#Did I listen to lose yourself a lot while writing this chapter? Perhaps

[jtl-fics]

Fluent Freshman - Part 19

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There’s a couple things about FF that might be good to know at this point.

1. There are few things in the world he hates doing more than asking for clarification or admitting he doesn’t understand / know something. The thought of going up to someone and admitting that he hasn’t perfectly comprehended the situation upon the first explanation is something makes his stomach twist like he’d just eaten Mango-Habanero ice cream.

He has figured out his own math theorems in the pursuit of not having to ask the math teacher to explain he doesn’t understand. He got lost in an Ikea once for over 6 grueling hours where he considered making a home there and living among the display rooms until his grandma grabbed him by the ear and dragged him to safety (the food court) and let him regain his strength (eat Swedish meatballs). He, to this day, is not sure about one of his foreign language friend’s names (how embarrassing he just keeps waiting for someone else to say it but they go by some insane nickname).

So he has become a master of piecing shit together on his own. He sometimes gets it wrong (Andrew, god how embarrassing) but for the most part 8 times out of 10 he can get to the right answer if he just has a couple pieces to work with. No one had ever actually explained to him how Exy works and he was too embarrassed to ask after the third week of practice in middle school so he just pieced together what he was and was not allowed to do through the art of trial and error. He’s even mostly pieced out the rules for the other positions.

So with the information he has gotten through people being bound and determined to talk in foreign languages in front of him he has an idea about the tenuous situation some of the older Foxes find themselves in.

He’s heard Kevin Day and Jean Moreau talk in French.

He’s heard that the anxiety in both of their voices as they talked about their futures and owing 80% of their salaries to the ‘Moriyamas’ and how nervous they were about getting on professional teams or else they’d be killed.

Captain Neil and Andrew are not always using Russian to talk dirty.

He’s heard Andrew soothe Captain Neil’s worries about playing for a professional team. He’s heard Captain Neil mention that at least ‘Ichirou’ would likely just kill him and not make a game out of it like his father did.

Organized Crime might have more to do with Exy than FF had originally thought.

(He had thought it. Plenty of times he had thought it but his Gran had warned him that he was overthinking things. That he wasn’t playing a sport invented by the Mafia. That he had caffeinated coffee instead of decaf. “It’s going to be okay sweetie. Just take a deep breath.”)

This leads into the second thing you should know at this point.

2.  Before he had signed with Wymack he had known the broad strokes of Captain Neil’s life. There had been a lot of news articles about it and Gran (bless her) loved trashy gossip magazines.

After he had signed with the Foxes he had done a bit of a deep dive on as many of their controversies as he could find. There’d been things from brawls on the court (worrying), player overdoses (concerning), a straight up MURDER (Oh god), and the very public breaking of the King of Exy’s arm resulting in his suicide (Warranted, that wacko was going to take off Captain Neil’s HEAD.)

But the thing that had made him actually a little bit, dare he admit, excited to go to Palmetto was the fact that Captain Neil was there.

For someone who froze for almost a decade, who just took it and didn’t have the balls to even react? Neil Josten is an inspiration.

This is someone who got away, who lived a life completely unlike FF’s, someone who knew how to run and more impressively someone who learned how to FIGHT. Captain Neil was being hunted but he still ripped people to shreds in interviews. Captain Neil was probably more scared of the Butcher than FF had been of anything in his entire life but Captain Neil was way braver than FF could ever hope to be.

Captain Neil was taken and tortured but he still fought. FF had seen the scars and Captain Neil is right to wear them proudly (though based on some conversations he has unfortunately overheard he is sure Andrew may have a role in Neil’s positive feelings about them).

FF had thought that he was being lead to his death down in a basement of a club (Don’t cringe. Don’t cringe. Don’t cringe. Don’t-) and he just trailed right behind the two of them without even an illusion of a fight.

Neil Abram Josten was a bit of a personal hero.

He’s proud to call him Captain Neil. He wishes Andrew hadn’t been there when Greg had mentioned wanting autographs because FF wants an autograph from Captain Neil but now Andrew has probably mentioned it to Neil.

Long story short, FF had looked into a lot of details on Captain Neil’s case.

Including two of the Butcher’s top men who were still on the loose.

Romero Malcolm and Jackson Plank.

He keeps his presence low but no matter how many times he blinks the man grumbling in Italian next to him continues to be Romero Malcolm.

Moreover Romero Malcolm continues to grumble about the fact that he is having a hard time finding ‘Nathaniel’ and that he’ll have to grab one of ‘The Wesninski brat’s friends’ to draw him out.

FF is a recently confirmed friend of Captain Neil.

FF who is standing next to this man, with his dick out, and trying to remain as invisible as possible.

After two shakes (Yes he was watching but only because he had to! He wonders briefly if he goes to the FBI if they would accept a description of Romero Malcolm’s penis for the wanted poster? Probably not but it is BURNED into his retinas.)

He watches as Romero tucks, zips, and then bypasses the sink entirely.

FF shivers at how unhygienic that is. Who RAISED him?

The door shuts and FF needs to get out of here ASAP but his hands are shaking with the sudden adrenaline of ’One of the FBI’s Most Wanted just took a piss next to me and is looking for me friend’. He pulls his phone from his pocket and ducks into one of the stalls. Even if there’s no door it’ll at least FEEL a little safer, a little more private. He needs to warn Neil, Warn Andrew, and warn-

The door to the bathroom SLAMS open and music blares in (palms are sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavy-) and his phone slips out of his hands and into the toilet. There are footsteps coming towards him and FF digs deep.

He’s in ultra stealth mode. He is the wall behind the wallpaper. Mantis shrimp can only dream of the color he becomes, the United States military have the CIA on the look out for him because he’s fallen off all conventional forms of radar and tracking.

He is a bargain fruit platter on a dessert table at a kid’s birthday party.

He is ULTRA stealth.

Romero’s gaze glides over him.

Then the man leaves (STILL DID NOT WASH HIS HANDS).

His heart is hammering in his chest but he manages to reach down and grab his phone. Well, Coach Wymack had gotten the extended warranty at least. (“Do you know what these fuckers do to phones? Josten crushed his last year in a fight with the Baseball team captain.”)

His phone’s extended dip into the toilet water had not done it any favors in working properly.

Well fuck.

He wipes his phone down the best he can. He wipes his phone down with some toilet paper before cramming it into his pocket (Sorry Nicky, he’ll wash the toilet water pants if they survive).

He sees a flyer on the wall of the bathroom and starts to think of a plan.

He rushes out of the bathroom (he still washes his hands because he will not have something in common with a man on the FBI’s most wanted list and he just dipped his hand into a CLUB TOILET) and clocks Nicky’s wild arm movements and WORSE clocks Romero just 10 clubbers away.

He sees Romero’s eyes lock onto Nicky and a smile that terrifies him.

He’s out of Ultra Stealth Mode even if every atom in his body wants to run.

He is so stressed and panicked that he has gone beyond his body’s ability to process that so all that is left is determination. He’s got a head full of a half-baked plan, a hand going to his pocket, a second hand on the only ‘weapon’ he has on him, and a stomach full of acid.

He’s pulling his phone out of his pocket before he can really let himself think about it and walking up next to where Romero is standing. He holds his toilet water phone up to his ear and does the one weird social anxiety thing that he had never done before.

He pretends to be on a phone call.

“Hey Captain Neil,” he says and in the corner of his eye he can see Romero’s gaze shift from Nicky (surrounded by an adoring public, covered in sweat and therefore difficult to grab - a difficult target) to himself (alone, shorter, and probably looking like he’s about to pass out). “Yeah I think I’m going to take a break outside after I grab quick drink and then a water at the bar.” He says because he has to be the easier target and he has to go to the bar. “Yeah, yeah, okay I’ll mention it to that bartender guy.” He says and pretends to hang up.

He turns and he walks towards the bar and feels his pulse in his throat go to the beat of the music (success is my only motherfucking option, failure’s not).

He only knows about the alley because in the car ride to Sweetie’s Nicky had mentioned that he wouldn’t let FF’s first time be out there. He had been embarrassed but it was the only way he knew to get Romero out of the club and away from where he could hurt Captain Neil or anyone else in the pursuit of that.

He spots the bartender who had gotten the drinks for their table and his mind completely blanks on the name but the bartender sees him and smiles. “Oh you’re Neil and Andrew’s new friend! What can I help you with? I thought you were-“

“Hi, yes I am Captain Neil and Andrew’s friend.” He says a little loudly because he can feel Romero behind him and he does NOT want the man to know anything about where Captain Neil was.

“Captain Neil? Oh wow that’s adorable.” The man gushes. “What can I help you with? I won’t ask for ID for one of their friends.” He winks.

“I’d like to order the uh…” he tries to remember the exact drink name from the flyer, “…the deluxe chocolate martini?” He asks and knows he got it right when the bartender’s expression shifts ever so slightly.

“Oh yeah, how do Andrew and Neil feel about that?” He asks and oh great a coded conversation. It’s nice to actually be having a real one of these for once instead of just perceiving normal conversations to have hidden meanings.

“They don’t know. They probably prefer that I order it instead of Nicky or Aaron.” He lets his eyes dart to the wide where he believes Romero is watching him.

“I don’t know if that’s true.” The bartender says, “Nicky knows how to handle a drink and Aaron’s not a lightweight either.” He adds.

FF struggles to find a coded way to say ‘It’s not that someone’s hitting on me too hard like the flyer mentioned. It’s that there’s a mafia hitman in your club.’

Finally after a moment, “It’s not the usual kind of drink they get.” He tries and the bartender looks confused by the statement, dammit. He struggles to find a different way to say it before the bartender smiles.

“Y’know you’re really cute.” He reaches under the bar top and grabs a piece of paper and a pen. “How about you write down your number for me cutie? We can meet up sometime.” He says. “I’ll get started on that chocolate martini for you.” He says.

HE COULD KISS THIS MAN.

“I’d like that.” He says.

He writes out a quick message on the small note paper.

‘Armed. After Neil. Looked at Nicky. I’m going to the back alley. Phone is dead.’

The bartender comes back and looks at his note. “We’re out of chocolate martini mix, can I get you something-“ He hopes the club lighting obscures how pale the man got, “something else?” He asks and FF can SEE his pulse.

“Can I just get some water then?” He asks.

The bartender nods and pulls up his phone and hopefully is dialing the police and hands FF a water. His hand grabs hold of FF’s “You don’t need to go out into the alley. You could hang in the backroom with me?” He offers.

There really are some kind people in the world.

“I think it’s better if I’m not in here for a bit.” He says back and honestly he needs this kindness and he has a spare bit of courage, “What’s your name by the way? Sorry I missed it.” He says.

The bartender swallows, “It’s Roland.” He says.

“Thanks Roland.” He twists the cap off of the water bottle and takes a sip.

He turns and pretends not to notice how Romero is trying to be inconspicuous pretending to be on his phone.

He makes his way over to the alley door and notices that Romero is tracking his movements but is not following him like he did to the bar.

His heart is pounding and he can’t BELIEVE he’s doing this. He wants to run, wants to hide somewhere, wants to become imperceptible but…but…

He opens the door to the alley as the bass of the remixed song finishes.

(You can do anything you set your mind to, man)

He lets the door slam behind him and he is alone in the alley.

He was not expecting a van to come to a screeching halt in front of the entrance and for a different face to appear climbing out of the car.

Jackson Plank.

FF looks at the ugly smile on the man as he walks towards him with a knife in hand.

Okay now what genius?

MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU

NEXT

5/26/23: EDITED. Can’t believe I forgot to put the Captain in front of Neil’s name on the meme. I’m blaming the accidental early awakening.

Per your requests:

@i-have-three-feelings​ @blep-23​ @dreamerking27​ @andreilsmyreligion​ @belodensetdust​ @rainbowpineapplebottle @yarn-ace​ @iwouldlikesometea @lily-s-world​ @obscureshipsandchips​ @booklover242​ @whataboutmyfries​ @sahturnos​ @pluto-pepsi​ @dreamerthinker​ @passinhosdetartaruga​ @leftunknownheart​ @aro-manita-muscaria @hologramsaredead​ @Chaoticgremlinswishtheycouldbeme @tntwme​ @tayspots @nick-scar​ @crazy-fangirl2524​ @blue-jos10​ @stabbyfoxandrew​ @splishsplashyouropinionistrash​ @sammichly​ @the-broken-pen​ @bitchesdoweknowu​ @very-small-flower​ @ghostlyboiii​ @its-a-paxycab​ @bisexual-genderfluid-fan​ @cheesecookie​ @theoneandonlylostsock​ @foxsoulcourt​ @blueleys @adverbialstarlight​ @elia-nna​ @can-i-just-stay-in-the-corner​ @nikodiangel​ @foxandcrow-inatrenchcoat​ @hallucinatedjosten​ @satanic-foxhole-court​ @vexingcosmos​ @chalilodimun​ @insectsgetcooked​ @angry-kid-with-no-money​ @queer-crows​ @lillyndra​ @themugglemudperson​ @readertodeath​ @apileofpillows​ @mortalsbowbeforeme​ @hellomynameismoo​ @next-level-mess @youreonlylow​ @interstellarfig​ @notprocrastinatingatalltoday​ @percyjacksonfan3​ @queenofcrazy27​ @bsmr261 @ghostlyscares​ @spencellio​ @adinthedarkroom​ @harpymoth​ @sufferingjustalilbit​ @anxietymoss​ @oddgreyhound​ @ohno-myhyperfixation-itsbroken​ @ken22789​ @atiredvampire​ @isoldescorner​ @not--a--pipedream​ @azure-wing​ @bushbees​  @roonilwazlib-main​ @crumplelush​ @foldedaces-paperbirds​ @thesenseinnonsense​ @let-tyrants-fear​ @ketchupfriesandallthingsnice​ @legowerewolf​ @deadlydodos​ @but-we-respect-his-craft​ @cariniqe​ @zanypersonapricotbiscuit​

The requests to be added to the tag list keep being spread out across a few different areas. If I missed you please just ask again in the replies I promise I just missed you.

As stated before if you’re up here and I spelled it  right but you didn’t  get a notification there might be something  switched around in  your settings that won’t let me tag you properly?

