the section where they’re hanging out it only takes a minute for Pete to start introducing Y/N to everyone. The funny thing is Colson is the last one who comes over for introductions when he finally does meander over to her though she already has her hand outstretched for him. He kind of just stares at her hand for a moment, standing there awkwardly. So long in fact that another one of his friends, Slim hit him in the arm to snap him out of whatever daze he was in.

Colson coughed and finally took Y/N’s hand shaking it a bit longer than the others, but she didn’t stop him. Their eyes were locked and he said “I’m Colson” while she responded “Y/N”.

After letting go of each others grasp, Y/N tried to look anywhere but at him not wanting anyone to get the wrong idea, mostly herself. But to no avail, Colson’s gaze fell to Y/N’s shoes and he muttered a small “Woah”, “Hmm what was that” Y/N wasn’t quite sure what he said.

“Your shoes are so...Badass. You’re almost as tall as me and you look like you could beat the shit out of someone” and he actually smiled and in return, she did too feeling a lot better in this situation. “That’s exactly how I feel when I wear these. And frankly Shoes or not I am badass.” everyone around them laughed including Colson. “Oh trust me I can tell, can I get you a drink?” Y/N was taken aback by his question but decided it would be okay to put her guard down for the night and enjoy this time with new people. “Yeah sure. Just surprise me” usually when guys offered Y/N a drink she declined for obvious reasons, but she felt oddly at ease but full of electricity around Colson and they had only met each other moments ago. “Here you can come with me, just to make sure I’m not messing with it” obviously Colson was joking but he held his hand out for Y/N to take none the less. Hands fastened together he looks at Y/N, pulling her from their secluded corner into the ever-moving crowd and slowly make their way to bar tripping once on the way over someone’s foot. His hands steadied Y/N at her waist and it was then that she realized how pretty his eyes were. Breaking out of her trance much too soon, she had to keep her focus on the task at hand pointing at an opening in between the bodies on the dancefloor.

Colson is quick to push his way through the gap, not like it was that hard considering he was taller than most of the people there.

Getting to the bar he quickly asks “Do you like whiskey?” “Yeah” a short but true reply she had.

Motioning to the bartender Colson orders a “Casanova” but Y/N is wondering how the hell he got the bartenders’ attention so fast, and what kind of pull he had cause it usually took at least ten minutes or more to wait her turn to get a drink. “How did you do that,” Y/N asked obviously impressed and astonished. Colson looked at Y/N with the same astonished feature but confusion also set into his face.

“Wait really?” his tone was confused but not in a bad way. “What do you mean by really? It usually takes me forever to order a drink and for you it was instantaneous.�� Y/N chuckled.

When he figured out she really didn’t know who he was Colson honestly felt relieved.

“Oh that, I’m a musician with my friends over there. Except for Pete, he is a comedian.”

Y/N nodded understanding but not judging or asking more questions “That makes a lot of sense now, it can be really hard to make me laugh but he had me busting up earlier.”

Waiting for the drink to be made Colson agreed “Pete is honestly the funniest and one of the best people I know. We had a rough year a few years back and we really became closer because of it and helped each other through it” Colson did not understand why he was being so honest with this girl but something about her put him at ease which was hard to come by but he still tried to pull himself together.

“You guys speak really highly about one another, I like that. I can’t wait to find a friendship like that” Y/N said a sort of sad look washing across her face. “Why what are your friends like?” he asked.

Y/N laughed a bit coldly “You want to know what my friends are like. They are conniving and self-centered; not to mention they left me by myself pretty much right when we showed up here. I mean look around” Y/N pointed to a few of them scattered around with different hookups and most of them seem to have left.

“Well, it looks like you need some new friends.” Colson jokes his hand squeezing hers gently. Only just now did they both realize their hands were still clasped together; Y/N panicked and let go of him suddenly. Colson’s mood in his face dropped and Y/N said “I’m sorry… I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable. I just want to respect your space.” The light sprung back into his face and said “ If I didn’t like it, then you would know” and for the first time, he sees Y/N’s face flush pink and boy does he like it.

Their drinks are ready and it only takes Y/N a moment to start and finish hers.

Grabbing a hold of Colson’s hand again she decides to be bold considering she is most likely not going to see him again after tonight and wants to savor this feeling she has when she is around him.

Leaning up as much as she can in her shoes she asks softly in his ear “In that case want to dance with me before the night is over” Colson is silent and instead guides Y/N to the dancefloor and twirls her around by her hand and waist.

His hands are draped on her body and Y/N feels a drunk, not from the booze but just him and even though she knew how these things went down she let herself live in the moment.

After a few songs, the two of them went back to the area where all of Colson’s friends resided. Y/N had to let go of his hand, knowing that if she didn’t she wouldn’t be able to later.

Y/N stayed for a couple more hours just talking, drinking, and smoking with the group; exchanging stories about life.

Before the night came to a close Y/N’s feet were tired of these shoes so she excuses herself to the bathroom and grabs her bag from the coat check. Switching into a pair of flat sandals she makes her way back to the group of people she has spent the night getting to know.

It was close to being four in the morning and the dancefloor has thinned dramatically from when she first arrived and that’s when Y/N knows the night is ending sooner than later. Before getting back to the group Y/N looks for her friend who is supposed to be her ride; not seeing her anywhere Y/N walks back to the room where Colson, Pete, and the others reside and texts her friend.

Y/N: Where are you? Looking for you everywhere.

Friend: Got a date I’m bringing home. Figured you would be fine.

Y/N didn’t even bother answering, approaching the group with a huff she opens the Uber app.

If she knew she was going to have to take an Uber she would have brought some sort of form of protection like pepper spray.

“What’s deflated you?” Pete asks noticing her mood and lack of height from the boots.

“Yeah Literally” Colson points out.

“Oh yeah, I always bring backups for shoes like that,” Y/N says.

Pete definitely doesn’t miss that Y/N’s sandals are open-toed (with a fresh pedicure no less) and takes a second to glace at Colson and joke with him subtly.

But is brought back to the subject when Y/N groans again murmuring “Of course there are no rides available right now.”

Before Pete can ask Y/N what has her so frustrated again Colson beats him to it.

“You okay Y/N, wheres your friends”.

“They all left without me and I tried to get an Uber but there are no rides available. So now I’m going to call a cab company and hope for the best”.

“Nah you are not gonna take a cab this late” Pete says.

“Not to mention by yourself and drunk” Colson chimed in.

Y/N looked at them with a confused but understanding emotion on her face.

“I mean walking isn’t really safe but I don’t have many options” Y/N counters back.

The group seems to have a silent conversation between each other and agreeing on something.

Y/N was too buzzed to know what about though.

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stattic-writes · 5 years

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Fight Club

https://statticscribbles.tumblr.com/post/639099629845233664/masterlist

Support My Writing?

#archie andrews #sweet pea #jughead jones #fangs fogarty #joaquin desantos #riverdale #riverdale cw #riverdale imagine #riverdale fandom #riverdale fanfiction #written

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angelaiswriting · 5 years

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Lace | Sergei x reader

[original picture: pinterest]

✏️ Pairings: Sergei (Yurchenko) x fem!reader

✏️ Requested by Anonymous: Hi I love your writing so much and I just wanted to request a Sergei imagine about how the reader and him are taking it slow but she keeps teasing Sergei and it’s making him go crazy and if you want to do smut with it you can💛💛💛💛💛

✏️ A/N: holy mother of God! Have I... Is this... Is this my best smut ever?? I love this guy hahaha I got so horny at some point that I started to write so slowly it was pure torture HAHA

✏️ Warnings: slow burn + smut, so 18+ only!!! This is also hella long, a fucking dissertation on this guy’s penis and arousal probably.

✏️ Word-count: 8,408 (this is a motherfucking essay. kudos to you for reading, I love you)

REQUESTS ARE OPEN IF YOU WANT ME TO WRITE FOR YOU 💛

🎤 Song: Я так хочу... by Океан Ельзи (English translation) (is it okay if I add suggested songs to my stories?)

Jesus Christ, give me strength!

He cannot look away. Fucking shit, Sergei Yurchenko cannot look away from…

(O my God. Don’t look there!)

… from her fucking tits.

Oh God, he’s finally admitted it.

Sure, he’s not a saint, but he’s not a douche, either. Really. Sergei is a gentleman–the best gentleman one can find at Veles Taxi, that is. But Y/N… Fuck, when she’s present and she’s bent over the hood of his cab just like she is now and you can look underneath her blouse… It doesn’t matter that she’s half-yelling at him, repeating him that she is the one dispatching calls and not him and that he should do as she says, and she’s trying her hardest to drill the concept into his stone-hard skull. It doesn’t matter because from the driver’s seat he can see her black lace bra and holy mother of God, the things lace does to him…

He tries not to wiggle in his seat and even more, not to fix his pants–he already knows her speech by heart by now, so it’s not like he’s busy listening to her. What he’s busy with, though, is ogling those two hanging boobs that just…

Fuck, they do things to him.

For starters, they get him hard–fucking stone-hard, for his woods haven’t been called ‘woods’ ever since Y/N started to work for Anatoly and Vladimir Ranskahov at the garage.

And he should not–boy, I should yes–think of her that way. Shouldn’t think of fucking her senseless on the back seat of his cab and not even on the desk she uses at work. He shouldn’t think of how she might look under her blouses nor of how many fucking lace bras she owns–shouldn’t think of his hands on her hips and her above him as she unclasps said bras and throws them somewhere. He shouldn’t even think of those lipstick-coated lips as they wrap around his-

“Are you even listening to me?” Y/N yanks the driver’s door of his taxi open and shakes his shoulder. He looks up at her, his lips parted, eyes slowly trailing from her bosom to her lips and he tries his damn hardest to divert his mind from the sight of her bent over his car–he’s starting to think he’d like to take her from behind in that position, her breasts pressed against the metal surface of the hood, but he should not think of her that way. “I swear to God, Sergei! You can’t up and leave me without a car because you just want to get off the grid for a couple of hours! Let me do my work and I won’t fuck up yours.”

You’re already fucking me up, zayka, he thinks, but he doesn’t voice his thoughts.

“Da, da,” he groans instead and she moves to let him out of the car. His head is pulsing where his cheek met a punch, but it’s still more bearable than the throbbing inconvenience between his legs. He hopes and prays she won’t look down because he’s not sure his pants are doing much to conceal him.

“What in the world happened to your face?”

She grabs his chin before he can stop her and he hisses both in surprise and in slight pain. Her fingers are cold against his warm skin, her fingertips pressing so hard into his flesh that it’s almost like she’s grabbing his bones. It’s her payback and he knows he deserves it, it’s just that motherfucking douche deserved his fists.

Sergei tries to dismiss her worries, but she’s not moving away, she’s not taking her hand off of him. His breathing pattern slowly turns ragged and he has to force himself to keep breathing–slowly in from the nose, slowly out of the nose, it doesn’t matter if its bridge hurts–because he knows that if he lets his mind wander, he’ll have her pinned between his body and the wall.

“Jesus Christ, Yurchenko!” she groans, nostrils flaring, eyes hard as stone. “I can’t fucking believe you left me with one man less just because you wanted to pick up a fight!”

They both hear Piotr’s amused chuckle as he quickly clocks out to go home for the night. He yells a final exclamation before leaving the garage, one only Sergei understands because Petya makes sure to use Russian, a language Y/N still doesn’t speak. Fuck her already, he smirks and boy, if only Sergei could…

But there’s some age gap between him and Y/N, and he… He doesn’t know, he’s insecure. It’s not even that much, but who knows if she’d entertain the idea? He should just stop having those thoughts about her, leave her the fuck alone, but even her cheap perfume draws him in like a magnet.

“I will tell Vladimir next time.” It’s a promise, he knows, and as he stares into her eyes, he knows she wants to do it now–she’s pissed, she’s mad, they probably lost a couple of clients because he felt so insulted he needed to throw some punches, but she still holds back. Her fingers are still on his chin, their grasp not as hard now, and she doesn’t make a move to step back and let him go. “You can’t just do this,” she sighs after a minute or two and slightly shakes her head.

He feels like holding her, like wrapping his arms around her waist. He wants to feel her flush against him–just for once, just to know what it feels like–but he, too, doesn’t move. “I will call next time,” he finds himself promising. It won’t happen, they both know it, but it doesn’t exactly matter.

“You won’t.” Her fingers leave his skin and she takes a step back. Sergei has to stop himself from taking a step forward, closing the distance, or at least reducing it. “Because you won’t do such a thing again. Now give me a lift home.”

The passenger’s seat of his car still smells like her the next morning. Sergei doesn’t know if it’s just an illusion or if her perfume still really lingers on the leather seat, but it doesn’t matter. He stares at it longer than he realizes and it’s Piotr that brings him back to reality, banging on his window and laughing like the dick he is.

“What the fuck were you doing?” Piotr’s tone is amused when Sergei finally gets out of the car. There’s an exchange of cigarettes and lighters and for a moment they both keep quiet, enjoying the harsh drag of the smoke as it reaches their lungs.

It’s a welcoming feeling, a morning ritual before starting their shift. They often don’t have a problem smoking during their cab rides–clients can either go fuck themselves or shut the fuck up–but it’s still good to have a few minutes of peace before starting the day.

“So?”

Sergei shrugs his shoulders. He looks up at the clear morning sky, puffs out the smoke and takes a deep breath of the chilly air. “What?”

“What were you staring at?”

Another shrug. “Nothing.” He doesn’t mention the ride he’s given Y/N the night before, nor that he’s had to relieve himself in the shower, nor that he’s found it hard enough to fall asleep. He doesn’t even know what it is exactly that does this to him–doesn’t know why she has this effect on his body and his mind–but there’s nothing he can do to stop himself from feeling like a horny teenager around her.

Piotr takes a long drag from his cigarette and stares long and hard at his buddy. “Did you drink?” he enquires. “Because if you’re drunk and she finds outs…” He chuckles, his thumb drawing an invisible line that cuts all the way across his throat.

“I’m not drunk.” Sergei’s answer is a grunt. He hasn’t drunk in ages and he’s proud of that, he doesn’t want to… to go back there, do the shit he’s done when he hit rock bottom. “And she-”

But he’s cut off when he sees her walk through the open gate that looks on the garage’s backyard. His breath is cut short and his next drag from the cigarette is harsh, it hisses in the clear morning air.