Lillyndra it worked this time!!!

#Fluent Freshman AU #Is it a songfic chapter if it's only 3 lines? Experts aren't sure #Did I listen to lose yourself a lot while writing this chapter? Perhaps #If Nora mentioned something about Jackson or Romero in her extras I did not read it #Also gonna be honest here and state that I forgot the likely year that AFTG happened in and this is happening in 2010 #So I guess this AU also involves a slight time shift #Andrew and Neil may have gotten lost in one another's eyes a bit down in the speakeasy #Really they're just being polite to get all of their PDA out of the way while FF is taking what might be the piss of a lifetime. #(They have no idea how accurate that might be) #Andrew is all set to kiss one of his favorite of Neil's freckles (yes he has ordered them from favorite to lesser favorite) #Then his phone goes off #He looks and it's Roland #Andrew: WTF is Roland trying to call me? #Nicky is busy being the Dancing Queen. If someone plays ABBA he will absolutely scream rn #I had considered a whole sequence of FF trying to get Nicky and Aaron to the safety of the backroom in Eden's #And Nicky just keeps reappearing on the dancefloor while FF is looking for Aaron #I was gonna use that simpsons meme where Moe throws out Barney and then Barney is just right back in the bar #But it got a little too crazy #But just know in this AU Nicky is canonically an excellent escape artist #Maybe Erik went through a bit of a magician phase and Nicky was DELIGHTED to be asked to be his assistant #Maybe that's how they got together #The inherent ROMANCE of magician and assistant #I don't remember if they ever really said in the books or nora's content #If I'm rambling because I forgot to shut off my alarm (Memorial Day 4-day weekend baby) #The fate of FF's phone may have been caused by some slight anger towards my own #RIP FF's Wymack phone (July 2010 - November 2010) #AFTG #AFTG AU #Andreil #FF - Pt.19

[americaswritings]

In the dark I will call your name | chapter 8

Warnings (for the whole series): angst, talk of depression, trauma, nightmares, violence, mentions of blood, language, lots of emotions  

Summary: You could never tell them the truth about who you were, what you had done, the demons that were haunting you. So you buried it deep inside of you, swearing to take the secret to the grave with you. Then the nightmares start, the headaches, the simple drop of red confirming your fate. Vecna knows the truth, feels you suffering. Can you escape his curse?  

Words: 2.7k

Pairing: Steve Harrington x reader

A/N: Only one week until my vacation yay ^^ Also the miniseries with Steve x Billy’s sister!reader is going very well. I am currently writing the second part (out of 3). Once I finished the whole series and read over it I am going to upload it! I hope you’re still enjoying this story! Only 2 more chapters to go :)

Add yourself to my taglist!

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Chapter 8: The world was on fire and no one could save me but you.

So this was how it would end.

But as you closed your eyes for the final time, you thought back to Steve’s words. 

“I just found you. I can’t lose you now.”

His fingers in your hair playing softly with a loose strand. His arms around your body, keeping you safe. His eyes meeting yours, pleading you to fight.

He cared.

Maybe you should have told him the truth. You trusted him, yet you had never found the courage to confess everything to him. 

Perhaps because there was no going back. No way to make the words unsaid after you had admitted them. And you were afraid he would never look at you the same way. Never see you the same way he did now.

An image of El filled your mind, but this time she wasn’t covered in blood and staring at you with an expression of betrayal. She was wearing a colourful jumpsuit, her hair pulled up with one of the scrunchies you had given her. She was standing in front of a big mirror at the mall, and you were placing a ridiculous looking hat on her head. A second later she burst out laughing and you joined in.

The image faded and you saw a flash of red hair. Max. Jumping off her skateboard she grinned at you, trying to look nonchalant, but you could see pride in her eyes. “I need you to hold my hand. I’m not kidding”, you heard your own voice, seeing your past self-climbing hesitantly onto the board. 

You practically clawed at Max hand, but she laughed about it and after a few seconds you relaxed your grip a little, casting a proud expression towards the girl. “I told you you would be a natural”, she said, and the image faded just before you had face planted with the board and sworn off Max teaching you to skate.

You opened your eyes. Vecna’s claw was only inches away from your face. You could barely see anything but him. Gazing between his fingers you tried to focus on what you could make out.

Your floating body. Your friends.

They hadn’t left your side and even though it was impossible to see their faces, you knew they were scared for you. Desperate to get you back. If you listened closely, you could still hear their distinctive yells, your name being called over and over again.

Your mind flashed back to another memory. You were draped over Nancy’s bed, your feet hovering in the air as the two of you skimmed through magazines. “I bet this would look cute on you”, she told you, pointing towards an elegant evening gown. “It looks expensive”, you murmured, and she nudged you with her shoulder. “Steve would lose his mind if he saw you in that.” She waggled her eyebrows at you as you let out a gasp. “You know, I always wanted a friend to talk about fashion and boys with.” 

It evaporated into a few other scenes, moments you spend with your friends, laughing and having fun. Being young and free. Not carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders for a while. 

You could see Robin making a sound that was a mix between a laugh and a snort as she threw popcorn at you in the cinema and got it right down your cleavage. The boys gesturing you close to present their new science project to you. 

Max and you sneaking out at night, sitting on one of the rusty swings at the trailer park, talking. The two of you getting caught in heavy rain, sprinting through it hand in hand while soaking to the bone and laughing about the absurdity of it. Braiding El’s hair. Sleepovers at Nancy’s house. Steve throwing you into his pool fully clothed. The expression on his face after your first kiss. 

You could feel Vecna’s claw tracing over your face, pulling it up so you couldn’t see the window any longer. But there was still the music in your ears, the melody that was so familiar to you because you had listened to it over and over again.

It was your favorite song. The first song Steve had played when you were in the car with him on the way to your first date. He had sung along to it, and you had looked at him, puzzled but amused. Since then you always joined in when he played it, singing your heart out and laughing at each other. 

It reminded you of good times. The beginning of a better life.

All of this for what? To die a lonely death under Vecna’s claws? Only because you had kept the secret that made your heart heavy to yourself, too afraid to open up to the people that knew you best? 

They had been there all along, ever since the day you had stumbled upon them and the secret they were sharing. That the upside down was real. That monsters existed. That kids could have superpowers and shadows could come to life. 

In a way you were all connected to each other through it. Through the shared secret. Why did you fear your own so much?

“No”, you whispered, your eyes shooting back open. There had to be a way. As if the music had brought you back to yourself, reminded you of all the good in your life, you felt your determination return. And with it a newfound strength.

If there was a window, there had to be a way to get out of here and return to the real world. You had to try.

With all of your strength you ripped apart your wrists, lashing at Vecna. He flinched, trying to grow back some of the tentacles you had destroyed, but you used the time to duck away and push past him.

You could hear a grunt, but you didn’t turn. You couldn’t look back. All you could do was run. Run even though your legs were burning, and your lungs were on fire. Run through the red mist towards the bright portal in front of you. 

You saw something rushing towards you and you looked up to see a stone falling from the sky. It hit the ground right beside your feet sending you tumbling to the ground. 

Your trousers were covered in red, blood you realized, but you got back up. With your pants now soaking it was much harder to remain on steady feet and you kept on tripping on the now slippery ground. Every few seconds you could hear an explosion, remains of the house you had seen floating in the air early now falling from the sky to your left and ride. 

You ducked, dodging the stones that threatened to hit you, your eyes focused on the portal. The silhouettes had grown sharper now and bigger, their voices and the music louder in your ears.

With a final breath you reached out towards it, closing your eyes as you felt your body being swept away.

    -

(Y/n)?” Steve leaned away, his eyes flickering over your stiff body. “(Y/n)?! Please say something! Look at me!”, he pleaded, but your eyes were unfocused, filled with white like a cloudy sky. He took another step back, dread filling him as he felt his heart speed up. 

Placing his hand on each of your shoulders he shook you, more violently with each passing second you didn’t move. “(Y/n) wake up, please!” But you showed no reaction to his words. 

Desperately he turned towards the car where he knew the kids were waiting. “Guys!”, he yelled, waving frantically at them before turning back to you. “Wake up please! Come on, wake up!”

But you were gone.

Just a moment ago you had been here, smiling at him, kissing him and now your body was only an empty shallow. “Shit, shit, shit!” Dustin had scrambled up next to him, the radio in hand. “How long has she been like this?”, he questioned, his voice high pitched. 

“Just a moment ago she was fine!” Steve ran a hand through his hair before continuing to shake you. “Wake up, (y/n)! Wake up!” But deeply inside of him he knew it was useless. “Call Nancy and Robin!”, he yelled at Dustin, gesturing towards the radio. “I tried but-” “Call again!”, he interrupted him, his tone leaving no room for arguments.

Dustin exchanged a quick look with Lucas and Max, who had joined Steve in calling your name. Pulling out the antenna Dustin took a step away from them, holding the radio close to his mouth. “Nancy, do you copy?”

Silence greeted him, but he tried again. “Robin, do you copy? It’s a code red!”

Silence.

He looked back at Steve, the panic all over his face as he shook your body, calling your name. “It’s a code red, I repeat, a code red!”

Still no answer. 

“Robin!”

“I am here!” Dustin let out a sigh of relief, tears filling his eyes. “Oh god! Please tell me you found something! And make it quick! (Y/n) is having a vision again!” Steve had turned towards him, listening intensely for answer. 

“Okay okay, we found something, but we don’t know-” He could hear mumbling in the background and car tires screeching as Robin let out a yelp. “Sorry, okay, try playing music!” 

“What?” Dustin held the radio closer to his ear, worried he had misheard her. “It would take too long to explain right now but try to play music that means something to her. It has to have a meaning for her, or it won’t work!”

He looked up to find Steve’s eyes on him. “The Walkman! It must be in her backpack. Go, get the Walkman!” Lucas had already made a run for it, nearly tripping over his own feet as he rushed to the car where they hoped to find your Walkman with all the other stuff you had packed.

It had always meant a lot to you, music offering a world you could escape into at any time. Everyone knew where you were your Walkman couldn’t be far. So the chances you had packed it into your backpack with the other things that were personal to you and didn’t want your parent to throw out seemed high.

“Come back to me, (y/n)!” Steve pleaded, scared that it might take too long. That the idea wouldn’t work. That his moment with you had been the last. He wished he would know if you could hear him, but you hadn’t mentioned it after your first vision, so he doubted it. 

“Get your ass here, Sinclair!”, he yelled over his shoulder, ignoring Dustin’s eyes on him. “I got it, I got it!” Lucas scrambled up next to them, your Walkman and a bunch of cassettes in his hands. “Which one is her favorite?” He laid them to the ground and Steve crouched down, frankly shifting through them. 

“I don’t know”, he mumbled, the letters blurring in front of his eyes. How could he have forgotten your favorite song? His hands had begun shaking as he turned the cassettes over in his hands, the words blending into a stream of uncoherent letters.

“Okay, slow down Steve!” Dustin had crouched down next to him, laying a hand on his shoulder. “You know her favorite song. Think about it!”

“I’m trying”, he shot back, running a hand over his face. He couldn’t freak out now, you were depending on him. But it was as if he was seeing the cassettes for the first time. As if he had to choose the last piece of a puzzle without being able to get a look at it. 

Impossible.

He felt Max hovering next to him. He knew she was just as terrified as the rest of them, but something about her presence seemed to ground him a little. For her age she seemed so mature, radiating a sense of calm he desperately needed to get his head straight again. He needed to think clearly.

“Are these all she brought?” Lucas nodded, impatience written on his face. “Just pick one!”, he yelled but Dustin shook his head. “It has to be the right one or it won’t work!” “Why?”, Lucas questioned, disbelief in his voice. “I don’t know! Robin never got to that part. I told her to make it quick!”

“Guys!” Max interrupted them with a glare. They definitely wouldn’t be able to focus with them bickering. Steve’s eyes flashed back to yours and suddenly an idea popped into his head. He leapt forward, sticking his hands into the pockets of your jacket. 

“What are you doing?”, he heard Dustin’s voice behind him, but he ignored him, a feeling of triumph sinking in as his hand wrapped around something hard and angular. He didn’t even need to read the title to know which song it was.

“This is the one! That’s why I couldn’t find it!” He crouched back down, inserting the cassette into the Walkman and rushing to place the headphones over your ears. “Turn it on!”

He didn’t know what he expected, perhaps a miracle, your eyes opening the moment the music started to play, but he didn’t expect nothing to happen. His face fell, his heart pounding loudly in his ears. “It didn’t work! Why didn’t it work?” He turned back to Dustin, desperate and scared.

“You have to give it time!” 

Time. They didn’t have time. You didn’t have time. 

“(Y/N)!” He went back to shaking your shoulders, not bearing to stand around and do nothing. A few moments later Dustin, Lucas and Max joined him in calling your name, your voices growing more distraught and hopeless with each call.

Suddenly your body began to move. Steve stumbled back, watching in shock as it was lifted off the ground. “NO!”

He didn’t care the whimper that escaped his mouth. Didn’t care to hold back his tears. His voice sounded raw and raspy as he screamed your name mixing with the voices of Dustin and Lucas. Max had taken a step back, her eyes wide with fear as she stared up at you.

This was how it had ended for Chrissy. Eddie had told them about it, how her body had been lifted to the ceiling and ripped apart a second later. A part of him wanted to advert his eyes, knowing he wouldn’t be able to bear the sight. But something kept him standing there, staring up at you.

Every thought seemed to have vanished, his mind blank as his emotions overwhelmed his body. He didn’t seem able to breathe, the oxygen not quite reaching his lungs and he could hear the blood rushing in his ears.

His hands came up to the back of his head as he shouted at your floating body, terrified it could begin to snap at any second. Everything in him felt wrong, as if his own body was shutting down. 

He couldn’t breathe properly. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t control his movements. A wave of sickness washed over him, but he wouldn’t throw up, didn’t dare to take his eyes off you for even a second.

His throat burned from all the shouting, but he ignored it. Even if it was pointless, he would be calling your name until the last minute, hoping wherever you were you could hear him and know you weren’t alone.

That he was here.

From one second to the next all the tension seemed to leave your body and he watched it fold in on itself as you fell to the ground. On pure instinct he rushed forward, trying to ease your fall.

You landed in a curled up position on your back, gasping for air as your head wiped around. Your eyes were wide open, but there was no trace of the white clouds anymore. “(Y/n)?!”, he breathed, reaching out towards you. 

Your head snapped towards him, a look of terror in your eyes before they settled on his. You didn’t get a word out, still panting too heavy to be able to speak, but he could see you were back.

Unharmed.

Your hands reached for his body, trying to get a hold on him and he leant forward, scooping you up into his arms. “I thought I had lost you”, he admitted, not caring about the tears that stained his cheeks.

Your grip was tight around what you could get a hold of from him, but he didn’t mind, pulling you as close into his chest as he could and trying to sooth you by running a hand over your hair.

“I’m still here”, you choked out. “I’m here.”

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[midnightsxxvi]

For You, From Westview (Chapter 5)

Previous Chapter | Series Masterlist

Summary - While choas occurs outside of Westview, you are blissfully unaware. You find yourself writing a letter back to Bucky.

Pairing - Bucky x fem!reader / avenger!reader / fem!reader

Warnings - Lots of angst as per usual. Some swearing. Mention of death of an animal (rip to Sparky Maximoff). The way the timeline lines up with WandaVision is messed up this chapter but oh well. Also this one is a long one but the end is worth it I SWEAR (or I hope?)

Wordcount - 6.7k ...

A/N - I'm sorry it took me so long to write this. I was stuck with one small part for far too long, but I hope it turned out okay. Also here are the sources for the header image: 1. 2. 3.

───※ ·❆· ※───

Westview, 2023

They did not see you until over a day later. By that time, Bucky was driving everyone up the wall with his consistent open pondering over whether or not you had received his letter.

It was the longest day of his life. Well, not really. He’d unfortunately had worse days. But it surely was not a great day.

Surprisingly, the key reason it felt especially long was because in the span of 24 hours, they had watched Wanda go through an entire pregnancy cycle.

An Entire. Pregnancy. Cycle.

It was one of the strangest things he’d seen. Well, not really. He’d unfortunately seen stranger things. But surely, this was strange.

It was the 70s in Westview. Bucky was bored out of his mind, not really into all the groovy patterns, unfortunately. Monica Rambeau was hanging out with Wanda for a bit, which was when the day finally got interesting. Not that the pregnancy wasn’t interesting, it just was not his cup of tea. Anyway, Rambeau had said that’s foxy over something and Bucky kept repeating that in his head.

Foxy he thought, chuckling to himself. This was not something people said these days, and he had never heard it. Perhaps he was losing his mind a little bit.

Darcy looked at him, “Why are you laughing?”

“Nothin’,” he mumbled, smiling to himself before taking a sip of his coffee.

“Okay…”

Dearest Darcy was a gem to Bucky. She let him stick around, answering any question he had to the best of her ability, and also knew in return to not ask him too many questions. Not that he’d mind. He’d grown to appreciate her over the past few days, which couldn’t be said for many other people around. Still, he’d gotten very little sleep, and it was surprising how well he was holding it together.

He let out a small hum of a laugh which caused Darcy to squint at him.

“You think babies are funny?” she playfully accused. In the moment, they were watching Wanda alongside Monica, both caring for her newborn twins.

“The word foxy,” he admitted.

“I’m sorry, what?” She held back a laugh.

“T’s just funny. Foxy.” “Maybe you should take a nap, Barnes.”

With a little smile on his face, he nodded. “I think that may be a good idea, actually.”

“I’ll wake you up if–” something Monica had said on the broadcast caught Darcy’s attention. She’d cut herself off and stared at the screen again. “Woah.”

Bucky, who had not been paying attention and had only been thinking about foxes, switched himself into mission mode. “What is it?”

Instead of responding, Darcy listened attentively.

Saying what Bucky was thinking, Wanda, on screen, asked Monica/Geraldine, ‘What did you say?’ Geraldine did not respond, only stared at Wanda, a little surprised by her own words. Wanda repeated, ‘What did you say… just now?’

Bucky whispered, “What did she say?”

Darcy once again did not reply. This needed to play out first.

‘I said, Wanda… you’re such a strong lady. Should I say it one more time for good measure?’

And then, before anything was resolved, the scene cut. Just like that, Wanda was alone, watching over her sons.

“What the fuck?” Darcy played around with controls.

Bucky’s classic glare was very prominent. “What just happened?”

Darcy rewound, so Bucky could hear Monica’s original words for himself. At first, Wanda was humming a song to her babies. It was calm and sweet, and she said to Monica in a moment of vulnerability, ‘I’m a twin. I had a brother. His name was Pietro.’ Even though Bucky hadn’t known him, the wistful tone got to him a little bit.

Then, Monica said, ‘He was killed by Ultron, wasn’t he?’

Bucky’s jaw clenched. “Did she just say Ultron?”

Darcy was frantically trying to see if she could access the scene that had been cut, but it was no use. “That’s the first time someone has referred to reality. What the fuck, seriously? One minute Monica is right there and the next she isn’t. Someone is censoring the broadcast.”

“Well where the hell did she go?”

Just as he asked, alarms started blaring all around them. Their eyes darted out the window, a view of the forcefield looking the same aside from a bunch of agents running toward it.

“Perimeter has been breached!” Someone called, which was enough to cause Darcy and Bucky to bolt out of their seats.

Breached, Bucky thought over and over, feeling as though everything was moving slowly as he ran to the scene. The logical side of him was putting together the thought that perhaps Monica was shunned from the town, yet the other part of him just longed for the possibility that it was you. It wouldn’t make sense, and there’d be no logical reasoning for it. But was there much logical reasoning to anything these days?

“It’s Rambeau,” Sam was suddenly by their side. He and Jimmy had been off doing god knows what for the past while. Now, it was just like Sam to find Bucky in an instant if need be.

It was night and dark, yet, the three of them saw a bodily figure lying in the grass, far off in the field. A crack in the forcefield was still glowing, yet quickly mending itself, keeping the magic within.

Logic meant nothing. Bucky just desperately wanted you. Leaving Sam and Darcy, his legs carried him as fast as he could to Rambeau, ignoring the other agents who were surrounding her and making sure she was alive.

Her eyes were open and alert, looking around in awe as agents flashed lights in her face, checking her pulse and for injuries. Of course, that Hayward guy was near, stepping right into action.

Bucky wasn’t the only one speaking in the commotion, yet in his panic, all he could hear were his own muffled words. “What happened?”

Rambeau’s voice cut through. “It’s Wanda. All of it. It’s Wanda.”

Hayward placed a hand firmly on Bucky’s chest to gesture that he should leave. “Not right now, Mr. Barnes.”

In a dramatic response, Bucky gripped Hayward’s wrist with his own vibranium grasp, ripping his hold off of his chest. “Don’t.”

“Excuse me?”

Someone was running by a stretcher for Monica. All Bucky could really do was clench his fist and keep his mouth shut, knowing that if he didn’t, he’d either yell at Hayward or bombard Monica with questions.

He swore that as she was lifted in the stretcher, her eyes lost and wild, she looked at him and recognition flashed in her expression.

She was so real. It had all felt fictional until now. Her clothes were the same as on screen, and her face glistened with a light sweat. Just moments ago, he was hearing her character saying things like foxy. Yet, here she was, a different look in her eye, staring at him as though she just knew. This is James.

───※ ·❆· ※───

Westview - 1980s~

2:08 AM. You couldn’t sleep.

Bucky’s letter had been sitting on your nightstand for the past two days, it’s presence looming even when you looked away. It was weighing on you, trying to figure out what to write back, or if you even should. Any time you’d sit with a pen and paper no words came to mind. You wanted to tell him everything, and in return you wanted to ask him every story of the war, absorb every pain he’d endured. The wondering was too much, and you couldn’t possibly get it down in a letter.

Really, you supposed, what you really just wanted was to see him again.

You’d tossed and turned in bed for hours before finally getting up in a huff, deciding to head downstairs to try and tire yourself out with some TV or something.

Time was moving too fast. Even though you swore the letter was just received about two days ago, it felt like ages had passed.

In a blink, life was flashing by, yet you remained. While you were truly happy for Wanda and her family, and it filled your heart to get to know her sons, and see her so happy, you still went home at the end of a day all alone. The twins were growing so fast, and Wanda’s life was more settled; you watched the neighborhood change, and the library expand, and the town around you simply get brighter.

Everyone’s life was continuing, and you felt stuck.

Tossing on your robe, you made your way to the livingroom to turn a lamp on. Out the large windows, behind the fireplace, the yard was just slightly illuminated in the moonlight. You tucked your robe tighter around your body and went to look out at the night. Not that you could really see much aside from the fences of the neighboring homes and the trees behind the neighborhood. But it was calm and quiet, and you tried to forget reality for a moment.

The day had been weird. Many days were weird, but this one was busier than most.

Wanda had found you on your walk to the library, Billy and Tommy looking frantic by her side. Their dog, Sparky, was missing. Of course, without need to think twice, you helped them search. The boys looked heartbroken, and you had a strange feeling this wouldn’t turn out well.

Alas, Sparky had been found by Agnes, one of Wanda’s other good friends, and it was not pretty.

You’d never even had the chance to meet Sparky, yet there he was, body wrapped up in a blanket after eating too many toxic leaves. Agnes was remorseful, and the tears of the boys really got to you.

You couldn’t stop thinking about what Wanda had told her sons in an effort to comfort them after the loss. It was so sudden, and you felt at a loss, and then she said what she said.

The boys had a panicked look in their eyes as they stood side by side, and Wanda leaned down and warned them, “Don’t! No, don’t age up!”

You stood a couple feet away, wondering what she meant.

“The urge to run from this feeling is powerful, I know,” she consoled, her hands on their shoulders.

Tommy sniffled, “Mom, you can fix anything. Fix the dead.”

Wanda blinked. “What?”

Agnes spoke softly behind her, “You can do that?”

You remained silent, absolutely confused.

“Sometimes there are rules in life,” Wanda was not speaking quieter. She didn’t seem to care if you heard this. “You can’t rush aging just because it’s convenient. And you can’t reverse death, no matter how sad it makes us.”

You didn’t know why you said it, and you don’t know where it came from, but the words spilled out from you without a thought, “But you did, didn’t you?”

Wanda gazed over her sons’ shoulders at nothing, a spark of fear in her eyes. After a pause, she looked up at you.

Just as she was opening her mouth to say something, Billy said, having ignored your words, “But you said family is forever.”

Wanda looked stuck. She looked between you and the boys, her eyes full of dread.

You stepped in, “Family is forever. She wasn’t lying. Just sometimes it… it’s far away. Even though you can’t hold each other anymore, the love doesn’t go away, right?”

The boys looked up at you know. Tommy’s sad voice nearly broke you. “I’m going to miss him so much.”

“I know,” you held back a breakdown. This wasn’t about you. Who had you even lost? Bucky was alive. And aside from him, who had there been? Still, somehow you knew what the boys were feeling. “I get it. I do. I’m sorry you have to experience this so young.”

“Experience what?” Visions voice cut through as he approached you all. He'd probably been walking home from work and saw you gathered at the end of the street. His eyes travelled to Agnes and the blanket in her arms. It didn’t take him long to piece the scene together. “Oh, boys…” he went over to wrap his arms  around his son.

Wanda stood, stepping back, and looked at you. She was suspicious but not in a threatening way. She simply looked scared.

You tried to process the words she said or the words you said. Nothing felt right.

Something was wrong. There was something she was not telling you.

Looking out your window, you tried to search your tired mind for the feeling of loss, wondering where it came from.

You bit your inner cheek, thinking. Who was there besides Bucky and the people in this town? Where had you been before all this? How did you even meet Bucky?

This was the first time you realized you had no fuckin clue.

You blamed it on tiredness. This was silly. Everything was fine.

Pushing away the thoughts, knowing you’d get nowhere tonight, you went to the television set to put in a VCR, hoping to fall asleep to some rom-com or something. You reached for Grease, turning the volume low, hoping the bright would tire you enough to pass out.

It felt like the moment you laid down on the couch, the instrumental music of the beginning of the movie was already helping you clear your racing mind. Danny and Sandy, the romantic duo in the movie, were running around on a beach in the sunset. You smiled softly, feeling your eyes fight to stay open.

You watched as in the dim light, the couple went for a kiss.

You brought your hand up to your own lips, feeling the soft skin there, and realized I can’t remember the last time I was kissed?

───※ ·❆· ※───

Bucharest, 2015

In complete silence, Bucky hesitantly led you back to his dingy apartment. Although it must’ve only been two minutes, everything felt slow, your pain in your arm feeling worse with every step. Somehow the walk up the stairwell was even worse.

“Will you keep quiet?” Were the first words he’d said since the alleyway and it shook you for a moment.

“I didn’t say anything,” you whispered.

“You keep making grunting noises.”

“I have a wound,” you hissed.

He seemed annoyed, which was annoying. Luckily, you’d arrived at his door. He unlocked it which seemed so wrongly domestic, and then walked in before you.

Instead of thinking, oh my god the guy sleeps on a mattress on a wooden pallet, you thought with relief, oh thank goodness I can finally rest my body somewhere dry. You didn’t care if he invited you to sit or not. This was obviously not some friendly gathering between friends. Before he could even process, you were on his bed, rippin your coat off to try and tend your arm again.

“Do you have a rag or something? I’ve got blood everywhere.” You asked without a care.

He grunted, moving to the kitchen space and digging around. You were oddly surprised when he actually did hand over a nice clean towel, and you felt a little bad that the blood would totally stain the white.

The silence dragged. The tiredness and ache of the cut were taking over your mind so heavily that you nearly forgot where you were and who was standing at the other end of the room. Blinking yourself to be present, you glanced up at him. Here in the dim room, away from the night, he was clearer now.

The furrow of his brows felt different than it did when you knew him. He was colder now, as to be expected, yet it didn’t worry you; he was not controlled by the Winter Soldier at this moment.

“You remembered my name.” You said the moment you thought of it.

His eyes darted away and toward the floor, yet he remained stoic.

“How?” You asked.

You watched as he gulped and then he finally said, “I’ve had time to research a little.”