It’s like he’s alone not just in the yard, but in the whole world, too, and she’s right there with him. He’s that desperate. And when she greets him and Piotr with a smile, Sergei likes to think she’s smiling at him.

With a whistle, Piotr calls his usual ‘Privyet’ and while his friend hears it, he doesn’t see his omnipresent smirk.

She looks… so good in that flowery dress of hers. It’s always breathtaking to see her in a skirt and not in her usual jeans–and Sergei has to admit that her legs are a fucking weak spot of his. He imagines his rough hands trailing up her soft skin, from the ankles to her knees to her thighs as he spreads them open to-

Stop it.

She’s too much for him, more than he deserves, and he knows this, really, he does. She’s her and he’s… well, he is what he is. There is no way she’ll ever… ever consider anything more than a friendship with him. And yet, this doesn’t do anything to stop his fantasizing.

He wonders if she’s wearing a lace bra today, too. And what color it is. And how it feels to the touch.

“Yurchenko has a crush?”

When he turns to his left, he sees Piotr chuckling like a kid faced with the hottest secret he could ever find. Sergei doesn’t answer: he grits his teeth, clenching his jaw so hard the bone feels like breaking, and he throws his cigarette to the ground.

“Holy shit!” There’s a gasp at that realization. Piotr is rarely surprised by things, but when it comes to his best buddy… Yeah, holy shit. Seriozha is a grown man, he’s probably been with more women than Piotr will ever know, and yet, to see him squirm like that in front of that girl… It’s almost hilarious.

“I will fucking end you.” Sergei is not looking at him, but Piotr knows he’s serious. Maybe he won’t actually kill him, but not even God will be able to stop him from punching that shit-eating smirk off of his friend’s face.

“Give me a lift home?”

When Sergei gets out of the toilet after a long day in his cab, the last thing he’d have expected was to find her right there, in the corridor waiting for him. He’s taken aback and he stops in his tracks: she looks tired and her shift should have ended two hours ago, when Ivan took her place, but she’s still here.

He’s tired, too, but she’s a sight for sore eyes–for sore everything, to be honest. He heaves a sigh without even realizing it. He doesn’t stop to wonder why she’s not asked this to Piotr, or to Vladimir, who’s left earlier than usual today. It’s almost comforting to realize she’s been waiting for him long after the end of her shift and not because she had to scold him.

“Sure.” His voice croaks and he starts to move again.

He leads her to his car, his hand on the middle of her back. Neither of them knows how that hand ended up there, but she doesn’t move away and he doesn’t, either.

She’s warm under his touch. She somehow feels real–which is really a stupid thought, Sergei curses himself. Of course, she’s real! But it’s weirdly comforting to know she is, after all, really real and not a product of his imagination. And it’s not like they haven’t touched before–even if not how he’d like to touch her–but…

But his mind is derailing and he has to stop the course of his thoughts.

They’re both quiet when they enter the car and there, in that confined space, Sergei feels his throat close up. It’s almost like he doesn’t know how to breathe anymore. All he feels is her: her perfume as it tickles his nostrils, her gaze as he turns the key and the engine roars, her presence right there, a few inches from him.

The car feels cramped, but it’s a weirdly pleasant feeling. He knows that, if he only tried, he could touch her–he could stretch his hand out and grab hers, hold hers as he drives. He could even move his hand slightly now, as soon as he removes it from the stick shift, and brush his fingers against hers.

He likes to think she’d let him touch her. It doesn’t have to be sexual, obviously, even just her hand in his would feel like heaven.

“Would you like a drink?” He finds himself asking. The shock of his proposal cuts his breath short–both because he’s suddenly anxious she might say no and because he hasn’t had a drink in what feels like forever. There’s no reason to get back to drinking, just as there’s no reason why a drink should catapult him back where he had fallen last time.

“I’d love that, Sergei.” She smiles–he sees it from the corner of his eye–and she’s staring right at him.

He dares a quick glance at her, a shy smile tugging at his lips before he returns his attention back to the road.

I’d love that. Those three words feel good. It’s like a weight has finally been lifted from his shoulders and his stomach and his heart and he can breathe again. Sergei. His name has never sounded better than falling from her lips–and if that night was meant to end in failure, he’d still feel like a hero, for hearing her call his name was better than anything else in existence.

“Good,” he nods.

Right after that, he mentally scolds himself. Good. What kind of answer was that?

Fuck.

He hasn’t been with a woman in so long he’s forgotten when the last time was. The fear to ruin everything creeps up his spine, shocking his muscles so hard that they tense.

He doesn’t remember much about last night, but this time it’s not because he drank too much.

All he remembers are her lips pressing against the rim of the beer bottle, her eyes smiling at him as she listens to his usual bullshit, her thigh pressing against his in the packed space of the booth.

I love to listen to you talk–her confession is still swirling in his mind. The music had suddenly become loud when someone decided to resuscitate the dying party and she had to scream those words into his ear. Her lips had brushed against his skin, her nose brushing against his earlobe and his hair, her chest against his shoulder to keep her balance.

He wasn’t proud to say it, but the boner he’d gotten from that contact had kept on bugging him until he dropped her off at her place–would she notice? Would she point it out? Would it creep her away?

The fear still lingers: he didn’t see her all day, for today was her day off, and as he stands in front of her apartment building, he’s not sure he wants to go up to her door. But he has a bottle of red wine in his hand–still new, he hasn’t drunk from it and he’s damn proud of it–and he doesn’t want to bring it home, where he could do some shit.

So, he enters the building, walks up the stairs and stops in front of her door. His hand stills mid-air, almost knocking, when he realizes he should have probably called her. What if she’s not home? Or, even worse, what if she is home but with some guy? It’s not like they’re best friends–even though he likes to consider himself a friend of hers; he knows close to nothing about her private life.

His fist falls back down at his side and he’s suddenly second-guessing everything–his presence here, the chance he’d like to have with her, the smiles she sends him…

Someone coughs behind him and he feels like a deer caught in flashlights. His whole body tenses up, his fist tightens. “Are you a friend of the sweet girl that lives here?”

It’s just an old lady, he realizes with a sigh when he turns around. His muscles relax, his brain starts working again. He nods, uncertain–is he, though?

“Well, you should knock, then,” she goes on. The unknown lady does nothing to go back into her apartment. Behind her, Sergei can see a tidy hall and the light of a television reflecting off the mirror at the end of the corridor. He can see himself in it, too, and as he stares at his reflection, he wonders why Y/N should give him a chance–half his face is still bruised, part of his bottom lip is still slightly swollen.

“I-” What was he going to say? He doesn’t know. He sees himself swallow in the mirror, his head towering above that of the old woman, and all he wants is to flee that place. “I don’t know if she’s home,” he eventually confesses, his gaze meeting that of the woman.

“She always is,” the neighbor shrugs. She probably belongs to the nosy type, Sergei thinks, but he’s somehow happy she’s caught him.

They stare at each other for a few minutes after that, none of them saying a word, and the silence is weird and uncomfortable. Sergei shuffles his feet, stares down at his shoes for a second before the door in front of him closes shut without the woman uttering a good-bye.

He doesn’t mind it.

He just turns around and knocks on Y/N’s door before his mind can stop him again.

“Sergei?” She’s surprised when she opens the door, but a smirk tugs at the corner of her lips before she’s fully smiling at him. “What are you doing here? Come in.”

He walks through the door and it’s like walking through an invisible veil. While he was nervous in the corridor just a few moments ago, a wave of calmness and peace washes over him when he passes her and stops a few steps from the door.

His deep breath is met by her quick, unexpected hug before she closes the door behind her back.

“I…” He holds the bottle up between them, almost like a shield in case he needed any protection. But when his insecurities come back, a frown settles on his eyebrows. “I thought I would… stop by?” It comes out like a question. But it doesn’t matter because her smile turns brighter and she takes the bottle he’s handing her.

She grabs his hand in her free one and leads him into her house. “I’m happy to see you.”

His thumb absentmindedly brushes against her skin, but he doesn’t even realize it. He feels light and suddenly his mind is emptied of all his worries. And this time the effect lasts.

Things get busy after that night and Sergei finds himself struggling between the legal and the illegal sides of his job. Because of this, his free time is cut short and he barely sees Y/N. Vladimir and Anatoly keep him busy for days with ‘the business’ and all Sergei can think about is that Piotr gets to see her every day.

His insecurities come back with the same force of a freight train.

Piotr knows his secret. What if he spills it? Or what if he decides to ignore it and claim the girl for himself?

Sergei trusts his friend, but he also knows how he is with women. Petya is a fucking Casanova, while he is… trapped in the mud of his past, probably. Piotr knows what to do and what to say to a woman on any occasion. He knows how to make them laugh and how to make them moan. He doesn’t even have to worry because, with a face like that, it’s women that fall at his feet and not the other way around.

Therefore, it’s always hard to focus on the task Sergei is given. He wants to at least play his cards with her and if he’s doomed to fail, then so be it, but at least he’ll be able to tell that he tried. At the same time, though, he doesn’t know what to do. Nor how to do it. He hasn’t put himself out there in so long he fears of making a fool of himself.

But Y/N would never mock him. Or would she?

Anatoly notices his mind is somewhere else and he approaches him one night. “Whatever’s distracting you, forget about it.” Both of them know those words weren’t meant to come out that hash, but there’s no way to swallow them back down.

“Nothing’s on my mind,” is Sergei’s lie.

He still manages to do his job quite well, though, even if he ends up with more bruises than usual–no stitches this time, however, so he’s quite content. It still doesn’t matter, though, because tomorrow he’s going back to his usual job and he’ll be able to see her. And, probably, to know if he’s lost any chance he might have had before he disappeared for all these days.

He’s just got out of the shower when his phone beeps. And as he reads Piotr’s name on the screen, worries and thoughts of failure swarm his mind like locusts.

I gave Y/N your address, hope you don’t mind.

Sergei doesn’t understand those words. What does that mean? Why would she need to know where he lives? Not like it’s supposed to be a secret, of course, but… Unless it’s to tell him to fuck off. That she has Piotr now and she’s happy and taken.

But Piotr would have probably bragged about it. Right?

She heard you came back beaten up and she was worried, was the next message. Piotr might have noticed Sergei was online and that he had read the message, that he was probably still staring at the screen of his phone like the fucking coward he was and thought well of expanding his explanation. Stop dancing around her and make your fucking move.

The last message irks Sergei. He throws the phone on his bed as he hastily puts on his boxers.

Not your fucking business, he writes back before grabbing the first pair of sweatpants he finds in his wardrobe. He doesn’t want to be found there half-naked, not by her–it doesn’t matter he’d like to see her naked and that he’d also like for her to see him naked.

Dickhead. Make your fucking move before she gets tired of waiting for you!

Sergei frowns at those words. He’d like to ask what the meaning behind them is, but he’s too scared. Too scared of deluding himself into thinking someone like her might actually even consider liking someone like him back.

He doesn’t have the time to type a reply because someone knocks on his door and he’s suddenly sprinting down the corridor. It’s not until he opens the front door and hears her gasp that he realizes he should have put a shirt on.

“What the hell, Sergei?” she whisper-yells when she sees the bruises on his ribcage.

He’s suddenly ashamed–of himself, of his job, of his bruises, of his messy apartment.

She pushes him back into the hallway and even when her hands leave his chest to close the door, he still feels that contact.

“It’s nothing,” he tries to apologize–even if there’s nothing to apologize for.

“This is not ‘nothing’! And oh my God, your brow is bleeding!” And with those words, she’s taking his face in her hands again to examine the cut above his left eye.

He doesn’t say anything, not even a word.

“Come on, let me clean it up.”

Sergei doesn’t tell her he’s just gotten out of the shower and that, therefore, the cut is as clean as it can be. He simply leads her to his bedroom and then into the bathroom to pick up the first-aid kit.

Steam is still lingering in the air when she pushes him down on the closed toilet. She kneels in front of him and dabs his cut with trembling hands.

“You disappeared,” she finally says after an endless silence.

He’s facing her back, but he can still make out her features on the fogged mirror. “I’m sorry,” he says back, not exactly knowing what else to say. “Work,” he adds after a while when she’s put the box of the first-aid kit back under the sink.

“I was worried,” she continues and this time she turns around and faces him.

“I’m sorry.”

She nods twice before lowering her gaze, her hands fidgeting with each other.

He wants to speak. He desperately wants to. But he doesn’t know what to say. ‘I’m sorry, I had to help kill a man’ didn’t sound like the thing you’d want to tell the woman you like.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asks, looking back up at him and finding him a step closer.

The bathroom suddenly feels smaller.

He nods.

“Would you tell me otherwise?”

There’s a chuckle before Sergei stops to actually think about it. He’s another step closer now. “Yes,” he eventually admits, surprising himself and her as well. Yes, he would tell her. He might not have the balls to tell her he likes her, but he’d probably be honest about his well-being with her.

But when her lips press up against his, he doesn’t have to worry anymore. He’s taken aback at first, surprised by the unexpected gesture, his eyes staring into hers, so close he feels her lashes brush against his cheekbones.

There’s a trembling breath on her part before he drags her closer with a grunt, her eyes finally falling closed, her body pressed up against him as he backs her against the sink. Its edge cuts into her back, but she doesn’t feel it, not now.

She’s putty in his arms and Sergei has to hold back a sob. There will be a time to take all this in, but it’s not now, not with her hands crawling up his bare arms and around his neck, pressing his head closer to hers, the kiss a clash of lips and teeth and tongues.

His hands fall lower, down the curve of her back until they grab her buttcheeks and he pulls her closer against him. He grunts and she moans and hers is the sweetest sound Sergei has heard in literally forever. His fingers knead the flesh and she’s almost purring, her breath quick and ragged against the skin of his face.

His lips slowly leave hers and press kisses along her jawline, his tongue swiping over every inch he kisses. Her skin is smooth and soft and he can’t get enough of it, not even when his mouth reaches her neck and starts suckling on its sensitive skin.

She quietly moans in his ear when he sucks on her sweet spot and he grins against her skin, pressing his pelvis harder against hers. He’s growing harder and he can only hope she’s growing wetter.

When she softly calls his name, he moans against her jaw. “Why did it take you so long?”

He chuckles at that. His hand slips into her pants and panties and his fingers press against her core. “Were you waiting for me?” He’s honestly terrified of what her answer could be, but she’s letting him tease her pussy, so it can’t be that bad. Right?