“Do you remember anything?” Your voice was small, not in fear of him hurting you, but just the fear that everything you’d had was gone from him completely.

Eyes to the ground, he said, “Some.”

Taking time, you knew better than to push.

So, instead, you asked, “I’m sorry to ask, but is there something to eat? I haven’t had anything in hours.”

Looking toward the kitchen, he quietly thought to himself what the hell to give you. What on earth kind of snack do you give your long lost friend who’d somehow found you in an alley, when the last time you saw each other he was trying to kill you? Well: Bucky grabbed an apple that was placed with others on the counter which were in no sort of bowl or anything. Not bothering with a cutting board, he slid a knife out from his pocket and sliced the apple into four equal pieces. Leaving behind the core, he went to you and handed you three of the pieces, keeping just one for himself.

“Thanks,” you told him.

No response. Just a quiet sound which could only be described as a hum.

Your arm was as good as you could manage, and you quietly ate a piece.

It was surprising that he was the one to speak up. “You–” he cleared his throat, “You and Steve. You were… part of my life.”

“Yes.”

“You survived a plane crash with him?”

You nodded. Although you weren’t enhanced with super serum, something to do with the space stone had saved you that day in ‘45, along with the fact that Steve shielded your body from the impact. Really, you shouldn't be alive; it felt like somehow you’d tricked time, finding some sort of loop hole without trying to or frankly wanting to. Your body wasn’t meant to survive a plane crash, and your body most definitely was not meant to survive being frozen in ice for seventy years. Yet, it happened. And for the rest of your life, stranger things just kept on happening.

“You’re human?”

Once again, you nodded. “You are too. Just different.”

He didn’t seem to like that and cringed. “No.”

“Bucky–”

He snapped, “Don’t.”

You didn’t wince. He’d shown peace so far, well, once you move past being pressed up against the wall in the alley.

Briefly, Bucky closed his eyes and then huffed. “I think we danced.”

This was not at all what you expected him to say and it was the first time you faltered. “Um. Y-yes. We liked to do that.”

Once again, he cleared his throat. You watched as his fists clenched and unclenched. “I feel sort of– well, I’m not sure what I feel. It's like, I distantly can feel how I cared about you?”

Now it was your turn to look away as his eyes flickered to yours. How on earth were you to respond to that?

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“For what?” You whispered back, trying to not take anything personally. You couldn’t really expect that he’d just be the same ol’ Bucky Barnes from the 107th. Just like how the version of you from Brooklyn didn’t exist anymore, you knew that version of Bucky was gone too. It’s just how things were, you supposed. Yet, it still caused your heart to ache, knowing that he remembered what he did. You thought you were alone in the memories, the only one who still held onto it.

Yet there he was, watching you in equal parts confusion and curiosity. “I’m sorry I don’t remember everything.”

You scoffed, which seemed to worry him at first, but then you waved a hand. “After everything you’ve gone through? Don’t apologize?”

The confusion he held took over. “What I’ve gone through? What are you–”

“What?” You cut him off in dismay, “In case you haven’t noticed, some fuckers from Hydra sort of put you through hell and took away any free will and–” He scoffed even harsher than  you had previously. “I have not ‘gone through’ anything. I’ve put others through much worse.”

“Bucky, you didn’t–”

“Stop, y/n,” he scowled. It was pushing now, you knew, so you held back. Only so much could be unpacked in one night no matter how desperately you wanted to tell him everything. “I’m not who you think I am.”

You looked down at your hands, holding the two remaining apple pieces. “Well, neither am I.”

Unsure of what to say to this without yelling at you, he just huffed and turned, going back to the kitchen to deal with the apple core. Although he was not really in a separate room or anything and was not far away, you had a moment to breathe and eat your apple slices.

───※ ·❆· ※───

Westview

Sleeping on your couch made your back ache but it was the longest sleep you’d had in days. Even though you slept in way past your usual time, you finally felt rested.

After a normal morning routine, you sat down at your desk to write.

Dear Bucky, was all you had written. The words had been staring back at you for days.

You'd been trying to come up with something romantic. Maybe if you spilled poetry onto the page he’d feel your love across the seas so fully that he would feel closer to you.

But poetry is not what you could muster up, and it probably wasn't what he needed. You just wanted to talk. Even though you couldn’t really remember your past, you knew deep down that friendship was the core of it. It was what kept you close before falling in love.

This morning, on your way home from the library, although you had taken the same route as always, you paused near the community centre at a jasmine bush.

Just standing next to it, you could smell the sweet blossoms. You don’t know what came over you, but after glancing around to make sure no one was watching, you plucked a small stem and flattened it within the pages of the book.

The flower, sitting beside you on the desk, was now slightly flattened yet still bright.

You picked up the pen and wrote.

I miss you madly and was so happy to receive your letter. Admittedly, it brought me to tears. However, I hope you don’t feel guilty and you don’t feel a rush. Your work is important.

So, because it’s all we can do for now, I shall speak to you through the pages, doing my best to imagine you’re beside me. I can’t tell what I miss most. Your smile. Your hands. Your voice? Letters will have to do, and I’m grateful that we have even this.

Halloween is already tomorrow, and I’ll think of you with every sweet I have. The town is changing so much, and I fear how lonely winter may be for you. I hope you feel the warmth I hold for you, even from across the ocean.

Wanda and Vision’s boys, Billy and Tommy, have grown so much. I don’t know if you even remember them. Time has moved so fast. Although it aches, I am happy for Wanda and for the happiness she’s found here. I don’t know why, but I know that once things weren’t this way for her.

However, yesterday, her poor little pup, Sparky, got into a predicament and passed away. Even though I didn’t know the pup, I was there when they found him and my heart has felt sorrowful ever since. I can’t place why, but I feel as though I perfectly understand the feeling of loss that the boys are going through. Perhaps you do too.

Sometimes I wake in the middle of the night and everything feels wrong. It feels as though pieces of me are missing and I don’t just mean because of your absence. I have so many questions, and nothing feels correct. It feels against some sort of rule to admit that, but I don’t think I’ve ever held back from telling you anything.

I’m so proud of you, Bucky. I miss you, and can’t wait until the day you’re here. So, because you’re not meant to come back yet, I’ve included in this letter an item for you, from Westview.

I love you ardently,

Yours,

Y/n

───※ ·❆· ※───

Bucharest, 2015

You'd been staring at Bucky’s ceiling for who knows how long. It felt like there was an unspoken rivalry between the two of you, seeing who would fall asleep first. At one point you even wondered if the guy slept at all. Logically he had to; Steve slept, so Bucky probably did too. Yet nope. It was very late at night and he was still sitting upright on his couch, looking out the window at nothing.

You shifted, stretching your arms out. As he shifted his neck briefly to look your way, you knew he was paying at least some attention to your presence.

“Bucky?” You whispered.

“Hm?”

Tapping your fingers along your stomach, you whispered again, “You gonna sleep?”

“Dunno.”

Lovely answer, you thought.

Although his memory of you was dim, he knew well enough to assume you were not done speaking. So, it was no surprise when you again said, louder this time, “Bucky?”

He sighed audibly. “Yes?”

“I can’t sleep.”

“I can tell.”

You shifted to sit up this time. “Can we… chit chat?”

“Chit chat?”

“Well sitting here in silence is getting a bit annoying.”

“Then sleep.”

“I can’t,” you snapped, not trying to be rude.

He finally glanced your way. “Then call home.”

“I told you, they’ll get me in the morning.”

“I don’t know how to help you here.”

“You help me by talking to me to pass time.”

“I don’t have much to say.”

“Okay. Then I’ll talk to myself.”

He muttered something in Romanian under his breath, presumably a swear.

You did not care. “So. What do ya do all day?”

He turned the question around. “What do you do all day?”

“Well!” Your voice got a bit too loud for the middle of the night and he snapped you a look to calm down. “Sorry. Well. When I’m not working… I like to read.”

He stared silently out the window.

After a moment of silence, you continued. “I don’t know if you read. But you used to like to. Honestly, books these days are just splendid. Some people get a bit snobby about the ‘classics’ but you know what? The stuff written now is just as amazing. You know Tolkien ended up writing a whole series after The Hobbit, based around the ring? Splendid.”

Even in the darkness, you saw the furrow of his brow deepen. “That was not written today. It was written in the 50s.”

“Aha! So you do pay attention to books!”

He scowled.

You grinned to yourself, scooting back on the mattress to lean against the wall behind you. “Have you read the series?”

“No.”

“Do you want to?”

“No.”

“I think you should.”

He huffed and lied down as if he’d been trying to go to sleep the whole time and was not just staring at the window for hours. “Go to bed, y/n.”

“You go to bed.

He swore again.

“Sorry, what was that?”

Bucky’s tone sounded even rougher than before. “I can’t.”

“Aren’t you tired?”

“That’s not it.”

“I mean. I get it. My mind keeps racing and—“

He cut you off, his admission surprising: “I don’t want to have a nightmare or something and—“ he inhaled sharply, trying to find words and failing to.

Although you’d been trying to be cheery, you frowned. “You’re not going to hurt me.”

“Don’t worry about it. Just get sleep. I’ll stay up.”

“I’m not worried. You won’t hurt me.”

He scoffed. “You don’t even know me.”

There was a completely different tension in the room, and you felt smaller every passing second. “Don’t say that, Buck.”

“You don’t. You knew me seventy fuckin years ago.”

“But—“

“I don’t even get why you wanted to find me?”

“Stop,” you tried to sound confident but probably didn’t. Still, even if your voice shook, you told him in all seriousness, “Most of those seventy years are void. I know it’s different now. I'm not an idiot. But you don’t get to say that I don’t know you.”

“You don't!” He raised his voice before catching himself, remembering that he had neighbours. “You don't.”

You huffed and stood, which surprised him.

In a weird attempt at a threatening tone, you told him, “I’m coming to sit by you.”

“Wha—“

You shoved his feet aside so that you could sit on the couch. In response, he sat as well. Now stiff beside you, he seemed to be the small one.

“I’m not delusional,” you muttered, staring at the ground. “I know you’re different. You’re not who you were. I know that. And I know that it probably makes zero sense for me to be here with you, but I trust you completely, no matter how stupid that sounds.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“I don’t really care. I can’t give up on you.” You brought your eyes up to his, your heart warming when you found that his face was relaxing a little. It seemed to be the first time he wasn’t glaring at someone since the 40s. You continued, “I’ve missed you. Every damn day, Bucky. Please come back with me.”

“No,” his jaw clenched, trying to cover any sadness in his eyes.

“We can help. Steve misses you too, and—“

“No,” he insisted, eyes darting away. “I don’t want to. Plus, I’m literally a war criminal, so I can’t.”

“We can figure it out—“

“Will you just stop? At least for tonight. I don’t want to argue. I can’t go with you, y/n.”

You held back any snide remarks, falling quiet.

Eventually, you said softly, not even directly to him but more as an out loud thought, “I’m just supposed to leave you?”

He nodded. His body language hid the sadness well, but even after all this time, you knew those eyes.

Cautiously, you moved your hand toward him. Not cautious because you were afraid, but because you didn’t want him to be. Your hand found his, holding onto him gently.

He flinched briefly but allowed it. You let him have a moment.

You didn’t know, because how could you possibly, but no one had touched him so gently in seventy years.

“Y/n,” he whispered your name and gazed over at you. In the dim lighting, you could see the blue of his eyes and realized that all along you’d been subconsciously looking for this colour you once called your favourite.

You’d been holding back since seeing him. Not even just today, but ever since you first saw him in Washington a couple years back. You wouldn’t let yourself cry, because you’d done that years ago. This time was not for your mourning, you had instead been working to save him. It wasn’t about you.

Now, it was about the man right in front of you, lost and afraid although he’d never admit it, yet you could see it so clearly. Worst of all, you couldn't do anything about it. You couldn’t push.

Against your will, you felt your eyes sting as tears threatened to push to the surface.

He repeated your name in the quiet. “Why are you crying?”

“I’m not,” you insisted, although your throat failed you as your voice cracked.

He shook his head. Hesitantly, he brought his arm over the back of the couch. His eyes were full of fear, but his concern persisted. Although it was far away, his concern for you still remained somewhere in there and he needed to hold onto that feeling for the moment.

“Please don’t cry.”

“I’m sorry,” you bit your lip to hold it back. “I don’t know why I’m being like this. I’m just tired.”

Bucky was not in the right mental space to assist towards someone’s emotions, but all he could really remember was that hugs help.

It was very awkward, but he placed his right hand on your shoulder, trying to pull you toward him, hoping it would feel like a request for a hug. However, this did not work, because you just stayed still and stared at his arm in confusion.

“C’mere,” he muttered, embarrassed.

“What?”

He huffed and scooted closer to you, hand moving to your back to find a better way to pull you toward him. This time you got it and hesitantly leaned your body into his, your cheek against his shoulder.

It hit you then, the strangest thing: he still smelled familiar.

Instinctively, your arms wrapped around his shoulders. This made him more teense than before if that was even possible, so you almost pulled away, but then he wrapped his hands around your waist.

“This okay?” He whispered.

“Yes. Are you okay?”

“I think so.”

You closed your eyes tightly, holding onto the moment, and holding onto this man who you had been aching for since 1945.

You whispered, “You don’t have to hold me, you know. Don’t do stuff you’re uncomfortable with.”

You heard him gulp, and his hands tightened on you a little. His voice was even quieter as he said, “I want to.”

Your eyes were fully watering then.

It was a long quiet moment as you simply held each other. You tried placing his scent, bringing you back to the old days.

Little did you know, your familiar scent did something to him as well.

They say that scent is the sense most strongly associated with memories. Catching a summer breeze can take you back to a June morning as a child, or a linen scented candle could bring you back to the last memory of your mother.

For Bucky, this smell of you, brought him back more than he could’ve imagined.

“Y/n,” he whispered, hoping he wasn’t being too obvious in the way that he smelled your hair. “Can I say something?”

“Always.”

“Are you sure?”

You held him tighter. “Always. You can always tell me anything. I’d never shun you away.”

He wanted to argue against that, yet the small moment of memories held him back. He knew it was fleeting, but he wished desperately for this moment to stay a little longer. “I don’t remember much, but I– I suddenly remember this one day?”

“What was it?”

“After my dad died? You’d come over. I don’t really remember details, or whoever my dad was, but I remember this for some reason.”

You bit your lip, your face falling against the nook of his neck.

However, Bucky gently pulled away. It was not to get away from you, but instead have you within the space so he could look you in the eye. “I felt something for you.”

You blinked back tears. “Buck, don’t feel any pressure to try and unpack–”

He cut you off, metal hand briefly coming up to your face before pulling away. You had just felt the tips of his cold vibranium fingers, but then quickly felt the warmth of his right hand instead, as he caressed your jaw. The moment was surprising and you were pretty sure he could hear your heart race.

“You were good to me. I’m sorry if I wasn’t in return. I don’t really know who I was, but I do know you were good. I think you still are.”

Your hand placed over his as you leaned into his touch. “You were good, Bucky. I think you still are too.”

He shook his head but didn’t verbally protest. “I’m sorry for how strange this night is.”

You let out an airy laugh, “I don’t care how strange this is. If you’re only letting me get a few hours with you, I’ll accept whatever. I don’t think you understand how wild I’ve made myself while looking for you.”

“I’m sorry it can’t be more.”

“It can be. When you’re ready.”

I won’t be, he wanted to say, and you could see his eyes debating on the obvious retort but he kept quiet. If tonight was all you two had, then that would be enough for him. Bucky believed his soul was lost, all that was meant for him now was a simple life at most, if he was even so lucky. Even that he didn’t believe he deserved. So, having you this night was like a small little miracle; a once in a lifetime moment.

“Can I…” you brought your hand up, fingers landing at the edge of his jaw. He nodded, so you caressed his cheek in return. Somehow the two of you had gotten closer in the past few moments.

You closed your eyes, missing the way his own eyes moved down to watch your lips.

“I just want you to be okay,” you whispered, and he could feel your breath on his.

The pull in his heart was unbearable.

“Can I try something?” he said, barely audible, just like a breath against you.

Your eyes flickered open for a moment, sensing the longing in his stare, realizing he was looking at your lips. Right away you knew what he wanted.

You gave him a miniscule nod, and like that, his lips were pressing to yours.

He was so gentle at first, his dry lips touching you as though you were something delicate. In the moment, you both were delicate, supposedly.

When you kissed back, leaning into him more, he relaxed a little bit, but only a little bit.

The kiss was a stolen moment; it felt forbidden, yet you didn’t want it to stop.

It was too much for Bucky, which you knew as he started to pull away too soon for your liking. You respected this anyway.

His body was pulling away from yours, hand falling. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you ensured.

His mouth was parted, his eyes wild with confusion but also awe. “Have we done that before?”

“No,” you whispered as you thought, but I wish we had.

“I’m sorry.”

“Buck, seriously, don’t be. That was nice.”

He nodded in agreement, yet he still looked stressed.

You patted his hand gently before scooting over to give him space. “Thank you.”

He raised a brow. “What?”

You brought your hand up to your mouth, feeling your soft lips against the edge of your fingers, missing his already. “I don’t know what else to say? It's kind of a unique moment.”

If he weren’t so freaked out over himself, he probably would’ve smiled at that.

A million things were racing through your mind, one of them being the desperate thought to try to ask him for the hundredth time to come back to New York with you. However, despite the kiss, you somehow knew the answer wouldn’t change. He was staring at nothing, his mind racing as well, and you wished you could see into it somehow.

After his shoulders began to lose some of the visible tension, you shifted in your seat. “Would you like to go to sleep?”

“I seriously don’t think I can,” he told you. “But you should. I mean, if you’re okay?”

Surprisingly, you found that you were. You gave him a tired nod and stood to ggo back to the mattress before eyeing him and asking in the sleepiest voice, “Come sit by me?”

“Are you sure?”

“Always.”

And so, without a word, he did. He kept a small distance, but sat up with his back propped against the wall as you laid beside him.

You stretched a little, wondering whether or not to say goodnight. It felt strange to just end it all with a goodnight then! So, you said nothing. You only gave him a soft smile, hoping the look would say enough.

Bucky's eyes, always so expressive, made you feel like this was okay. The corner of his mouth upturned for a moment, and his right hand gently placed on your pillow, an inch or two from your head. You reached your hand up to rest on top of his before you finally closed your eyes, letting the sleep take over.

It wasn;t long before Bucky heard your breaths deepen as you fell into a slumber.

Bucky watched curiously. To call this night strange was an understatement.

The thin blanket was just draped up to your waist and he could see the goosebumps on your forearms.

This man believed he was destined for a life of a cold loneliness, ever since the moment he fell from the train tracks.

He pulled the blanket up to drape it over your shoulders, hoping that you’d stay warm.

───※ ·❆· ※───

Next Chapter

taglist: @whore-like-behaviour @matchat3a

#for you from westview #bucky barnes #Bucky Barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fic #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #Bucky Barnes slow burn #wandavision au #wandavision #bucky x yn #bucky x y/n #y/n

[dorotharry]

tiny dancer ; chapter three

Pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader

CHAPTER 2 | CHAPTER 4 (coming soon)

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: pain, angst, nightmares, metal limbs?

Summary: After being drafted for the war in 1942, Bucky goes to the ballet a week before having to leave with his best friend Steve. There he becomes infatuated you with the prima ballerina of the show, and he just has to meet you before his last week in Brooklyn is up. He hopes one day you would meet again; little does it know it will be 72 years later.

A/N: Well, hello again, honestly after yesterday I really wanted to write again soon so I could start giving more away. Eep so exciting, thank you again for all your support too!! Please feel free to like, repost and comment any feedback, it’s much appreciated :)) Also lets just ignore that infinity war is a thing for the moment lolz. 

MY MASTERLIST

*gif not mine

“Nice to finally meet you y/n, I’ve been looking for you under Fury’s instruction for a while, my name’s Natasha.”

Natasha. It rang in your ears, there was some familiarity to that name. You kept your face blank, but for some reason it felt like you’d known her in a past life, or perhaps a life you didn’t remember. Though her face gave no indication that she knew either. But a younger version of her face flashed in your mind, only she wasn’t blonde she had bright red hair. You shook yourself from your thoughts, Natasha was a common name, surely you couldn’t know her. Surely.

“Come in,” you responded moving to the side as the women eyed you as she entered. She had to be around a similar age to you. At least in looks, you were at least a century year old in reality. “Did you want something to drink?” You said as you shut the door and gestured to the couch nearby.

The blonde shook her head, taking a seat her gaze still wary. “You’re probably curious to know why I’m here and who I am?”

You nodded as you took a seat on the second couch, it wasn’t often you had visitors.

“Well, I’m sure you’ve heard of the Avengers,” She started.

That’s where you knew her from! She’d swapped her red hair for blonde and suddenly you felt less confused.  

“I’m a part of it, and our director Fury has been sending me on mission after mission looking for you. It’s only now we got a tip that you were living in Madripoor.”

You almost wanted to interrupt and ask who had tipped them off, but you thought better of it. You rose an eyebrow at her comment, giving her an expression that told her to continue.

“Anyway, I’m here because we wanted to bring you back to the compound. You’ve been hidden away from us for a long time. In fact, the only reason we know you exist is because of the HYDRA files I shared in 2014. We hoped you could give us some intel; we think something big is going to happen again, but we aren’t sure if it’s HYDRA or something else.” She looked at you again, a serious expression on her face.

Yours matched hers. “You should know I don’t do that anymore, I don’t work as an assassin,” you began suddenly feeling more vulnerable as the terrible things you had done came back up in your memories.

Natasha cut you off sensing your distress. “We aren’t asking you to, we just need your knowledge. Whilst I know Fury wants you to join us in the long run and start fighting again, we also respect your decision not to if that’s what you want.”

You looked at her sceptically, had she not heard what you had just said? Plus, now your cover in Madripoor was blown, if the Avengers knew where you were then surely it wouldn’t be long until every other government in the world would too. You were sure there were many people who wanted you dead.

As if she had heard your thoughts Natasha spoke up again, “don’t worry, if you turn down helping us, no one but Fury and I know you’re here. Not even Steve.”

You silently gasped, you had forgotten about Steve in these brief moments, he was captain America back then, in fact he was still Captain America. Even if you would be throwing yourself back into the line of fire, maybe it would be worth it to see your old friend again. Would he want to see you though? After everything awful thing, you had done. Your eyes began to well again, but you didn’t want Natasha to see you vulnerable.

“Fine.” You spoke sternly looking at the woman in front of you, “I will help, but only if you promise that you avengers will protect me. There’s a lot of people who want me in chains.”

You could see the hint of a smile on her face as she listened, “Don’t worry y/n, we have ways around that,” she smirked. “I don’t exactly have the cleanest record either.”

You nodded, standing up. You knew now if you were leaving that you could never return to Madripoor. If you chose not to fight with the Avengers after helping them, then at least you were sure they could protect you and finally you could maybe be back home. “Where to then?”

Natasha told you to get anything valuable, some clothes and anything else you felt you needed. Luckily for her, you always kept a duffle bag with everything you needed if you had to leave under you bed, along with the shot gun that had been in your hand this entire time till.

You walked to your room, grabbed the duffle bad and your other favourite weapons in another bag and returned in under a minute. Natasha let out a chuckle, she should have known an assassin was always prepared to flee. Something they all knew, never get too comfortable.

Natasha led you out of your apartment, you close the door behind you both and follow her. It felt strange to be taking from directions from anyone else. Besides HYDRA you had always been the person in charge, choosing what you did without direction. But unless you miraculously knew how you’d be getting back to the Avengers compound this seemed like a time you would have to not be stubborn.

She led you to a jet, gesturing you to get on before she did herself. She walked to the front closing the door and sitting in the pilot’s seat. “Feel free to have a sleep.” She said casual pointing to the bed next to you.

“Thanks,” you mumbled going and lying down. After having no sleep, you wouldn’t complain, and it would save you having to make small talk with Natasha. Plus, usually you didn’t have nightmares in you ever occasionally napped.

Natasha answered a call and began telling someone (who you assumed was Fury) that you were coming back with her, just as your eyes were filled with the darkness of sleep.

1943

You woke up once again your entire body in pain. Although this time it was different, and though you remembered where you were much of your memories were feeling fuzzy. Like someone had attempted to begin removing them.

That couldn’t be possible though, could it?

There was an ache on your face, remembering your last memory before you had been engulfed in darkness again. You were sure there would be marks from whatever machine had done that to you, wincing at the thought of the pain again.

But besides there being the same pains you had felt before, there was something different. You were still restricted by your arms and legs in the same position but now you had a heart monitor attached, the faint beeping being the only noise you could hear in the silent and dark room. This wasn’t a room though, it was a lab you knew that now, and you were a lab rat to the red skull and his scientists. Why would they care if my heart is still beating? You pondered.

Once again you pushed against your restraints in an attempt to get out, the leather digging into your skin causing you to wince due to how in pain your body already was.  But again as you’d thought earlier, there was something different, yes your arms were wincing at the pain from the leather but your legs felt nothing. You moved your toes and felt no sensations. It was as if they were numb. What had HYDRA done?

As if on cue the laboratory door opened, the same scientist from before entering and two soldiers following behind him. The door slammed closed as the soldiers stayed there on each side of the door. Just in case you got out of your restraints again.

The scientist shuffled forward. “How are you feeling y/n? I realised I forgot the other day to introduce myself, I’m Arnim Zola but you can call me Doctor Zola.”

You sneered as his friendly attitude, causing him to frown. “I can’t feel my legs.” You responded in a harsh tone, “Why?”

“Well y/n, I told you that you would become a soldier for the red skull did I not? Now I understand you’re a ballerina but there’s something wrong with this. You see you always want to be perfect, and what makes you not is among many things your feet.” He looked down proudly at your legs.

The words rang in your ear. Your harsh glare to seem mean had softened as your eyes began to water. “Wh-- what have you done?” You began blubbering, your chest fell up and down panic striking your lungs.

“I’ve made you perfect.” He responded without remorse. Instantly he signalled for the men that had been stood by the door this entire time to come over. They did so, grabbing parts of your body so you were even more restricted that you already were as Doctor Zola walked to the foot of the table you were on. Slowly he undid one of the leather straps restricting your leg. You couldn’t even feel him doing it, your senses not working.

He lifted your right leg so that you could gaze down and what you saw only made your panic attack rise. You shrieked at the sight before you. Your eyes welling more and more with tears. You could hear the heart monitor beginning to pick up in noise, as you heart raced.

From halfway down your calf was what looked like a metal leg and foot. It looked exactly like what legs should be, but it wasn’t. It was silver and cold. Down the side of your calf nearing your ankle was a red star.

Tears rolled down your face as he placed your leg back down strapping it back up, then signalling the men holding you down to move away again.

You would have preferred to die then lose your feet. Your mind wandered as your chest rose and fell so quickly that the world around you began to spin. Would you ever be able to dance again?

Doctor Zola was now next to you again, his face held no remorse, in fact all you could see was pride. Even though the world was spinning, and you couldn’t focus on him you knew he didn’t care. “Don’t worry y/n, after today you won’t care about this. You won’t even remember who you are, only who we tell you are. From now on you aren’t y/n anymore. I’ll see you again when you’re ready to comply.”

The same machine from earlier then began to make noises lowering down to your head. Doctor Zola began rambling Russian words you couldn’t understand, the immense pain began again, and you screeched out in pain.

Present day; 2017

Gasping for air you shot up on the bed on the jet. Natasha looked back at you and instantly you dropped your fearful expression into one that was unreadable. No one would know your nightmares, no one could know you had weaknesses.

Luckily her gaze didn’t last long as she spoke up, “We’re here.” She was just glad she wouldn’t have to wake you up. She stood up, you following her lead out of the jet and towards a large white building with a big ‘A’ on the side.

“Jeez subtle.” You scoffed muttering under your breath.

She rolled her eyes at your comment but proceeded to walk into the building. “I’m sure you’ve heard about most of us. So, I feel there’s no need to explain to you, our names.”

She was right there, of course you knew their names, the whole world did. You hummed in response. She led you both to two big double doors pushing them open as you trailed behind. You may have been as assassin but that didn’t mean you were particularly keen on meeting new people, especially all at once. It took a while for people to come to your liking.