“Yes.” Her answer is a moan and as his forefinger presses against her clit, her head falls back. “Fuck, yes.”

She’s breathing hard and all Sergei can do is drink her in–closed eyes, kiss-swollen lips, flushed skin. She’s a fucking goddess and…

And this must all be a dream. Or his personal version of seven minutes in heaven before he dies for real and goes down to hell.

He removes his hand from her pants and grabs her hips, pushing himself closer against her, hiding his face in the crook of her neck. Her arms wrap around him and all he can do is breathe her in. “Will you be here at morning?”

“I will.”

Sergei needs nothing else: he picks her up in his arms and when she wraps her legs around his waist, he can’t help but buck his hips up against her. When he looks up at her, she’s grinning down at him. She grinds herself against him and he groans at the soft moan she lets out.

He looks up at her and he’s breathless. Even when he lays her down on his undone bed, he has to remind himself to keep breathing, for her eyes are drawing him in, they make him forget his own name.

There’s a question burning the tip of his tongue–Are you sure? Are you sure you want this with me?–but he can’t bring himself to voice it, not when she’s looking up at him with glossy eyes, lips parted, breath short.

She giggles. “Stop staring at me.” Her hands come up to cover her face, but his are quicker: his fingers wrap around her wrists and he gently forces them on the mattress on either side of her.

He doesn’t say anything. He just dips his head down and pecks her lips before sucking on her lower lip, his body better nuzzling between her legs. Her skin is flushed as he kisses her neck; her chest rises and falls quickly against his. He loses himself every time her chest touches his and he can’t stop the slow grinding of his hips against hers.

He’s held back for so long that he can’t stop himself now. He doesn’t want to stop himself. Doesn’t see why he should in the first place.

“I want to see you,” he whispers against her ear and she shivers in his arms. “Can I?”

She moans when he asks that and she pushes her shoulder against him to prompt him to sit up. At first, he’s scared–fuck, she’s pushing him away, he stepped over an invisible line and now she’s done with him, she doesn’t want to have anything to do with him anymore. But then her hands grab the hem of her shirt and she quickly pulls it off.

Sergei is left breathless.

That’s lace.

That’s motherfucking lace.

His knees, pressing into the mattress he’s kneeling on, turn weak and he almost falls forward, against her.

That’s… that’s probably too much. That lace bra compliments her skin so much that he can now feel his dick throbbing in his briefs. And when she pushes him to lay down on the bed and she climbs over him, his eyes roll back into his head.

“Are you okay?” The tone of her voice is concerned, but he can barely register it, for his mind has momentarily forgotten anything about English.

Her face is millimeters from his when he opens his eyes again. His fingers graze the skin of her sides and up until they skim against her lace bra.

Holy mother of God.

They both moan when he swipes his thumbs across her nipples, turning them into hardened buds a little more with each stroke.

Sergei Yurchenko is in a fucking trance and he can’t look away. Not even when she grinds down against him. His eyes are glued to her lace-covered breasts and it’s almost as though his lungs have stopped working. His mind is empty, his blood has all rushed to his loins.

He seems to come back to reality when he notices her hands are now behind her back, trying to unclasp her bra. “Keep it on,” he groans, bucking his hips upward once before turning her with her back to the bed. “A little longer,” he adds, lips brushing against hers, hands running down her arms.

She holds her breath when his kisses glide down her neck and her cleavage before moving to her breasts. Hands bruising on her hips, his own grinding slowly against the mattress, Sergei wraps his lips around her left nipple and he sucks hard before swiping his tongue over it. He goes on like that for what feels like an eternity, until she’s a squirming mess under his heavy body and she begs him to stop, she threatens to come.

He wouldn’t mind that.

Not one bit.

But he still stops–or, better, he focuses on something else. His lips move down her abdomen, they leave open-mouthed kisses on her right hip as his fingers hook under the hem of her pants. He takes them off slowly, making sure to maintain eye contact with her, and this time he has Piotr’s same shit-eating grin on his face.

Then, when her pants have almost reached her ankles, his eyes catch the turgid nipples visible from under her bra and he groans. He yanks her pants off and has to resist the urge to touch himself.

His calloused hands are coarse against the smooth skin of her ankles, of her calves, of her knees. But she doesn’t move away, she doesn’t cower under his touch. She simply moves her hands against her own skin, from her belly then up, until she’s cupping her breasts, back slightly arching under his burning gaze.

He kneels down, between her legs, and he kisses the inside of her thighs ever so slowly, and softly, and tenderly.

It’s almost as though he’s never stopped having sex and, at the same time, it all feels new. The way she meowls under his touches, or shivers at the feeling of his stubble brushing against her tender skin. She calls his name in whispers, like a prayer, and all he does is smile against her flesh as he inches closer to her core.

Lace panties.

The thought that maybe she’s always worn lace in the hopes of getting bedded by him does cross his mind. And even though there’s no certainty behind it, even though he knows it’s just one of his billion illusions, he likes to think that way.

He inhales sharply against her before leaving a kiss on her.

It’s all so fucking…

Fucking…

Sergei can’t think anymore as he removes those panties from her body and all she’s left in is a damn lace bra.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

It feels like dying and coming back to life straight after. He could literally purr at the sight of her, splayed on his bed in nothing but the same lace he’s often–always–fantasized about.

His mind goes to Piotr for a fraction of second–God bless that motherfucker for giving Y/N his address. But it’s all over before he can even realize that thought.

Because when she begs him–begs ‘Sergei’ in the lewdest voice possible–he bends lower and swipes his tongue over her labia. He groans at her wetness and the vibrations make her squirm, they make her beg harder, moans turning into a soft litany as he goes straight for her clit.

He gives it a gentle lick, then a rougher one, and before they both know it, he’s pushed a rough finger into her pussy. All he can think is, she’s so fucking tight. He loves it, it makes him grind harder into the mattress as his lips latch around her clit to give it a harsh suck.

They’re both panting now. And the fact that he is the cause of her quick and labored breathing–his tongue and lips and stubble and fingers, for he now has two thrusting slowly into her–brings his arousal to the next level. To the next thousand levels.

One of her hands moves to the back of his head to push his face harder into her, the other is tugging at her right nipple. Her toes curl and her thighs close in on Sergei’s head, but he doesn’t seem to care as he eats her out. He keeps up his work even when the walls of her vagina start clamping down harder on his fingers and the arch of her back deepens and her moans increase in volume.

Sergei. Sergei. Sergei.

It’s a new mantra. He–a new god being begged and prayed upon.

He feels like he’s going crazy, like he’s going on fire just by pleasuring her.

When she comes–and she comes hard on his face and on his fingers–she’s breathless, thighs a cage around his head and he has to fight his way out of it, a grin plastered on his lips.

He kisses his way up her belly, the valley of her breasts, her neck. His body pushes down harder against hers, hands moving underneath her and grabbing her shoulders, tongue lavishing the sweaty skin of her neck. His hips lull against hers as he breathes her in, kisses her shoulders, the dip in her collarbone, her cheeks, her lips.

It takes her some time to come back to reality, and a little longer for her arms to wrap around his solid, Ukrainian body. She smiles under his kisses, exhaling hard from the nose, and she pecks his lips, presses hard against them because that’s the only thing she’s able to do now, her body and mind and soul still swimming in pure bliss as her body shivers and her core throbs and her nipples, as hard as stone, hurt against his muscular chest. He’s her anchor, keeping her grounded to the ground–or mattress–and she’s glad he’s here with her–for her. She’s glad she forced Piotr to give her Sergei’s address in the first place and she’s glad she’s come, she’s glad she’s kissed him. Heck, she’s glad she’s kept on her lace lingerie for she now thinks he loves it.

And the longer he holds her, the quicker she calms down–and comes back to him. He’s not even aware of his hips ever so slowly grinding against hers until she moans–low and guttural from the base of her throat–and she bucks up against him.

His lips resume their kisses and they glide over her skin, following her collarbones, hands moving from underneath her to slide the straps of her bra down her shoulders.

As he looks down at her, a smile tugging at his and her lips alike, he swears she looks like an angel. The lamps of the bathroom shed light on the side of her face and–fuck–isn’t she the best vision he’s ever had. He stops what he’s doing and he bows his head, captures her lips in a kiss–lingering and bruising and slow and deep, all at the same time. And he doesn’t want to pull away–nor does she.

One of his hands glides down the side of her body, holds her hip in place as he presses harder against her, almost as though he wants to become one body and one soul with her.

He feels like he’s ready to die. And all the mistakes of his past seem stupid and important at the same time, and he’d do them over and over again if they’d still bring him here, in this bed, with this woman calling his name like a prayer against his lips.

But human nature is what it is and his erection is uncomfortable, caged in both his briefs and his pants, pressed up against her dripping cunt. And so, his arms wound themselves around her waist, they push back again underneath her. His fingers unclasp her bra and when she sighs in contentment, he groans and his hips buck forward with the force of an animal.

“Sergei.”

She calls his name again and he loses it–loses his mind and his control over his body and he swears he could come right then and there if she called his name like that again. He hums, forehead falling forward to rest in the crook of her neck when her hands slide down his back, fingernails lightly scratching his skin before slipping underneath his pants and boxers, grabbing his buttcheeks in a steel-hard grip. His hips buck forward of their own accord and he gasps and she moans.

And she arches against his chest, her bra an annoying barrier between the skin of her breasts and that of his pecs.

There’s no time to think, for her hands are trying to push his clothes down her body, but she can only reach underneath his ass. She groans and he sucks hard at the base of her neck, scraping his teeth against her skin before lapping at it with his tongue. And when he’s happy with his work, he holds her tight and rolls over on his back.

The pressure of her weight on his rock-hard dick is almost too much and he groans hard, holding her hips and dragging her back and forth against him for a couple of seconds before she finally yanks her bra down her arms and throws it behind her back.

Tits plump and nipples beaded–she’s a motherfucking vision.

He calls her name and she moans softly, under her breath. His fingers walk on the skin of her arms, they trace her collarbones and slowly, slowly, slowly they reach her nipples. Skin on skin, the contact is amazing: it ignites a fire that seems to travel down her spine and straight to her core and she has to–she has to–grind against him once again before she moves down between his legs. She kisses his V-line, her breath tickling his skin and her lips sending waves of arousal to his already throbbing dick.

All he can think about is her pussy wrapped around him and he has to refrain from manhandling her and pushing into her, for he feels like they have both waited too long, too much, too hard.

But he sighs when she takes his sweatpants and boxers down his legs, letting them fall to the ground. His dick arches back against his stomach and he hisses when its head brushes against the skin of his abdomen.

She moans when she sees him–hard and veiny and leaking pre-cum–and her hand travels down her belly until it stops between her legs. Sergei’s hips buck up into the air at the sight of her fingers teasing her clit and when they make eye contact, they’re both ready to devour each other.

A string of adults-only Russian leaves his lips like fingers counting rosary beads when she settles between his legs, hands running up and down his thighs. Eye-level with his cock, she’s a vision to behold. But when her tongue slips past her lips and drags a stripe up his dick, from base to tip, pressing hard against the vein on his underside, he’s forced to close his eyes.

His hands wrap the sheets into fists when she starts peppering kisses on his shaft, breath hot and damp against his burning skin. Her fingers tease his balls, her tongue flattens itself against his erection and moves upward until she’s kissing his angry-red head. She sucks on it, and she hums, and lost in the pleasure of the moment, Sergei bucks up and shoves his dick further into her mouth.

But he can’t…

He doesn’t…

“Y/N.” His voice is weak, his hands demanding as they push her shoulders.

When she looks up at him, devil-tongue licking those angel-lips, he’s panting, breath ragged as it drives up his throat.

“I know,” she whispers, kissing up his torso and paying attention to each one of his bruises. Her tongue soothes the stinging away, her kisses leave burning skin behind.

“Condom,” he says–he wants to fuck her raw, but he guesses there’s going to be time for that later. He hopes there’s going to be time for that later. “Bedside table.”

She’s quick at coming back. She sits on his thighs and he stares as she rips the foil open. It’s new for him–to have a woman to wrap him up and not do it himself. Raptured, his eyes are glued to her every movement: the way she pinches the tip of the condom, how she grabs his dick at the base, the way she rolls the latex down his length. And then, the way she perches herself on his shoulder with one hand as the other guides him to her entrance before sinking down on him in one swift movement.

It’s… mind-emptying. It locks his muscles and tenses his body like a bowstring.

She is… “So fucking tight,” he lets out in a huff.

She’s panting above him, lips brushing against the side of his neck as his hands grab her hips tight.

She’s so tight and so wet and so fucking hot he feels himself being tugged into another astral plane. There’s no other fucking explanation for the way he’s feeling–nor for the way she feels wrapped around him like a glove.

They both lay there for a while, breathing each other in, feeling each other’s skin–and each other’s breath on each other’s skin. It’s heaven and hell and purgatory combined and they both wonder why they haven’t done this sooner, why they’ve kept on being cowards for so long.

Because right now… Boy, right now it feels so fucking right. Like they belong there, on that bed, his dick up her vagina, her breasts pressed against his chest, lips blindly searching each other as they both try to breathe.

He holds her closer, hands bruising on her doll-skin. And she lightly bites the skin of his shoulder and when she slightly moves, they both moan and hiss and gasp. It’s a fucking symphony no one but them is able to hear.

Then, ever so slowly, he pulls his hips back, ass pressing down harder into the mattress, before he thrusts back into her. Y/N whimpers, Sergei moans. They lull each other slowly before the fire in their stomachs starts to build again and it becomes a raging hell.

She plants her hands on his pecs and pushes herself up and the change in angle leaves them both breathless. It takes them a while, but when she starts to move, to bounce on his dick, the rhythm increases.

And, once again, she’s a sight to behold. Her breasts bounce with every movement and he can’t stop himself: he reaches his hands up and grabs a hold of them. He massages the skin, tugs on the nipples, and she’s a whimpering mess under his touches. And when his gaze wanders lower…

Fuck–his hips buck up hard and he ends up deep into her and she squeezes down on him, wrapping around him so hard that…

Fuck.

He can’t look away from the sight of her pussy running up and down his dick. He’s fucking entranced and he moans at the sight, moans at the feeling.

There’s no holding back now–not now that he sees his dick shoved up into her, condom glistening with her wetness under the light of the bathroom. He picks up the rhythm, arms wrapping around her body and pulling her back down flush against him.

Her breasts pressed against him feel like heaven; her moans a sinful humming in his ears. It’s his name again–Sergei. Sergei. Sergei. Sergeisergeisergeisergei. Rhythm and volume pick up with each thrust of his hips and his back arches without him being able to stop it.

His hands trail down her back, glide over the curve of her ass, grab her buttcheeks like she’s done with him before–but harder. He squeezes the flesh and he pounds harder and the wet sound of his dick thrusting in and out is the only intelligible sound in the room as he grunts and she moans.

His orgasm strikes him like lightning. Like a punch to his stomach that leaves him breathless. He tenses under her, hips pushing upwards and deeper into her spasming pussy.

She follows him right after and she, too, tenses in his arms and she tries to squirm away for the force of her climax robs her brain of its ability to function. And his hips slowly and sloppily thrusting into her are too much and his throbbing and twitching dick is too much and his arms around her are too much and his body under hers is too much. And she comes again, lightly this time, but she’s still shivering and quivering and whimpering as she tries to recover from the second orgasm of her night. And she tries to breathe so hard it almost hurts and it takes her a while to feel Sergei’s lips and tongue lapping at the flushed skin of her neck.

The next morning, when Sergei wakes up, he can barely move. His body hurts and aches and his dick is still sensitive, even more sensitive now that it’s hardened by his morning erection. The muscles in his thighs and arms are sore, the bruise on the side of his ribcage thrums dully through his morning haze.

“Good morning.”

He turns his head quickly at the sound of that voice, skull throbbing through his recovery phase from Vladimir and Anatoly’s job.

His breath gets stuck in the back of his throat when he sees her there: disheveled hair, swollen lips, soft skin beaming in the early morning light. His hand reaches out, traces the profile of her jaw, trails down her neck before it gently grabs one of her boobs and stops there. Its weight is strangely comforting, it brings him back to last night.

And he smiles.

He scoots closer to her, leaves a kiss on each of her nipples before he presses his lips against hers and she giggles.

Her arms are welcoming–and warm, so warm he feels like losing himself in their embrace–and they tug at him until he’s hovering over her, his head dipped down to kiss her cheeks and her neck and her shoulders.

They still have a couple of hours before going to work and they plan on making the most of them.

Raw, this time.

This is not even my wildest smut, but I’m still wondering: where is Jesus when I need him?

Tell me what you think of this pls I’m still dying at the thought this is 23 motherfucking pages on Google Doc. Good job for reaching the end btw!! You can now consider yourself my best friend, this is true dedication haha

TAGS (to be added to or to be removed from any list, shoot me an ask. Same goes for ‘Bratva’)

Everything: @idhrenniel @saibh29 @fuckthatfeeling @aya-fay @pebblesz892 @mblaqgi

Bratva (people not on the lists but that might still be interested): @sweetvengeancee @theranskahovs @brobachev (this is not Vladimir but maybe you’re interested in Sergei too? @kellydixon01)

#sergei daredevil #sergei daredevil x reader #daredevil imagine #reader insert #angelaiswriting

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wonderlandmind4 · 5 years

Text

Delicate Stages Drabbles 15

Feeling That You Get

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC

Summary: Drabbles following Delicate Stages. Looking into the life of Bucky and Ana.

Warnings: Language. Fluff. Implied smut.

Words: 4.7k

A/N: Finally! Sorry it took so long for this one, as it tends to set up the next drabbles to follow, which will be the endgame now (See what I did there :D )(Do not read unless you’ve read Delicate Stages first)

Five Months Later:

Bucky is doubled over laughing, has been laughing for the past five minutes and he swears he hasn’t cried from laughing in decades. Honestly, he is not shocked in the slightest with how this scenario turned out. The minute Bucky got a call from a blocked number he knew who it was. He was relieved. It had been six weeks since they got the news before Steve finally contacted him, but Ana, she was nothing but sass.

“Wow, glad to see that dinosaur knows how to use a phone!” She said loud enough for her voice to be heard.

Bucky leveled her with a look, but all she did was shrug.

“Six weeks, and you’ve had this annoyed and worried tick in your jaw, that no matter how hard I rode your face, it just wouldn’t go away.”

Bucky’s eye went wide with shock, followed by a loud cackle and Steve’s stammering response on the line. He caught his wife’s arm before she could walk away, pulled her in for a searing kiss and muttered against her lips:

“Maybe you gotta try one more time, darlin’, just to be sure.”

Steve hung up, only to call back two hours later.

Now, Bucky is getting the entertainment of his life. Both him and Ana were by the lake enjoying a nice lunch, when they were surprised by someone neither of them were expecting to see. That’s when Ana began throwing rocks made of dirt at him.

“Buck! Get your wife!” Steve shouts behind his makeshift shield, which happens to be an empty bucket of feed.

“He can’t help you, Rogers!” Ana yells, pelting clumps of clay at the man.

“Bucky!”

A bigger dirt clump explodes as it hits his shoulder, Steve’s left side of his face sprinkled with clay. Bucky tries to contain his laughter, tries to take deep breaths so he can speak. However, his wife’s aim has always been spot on and he won’t step in to stop her when she’s in a rage. A very entertaining, protective rage.

“Bet you’re regretting leaving your shield now, pal” Bucky quips, earning a glare from Steve.

“Say you’re sorry!” Ana demands, throwing the last rock.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Now will you stop? I’m getting dirt in my mouth!”

When Ana finally ceases her attack and Steve’s blue shirt is colored with orange-brown spots, they invite him into their hut. Bucky gave him a lecture that brought on a feeling of déjà vu, as if he was scolding his friend back in a Brooklyn alley once more. Steve had explained his side of what happened with the portal and the team breaking up. It’s not something either of them wanted to hear, but at least everyone who is on the run seems to be safe and well hidden. With the exception of Clint and Scott Lang, who both had families to think about and made a plea bargain instead.

Bucky feels a strange wave of emotions radiating from Ana as he sits next to her. Their arms are touching, skin to skin, and it feels like cold prickles seeping through his pores. He briefly wonders if this is what his wife feels all the time, and how second nature it is to her now. He stretches his pinkie finger over hers, offering her comfort.

“Vision went to meet up with Wanda?” Bucky doubles checks. He’d be concerned for the girl if she was hiding from the government alone. He knows exactly how that feels, and Wanda is still a kid to him; just 21.

“He took off in the middle of the night, so he wouldn’t be followed,” Steve confirms.

“So,” Ana finally speaks up since Steve started talking. “It’s just Rhodes then? Technically Peter, but since he’s underage and not an official Avenger, the Accords don’t apply to him. Nor do they actually know his identity.”

“Correct,” Steve answers solemnly. Bucky sees his eyes squint as he pauses. He meets his gaze fleetingly, both coming to the same conclusion. “Tony isn’t alone, Ana.”

“Doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel like he is,” She mutters bitterly. “Pepper’s been out of town too.”

The sigh Steve exhales sounds heavy with remorse. However, Bucky knows him down to his core, and though his friend might be feeling guilty over the fact that his friendship with Tony is now strained, Steve still believes he did the right thing.

“I sent him a burner phone, in case he ever needs me,” Steve informs Ana. “I’ll always be there,” He pauses once more. “Just not where the government is involved.”

Bucky swipes his pinkie finger over his wife’s several times. He’s watching her carefully as silence stretches between the three of them. Finally, she nods in understanding, Steve sending her an appreciative smile. He kicks his foot out to nudge against her own, until she returns the teasing gesture. Bucky sags with relief. This entire Accords situation has not put Ana in a good mood during those first two months.

Numerous times she had snapped at Bucky or grumbled about how stupid heroes could be. He just took it, allowing her to lash out at him, until Ana caught herself. She told him he shouldn’t allow her to do that, that her anger and disappointment is misdirected, but it’s not an excuse. Bucky had told her he didn’t mind one bit, that he would rather have her lash out then bottle it up. Ana insisted that he stopped her the next time it happened, and when it did, he spoke up. He told her it wasn’t fair, and she agreed.

Since then, Ana hasn’t snapped at him once, and they have talked it through together. He helped her accept that what happened was the others decision, and the fallout was something they would have to handle. Ana wasn’t a part of it, so her strange guilt was moot. She had also accepted the Healers of Wakanda’s advice to begin mediating; Bucky thinks it helps better than anything. He also thinks the make-up sex has plenty to do with that too.

He blinks back to the present, pressing a quick kiss to her temple. She leans into him, and out of the corner of his eye, he sees Steve’s expression soften into a smile.

“Maybe this is good in the long run,” Steve speaks up, his voice airy, light. Bucky narrows his eyes suspiciously. “Maybe it’ll give Tony and Pepper time to start a family.”

Ana perks up next to Bucky. “Maybe! I know Tony wants kids.”

Bucky narrows his eyes at his best friend. He has a feeling he knows where this is going. Steve’s eyes flash, a sign of mischief he has seen since he met the little skinny kid on the playground.

“You know,” He begins, “you seem to be glowing, Ana.”

Bucky shakes his head at the lame attempt, laughing under his breath. When he catches Ana’s gaze, she looks confused. Which last for three seconds before she looks back at Steve, then to him once more. Suddenly he sees it click in her beautiful brown eyes, rolling them towards Steve.

“Yeah,” She states. “It’s called being happily married…with a healthy dose of mind-blowing orgasms.”

Steve drops his blushing face into his hands. Bucky makes an indigent noise.

“Not what you were expecting? Because I’m not expecting,” Ana laughs brightly. “Although, we do have a lot of se-“

“Alright, Шалунья, enough out of you,” Bucky scolds playfully, wrapping his right arm around her shoulder to cover her mouth with his hand. She promptly licks his skin, as if it would bother him.

“I’m sorry I implied anything,” Steve mumbles behind his hands.

“Actually,” Ana’s word is muffled by his hand. Instead of removing it, she bites the fleshy part of his palm. Bucky inhales sharply, glaring at his wife as he lowers his hand. He swallows thickly. He’ll get her back for that.

“I think it’s to do with my abilities?” She questions at the end as Steve uncovers his face. “It’s been shimmering lately. Could be due these rings Shuri made. They help regulate the energy without the exhausting affects, and it’s always been tied with my emotions. So, the happier or angrier I am, it starts to glow.”

“She has been extremely happy, well and angry,” Bucky supplies. He feels Ana squeeze his hand, offering him an apologetic smile. He shakes his head, since all has been forgiven during those rough weeks.

“That’s interesting,” Steve muses.

Before either of them can say anything else, the little Kimoyo beads Shuri gave Ana as a necklace glows against her chest. Bucky carefully plucks it off the bead, holding it flat in his palm, a small holographic screen popping up. Shuri’s cheerful, youthful face takes up most of the frame, but she frowns when she sees Bucky instead of Ana.

“Nice to see you too, kid,” Bucky greets flatly.

“Stop stealing her beads,” She laughs, twisting as if she can see Ana. “I’m not summoning you on her bead, genius.”

Ana presses her cheek against his, leaning into him. “He’s just jealous he doesn’t get a personal one. Do you need me to come to the Lab?”

Shuri nods excitedly. “There was a breakthrough with the psychiatric healing devices!”

“On my way!” Ana grabs the bead from Bucky’s hand as the screen vanishes. “I’ll be back, you boys have fun! Stay out of trouble and don’t feed Rosa anymore treats, she’s had enough pears today!”

Then she’s taking off, waving her goodbye in the air. Bucky can’t help the fondness washing over him as she disappears over the hill.

“She’s still the same as ever,” Steve voices softly.

“Stubborn and fierce to the core,” He agrees. “I like her.”

“Good thing she’s your wife.”

Bucky wraps his arm around Steve’s shoulder, tighten his grip firmly. “Don’t you ever go that long without checking in again, you hear me Rogers?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, mom.”

An hour goes by, filled with Bucky putting Steve to work for a bit, then taking him around the village. He has visited before, but he never wondered outside of the palace or lab. He meets the village people and children, some of the other tribes, and takes him to the lake Bucky is fond of.

“This is where you purposed?” Steve questions, gazing out over the lake.

“Yup, and the spot you’re standing on is where I dropped the ring, twice. Because I was so damn nervous,” Bucky laughs at the memory.

“So,” He drawls out, “you haven’t discussed children yet?”

Bucky snorts, running his fingers through his hair. “She mentioned starting a family before we got married, but we haven’t really brought it up since.”

“Any particular reason?”

He doesn’t answer right away. The possibility of having kids with Ana makes Bucky’s heart sore. However, it also leaves a bitter taste of self-loathing in his mouth. Could he even be a good father? Would he be enough? He keeps those doubts and fears to himself for now.

“We’ve just been enjoying our time as husband and wife,” He finally answers. “It’s only been eight months. There’s no rush.”

He sees Steve nod from the corner of his eye. “How are those energy rings holding up for her? Do they make the connect you both have stronger?”

“No, I don’t think. That was all Ana herself when she connected our energies. It’s incredible, Stevie. I can feel her all the time, like her life energy is this infinite sunlight around me. It’s subtle, but powerful.”

A firm hand squeezes his shoulder, and when Bucky meets Steve’s eyes, he sees nothing but happiness there. Along with a teasing eyebrow wiggle, to which Bucky playfully nudges his friend off him.

“The rings are ingenious,” He continues. “Shuri, that girl’s mind is a masterpiece. She keeps improving my arm too, and the rings, and the technology she comes up with is-“ He breaks off shaking his head in wonderment. “This place is amazing.”

“Incredible,” Steve agrees. “It’s beautiful here.”

“Ya know, you can stay here if you need a home.”

“I know that option is always open, Buck. From you and the King, but my place is still out there in the world. There’s a lot of underground issues at hand.��

“Still picking fights with things bigger than you.”

“You know it, pal.”

“Still a scrappy little punk forever.”

Steve laughs brightly, wrapping his arm around Bucky’s neck in a headlock.

The trek from the lab to their hut by the lake is just over a mile on foot. Ana sometimes takes the long route to and from, enjoying the serene landscape and warm breeze. Sporadically, she will find a stray goat or pig that has wondered off and coaxes it to follow her back. Other times, she and Bucky take the small journey together, fingers laced.

As Ana makes her way over the final, small hill she spots her husband and Steve, each petting the goats. She hears Bucky introducing the newest additions that race around Steve’s legs, knocking into him here and there. She can’t help but chuckle at the scene when she reaches them, bending to pick up one of the kids that exhausted themselves.