She stopped and you stood almost completely behind her looking down at your hands. You never looked at your feet anymore. The noise of all the voices talking amongst each other suddenly stopped and you could feel all of their eyes on you both.

“Everyone this is y/n, she’s going to help us with our current task we’ve been working on.” She spoke sternly but giving them all a small smile.

You raised your head reminding yourself to not be vulnerable and narrowed your eyes as you scanned them all. Of course, most of already knew who you were having read your files when she released them; each giving you sympathetic looks mixed with fear. But not Steve he never had the heart to look at yours and Bucky’s files. If he ever saw you both again, he knew in time you’d tell him.

Finally, you were met with a familiar set on blue eyes, not the ones you had fallen in love with but still ones who once meant so much to you. Now you weren’t so sure.

Steve looked like he was going to die of shock, as he stared at you with such intensity.

He took a step towards you, “y/n?”, his eyes searching for you to show some sort of emotion. But you didn’t, you couldn’t. You took another step back, away from him, the hurt instantly flashing across his face, but as soon as it was there it was gone.

“Hi Steve.”

- 

A/N: ooo we love the tension. how does reader know Natasha?? is it just cause she's an avenger or is it something else? I’ll guess you'll have to see *evil face*

P.S. we’ll see Bucky again soon I promiseeeee

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Taglist: (let me know if you want to be tagged)

@maybe-a-marvel​ @thatredlipped-classic​ @flightsandfantasy​ @7minutes-tomidnight​ @rebelemilu​ @cataves​

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky #buck #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barns x reader #marvel #marvel fans #mcu #mcu cast #the winter soldier #the winter solider imagine #steve x reader #steve rogers #black widow #natasha romanoff #Bucky barnes smut #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x you #sebastian x y/n #bucky barnes x you #Bucky fic #female reader #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #tfatws #the falcon and the winter soldier

[damselofblueroses]

The Name of the Rose, Chapter 3

Summary: Your study-buddy Doh Kyungsoo comes with you for a long-awaited trip to Tokyo, Japan. There is a tension between you, however both of you decided to build a friendship instead of a relationship.

Chapter Summary: Kyungsoo made a mistake on his delicate relationship with the reader, then he could not find a way of apologizing. Reader made his life harder than he could imagine. They accepted that they mutually have some feelings however they could not name them. Catastrophy begins with Kyungsoo’s acceptance of reader’s interesting and unexpected offer.

Content: Unestablished relationship, AU, Hurt/Comfort, Anger, Slight Violence, Emotional Complications and Healing.

Warnings: Well, the story contains NSFW/Smut, please minors do not continue.

Note: This story was inspired by D.O.’s album, Empathy, the album of 2021 in my opinion. It is an ongoing mini project, I planned to write it as a one-shot when I started, however I realized there are a lot to say about Empathy Era and I cannot stop shut my mouth, or prevent myself from writing… So, here we go.

Chapter Word Count: 5.7k

Series Masterlist

Prettier than Roses

Perhaps Kyungsoo was still punishing himself even after all this time, whether he was aware of his regrets or not. But he was punishing himself, for not being vocal about his feelings for you. He burned for you, he followed you just as a bloody puppy dog tail, but he always kept his heart’s desires in his chest.

He was resisting the urge of confessing, the dire need of being more than a friend for you as he was performing all roles of a friend, but God, he hated his role in your life. Even though he strongly believed that he did not have a chance with you, not even in the slightest, not after he played his role very well, more than he wanted and resulted in being your very dear and close friend. A friend, but nothing more nothing less. He hated so much, if he could, he would change everything in the blink of an eye.

He knew that he had to take you back to the safety of your room immediately. Before he was going to lose his shit. Before he was going to make a mistake. Before he was going to fuck the things up so bad. He was determined to take the cab and keeping you away from himself.

He did not want any distraction, shit he fucking dreamed of ripping that bloody dress off you during the dinner, he did not wish anything but managing to lock himself inside of his room before doing something stupid.

His clenched his fists in order to focus on a different thing. When he saw the cab coming to your direction, he was on the verge of praying.

However, when he turned to you, he just lost his shit.

You were looking at him with you big-doe eyes, a pout on your lips. The city lights were painting you with a dim yellow shine, multiplying your summer rose vibe. To Kyungsoo’s dismay, the wind carried your floral fragrance to him.

He remembered what you asked him.

He remembered what you requested.

Kyungsoo would do it right, he would touch you rightly and correctly, goddamn, he was fucking dreamed of how he could touch you since years. He was not better than the men you went out with, he was fantasizing a lot about you, he felt bad since he did not have your permission, fucking hell if he would ask your permission, but at the same time he knew that he was just helpless when those thoughts about you popped up in his imagination.

Unfortunately, all those dreams were so vivid.

You were like an island to him. A place for self-isolation, a place of happy utopias, a place of loneliness, a place of joy and fruitful ways of living, a place of exile and a place of connection. You were his island, his harbour and he needed to make you his, only his.

Since the day you were asleep on his shoulder in the bloody library, Kyungsoo wanted nothing but you.

Since the day you jumped in front of Kyungsoo out of nowhere with your fucking Cheshire cat grin, Kyungsoo only wished for being able to stick to you till the end. He did not care if he was torturing himself by dreaming of you when he knew he could not have you.

Your scent was too good.

Kyungsoo did not think what the heck he was doing, his mind could not catch his actions. His breath caught in the center of his throat like he was thirsty since ages, he could feel all dryness. He watched himself out of his body, he reached to you and dragged you into the cage of his arms.

Your smell was something else and Kyungsoo was immediately drunk in your scent.

“It is okey, Kyungsoo.” he heard your sweetest voice.

Kyungsoo did not need anything more to hear. The cab just disappeared into the darkness he caressed your face.

“You are so beautiful.” the words he was desperate to say finally fell from his tongue, mingled with the air. Your eyes slightly widened, and he heard your little gasp, that was the nail of Kyungsoo’s coffin. “Goddamn, you are fucking beautiful.”

“Kyungsoo” you literally moaned his goddamn name, and if there was still a kind of sanity left in Kyungsoo’s mind, your moan unconditionally destroyed it.

He kissed you and it took your breath away, both of you.

He kissed you enough to empty your lungs, and made your mind go to mush.

You were the one who broke the kiss in order to catch your thoughts. Your mind was scattered all around. You leaned over to your shaking knees and held them tightly.

“This… This…” you were panting, trying to find an excuse in the book in order to justify the kiss he gave to you.

“This means nothing.” Kyungsoo muttered but he could also reject to his claim with two reasons. First, It definitely did not fell like fucking nothing, and he never want something more than kiss you.

“Well, it means a lot to me.” you could not help but spill the beans. “Where in the hell you learned how to kiss like this?”

“I told you that you never have a proper taste of me.” Kyungsoo tensely chuckled, hell, he was aware of he was doing everything in his not-to-do list, but the spell you put on him made him impervious to anything except you.

“If you kiss every girl like this,” you hesitated to tell what you wanted to say, then you just gave up. JesusfuckingChrist, if he did not want to hear, he would better not to kiss you. Since he turned your brain into mush, he had to listen. “There is no surprise they are chasing you every day.”

“I do not kiss every girl first and foremost.” Kyungsoo’s eyebrows were furrowed. “If they want to chase me, what can I do?”

“And now you are bragging about yourself.” Your mood quickly changed into a less pleasurable and preferrable situation. “Can we go back?”

“Yes, of course.” he nod but you knew that you just destroyed everything was building between you in the blink of eye. You bite your upper lip so hard, preventing you from crying. Not now. Not before you were going to be under your blanket.

That kiss, that fucking kiss, it was all Kyungsoo’s fault.

He gave you a proper taste of himself, and you just wanted to cry, you were deeply sad because of you were not able to have him, you could not have him. He would not come to you as he boldly stated that the kiss meant nothing.

You were angry.

You were sad.

You were disappointed of yourself.

You just wanted to go back to the safety of your room and being able to talk with Chanyeol. He would understand. You knew that Baekhyun would give you a lot of advice in order to seduce Kyungsoo, but you did not want even to hear them.

He told you the kiss meant nothing.

Hell, if you could agree with this shitty statement, you would be lying your ass off.

Fuck off, you bastard you thought. You were fighting with your tears, trying to send them back. You were a big, strong girl and you could control your feelings.

You always were extremely strong, and you were famous for your self-control. You were not going to let Kyungsoo to destroy your inner peace or seeing you in tears because of his fucking rejection. You thought Kyungsoo would do it better, kissing you better, making you feel good, but the only thing he did was dismantling your foolish dreams.

He put you in your place, he gave you a lesson about your place in his eyes.

Nothing.

Kyungsoo could not look at you while you two were in the cab, going back to the hotel.

He knew that he fucked the things up so bad and he could not think a way to claim back from the pit he fell down by himself.

He kissed you, goddamn, it was the best kiss of his whole life, then he just said it meant nothing.

He cursed himself, he wished for the earth cracked like an egg and swallow his worthless presence. He made you upset, that’s why he could not look at your face. He knew what he was going to see, your eyes were going to mirror his mistake.

He lost in the moment, and while he was trying to give you a justification of that kiss, he just irrevocably ruined everything.

When you arrived at the hotel, you paid for the cab without saying a single word to Kyungsoo and directly walked to the inside of the hotel.

Kyungsoo was dying to grab you and apologizing on his knees, but your face telling him not to dare touching you.

He did not enter the hotel, he just sat on a chair in the garden. He was lost in his self-hatred, dreadful overthinking that had his skull feeling stuffed and a lifeless gaze washed all his feature.

He expected nothing but long days where the minutes bled into hours, hours into days and the inability to differentiate one day from the other. He mentally prepared himself for more than self-hatred, he knew that depression, isolation, and numbness were on their way to finish him, to eat him alive. Your face expression when he told you it was nothing was carved behind his eyelids, whenever he closed his eyes.

Kyungsoo was ready for flashbacks and nightmares, disturbing recollections that would render him for the following days.

Comatose, Kyungsoo thought. It was going to be a comatose for him.

How could he think he was better than those guys you went out? They did not destroy your expectations; they did not blend your self-confidence as Kyungsoo did in the seconds.

You did not know but there was a reason why Kyungsoo hopelessly tried to spare you from his kiss. You did not know but Kyungsoo heard a conversation between you and Chanyeol for once, when Chanyeol was telling that Kyungsoo was different for you, Kyungsoo was caring you more than anyone else, Kyungsoo was always there for you before anyone else just like he forgot how to shut his mouth as he continued. Chanyeol was the one who told you about Kyungsoo’s feelings.

And you just giggled of disbelief as Chanyeol went on about everything Kyungsoo wanted to tell you. Open your eyes to the facts.

You just laughed at his feelings coming from Chanyeol’s mouth and you told him it was impossible, you declared that there was nothing could be happened between Kyungsoo and you. You told Chanyeol, Kyungsoo was a good guy, but you did not think he was for you.

He wanted to save you from an unwanted situation which Kyungsoo could put you in by kissing you. It was sake, telling him to teach you, and Kyungsoo stupidly fell for it.

Till now he preferred to hide in the shadows, dancing around the subject than jumping onto it.

But this logic that his mind was following did not change how much he hated himself right now.

He had no regrets on kissing you, god knew that. He still could taste your velvety lips under his lips, he knew that moment was going to live with him till the end of his life. That kiss was grounding but inebriating, he was feeling sane while bringing both of you to the edge of insanity, your lips burned him like a fire.

When you touched him, you marked his skin, your touch stayed on him.

But he hated himself so much, enough to made him feel suffocating.

He found himself standing up and heading to your room before he could understand what the heck he was aiming for. The deep rumble of his chest that he could almost feel vibrate through the air as he walked through the way coming to you, helped him to prepare himself to face with you.

What could it be? he asked to himself. You could tell him get the fuck off, but he was not going to obey to your wish this time.

It was going to be a rumbling, he knew your possible reactions when you were sad, Goddamnit, you were extraordinarily upset with him, but he did not let this fact to disheartened him. He was not a coward; he was going to fix his mistake.

Kyungsoo raised his hand to knock your door, but before doing it, he heard your voice. As he thought, you were talking with Chanyeol or Baekhyun, he was not sure. He came closer to the door as much as he could, and did not give a shit to the rightful concern what if someone saw him while he was leaning on a single woman’s room like a stalker pervert?

He did not care.

He only cared for hearing your words after the incident.

Your voice was cracked, and he could not hear you properly, your voice was coming and going like a goddamn ancient radio. He could hear some words but there was no consistency or no chance of building a logical sentence of your words. He could perceive his name, with couple of words which Kyungsoo hoped not to be used with his name again, some broken lines on how disappointed you were, and he caught your oh-god-fucking-damn-it type of annoyance against Kyungsoo.

He gave up and knocked your door.

Twice.

There was no sign from you, and Kyungsoo was tired of patiently waiting.

He did his waiting. Seven years. In a fucking friendzone he put himself in.

He aggressively knocked on your door, and he did not stop until you gave up and opened the door.

“Shit.” he cursed when he saw your face. “You look horrible.”

Oh really? you thought.

After leaving Kyungsoo, you did not spend a single second to lock yourself in your secure and lonely room, then you just pressed the right numbers to make a call. Chanyeol was there for you, he listened your rambling and gibberish without a sign of inconvenience. He let you to curse Kyungsoo as much as you wanted, he joined you for the little party of swearing at Kyungsoo and he was generous on his vocabulary.

But you cried even when Chanyeol managed to put a broken smile on your face by telling you maybe Kyungsoo was not interested in girls, otherwise he had to be on his knees for you.

You cried for Kyungsoo more than anything made you cry till now.

Your sadness caught you off guard, even you did not expect to be upset with him like this, your feelings were like a blunt blade, it was turning in your heart over and over, using your own blood to be sharp again, then continuing its spinning in your heart. Pain made you numb; you could do only cry.

Your eyes were puffed and literally red. Your cheeks were red. Your lips were red.

Of course, you looked goddamn horrible as Kyungsoo, this asshole, proudly observed. Applause time for him for his greatest deduction.