“Having fun?” Ana teases, offering the sleepy goat to Steve. He fumbles briefly, until he gets his large arms securely around the young goat’s body.

“They’re very cute,” He states, cradling the animal. “Bit of a handful.”

“That they are. Hey Bucky,” She turns to address her spouse as he lays down a fresh bill of hay. “Shuri requests your presence. Said she just finished some improvements to the new arm she’s been working on.”

Bucky’s eyes light up, an excited smile on his lips. Walking up to Ana, he gently cups the back of her head, pressing a tender kiss above her eyebrow. In return, she rests her hands on his hips, eyes fluttering at the sensation of adoration washing over her spine.

“Did you peek?” He murmurs against her skin, his left hand drawing circles over the side of her stomach with is thumb.

“No, I know better.”

His huffing laugh warms her skin before he leans back. “Meet you guys back at the apartment?”

Ana nods, placing a quick peck to his mouth. Bucky’s fingers scratch the base of her skull three times, before he steps around her, biding Steve a quick wave as he heads off. Ana catches the Captain’s fond look, clearly having witness their moment. Naturally, she sticks her tongue out at him.

“You haven’t seen our place, have you? In the city.”

Steve carefully lowers the now sleeping goat on a thicker part of the grass. He brushes his hands against his jeans, shaking his head. “Not yet.”

“Come on then!”

They have been walking for a good twenty minutes, taking the scenic route as well, when Ana decides to bring up something that has been on her mind for the past few months. At first, it was just a fleeting thought, a quick feeling, something so minuscule, it didn’t need attention. As the days passed into weeks, and weeks into months, it has now gnawed at the back of her brain. Rather, it’s been pressing against her energy, making little ripples against the positive vibes in the air.

“Steve,” She speaks up casually, “Can I talk to you about something, uh, with me?”

The worried expression flits over his face fleeting. “Anything, Ana, you know that.”

She nods, fiddling with her wedding rings. “I’ve been…having this strange feeling. It never feels urgent, but it’s weird, almost like it’s scratching at something I don’t know is there.”

“With you two?”

“No, no, we’re fine. It feels more like, when you can sense a storm coming, the wind shifts a little, but it isn’t on a grand scale,” She pauses, trying to collect her thoughts. “I’m not explaining it right.”

Ana halts her steps, Steve following suit. “I got upset when I heard about what happened with you guys, so my energy was a little out of control. However, I’ve been doing a lot of mediation, and working with the healers here to connect my energy to an element that’s more grounding.”

“Grounding. As in the earth’s energy?” Steve inquires thoughtfully.

“In a way, the earth is a solid foundation, strong. It embodies energy of life all around in many forms. The healers allow me to visit one of the sacred places with them so I can mediate without interruption. It helps steady it, plus the rings regulate this ability more so. I’ve been doing it for over two months now, and I think maybe that’s why I can feel it?”

“Feel what, exactly?”

Waving her hands around her, she answers, “A strange, vitality, settling over the earth. Is that weird? It’s probably weird, since it’s never happened before. It’s not quite, ominous. The atmosphere here is mainly happy, positive vibes, and Bucky is-“ She breaks off, smiling softly at the mention of her husband. “He’s been great, and he feels great, and I can feel him, you know?”

“Yeah, he mentioned that. Says you feel like sunshine to him,” Steve smirks, but his eyes are soft, clearly happy for them both. “It’s cute. Romantic.”

“Well,” Ana rubs her warming cheek briefly. “It’s true. Anyway, because of all that this new feeling is foreign to me. It makes my empathy feel off at times.”

“Do you feel like it affects you in any way? Physically? Emotionally?”

“No, that’s the thing. If it’s a darker energy or feeling, it normally would affect me. This is just, there. It fades in and out, but it’s there.” She bites her lips nervously, rubbing her fingers over her collarbones. “What do you think?”

Steve doesn’t answer immediately. He’s pensive, blue eye appraising her. Ana fiddles with her rings again, waiting for a response and hoping she doesn’t sound crazy. She had an almost identically feeling way back at the compound when they still lived there. It kept building and building until it exploded into the fallout that ultimately led her and Bucky being separate for nearly a year. Before she can give her herself a panic attack, Steve finally speaks.

“You’ve been getting stronger over time,” He states, voice low as he thinks. “I think the more you were opening yourself up to Bucky at the time, the stronger you became. It wasn’t just him though, your abilities grew, what you did to Woods-“ He stops short, shaking his head. “We never truly trained with you or got see how far your abilities developed. Maybe now, with how your life is, a constant source of happiness, of peace, comfort, it’s a safe place to not hold back. You can use your powers without resistance.”

Taking her own time to process his words, Ana carefully twists the rings on her middle fingers. The thin sheen of the energy shield encases her body like another layer of skin. She holds her hands out in front of her, twisting around to see the shield shimmer. It even looks brighter, or maybe it’s just the sun reflecting off it.

“Do you and Shuri run tests with that?” Steve asks, leaning as close as he can without touching. “Because the last time I saw you use these, it wasn’t this visible. Although, it was through a video screen.”

“We run tests bi-weekly,” She informs him, twisting the rings off. “I don’t think much has changed though.”

“Does it feel like a threat?”

“N-“ She pauses. She doesn’t know why, but the word just died on her tongue. She shakes her head. “No. Not…yet. Do you think it could be? I can feel threats from a distance?”

Steve shrugs as he picks up her hand to examine the ring closer. “We can’t rule out any possibility, right? Wanda grew stronger the more she trained and experimented herself.”

“Yeah, but Steve, if I can actually feel threats at a great distance…that’s insane! I’m not that strong. That’s something else entirely. Right?”

“Anything is possible, Ana. You know that,” He says softly. Then he taps her wedding rings. “Have you talked to Bucky about this?”

Ana frowns. “No. I don’t want him worrying over something that could be, well, could be nothing. It didn’t feel pressing and honestly, I would forget until I felt it again.”

“This isn’t me teasing you again, but are you sure you’re not pregnant? Maybe that could throw it off as well?”

“I am one hundred percent sure, but that would be a good theory. The alchemy is off when I get sick too.”

“Were you sick recently?”

“No, just emotional with…” She trails off, shrugging.

“Yeah,” Steve drops her hand, crossing his arms and dropping his head. “I really am sorry, Ana. Going off the grid like that. It wasn’t fair to both of you. Either was lying to you.”

“Steve,” Ana places her hands on his solid biceps. “I shouldn’t have gotten as angry as I did. As long as you’re all safe.”

“We are. Now we are. There were some serious injuries-“

“Colonel Rhodes,” She nods solemnly.

“How is he?” The concern in Steve’s voice is thick.

“Tony made this walking contraption for him. After some intense therapy, he’s walking fairly well with it. He’s okay. He keeps telling Tony he didn’t blame anyone, but he stands by what he believes.”

“Sounds just like him.”

“Yeah, just like someone else I know,” She smiles pointedly at him.

Silence settles between them, with the colorful arrays of the setting sun on the horizon. Ana gets lost in her thoughts, as she assumes Steve does too, with the looming caress of that strange energy. She will talk it over with Bucky later, but for now, she just pushes it aside once more. She taps her friends’ elbow, jerking her head to the side.

“C’mon, it’s just another ten minutes from here.”

***

Weeks and months pass, and in between it, Ana visits New York and even California a few times. She keeps under the radar, especially when Bucky goes with her to see Pepper and Tony. The issues of the Accords and Avengers aren’t brought up, but she can tell it’s taken a bit of a toll on Tony.

Ana distracts him by showing off her rings, although she keeps the technology behind it a secret. Bucky distracts Tony with his vibranium arm as the genius himself marvels at the teenager’s piece. She takes great enjoyment when she watches Tony try to figure out the inner workings of the arm.

Ana and Bucky go from deeply in love newlyweds, to deeply in love established marriage as the year passes. The strange feeling of that particular energy still whispers up her spine once in a while, and when she did tell Bucky, he convinced her to report it to T’Challa and Shuri if it ever grew stronger. Reassured her that he wouldn’t let anything bad happen to her, even if that means unknown, seemingly harmless negative energy. Both agree to monitor it, just in case, writing down when Ana feels it ad if Bucky can see a change in her.

She continues to work in the lab as Bucky works on the farm and helps the village people with manual labor tasks. Nothing grows or changes with the feeling, and they focus more on each other, their lives together, and the little stray Black-Footed cat that had wondered into their hut one night with an injured leg. The cat stuck around after they nursed back to health, seeming to enjoy chasing the goats around.

“How about Eliza?” Ana offers as the small cat pounces on the large goat.

“For a cat?”

“Hey, Ezra was named after a poet- “

“Ezra is a lazy domestic cat. Not a wild and free creature like this spitfire.”

“Fine. Then I’m naming her Cat like I mentioned the first time. That way, she technically has a name, but she technically doesn’t because is she actually a cat. A cat named Cat because she’s a cat.”

“You mind never ceases to amaze me,” Bucky mumbles, as he pulls her in by her waist.

“You love me for it,” Ana teases, brushing her nose against his.

“Every day for the rest of my life, Annie Doll.”

Then he kisses her with a searing passion, and they leave the cat name Cat to lay with the goats as the disappear inside the hut.

***

They visit again during the holidays, staying in a cabin Tony had bought recently and renovated in upstate New York. The surroundings were beautiful, frozen streams and frosted trees, glittering powered snow as flakes whirl through the freezing air.

It’s the first actual Christmas Ana and Bucky have together, and she knows, she feels, how much Bucky seems to dislike the winter. The cold. He’s had enough of it in his life. She makes it her mission to show him that the bitter cold and wet snow don’t always have to be negative or tied to Hydra memories.

She thinks she makes progress when she nails Bucky in the back with a perfectly made snowball. She hides behind a tree, barely has time to take a breath before her husband finds her, wrapping his arms around her waist and tumbling onto the snowy ground.

They laugh breathlessly, as she takes a handful of snow and smashes it against his head. Bucky retaliates by attacking her lips, the kiss passionate and heated enough to melt the flakes around them. Until he sneakily presses snow against her neck. Ana squeals from the ice, making him roll over. She stands up, then proceeds to ran away from him.

When Bucky catches her once more, his blue eyes reflect the glimmer of the snow crystals against the light. He looks happy, playful, any signs of lingering, horrible memories gone. And when they go inside to warm up and dry off, something shifts between them.

They snuggle up in front of the cozy, cackling fire in the living room, with thick fuzzy blankets and hot chocolate. There’s a tall Christmas tree in the corner, twinkling with different colored lights, the branches making the room smell of balsam. Pepper is in the kitchen, quietly making dinner as Tony pretends to help her. Ana is pressed against Bucky’s side, both watching the snow falling through the large windows. Then he speaks.

“This place is beautiful,” He says softly. “Would be a nice place to bring a family to for the holidays.”

Ana is glad she just finished taking another sip of her hot chocolate. She carefully places the mug down, tilting her head to see his eyes. He’s staring straight at the fireplace. She smiles, then kisses his scruffy jaw.

“A family, huh?” She confirms, her heart fluttering in her chest at the thought.

Bucky’s soft chuckle makes her heart flutter. “Yeah, whenever those two decide to have kids.” There’s a short pause. “Or us.”

“Is that your way of saying something, Winter Flurry?”

She feels his chest rise and fall with a slow breath. “Yes.”

“You want to start a family?” Ana questions seriously, sitting up a little straighter.

He slowly meets her eyes. “Someday. I think,” He exhales shakily, wringing his hands together. “I won’t lie, Annie. I have some self-doubts about it, fears, but,” he pauses to look at her. “We’ll do it together. Obviously.”

Ana laughs. “Obviously,” She takes his hands, lacing their fingers together. “One day. A family. You’ll be an amazing father, just so you know.”

Bucky softly kisses her nose as she scrunches it up.

“I’m good with just you right now though,” She whispers when he pulls back.

“Me too, love.”

She closes the space between them, pressing her lips to her husband’s warm, slightly chapped ones. She feels every ounce of his excitement and fear, but overall, love. They both know they just want to spend time being married, there is no rush for them to have children, and they’re willing to wait for it. For now, they snuggle closer together, listening to the cackling fire, the soft voices in the kitchen and the snowfall outside.

********************************************************************

Tags: @thecreatiivecorner @kat-lives @stressedasalways @watchoutforfrostbite @justreadingfics @keldachick

Drabbles: Fourteen Drabbles: Sixteen

#delicate stages drabbles #bucky barnes x ofc #bucky barnes x original female character

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gomwriting · 6 years

Text

Jerk, Junhoe | Part 2.

Pairing: Junhoe x Hyena (OC)

Type: Slight angst / Childhood friendship / Romance

Warning: Some swearing

Word count: 2640

Synopsis: Fate really brought her to him and vice versa, but Junhoe isn’t allowing her to easily intrude in his life. Not again.

“Jun…” Softly, gently, broken yet relieved. He hadn’t heard that nickname since before he yelled at his friends to stop calling him that years ago, Hyena being the creator of that nickname. She stood up from the bed, the food wrappers falling to the floor in her rush. He stared at her, the flash of pain in his eyes changing to confusion, trying to understand why she was there. As if it was a wakeup call, the school bell rang and made Junhoe blink, his eyes now devoid of emotion and he quickly turned around to leave the room. Not wanting to pass this opportunity, Hyena stepped forward and grabbed his free hand with both of hers. Junhoe turned to look at her, anger filling his eyes while sincerity was brimming in hers. They both looked down at their hands and Hyena let go upon realising the origin of the sticky feeling. She looked Junhoe up and down multiple times, the boy trying his hardest to stare her down, but to no avail.

Before Junhoe could say anything to her, Hyena dashed past him into the main room and grabbed the nearest first aid box she saw, quickly wiping away the stains on her hands with some wet tissues she spotted on the table, immediately turning back as she was done and back into the room, pulling Junhoe down next to her to sit on the bed. Despite being shocked, he pulled his hand away from her and stood up to leave, embarrassment and anger filling him up all at once. However, choosing to bear with his rage, Hyena once again grabbed onto him and pulled him down. In a shaky yet firm voice, she said her first real words to him after seven years, “At least let me do this.”

Her hands that were still slightly stained with his blood were gently pulling the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbow where the cut was, something sharp that was thrown in the fight probably causing it, but he couldn’t actually remember what the cause was. He was too focused on how the colour of her hair was a little darker from how he remembered, focused on how her feet still didn’t touch the floor when she sat on the bed, focused on how she was blowing onto the cut as if it’ll get better just like that. He let out a scoff then, and a new anger started to boil inside of him at the realisation of his own fondness towards her.

Distracted by his voice, Hyena cautiously looked up, only to directly meet his gaze, his intense and unfaltering gaze. A wave of embarrassed hit her but she knew better, so she held onto his gaze and gave him a small, genuine smile before returning her gaze to his cut. Her grip on him loosened and she held his wrist lightly, both her hands shaking as she continued whatever she was doing, her demeanour and actions completely contrasting.

They sat in silence as she cleaned up his wound and put a bandage on it, the wound being a bit too large for a normal band aid. The howling wind outside accompanied the silent hum of the air conditioner, and gradually the intensity of the fresh autumn wind toned down ever so slightly, much like Junhoe’s negative emotions towards Hyena. Before cloudier thoughts could emerge in his mind, Hyena slowly looked up at him and met his gaze as she asked, “Are you okay now?”

He now felt how their palms were touching, felt how soft her skin was below his rough hand, noticing how much smaller her hand was in comparison to his. Something stirred inside of him as he felt heat rising to the back of his neck. Not wanting to back down, he held her gaze, trying to convey his dissatisfaction of having her there with him, “No I’m not but it doesn’t matter how I feel does it?” With that, something changed in Hyena’s hopeful eyes, a miniscule to others but noticeable to Junhoe kind of change, and he took her stunned reaction to good use, easily slipping away from her grip before quickly leaving the room, the curtain closing behind him fluidly, softly, with the harsh slam of the door following after.

“Hyena!!” Hyena spun around as she saw Hanbin, another familiar face. It had been about a week since Hyena had talked to Junhoe, her emotions changing from sadness, from thinking about how he’ll never forgive her, to feeling hurt, from how harsh his words were and how it didn’t have to go down like that, to understanding, eventually backing away from her initial plan of further pursuing their friendship and let him have some time to himself, the situation probably too much for him, she had though. Hyena shook her thoughts away and instead focused on how Hanbin was jogging towards her, a smile spreading on her face since she hadn’t seen many of her elementary school friends other than Miso and Jinhwan in the past few days, with Junhoe being the exception, of course. Somehow aware of her situation, he softly questioned her, “So, have you found a way to talk to Junhoe?” With a shake of her head and a dejected smile on her face, Hyena bit her lip under her smile to stop herself from feeling too emotional.

Hanbin gave her a pat on the head as he said, “I wish we had more time to talk but I have to rush to my dance practice. Maybe we could have lunch one day with the others? Yumi has been chewing my ear off talking about when she can meet you.” Hyena laughed heartily at the mention of another one of her childhood friends and nodded in agreement before they exchanged their contact numbers. She felt a bit better after they stood there chatting for a while, glad to feel a little bit light hearted even if it’s just for a little while. They eventually said their goodbyes and Hyena watched as he left. As he was about to turn the corner, Hanbin unexpectedly stopped in his tracks and looked back at her, a grin on his face, “You know what? I think I remember seeing him going to the library. But then again, it couldn’t be him.” With a wink, Hanbin spun around and turned the corner, disappearing from her sight.

It didn’t take long for Hyena to find him. She practically memorised how the top of his head looked like after the countless times they spent in the community library for her sake when she was in her bookworm phase one summer and wanted to go to the library every day to read a book before they played. The summer where Junhoe and her were inseparable. The summer where he would fall asleep opposite her on the table, his sleeping position the same as it was now. A soft smile spread on her face, warmth spreading in her chest as she realised how much she had longed to see him like this.

Her grip on her bag strap tightened as she sat opposite him, like old times. She placed her face in the palms of her hands and gazed at him fondly. Feeling an incredible sense of courage from him being asleep and unable to hear her, she started talking to him like he was awake, “Hey Jun. It’s been a while hasn’t it? Well, this is kinda weird.” She laughed softly, careful not to cause a disruption, “I’ve been trying to bring myself to ask you… if you really hate me for leaving. You have every right to be mad at the fact that I just left and came back unexpectedly.” With a bitter smile she continued, “I guess I had no courage to tell you about what’s really going on.”

She let out a deep sigh and laid her hands on the table, staring at them, remembering simpler times where they would go to swimming parks together, holding onto each other tightly, the fear of the rides disappearing like magic as soon as they were together. As the nostalgic emotions engulfed her, she opened her mouth to say something, anything, but her voice came out barely above a whisper as she said, “I miss you so much, but I’m so scared of you. I’m scared of what will happen to you if I stay by your side this time.” Her voice cracked slightly as she continued, “I’m really afraid. I’m scared that we changed too much as people and I’m afraid of hurting you again because we might’ve changed too much. I just wish…”

Hyena caught herself before she said anything she might regret and took a deep breath, calming herself down, embarrassed at herself for getting so emotional. It was her first time being able to properly convey her feelings to him since she returned, although he wasn’t even consciously with her. She stayed there with him for a bit, feeling sleepy herself as the sun beginning to set. Battling with her fear inside, Hyena got up and went to his side, the side where his face was visible. She crouched down a little to look at him, shocked to find patches of dried blood and scratches on his face. She stood up and took a deep breath before giving him a light push, gently calling out his name to wake him up. No answer. She pushed him slightly harder and called his name a bit louder. No answer. With a sigh, she resigned from her attempt and sat on the chair next to him, gazing tenderly at his bruised sleeping face, thankful to have this rare chance and taking in every moment she had with him like this.

With intertwined hands, a small Hyena in her favourite adorable yellow sundress pulled his hand forward, her mouth forming his name, “Jun!” She called. They were already holding hands, yet she turned to look at him, expecting him to come closer, “Jun!” She called again. The wind blew at them softly, the bright blue sky above them, no clouds in sight. He felt the grass tickling his exposed legs as he ran with her and glanced down, his khaki shorts reminiscent of his younger days. As Hyena pulled him further into the meadow, he looked down at their intertwined fingers, his hands so big compared to hers. Fully immersing himself in the moment, he lifted his head only to be faced with another Hyena. The new Hyena. Her small face was framed with her beautiful long black hair, her plump cheeks a pretty shade of pink from the running and her brown eyes formed crescents as she laughed, and a brilliant laugh it was. The soft sound of wind chimes in the air and her childlike laughter brought a smile on Junhoe’s face, a genuine smile that hasn’t appeared on his face in years.

The scene changed then, the clear skies behind Hyena suddenly turning dark. They had stopped running through the meadow, the tall grass still and cold against his legs. His grip on Hyena tighten instinctively and as he was about to pull her behind him, unexpectedly, she resisted him. He met her eyes and took in a sharp breath, her once bright eyes holding no reflection of himself in their now stone-cold state. She was staring right at him but in her eyes, she was looking at nothing but the meadow behind him, like he didn’t exist. Speechless, Junhoe’s grip on Hyena loosened and she used this chance to slip her hand out of his, the girl quickly dashing through the now muddy meadow, thunder booming above them. Realising too late, Junhoe ran towards her at full speed, his hand reaching out to her. He called after her, “Hyena! Don’t go!”

As he got a grip on her, she turned to look at him, a monotonous voice leaving her lips, “I’ll leave you again anyway, so why don’t you just let me go Jun?” As soon as that was said, she sent him flying upwards with one push of her hand. The boom of the thunder rang in his ears and Junhoe looked down at the meadow, his eyes following Hyena, the girl running further into the meadow, disappearing into the horizon, like how she disappeared from his life.

With a gasp, Junhoe opened his eyes, his breathing erratic and hands sweaty. He placed his elbows on the table before him and buried his head in them, rubbing his head as a headache started to form. Out of nowhere, he felt a hand on his shoulder and he jumped from his seat to a standing position, the scraping of the chair echoing loudly in the quiet space, his face showing a horrified expression.

Hyena quickly retracted her hand from his shoulder, her heart rate increasing as she stood up and started to speak, “A-are you okay? W-what’s wrong?” Junhoe looked up at her, a confused look on his face, his eyebrows furrowed and lips slightly parted. Afraid of what he had to say about her being there, Hyena’s hands formed fists and she dug her nails in her palm, embarrassed and apologetic as she said, “I didn’t mean to wake you up I’m so sor-“

Without thinking, Junhoe took a step forward and extended his hands around her head and back, pulling her in for hug. He shut his eyes tightly and his unsteady breathing turned heavier, causing Hyena‘s eyes to grow wide with worry. Habitually, she brought her hands up and gently stroked his back with one hand, the other gripping the fabric at his waist to steady his shaken body. With a slight emotional crack in her voice, she softly said, “It’s okay. I’m here. You’re awake now.”

“I’m so glad you’re here. Don’t leave. Please” Junhoe’s voice was low and fragile as he brought her closer, his mind picturing her empty expression, and a shiver ran down his spine. The dream felt so real to Junhoe. Her tender touch, her small body and her warm voice. Her warm and shaken voice. Her smaller than his body. Her real physical tender touch. Suddenly realising the reality of his dream, Junhoe opened his eyes, the view of the worn wooden bookshelves of the school library in front of him. He blinked a few times, trying to swallow down the information that this was real. This hug is actually a real hug from the real Go Hyena. She was still whispering to him that things were going to be ok, telling him that she was there for him, “I’m here now. I’m not going anywhere.”

The reality of the situation brought a wave of distrust and annoyance over his heart hearing that, and he brought his hands to her shoulders, pushing her away from him, purposely being a little rough. He closed his eyes as he prepared his expression, since he didn’t want her thinking any weird thoughts about this situation. With a deep breath, Junhoe opened his eyes and looked straight into her eyes as he gruffly said, “Don’t misunderstand, I thought I was still dreaming.” Realising how it sounded like he was dreaming of her, his voice wavered ever so slightly as he added, “It was a fucked-up dream and I just needed to hold onto something and you just happened to be here, so don’t misunderstand.”

Without another look or word, Junhoe picked up his bag and walked away from the once again silent library corner. Hyena still had her hands still raised in mid-air as she heard his footsteps slowly fade away in the distance. With a small laugh, she crossed her hands across her body and embraced herself, suddenly feeling cold without the warmth of Junhoe’s body.

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statticscribbles · 3 years

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Fight Club

Summary: Serpent’s, Family Bonding Request: The serpents help break Archie out of Juvie “Are you sure it’s going to-“ Jughead holds his hand up rolling his eyes. “You really think the Warden’s going to care about two serpent’s getting out when the entirety of the Ghouls, aka the Gargoyles, aka his minions are getting the snot beat out of them?” “But what if-“ “We deal with that when it happens.” “So what’s-“ “No.” Jughead glares; Veronica narrows her eyes at him. “You Betty, and anyone else not in the serpents aren’t coming on this.” “But-“

“No. You want to try to break him out of some fucked up prison fight club? You want to risk your dad finding out? Also can either of you fight? What if someone’s going to shoot you, you think you can go up against them?” Jughead keeps his glare even and Veronica and Betty shrink back. “I’m the Serpent queen Jug you can’t-“ “You haven’t done the trails, you’re not coming on this. I’m not going to let you get hurt.” He snaps and she glares at him. “You can yell at me when we have him back.” “We can-“ Jughead swallows shaking his head. “If either of you come on this, or get anyone outside of this room in on it;” He shakes his head and they chuckle. “Can’t even think of a threat then?” Betty speaks.

“I’ll be done with you. And you’ll just be another Lodge to me. We all know how I feel about the rest of your family.” Both Betty and Veronica leave. Sweet Pea chews his lip. “Jesus Jones that was harsh.” “We’re going to a prison where the warden is using the prisoners for sport. I don’t want them near it. Think what he’ll be willing to do to us since we’re trying to get two of his fighters out of it.” “But me and Cheryl are good?” Toni hovers next to the door Betty and Veronica left through.

“Well you because I know you can fight, and Cheryl, well we can always use the Vixen’s as a distraction, you’re welcome to tell Betty and Veronica that they’ll be sort of part of the plan.” “You seem like you’re going a bit overboard Jones.” Fangs shrugs and Jughead turns to him. “You’re telling me that my childhood best friend, and at least one of my serpents from the inner circle I have being in jail, getting the shit beat out of them daily, is something that I’m shouldn’t be going overboard with?” Jughead glares and Fangs sighs.

“So our plan?” Sweet Pea pulls out the rough sketches of the corrections center he’d managed to gather from god knows where. Jughead nods and points out various spots, nodding to each of the Serpents. “Basic plan is we have the vixen’s cheer for them, at the football game Archie want’s to play; no doubt someone is going to get in a fight over that, we’ve already gotten a message Joaquin what we’re doing he and Arch will make a run for the fence, once they get over it we’ll meet them in the woods and that where we have the decoys set up so they won’t know which one of us to go after.” He nods and the rest of the Serpent’s nod back. “Let’s go.”

“Arch, you awake?” Archie sighs turning from the wall to look at Joaquin. “Yeah, what’s up?” “We’re getting out, you know that right?” Archie nods. “Course we are. Eventually.” “Tomorrow.” “Tomorrow? But the game..” “Exactly it’s a distraction and-“ “No they’re gonna have the guards out, the ones with guns.” “They’re rubber bullets.” “Oh, really?” “Of course they can’t shoot real ones until we’re adults.” “Oh really?” “Of course.” Joaquin coughs slightly. Archie narrows his eyes. “Are you lying?” “No.” Archie can hear Joaquin shift and assumes he’s rolled over jumping slightly when he can feel his hand on his shoulder. “I’m not lying to you Andrews, but you know it’s just going to be us right?” “Playing?” “No getting out.” “No I have to-“ “You can’t save everyone.” Joaquin can feel Archie’s glare for the next hour before he falls asleep.

Joaquin’s not sure how to approach Archie during the game, as it turn out, thanks to Shank he doesn’t have to. Despite Archies rousing words to him the other day Shank seems uneffected by his attempt at friendship, and the minute he see’s the River Vixen’s he no longer cares about actually playing the game. When he makes some comment about the River Vixen’s; two of the Serpent’s gather it’s enough to start a fight. Joaquin’s already cursing, Archie trying his best to gather others to the fence. He’s about to round on Archie, pull him away and shove the other inmates back but Mad Dog does it for him, picking Archie up and throwing him towards the fence, Joaquin shoots him a thumbs up and they start to climb. He can feel the rubber bullets hitting off of him. He’d told Archie to keep his hands tucked under his chest, it may have been an awkward way to climb but it beat having a broken hand and still being in prison.