“Nothing can escape from your eyes, Sherlock.” you murmured. “Couldn't you pay your attention on the fact that we already passed the midnight? Why are you here?”

“May I come in?” Kyungsoo kindly asked but something in his eyes were telling you to be on your toes and careful.

“No.” You congratulated yourself because of your refined answer. You were an idiot for sure, instead of playing with him and showing that he had no impacts on you, you chose to manifest how much you were broken by him. Good for you.

Transformation started in his eyes. Those chocolate brown and very warm eyes, reminding the deer’ beauty, perfectly shaped as almonds turned into crescents, and it was a bloody indicator of his mood was shifted into something dangerous. He was always quick to switch the moods, but he had never looked intimating at this level. You really could not believe what the heck he did, he just grabbed your fucking wrists, dragged you inside of your fucking room without your permission and pressed you on your fucking wall.

“Kyungsoo, fuck off!” you hissed at him, trying to save yourself from his iron grasp, swallowing hard.

“Tell me just one thing and save both of us from misery.” he whispered; his low-pitched voice gave you goosebumps which you really tried to take no notice of, but your traitor body willingly has been taking everything if the giver was Kyungsoo. “Why did you cry?”

“What if I do not want to tell you?” you lifted your chin, you needed to distance yourself from him, he already ruined the progress just a couple of hours ago. His statement clearly taught you whatever your friendship was not the best way to build a new kind of relationship, and you strongly opposed to be friends with benefits or those kinds of agreements. You would not go for them, you wanted Kyungsoo as your lover, not as your fuckbuddy.

“Do me a favor,” he enunciated each syllable and moved his right hand to your shoulder, pressing you into wall just like he wished to ground you right there. “Tell me.”

He leaned on you, his palm made contact with your shoulder, sliding up to your neck and staying there. His touch was heavy again, hotter than before.

He was goddamn close.

When you tried to save your body from him again, Kyungsoo’s hips rutted against yours.

Well, now you could feel more than before.

“Stop fucking moving!” he grunted, surprising you with the sudden and macho voice tone. He looked like very uncomfortable. “You and your idiotic behaviour!”

“If you do not like it, let me go!” you hissed, but you felt a knot was forming in the pit of your stomach. You were afraid of his impacts on you, especially after that fucking kiss. He had you over there as melted like a chocolate under heat.

Even while you were fighting to free yourself, your eyes unconsciously gravitated along his features, all you could do was thinking of him all the time you had spent with him. Those piercing brown eyes and those plump, smooth and heart-shaped lips that are always set in a witty line, the smallest moles and a couple of freckles all around his tiny nose and rosy cheeks, his long eyelashes, and that bloody soft hair of him, caused you to desire running your fingers through.

He was driving you fucking crazy, and you hated his power on you.

“Oh, believe me if I do not like even your idiotic side,” he leaned forward, closed the little proximity between your bodies and you felt the air left your lungs with your sanity. “I would not kiss you, damn woman.”

You were lost for words, you were run down, the only thing you could voice was an exasperated huff. Kyungsoo stared at you, refusing to loosen his grip around your body, instead he held you for his dear life and his gaze was nothing but absolutely penetrating.

You turned your head, trying to find something else to fix your eyes upon while you had been seeking the meaning of his words about liking your idiotic side.

Did he convey his feelings? Did he really stand for liking you, if he liked even your idiotic side, did it indicate that he liked all of you?

If he kissed you because he liked you, did that kiss imply more than nothing for him?

If yes, why he told you it meant nothing?

“Look at me.” his left hand cupped your face gently, on the contrary of his eyes, burning with fires, you could see the red was invading chocolate brown circles. “Do not avert your eyes.”

You blinked and shut your eyelids tightly. Suddenly, the silence in the room was more palpable than it was before, drowning both of you in a foggy swamp of riddles.

You were pissed off, broken and now, thanks to his complicated words, you were more than confused.

Kyungsoo was pissed off, broken and now, thanks to your complicated reactions, he was more than confused.

“If you were so keen on trying to convince yourself that I meant that kiss was nothing,” his jaw flexed, and his eyes were clouded. “I was trying to make amend for my fault. I should have not kiss you.”

You shivered, despite it was a very hot summer night, and Kyungsoo’s warm body made your temperature skyrocketed.

“Why?” you asked. “You do not make any sense, Kyungsoo.”

“Look, who is talking?” he rolled his eyes back. “You never make any sense about our fucking relationship since the beginning. I told you many times, pay your attention.”

You should be warned to follow the signs. Collect them and find the hidden meaning. Kyungsoo was sure on his patience, he could wait for you as much as you wished, he could give you time as much as you needed, but he had no patience to hide in the shadows anymore.

He knew that his constant shifting between one side to the other surprised you, hell it surprised even himself, he did not think about any of this, but since that kiss happened between you, since Kyungsoo got a taste of you, since he could touch you… Everything was changed.

He did not want to let you go.

He could not let you go.

He was aware of you did not belong to him, maybe you did not perceive Kyungsoo as a man, but he could not be your friend anymore. He wanted to tell you how much he adored you more than before. He wanted to kiss you more than before. He wanted to see your face when he woke up, he wanted to cuddle you when he was sad, he wanted to lean on your shoulder when he was broken, he wanted to cook for you, he wanted to sing for you, he wanted to make you happy, he wanted to make you feel good, he wanted to be your harbour to shelter from the stormy seas, your rock to build your home.

He wanted to live his life with you. He wanted to share even the smallest detail of his fucking life with you.

“I told you that I even like your idiotic side,” he clarified. “And you still avert your eyes from me.”

That ignited the fire of your soul.

“Hell, excuse me for my idiotic side but if I remember correctly and my memory never fails me, I told you that it was fucking okey just before you kissed me, after I shared my catastrophic first kiss experience with you,” your voice was not trembling anymore. It was firm, fuelled by your anger. “Then, all you could say was that kiss stands for nothing. What do you expect me to say?”

“Even if you are upset with me, talk to me!” he frowned. “I ask nothing but your words, truly and fully. Is this too much to expect? Hell, you were the one who said that I am a good guy but not made for you, why you are so upset with me because I made an excuse for that kiss?!”

It was your turn to froze. Kyungsoo finally let you go, he stepped back, and his arms crossed over his chest, but you froze to death. You could not move but looking at his unchanging expression like an idiot he just named it correctly.

“Yes,” you took a deep breath. If Kyungsoo said this to your face, it meant that he wanted you to face a revelation. He wanted you to know that he heard your words about him, the words which you vividly remember as you said them to Chanyeol without knowing that Kyungsoo was able to hear them. If he heard them, you owed an explanation to him. Maybe you were just searching an excuse in the book, but you gave up. You were going to tell him what you think of him. “It was me. I still have the same observation. You are damn good for me, if I would say the opposite, I would be lying my ass off.”

Kyungsoo’s face went blank.

What did you say to him? He wanted you to talk truly, however right now he was nothing but almost regretful what he had said to you. Kyungsoo hoped for you did not mean that for real, he wished it was just a gibberish.

Were you a goddamn fool?

He knew the low level of your self-confidence, but your statement was nothing but the shittiest one he has ever heard.

“What?” he murmured. “You think I am good for you?”

“Yes.” you nod. “Look at yourself, Kyungsoo! You are damn good at everything you do, you are clever, hard-working, funny, firm and always trustable, I even do not go for your physical quality, it is fucking obvious, you are handsome as fuck. Of course, I could not say anything different, you were not made for me.”

Suddenly, your hands became the focus of your attention, you fixed your eyes onto them instead of looking at Kyungsoo, who took his time before registering and recording your words in his brain. Then, his hands started were smashed together unintentionally.

“And during all this time,” he heard his own voice trembling, as if being blown by the brute force that he was trying to contain inside of his chest. “I thought you are the cleverer one.”

“Ha?”

“I really do not understand why I think you can follow the signs I have been giving to you like a bloody idiot.” he could not help but growled at you. “In my opinion, you are the only girl who deserves to feel fucking good, and if I can be that one to bring you to such a high, I would willingly do it.”

“I do not un-

“Because you do not want to see!” Kyungsoo could not control himself but go ballistic because of your blockheadedness. How could a woman be clueless at this level? What should he do, continue to scream at you about his feelings or should he bring a testimony that was approved by lawyers?

Didn’t you understand how much he cared for you?

Didn’t you see his almost tangible desires for you?

Everyone could sense his love for you, but you could fucking not, and Kyungsoo was burned out because of your total ignorance.

“Are you,” your whisper reached to his ears. “Are you interested in me?”

Kyungsoo decided that, on the contrary of your academic success, you were literally a retard.

“Why do you think I follow you everywhere like I am your dog tail?” he clenched his fists. Quickly, he walked towards you, but stopped just in front of your trembling body. “What do you think of me, do I look like a lost puppy?”

“No.” you were offended by his words. Dog tail? Puppy? He was not that much cute at first place with his level of being witty and shitty! However, after one look at him, you were not sure anymore, even he was clearly pissed off, he was fucking gorgeous and cute. “Shit, Kyungsoo, you are annoying.”

“You are the damn annoying one.” Kyungsoo started to question himself, he wanted nothing more than to fuck this attitude out of you right there, in your double sized bed. “All I did was finding an excuse which can make you relaxed with me, and I accepted my failure. I should have neither kiss you nor lie about it. But I did, and I apologize for my misbehaviour. Let’s look at you, you are just asking goddamn questions and ignoring my answers. Who is the annoying one?”

You whipped your head around; your eyes were glistering with a layer of tears, forming in the edges.

“Are you interested in me, or not?” you cried. Kyungsoo glanced up, he registered the sudden stiffness in you, and how you consciously averting your eyes away from him. He remembered that same stiffness invaded your posture when you wanted to learn what happened to your dad while he was in emergency, or you were hopelessly driving into Busan when you received after the news of Chanyeol’s motorcycle crash.

He finally understood what you needed to hear.

You wanted his words.

You wanted him to say those words.

“I have always been interested in you.” he gave up. Your heart jumped into your throat at his blunt answer, you did not know how you feel about this information, having a place in Kyungsoo’s head was something you always hoped for, but never believe it could be real. Half of you thrilled with a delicious excitement, while the other half wanted to run away because of fear.

What if he was going to fuck around with you then ditch you?

What if he was going to try being with you then decide to leave you?

What if he was going to pour happiness into your life, you even could not dream of, then disappear?

Your dilemma was in your head. Carved into your mind, body, and soul.

Your biggest fear was losing Kyungsoo.

“I hate this eerily silence between us.” Kyungsoo cut you off before you could dig yourself into a deeper hole. How could you tell him he was everything and more you wanted from this life? How could you make him to understand how much you devoted yourself to him unconditionally? You watched him with darkening eyes, darkening with your fears, with your concerns, with your worries. Your eyes were dark as the pitch-black. “I am sorry to disturb you. See you tomorrow morning if you want to have a breakfast with me.”

Every layer of privacy and secrecy that you desperately tried to build till now in order to keep your weakest point from him were dissolved when he directly headed to the door. You did not even realize but threw yourself in order to stop him.

“Do not go.” you let the tears fall then and held his toned arm for your dear life. You could not let him to leave you behind, otherwise you would be damned. “Do not leave me, before you really have to do.”

“Why should I have to leave you?” Kyungsoo turned back to you. You saw the hesitation of his moves, he wanted to caress your face, but he was holding himself. “I cannot do it, even if I want to. You are too precious for me, bookworm.”

Your face was softened by his rich baritone voice and the nickname he gave you. Calling you as a bookworm was reserved to Kyungsoo, he beaten the shit out of even Baekhyun when he also called you like Kyungsoo.

“One day you will, Soo.” you were lost in your nightmares, mulling over horrendous scenarios your subconscious had been giving you in a fucking row. “One day someone will steal you from me, one day you will fall in love with a girl and leave me behind.”

Something told you that you should have been keeping this logic to yourself, but you were extremely emotional at the very moment. Your expectations, dreams, fears, hopes, everything was mixed up and conjoined with the amount of sake you just consumed.

You were talkative tonight, something very rare for you and Kyungsoo was happy for that. Even though you had been going through a hell of a night. He was also oversensitive, his mind was clouded by his own dreads and doubts, however when you sharply deducted on his not-existed-because-of-you love affairs, he could not help but chuckled.

“First, I have to see the girls.” his throat was like a sandpaper as he swallowed. The rosy tint on your cheeks was obviously growing, invading your skin, and heading to the south. He hardly took his eyes off your neck and the rest of the direction. “Excuse me, but I have eyes only for you.”

“You cannot say that!” you winced, by fanning your face with your hands.

“Then enlighten me.” he defended himself. “How should I say it? Sorry, but I believe in monogamy.”

Your knuckles paled as your grip around his arm tightened.

How could you name the hunger that driving you into crazy? How could you tell him even looking at him, even if you have not a single clue what was going to be happen, riling you up? You supposedly liberated yourself from Kyungsoo, but tearing his gaze away was impossible for you.

You wanted him. So, fucking bad.

You wanted his hands. His lips. His body.

You wanted his soul. His heart.

You were starting to pull him to yourself without noticing, Kyungsoo’s eyes were widened when you took the initiative to your hands.

Literally.

“Do you remember what I asked to you?” you whispered.

“About?” Kyungsoo exhaled with your unexpected shifting between moods. He did not trust his voice, not now, not when you were so close to him, enough to feel your breath on his lips.

His throat was like the deserts of Egypt right now.

“About teaching me.” you murmured into his fucking ear. “When it comes to touch someone?”

“Yeah.” he swallowed very hard, biting a tsunami of cursing back.

“Will you teach me?” your hands wandered around his arms to his chest and stopped there. “For the future references?”

“If I were you,” he groaned. “I would not think about future references.”

You rolled your eyes, taking your hands back off his body. Kyungsoo caught your hands and put them back on his chest, while he was aggressively dragged you into his arms.

“I am going to teach you.” his eyebrows were furrowed. “How you should be touched.”

Kyungsoo was never going to forget how your eyes glowed after his words with excitement.

He was not sure but it seemed like you wanted him almost like how he wanted you.

Desperately and fucking needy.

He carried you to the bed.