Archie glares back at the fence and Joaquin groans shoving him forward. “Listen Archie, I get you made friends, and I get you miss ‘em and yeah they’re probably gonna get the shit beat outta them for helping but for god’s sake move! If they find us here they’ll kill us and say we got lost in the forest!” Joaquin snarls and Archie ducks his head nervously. “Sorry I jus-“ “Heard you two were lost, need some help?” Joaquin practically jumps onto Sweet Pea hugging him. “God prison really messed you up huh? Hugging me and shit.” “Shut the fuck up and get us outta here.” “Got it, you’re on bike ‘b’ with Fangs, Archie, you’re with me, and Jughead has Kevin.” “Kevin?”

“Yeah he’s one of our decoys, the others have already left to distract the guard and-“ “MOVE!” Jughead shouts when they hear footsteps thundering and the ping of the rubber bullets. “Why can’t I go with Kevin?” “He can’t drive; plus I don’t really want to have to wait for you two to make out for ten minutes before we can go.” Jughead shoves Joaquin playfully and he scowls. “We can all reunite when we’re alive and back in Riverdale, for now, let’s go!”

Archie doesn’t pay attention to where they are, or really anything besides the fact he can feel the guilt for not saving Mad Dog and the other Serpents. “Arch, stop.” He can hear Sweet Pea shout at him he just shakes his head pressing his forehead into Sweet Pea’s back and staying silent for the remainder of the trip. He’s not sure if he’s asleep and dreaming or awake and exhausted. He follows Sweet Pea, stumbling forward toward where ever they’ve decided to keep him. He’s crossing wooden floors and stands swaying before someone leans him against a wall.

“No Keller picked them up, they’re fine, a little shaken but they’re playing it up; Keller’s in on it so we don’t need to; Arch? Archie are you okay?” he can’t hear them, and he tries to let them know they’re too far away but suddenly the floor is the wall and then everything pops and cracks and hurts. He lays on the ground trying to breath in relieved he still can he can see another L&L uniform in his vision and he scrambles to try to stand; his lessons from fight club and the attack over his shoes echoing in his mind. You stay on the ground you end up in it. He can see Joaquin’s face and he relaxes, laughing a little before it turns into a cough and then vomit.

“Christ, move him to the couch. Can one of you, thanks.” Jughead mumbles his voice coming closer. “Archie, Jesus you got beat to shit pretty bad, you remember ever hitting your head or anything?” “Yeah, Mad Dog hit me a couple times, just for show but smacked into the wall so head bled a lot it’s okay, just a scab.” “No that’s not okay, fuck, you had a head injury and didn’t tell us?” Sweet Pea glares. “Joaquin broke his wrist!!!!” Archie shouts. “SHHHHH! Shut up Archie!! It’s like three am, we can’t wake up-“ “Can’t wake up who?” Everyone freezes and Archie pops his head off of the couch. “Dad?” “Archie?” “We didn’t know where else to bring him Mr. Andrews.” “No you did good, you did good. Thank you boys.”

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burmecianblackmage · 6 years

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Goodbye 2017 - Hello 2018

[[EDIT: tumblr did mess it up. Urgh. So this is now two hours late... sorry guys -.-]]

If tumblr doesn’t mess things up (and it hasn’t during the advent calendar, so I’m willing to give it the benefit of the doubt and assume it won’t), then this post should hit the dash exactly when the clock strikes midnight over here in Switzerland, and the new year begins. And that means it’s the perfect time to say...

Happy 2018 guys!

I hope you all will have a wonderful new year, one that will make you forget all the bad things that happened in 2017, and leave you a happy and content little human by the time 2019 rolls around in 365 days.

May your year be full of moments that make you smile, moments of love and friendship, moments of success and accomplishment, and above all, full of health and happiness. I am very happy to have met all of you, and to have interacted with you, whether it be by playing, by talking, or even just by reading some of each other’s works. You lot have been a big part in what kept me going this year, and I want you to know I’m really thankful for that. I hope we can enjoy much of the next year together as well, and that no matter where the year will lead you, you will be happy. I love you all.

As a little extra, I’ll put a little review of my and Sceada’s year under the cut - at least I hope it will remain somewhat little. But you know me... Anyhow. I’m placing it under the cut so as not to spam you, and also because I will address some stuff regarding my health and Sceada’s sexuality as well, and I know not everyone is comfortable with that. I’ll mark them with a small header so you can skip them, but I just wanted to warn you beforehand~

With that out of the way, here we go! And for those who don’t wanna read it: Happy 2018!!

The Mun’s Year in Review

Well, you all know that this year hasn’t been an easy one, and I daresay it was a rough one for everyone. Still, I do feel like I should talk a little bit about the hardships I’ve had to face, and the struggles that’ll accompany me for much of the year to come, if not the entire one. So... here goes.

Health

As many of you know, I had a tumor in December 2016, namely an Ependymom that was lodged in my spinal marrow, at about the tenth to twelfth thoracic vertebrae. It had caused me stiffness and loss of sensitivity in my legs, and once we found it, there had been little choice but to remove it asap.

Ever since then, I’ve been needing a wheelchair. And I started 2017 at rehab in the Swiss Paraplegic Center in Nottwil. Mind you, it’s probably the best facility in the world for such a situation, and I learned a ton of stuff, including how to walk again with the help of crutches - still, spending half a year stuck at rehab ain’t exactly fun.

Especially when you also have to relearn stuff like bladder management, using the toilet and what not. Do you want to take a wild guess at how helpless you feel when you can’t even go to the toilet on your own, when you can’t help but soiling yourself because you have yet to regain control over your lower body functions? If you don’t know, you don’t ever want to find out. Gods was I relieved when it all turned out to be functioning properly after all...

And it’s not like it’s been the only health thing that affected me. I needed another eye surgery, for the Keratoconus developing in my right eye after we already had to do the left one last year, and I’ve been struggling to get used to it since then. First with my old glasses, now with the new ones I still cannot wear for more than like two hours at a time... - Oh, did I mention that insurance didn’t cover the 1700.- surgery by the way? Goodbye my savings I had been clinging onto...

And let us not forget that due to my immune system having gotten weaker, I also have this amazing pleasure of falling sick faster! Stomach flu? Come right in and stay three weeks! Dizziness? Hello darkness my old friend! Regular cold? Knock me out for four days, feel free to! Urgh -.-

Add to that a heap of spasms in my left leg that have been present all along, but got considerably worse now that winter rolled around. We know by not it’s not due to the tumor resurfacing (because it can do that, they couldn’t remove it entirely after all without cutting my nerves!) but can you imagine how nervous you get while waiting for the answer? And it’s not like the spasms are any help walking either, rendering me less mobile again after I had improved so much beforehand...

But enough of that. I could sadly go on and on here (I haven’t even brushed my mental stuff yet, oh boy...), but I’ll spare you that. It’s gotten long enough as it is anyhow... Let’s move on to other topics.

Work and Finances

Look, it’s not as though I had a job really when they found the tumor - or actually, yes it is. I may have been in an internship of sorts organized by disability services, but I had a job lined up where I could have started in January - Alas, it never happened. And seeing how I can no longer work my original job in retail (no electronics store will hire someone in a wheelchair. You can’t do the cleaning jobs, can’t fill the shelves and are slow to get around. Plus, how the fuck are you gonna fetch a 55′’ TV from the storage when a customer wants to buy it?), I am now actually trying to find a new purpose for myself. Gladly, disability services will help me with that... though it won’t be easy, and I dunno if I’ll be ready to start a new apprenticeship in summer like they hope. Cause it’s unlikely any spots will still be available...

Still, they are hopeful, and in order to get me back in the swing, they placed me in the same internship/training thing again, starting with just two hours daily. By now I’m in the office the entire morning on weekdays, and it’s going good so far. I’ll be there at least three more months.

And then, who knows? Maybe they’ll send me into finances and banking, or perhaps communal administration? We’ll see.

What is upsetting is the financial situation though. Due to being at rehab, I had to file for social aid - and the money they give me is very, very little for swiss measures. While I was at rehab, it was about 240, now it’s roughly 760 I get - even though I do actually get almost 3500 per month for the internship form disability services. But all that goes to social services to “pay off the debt”... Urgh >.>

For reference, an average 42 hours per week job in retail would pay between 3900 and 4200 per month. So yeah... Granted, they cover my health insurrance (which is 55o-ish per month, mind you!), but it’s still rough... The price levels here in Switzerland are just so damn high...

Social Life

Which leads me to this... I barely ever go out anymore these days. I can’t afford doing much, and what little I do afford is a pain to do due to the wheelchair. I can no longer just spontaneously go somewhere, or attend an event, I always need someone to drive me or even join me - and that inevitably leads to you not doing much anymore, you know?

I barely have any real contact with my rl friends anymore, I at most attend a MTG event every 3 months (PreReleases, nothing more sadly...), my DnD group also fell apart (though that was unrelated)... - Honestly, if it weren’t for you guys here online, especially those who talk to me on Discord and such, I’d be completely socially isolated, and that sucks. It sucks big time...

Gladly my girlfriend sticks with me, believes in me and loves me. Even if I can’t see her as much anymore, as we both can’t really afford the flights to visit each other, which is rather lonely too... We only managed to afford a few weeks in August together, when she visited me here with my room still unfinished. If the paraplegic foundation didn’t have the kindness to pay for her flights and hotel in March while I was still at rehab, that’d have been the only time I’d seen her this entire year....

So yeah. Things aren’t easy right now. Which is why I hope... next year will see improvements. It just has to...

Sceada’s Year in Review

When the last year ended, Sceada was a heartbroken virgin longing for affection and deeply missing the woman he loved, Leonora. He knew who he was though, a talented mage and a scholar of old languages who found work here and there, traveling wherever he pleased and slowly but surely building friendships with more and more people.

If you look at him now, he is instead riddled by insecurities, questions pretty much everything about himself to the point he is neglecting work at times in order to investigate his origins and maybe find his father. And the answers he longs for. Oh, he’s also entered a relationship with Maria and become - and here I quote Locke who was very, very pissed about this a few days ago - an accomplished lover.

But let’s look at things a bit more step by step, shall we?

A brief overview

Following Leonorâ’s prolonged absence, Sceada begins looking for other sources of affection, becoming rather flirty and sometimes even bold with Fran and Selphie, while deepening his friendship with Maria during their trip and afterwards

Sceada and Maria get rather close following him finding her having a nightmare, and staying with her to offer comfort

Leila captures the mage and, after tying him to her bed and appealing to his curiosity, takes his virginity. Later a second encounter occurs, where he they both are drunk at a Festival, before parting ways again.

Upon having spent Valentine’s Day with his friend Maria, Sceada discovers he has developed feelings for her. However, when voicing them, he finds them to be unrequited, and he tries to distance himself from her for a while.

Leonora finally returns, and during the initial happiness the two share a passionate night before the Sage encourages Sceada to follow his heart and pursue Maria, suggesting he could be or become polyamorous.

Sceada spends more time together with Maria, becoming closer again, but is content with just being friends. This changes when the pair are attacked by Coeurls, and Sceada nearly sacrifices himself to protect her, causing Maria to realize her feelings. When he recovers, the two become a pair, and slowly, over time, grow closer and closer.

Conflicted by his feelings for both Maria and Leonora (and to an extent, Leila as well...), Sceada seeks out a Goddess of Love, looking for advice. His silent hopes for reassurance in loving both women are however aptly crushed when the deity questions his motives for loving them, leading him to realize how much suppressed doubt and insecurity he has carried with himself.

Upon trying to tell Leonora more about Maria, Sceada’s motives are once again questioned, leading to an unfortunate argument that exposes a lack of trust on his end that Sceada had not been aware of. Unwilling to let herself be hurt by this any longer, Leonora suggests they part ways - they have not seen each other nor communicated in any way since then.

Sceada tries to forget about it all, hoping he could overcome it all with Maria’s love. However, when she wishes to take their relationship to the next step, he feels guilty over not having told her, and in the subsequent conversation many an uncomfortable truth and emotion are laid bare. Still, the pair reconcile, staying together and eventually consummate on their relationship.

Knowing that he will not be able to ignore the burning questions in his heart and mind any longer, Sceada begins to prepare to leave on a journey, just as the Goddess had suggested. He arranges for the eventuality that he might not return with his old rival Seshat Khnum, but before he can leave, Maria implores him to stay with her until the new year.

Making the most of this opportunity, Sceada holds his advent calendar again, and at the end of the year, attends the Garden Festival organized by Selphie.

Of course, there have been plenty of other plays as well, and I wouldn’t miss any of them. For example, Sceada finally opening up to Freya, or adventuring together with Jack in order to grab a certain book from the library of Burmecia, and all the shenanigans with little Stabby McStabstab Vani the Helfling Rogue - There was so much I adore, and not enough room here to mention them all. Just know that I loved all of our interactions!

A little note about the Smut

Yes, you read that right. I already mentioned stuff further up, but I still wanna note it here too, and add what’s missing up there.

We’ve already seen that he slept with Leila twice and Leonora once before he then got together with Maria, and well... let’s just say that those two may have taken a long time to get started, but haven’t been exactly innocent since - Sindays ahoy, is all I’ll say ;) But there have also been others, which I am not yet exactly certain whether to consider them canon to his main story, or separate cases - there’s merit in both, mind you, and I’ll probably ask the ladies involved eventually too. But who were they?

There is an as of yet unfinished thread with Fran, where the two engage in intimacies in a spring in the woods, after Sceada followed her and her enticing scent. One could argue that this is mainly heat relief, but it is not as though Sceada is exactly unwilling or that he is uninterested in the beautiful Viera...

The few encounters he’s had with Selphie were things got frisky somehow all share a similar pattern: Be it a playful argument, a bet they had or simply because sharing a bed leads to some “friction”, there is always something triggering the situation getting a bit more intimate and well... no one can deny that Selphie is a person you can have much fun with...

I also want to mention Aria, though the way our plays so far have played out, I kinda headcanon it as the two of them having been willing to get more physical three times so far, and Sceada stopping it each time because he noticed Aria wasn’t certain about it, and quite nervous, even afraid at times. And if there’s one thing he wants more than to avoid hurting her, it’s for her to enjoy this decision and not regret it... Perhaps the moment will still come, should we resume playing and point them in that direction.

There are two more ladies I played with, where things are rather kinky. One of them is on Discord and a fellow Black Mage, who’s been tons of tun to write with - the other a blog dedicated to sinful threads. I’ll refrain from naming either for now, as these two are likely to remain their own verses.

Final notes

Finally, I’d like to mention that there is also one more I play with on Discord after she left tumblr, and that her muse Anima is a pleasure to write with in all three verses we came up with. Also, I just wanna thank everyone who played with me this year, and I look forward to continue doing so - as well as meet new people!

Sceada will soon leave on his journey, and that means there is plenty of room for new friendships to be forged, and acquaintances to be made - or rivalries and enmities! I’m open for anything!

With that said, if you’re still reading this, I apologize for rambling for so long. I wish you a very, very good new year and thank you for putting up with me! Have fun tonight, have fun the entire next year, and I hope to interact with you again in 2018!!

Thanks for everything,

Patrick~

#ooc #Mun Info #Muse Info #sorry for how long I ramble again #I had somehow more to say than I expected #and still feel as though I haven't said it all #I'd better shut up now hehe #Have a nice year folks!!

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theparaminds · 6 years

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We all remember moments entwined with difficulty and sadness, moments we stand unsure of our next step and the right choices. Yet, through those times we also remember the music and the art that fills the cracks in our happiness, the art that allowed us to live and breath, even through the confusion. Xavley knows this all too well, he knows what it means to be hurt and healed through art. And now, he is putting his heart towards doing the same for others.

Ever since the release of project ‘oof’, Xavley has finally found himself clearing the daily fog that filled his creative energy, instead producing lush and breathtakingly emotional music that resonates with any soul, whether it be young or old, tired or excited. His combination of genre and connective lyricism guides his music to a plateau of beauty every artist strives towards, yet so few can achieve.

While this last year has been anything short of easy for Xavley, there remains the constant happiness and knowledge that all the hard work is not going to waste, that others are finding it to be the bright spots of their often dreary and disappointing days. And for that reason, Xavley has remained, and will continue to be, the beacon of hope, resilience and artistry for so many in need.

Our first question as always, how’s your day going and how are you?

Honestly, my day's been rough as fuck. This year's probably been one of the hardest of my young adult life,

but in terms of how it was objectively: it wasn't bad. My day started off good, I woke up on my own terms after a really weird ass dream and then I listened to this album called “Sen Am” by Duval Timothy. Mind if I ask how your day was?

Yeah my days been great! Thank you so much for asking. Would you be cool telling about the dream you had and what’s been going on for you the last year?

I forget how some of the parts fit together, but as a general overview: my friend’s sister married the prince of England. After that, Usher threw a beach party to celebrate with a bunch of tiny little micro plastic bead things that were supposed to inflate into beach balls when they hit the water, but instead they just absorbed all the heat in the ocean and caught fire. A lot of people got hurt and it caused an environmental crisis. When we caught him (Usher), he broke out into this weird live performance of a very sexual video to evade capture. Then we were at a party where my uncle and his friends were wearing shirts saying “company boss” and “the new guy” while my aunt was giving me life advice. At one point she transformed into a middle aged woman who said something racist when I mentioned going to Ghana.

And to sum the year up super quickly, I had a friend who was doing a bunch of things that made me feel hella uncomfortable while I was living with him, so after trying to ghost him while I was still living there, dumb I know, I ended up having to formally end our friendship. After that, he did his best to make the living situation pretty uncomfortable for everyone living there by giving me the silent treatment and opening up to our other roommates and then the other three people ended up kicking me out. Since then, I've had to couch surf for like a month, they aren't giving me my deposit back, and I've really struggled to get a grip on school stuff

Damn, that’s brutal, have you at least been able to find comfort through music and art as escapism and a personal release?

I'm not sure. I'd say yes because I do A TON of music stuff when I'm procrastinating on my other responsibilities, like work or school. Music is a relief when I can actually make a good song, but if not, it presents a different kinda stress. The act of finishing a song is pretty relieving, but sometimes making them is also stressful. Listening to good music by other people is a good coping mechanism though some songs help me think back to nice memories, others kinda help me reframe how I'm looking at the situations I find myself in. I guess part of why my day started off so nice was because spotify gave me a good ass discover weekly playlist.

Have you had a good memory from the last difficult year that sticks out to you? Something that distracted from the hardships and down times?

I've had so many good times this year. Yesterday, my friend and I were at the library and this girl working at the desk snorted and that shit was SO FUNNY because she definitely didn't want to snort. We weren't trying to laugh at her because it really could've happened to any of us. I guess it was just a laugh we both needed. Every show I've played has been a blast; I usually really like meeting and interacting with new people and those places have presented some cool opportunities to meet and reconnect with people. One of my closest friends let me stay at her house for a minute while I was tryna get my life together and there were a lot of fun times then. I guess something that distracts me is knowing that I don't know what tomorrow's gonna be like. That's kinda reassuring.

How would you say you’ve found yourself as an artist through this time, wether through soundcloud, live shows or just generally making music? In a sense, how has your musical vision developed?

I'm actually not entirely sure how to answer that one. I guess what comes to mind first is how I've developed as a person. I still really need to work at being more collaborative. Hearing what other people have to say and how they say it in their art has really touched and inspired me to be a better artist. I like to surround myself with people who inspire me to be a better person and to be a better me. I think finding myself as an artist is kind of an everyday thing because who I am as a person and who I am as an artist are one in the same. In my art, I try to say and be some of the things I am and stand for. Sonically, I feel like I could produce about anything, but I'm not really sure why I like making music in the genre that I do. I guess it just feels like it's the most me if that answers the question When I go back and listen to my old stuff I can hear who I was and what I cared about. I like hearing myself mature but I also wish the old stuff was just as good as what I have now. But if it were just as good, then there'd be no point in growth.

Would you personally say you have a certain type of person or listener you hope to resonate with? Possibly someone who may have felt or is going through situations and emotions similar to yours?

Honestly, whenever people reach out to me to tell me how my music has impacted them it's so so incredibly surprising. Maybe it shouldn't be because we're all people and people go through shit, but it is. This one time someone told me that my music helped them stop self harming and I was like, "damn. that's what I needed x amount of years ago". So it's nice to know that my stuff is sometimes able to provide for others what I struggle to provide myself. I guess one thing that's really influenced the progression of my sound is how I grew up around a lot of white people and, up until now, I never really felt "Black enough" or good enough in any regard, so I've always hoped that what I say and how I say it resonates with those who look like and experience the world in a way that might be even the slightest bit similar to the way I do. Of course, I believe that a lot of music is for everyone, and I would definitely encourage anyone to listen to and feel with my music, but I would love for it to resonate with the Black people just trying to do the day-to-day.

Absolutely, that's essential in music. When you personally were becominging interested in music and art, who were the musicians who did the same for you and your emotions?

Oh boy. There’s so so many, the artists that first come to mind are: Isaiah Rashad, Ravyn Lenae, Steve Lacy for sure, MoRuf, Lo-fi Le-vi, Daywave, Lauryn Hill, Noname, Wild nothing, Abra, Thundercat, Willow Smith, Beach fossils, Bibio, Shlomo, King Krule, Yeek, Brent Faiyaz, TORO Y MOI!, Childish Gambino for sure, Redline Graffiti, Princess Nokia, TOM MISCH, Little Dragon, OutKast, Alicia Keys and Michael Jackson.I guess the people I’ve done my best to imitate would be Joji, Ravyn Lenae, Brent Faiyaz, Lauryn Hill, Noname, Chance, Gambino, Earth Wind and Fire and Washed Out. Every artist I’ve ever liked has had a profound impact on me. But I think some of my friends have had the largest impact. My friend who makes music under the name Nicole Watson has had a massive influence over how I write and how I sing. I definitely wouldn’t be where I am without her. Aside from her, my friend Joseph who goes by TEMPOREX, and then my old step-brother named Jay who makes music under the nam “Dream-Like”. I’ve been a part of a few artist group chats that’ve really encouraged me. One specific one that comes to mind was created by this guy named Marcus who brought us all together as a fanclub group for The Internet band. The people I can name from that off the top of my head are Aidan Ochre (he makes music under that name), this producer named Walt, this dude named Deon, and a few other guys. My friend who makes music under the name Oliv Blu has also been a pretty big source of inspiration for me.

When you see the paths these inspirations of yours take, the improvements and new sounds they explore, what paths do you begin to hope to go down and what are musical avenues you hope to explore later?

I guess I hope to go down the paths I don’t yet know yet. I don’t think I’ll ever want to completely transform into some other musician. I personally think borrowing and adopting aspects of another’s work is park of being an artist, but to completely adopt their sound, style, subject matter or whatever would be a disservice to myself. I have stuff to say and if I’m not saying it as myself then I feel like that’ll just retract from the value of what I personally think and feel. I guess in the end I just want to like where I’m going as an artist. And if we’re talking musical avenues... I’d say the unreleased stuff I’m holding onto is deeper in the Rnb/Soul genre. I think, in a way, when I first started making music was when it was at its best. I’ve really been trying to get back to that raw sound because Oof really felt like I was trying to conform to a mold that other “bigger” artists have already laid out. To get there I’d love to be able to combine the rnb with some of the more jazzy influences and little bit of shoegaze/chillwave or something.. I think it’d be pretty dope to keep some of the lo-fi attributes in there too.

How did you find yourself approaching the avenues of releasing ‘oof’, and what did that project represent as a whole for you?

With Oof I was revisiting a lot of old soundcloud demos I put out like 2+ years ago and cleaning them up a bit. I actually don’t remember if I had any intention with that one outside of trying to gain some traction in my music career. The goal was at least to to do better than I did on Ghost on the Run, but there wasn’t a whole lot of intention behind Oof as a project. Most of the songs are either me processing depression/anxiety stuff or other shit from my silly love life. In the end, all the songs just ended up sounding like they’d work together. I tried to put them in an order that “made sense”. Every time I’ve finished a project I look back at it and think “that doesn’t really feel like me.” but this upcoming EP/Album I have titled “with love,” feels a little closer to what I sounded like when I first started making music. I like that a lot. So to go back, Oof was a period of growth. What’s funny is that I go through the same exact emotional process whenever I release an album and then a couple months down the road I look back and I’m like “eh.” and then a few more months follow and again I look back and listen for where and how I can improve.

I feel like art and learning in general is about learning to experience, in whatever way one does, the space between the skills they’ve gained. Like if someone gets a trophy for every drum pattern, each vocal run, or every piano/guitar chord they know, then eventually they’re gonna step back and be like “damn, I have all these trophies and there isn’t much space left for any more”. But if they look closer they’ll find that the gaps between their trophies are bigger than they thought. There’s always space for more. Sometimes it’s just really fuckin hard to see those spaces, especially if you’re doing the same shit over and over.

When you look back upon that project and the work you're currently doing, what have you found the biggest differences to be and do you find yourself prideful of oof and those past works?

If we’re talking technicalities, I feel like I do a better job with my vocal runs and general layering stuff. I also feel like I’ve become a better lyricist and I feel like I’ve let go of the structure that I used to embrace. I’m proud that I was able to complete them (the albums) because I have ADHD so finishing shit can be really hard for me. It’s nice to see that I am capable of finishing projects when I really put my mind to it. The developments between each one are some things to be proud of.

What would you say is your biggest goal going forward and what are you going to do to ensure it becomes completed?

Honestly man, I just wanna be happy. I don't really care whether I blow up or not, I just want to keep making stuff that helps me feel good about myself because I've been pretty damn unhappy for a long time and I feel like it's about damn time that turns around. I want to produce films and write poems and somehow incorporate all of my arts into one final project one day, like a masterpiece of some kind. That'd be pretty dope to see.

Moses Sumney once signed a dollar and gave it to me after a show when he had like 4k followers on IG and I am DETERMINED to meet him at some music award show and give it back to him. That's when I think I'll be like "yep. I'm good.” I don’t even know why, I don't even really care about giving it back to him that much. But I've been holding onto that thought since I was a junior in high school and I gotta bring it to fruition. I also want to be able to make other people happy. I'm doing my best to do that now, but I don't have a whole lot of resources to help people like I want to. I definitely contribute to efforts when, where, and however I can; but it'd be pretty damn tight to have the mobility to do it on a larger scale. At the same time, I think it just matters that I do what I can whenever I can for whoever needs it. I'm still trying to think that one through. I want to help my family be happy and I want to help kids get access to the arts they wanna practice. I would also love to help them learn how to practice those arts, if they fall under the pretty wide variety of things i'm learning to do,if not, I'd love to help them find people who can help them. And I guess by doing that I'd be paying respect to the people who've helped get me to where I am today. Like a pay it forward kinda thing.

I love your story about Moses, I’m sure you’ll get it one day. Maybe as a final question, and it may be really loaded for you. But, what is the point to this difficult journey you’ve undertaken? Why is it you have poured your heart and soul into this all? Why, for you, is it all worth it?

The most difficult journey for me has been learning that I'm worthy of being heard and loved and understood. I'm still working at it, but I've been trying to recognize that what I say and how I say it has value as a contribution to the greater human to non human life to earth to universe conversation. It's kind of hard to think about sometimes but I know that because I even have the opportunity to be alive with the resources and people I have around me, I have to do something with it all. I am choosing to have the responsibility of making something of everything that's been given to me so I can give it to others and then, I hope, they'll do something with what they have and pass it on to someone else in whatever capacity they're able to give. I guess another thing that's been incredibly frustrating for me has been watching all of my friends do really well with their music while the progression of my "career" has been super slow. It's taught me how to be happy for others and how to separate my success from theirs, but that's been a little frustrating. In the end, if it doesn't work out I'll probably keep doing music but it'll just be a hobby. I'll pick up something else and try that.

That’s a perfect way to look at it and visualize what the purpose is. Do you have anyone to shoutout or anything to promote? The floor is yours!

Yeah! I'm dropping a single this Friday, November 23! Also follow me on instagram @xavley and comment a Never Gonna Give You Up reference one of @TEMPOREX’s instagram posts and tell him Xavier sent you. Also go listen to Dream-Like because he's been dropping a lot of hot tunes lately.

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Photos by Colin Shephed, Ben Ward, and Travvis Redding

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