#doh kyungsoo #kyungsoo imagines #exo do kyungsoo #kyungsoo scenarios #kyungsoo smut #kyungsoo fanfic #exo smut #exo fanfiction #kyungsoo fanfiction #exo kyungsoo #exo d.o. #kyungsoo x reader #do kyungsoo #kyungsoo exo #kyungsoo #kyungsoo fluff #exo d.o #exo series #d.o. exo #exo fanfic #exo x reader

[generous1ty]

Could I get Makoto Naegi and Nagito Komaeda (separately) with an S/O who is the Ultimate Despair? Like, has Junko's title, but would never harm them because she loves them, and will absolutely give it up if they asked her to?

hihi! two requests with the same prompt...how exciting!

apologies to the second anon-- i don't write for DRv3 characters yet, as i haven't finished watching it, so i’ll only be doing Makoto and Nagito.

if you’d like for me to do Shuichi + Kokichi, 2nd anno, send in a request when i announce i can write for V3!

thanks for requesting! lots of love. <3

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Makoto and Nagito with an SHSL Despair!S/O

genre: angst warnings: gn!reader, kidnapping(?) mentions, swearing, spoilers for DR:THH chapter 6 and DR:GBD chapter 4-6, these are also really long oops

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Makoto Naegi

Makoto is conflicted, to say the least.

i mean, he spent all this time with you-- you both got to know each other and you helped him investigate! so, how could someone like you be... so terrible?

during the last trial, he really didn’t want to admit it. he didn’t want to accuse you despite all the evidence that pointed to you.

“n-no! this has to be wrong!” he could feel the hot tears swelling in his eyes, hands trembling from the fear, “we-- we must have missed something-- we have to had missed something!”

you only smiled as he sobbed at his stand, all the others-- Byakuya, Toko, Aoi, Kyoko, even Yasuhiro-- glaring at you as you grinned.

“please... please, it’s not true!”

despite the protests of everyone, Makoto had stopped you from executing yourself, bringing you outside with them.

more so, you convinced him to bring you outside with them. the expression on Makoto’s face was delicious in your opinion, and you really didn’t want to not witness it when it happened again.

well, that and you really, truly did care for him. losing Makoto would be true despair! so you simply stuck around and waited for that to happen.

you caused havoc and despair-- i mean, of course you did. you were the Ultimate Despair after all. after dragging Makoto away from the Future Foundation, you had him hostage in a place not even those Foundation Fucks could find.

the room you shared with the small brunette was definitely not small. things catered for his needs-- books, paper, pens, and really, almost anything he asked for. he was allowed to roam the residence you both had(but he could never find the exit, the place is like a maze) and you fed and clothed him. what more could you possibly need?

he always questioned you when you came back into the room, “why..?! why do you keep doing this?! please, i can-- i can fix this! you just need to let me go..! i know there’s good in you, [Y/n].. please...”

you always tell him the same response, “maybe i’m conditioning you to become even stronger after i die,” you’d prod his hope, “until then, i’m going to give you the best of me i can!”

eventually, you’d be defeated. you knew that. so before that happens, you want to spend as much time with Makoto as possible. whether it be through hope, or despair.

“uh oh! seems like your Future Fu-- Buddies found me!” you giggled, a manic laugh erupting from your lungs.

you gave him one last kiss before you left, leaving him speechless as he tried to run after you, “w-wAIT! [Y/N] PLEASE--”

“Makoto,” before the door had closed, you gave him that smile he always loved to stare at, “I do hope we meet again someday-- in another life, perhaps?”

if he hadn’t seen your corpse sitting in the hallway to the exit with a small, content smile, he would have mourned a lot more than he already had.

“another life...” he held a keepsake of yours in his hands, “..definitely.”

Nagito Komaeda

the funhouse could have been the worst thing to happen to Nagito, and he truly believed that.

with the type of despair he felt now, he could only hope to overcome it with extremely good luck. if that luck isn’t this book full of profiles to be fake, he’s not sure what to do.

the fourth trial is.. tough, to say the least. he’s perplexed, a heavy weight is put upon his chest, as well as this feeling of... disbelief.

you couldn’t-- no. of course not! the book must surely have been lying! but... why would Monokuma need to lie about those kinds of things?

he spills. he can’t contain it anymore-- even if he wanted to. he wanted to help you, he wanted to keep this a secret for your sake.

however, his mouth won’t stop running. he wants to stop, he really does, but he can’t. he can’t. why can’t he stop? it’s not true-- it’s not true!

even if Hajime being a reserve course student was shocking, the reveal of you, the person who had indefinitely helped both Hajime and Nagito-- everyone in their times of need, being the Ultimate Despair..? isn’t that absolutely absurd?

all 7 students on different stands wanted to deny it, but the look in your eyes really explained everything.

and truly, ah... truly, Nagito felt what ultimate despair was really like.

both you and Nagito were outcasted from everyone else-- that much was obvious enough. even Nagito avoided you...and honestly, it was kind of exhilarating!

despite Nagito trying to be discreet, he really wasn’t. you knew his plans to blow up the hotel, to reveal the traitor(which obviously seemed to be you), and yet... the traitor was Chiaki!

oh how you laughed while everyone mourned.

when you all had finally left the Neo World Program, you were the last to wake up-- if it wasn’t obvious enough.

no one wanted you to wake up, or even help you regain consciousness. it was cruel of them, but you supposed it was fair since you did brainwash them into becoming human killing machines.

you were put under surveillance 24/7, since you obviously couldn’t be trusted alone. lucky for you, your watchman was Nagito! you’d talk about a lot of things to him, but you’d get no response.

the sinking feeling in your chest would not dissipate despite talking to the one person who would listen. every time he would ignore you and your attempts to get along with him, somehow a pang would pain your chest. it was terrifying yet surreal.

either way, you’d be executed. there was no way the Future Freaks would let you live after what you’ve done. the troubles with your companion wouldn’t matter soon, because you’d be out of his way soon enough. the feeling had made you shiver in pleasure.

“I really do love you, Nagito.” were the last words you told him before you were never seen again.

from then on, he never knew why, but it always felt like something was missing when he passed your old room.

he supposed he missed you more than he thought.. he laughed, brows furrowing in confusion as he finally cried because of your absence.

“I guess I love you, too.”

#makoto #makoto naegi #naegi makoto #naegi #makoto x reader #makoto naegi x reader #naegi x reader #naegi makoto x reader #nagito #nagito komaeda #komaeda nagito #komaeda #nagito x reader #nagito komaeda x reader #komaeda x reader #komaeda nagito x reader #x reader #nagito komaeda imagines #komaeda nagito imagines #nagito imagines #komaeda imagines #makoto imagines #naegi imagines #makoto naegi imagines #naegi makoto imagines #generous writings #finally.. #a break from all the nsfw.... #*sweats*

[kaijurakunsobs]

Mr. Malum

master list for this series

this took me far too long to complete, I keep getting sidetracked with other stuff...I need to work on a schedule, that I will ignore, cuz I have the attention span of a boiled rock.

this chapter has a different name due to the song Mr. Malum from the Dear Hunter, being the only thing I would think of while typing this chapter

Summary: Heisenberg has a secret that he clearly intends on keeping for himself but honoring your own word of not working for him unless you know what's going on with his factory, you offer him a deal that could benefit you both. A trip to the village, distrust dripping for these people's faces, and the whispers filled with fear is enough for you to learn that...Mr. Heisenberg and the other Lords are more than what they seem.

"Rise and shine, sweetheart! we have a lot of work to do today" Heisenberg screams, throwing the door of your room open, making you sit and scream in surprise, the sound of his laughter is enough to cut your fear short and replace it with humiliation.

Before you can even respond the man is out and waiting in the kitchen, at least, he gave you time to compose yourself, running your fingers through your tangled hair and cursing yourself for going to sleep with damp hair, the tossing and turning did nothing to help, making the rat's nest that's your hair so much worst. Perhaps you should consider cutting it short, that would make it more manageable.

Joining him in the kitchen it's strange, half hoping to be met with his usual snark, instead, he's drinking coffee and looking over some papers, another mug has been placed on the table, the acrid smell of black coffee incites you to get close and take the warm mug in your hands, the taste is strong and it's enough to fully wake you up.

"We are going to be working on the west wing, some of the vents have been giving problems which is making the place overheat" a blueprint it's pushed towards you, the areas to be inspected are circled with red pen. "Since you are a lot slimmer, you will be getting into some hard to access places, keep the print, that way you will know what to fix"

Looking down at the print, you contemplate your situation.

It's, quite clear, that you can't escape, he said so yesterday, talking about the possibility of Miranda killing you or him catching you before she did. You can't refuse to work for him either, even after you told him you wouldn't do it until you knew what was going on in the factory, and it seems he decided to politely forget about that part of the conversation. There's no way out of this...but there's a way to try and twist his arm.

After all, you are not stuck here with him, he's stuck in here with you.

Putting down the mug, taking a moment to stretch your back and casually take a seat across from him "Yeah, this? sounds like a you problem" resting your head on your hands gives you the right amount of time to see him go from triumphant into anger "However! I'm willing to strike you a deal"

Father was a man who cared for his employees and sometimes caring for others means being, rather, unfair with those seeking to start a partnership, or so he said. "You have to assess how desperate you are when they come looking for you, but never push too hard on your luck, or you might lose the perfect cath, ask for realistic demands never for the Sun", those were his words, and you will be forever grateful for them.

" A deal?" leaning closer to you he looks at you from above his shades, a mocking smile on his face "What kind of deal are you offering? you have nothing to offer and I have everything you could want"

"Oh! but I do have a lot to offer, years of experience as a mechanic, the promise of optimizing your production rate, my family's factory for you to dismantle and get spare parts from...my silence?"

At that, he straightens up, face unreadable and impassive, hes thinking and considering. And you know it by watching him light up a cigar slowly, taking a couple of drags before expelling a large smoke cloud up to the ceiling. "I'm listening"

"Excellent, my demands are easy to meet, so don't worry" with careful movements you get up from the chair, unhurried steps carrying to stand behind him, snaking your hands up his arms and towards his shoulders, bending down to place your head close to his "All I ask from you is this, fitting clothes, a pair of gloves like yours and a leather apron, an actual bed, for you to repair the hot water, and have my own set of tools" you smile sweetly at him letting your right hand play with his hair "See? nothing too hard to get"

He's impressed with your boldness, not fearing getting your pretty hand burned with his cigar and pressing that delicious body of yours so close to him. And, indeed, your demands are nothing but reasonable compared to the blind devotion and absolute silence he's expecting from you, let alone, access to whatever is left from your factory.

The next time he expels smoke he does it in your direction, getting no reaction of you "And how do I know that you won't try and rat me out, doll? just trust your word and give you everything you want? I think I'll pass and just force you to do it"

"Well, I understand, it doesn't matter that I'm a woman of my word, words can be twisted and forgotten, sir. But...if you don't feel comfortable with a verbal agreement"

Your next move is not just bold, and you know it, you are weaponizing your own body, using it to make him lower his guard a little. Letting go of his shoulder to sit on his lap, back towards him, taking your sweet time to grab one of the paper sheets where he was jolting down notes and his pen. "We can do a contract if you prefer, that way I will be legally bound to do whatever it says and since you are a Lord, it will be just a formality"

There's a moment where you feel like gagging when his hands find your hips and push you to be closer to his body, it's his time to rest his head on your shoulder, looking at whatever you plan on writing down.

"Then do it, darlin'. Do your silly contract, which I expect you to abide by because I will do my part if that means I get to have you like this always"

"Of course, my Lord"

Immediately after you start writing down a rather simple contract, making sure to write everything you want and what you will be giving in return. The whole time he stays still, occasionally moving his head to blow the smoke away for you or the table in general, one hand squeezing your hip.

You are careful when offering the pen for him to sign the paper, tactfully placing your hand as to obscure a piece of the pact, he either doesn't care or thinks you are doing it to prevent the paper from slipping and messing his signature. Once he's done you sign quickly, smiling inwardly at your victory.

"Let me read this you" clearing your throat you begin to speak clearly and loud "I, Lord Karl Heisenberg, in full use of my mental capabilities, promise Miss Y/N L/N, to fulfill the following...One, provide her with proper clothing, which shall include a leather apron, heavy-duty gloves, and boots...Two, a bed and blankets for her to sleep in, making sure to place the bed in her bedroom...Three, acquire a new complete toolset for her...Four, repair the faulty got water pipe in the bathroom..."

The pause is done on purpose, looking at him over your shoulder to see his shit-eating grin morph into either confusion or anger "FIVE...make sure the kitchen is well stocked with all kinds of food, to ensure proper nourishment for my employee. The employee won't be expected to cook meals for me"

The hand on your hip shoots up to grab your neck, forcing you to be fully against him, his breath fans over the side of your face as he speaks "You little bitch, who do you think you are trying to swindle? you asked for four things, not five"

"Did I? I don't remember saying just four, sir...that's why contracts are so useful you see, after all, words can be twisted and forgotten" there's a small adrenaline rush when he growls so close to you, that you can feel the vibrations against your chest, almost crying out with joy when he let you go, clearly annoyed with your small victory.

"Fine, if that's the case!" his rudeness comes back with a vengeance when he pulls you off, doing quick work of walking to his room "Stay where you are" after that, only the distant lull of the machines can be heard, then there's the sound of his voice, almost whispering and growing slowly irritated by the second. It takes him a couple of minutes but he comes backs, dropping a bag full of money on the table.

"Since you are so hellbent on these demands of yours...and I have so much to do, for the foreseeable future, YOU are going down to the village, look for and get the seamstress to take your measurements, YOU are going to the Duke and buy whatever food we might need and tell him what tools you need, YOU are bringing said groceries from his Emporium all the way here, after all, your contract says I have to provide with clothing, food and put a bed in your toom, which means, it's YOUR responsibility to buy and transport the food while all I have to do is provide you with the money"

He got you...and he got you good, that's why making detailed contracts is always important, or you leave legal windows for the other party.

"Or...I can do all that for you, minus the clothes, if you sleep in my bed from now" his smile is wolfish and nasty, eyeing you the same way a starving dog would look at a defenseless chicken, it makes you question your flirting tactics from earlier, but you won't let him win.

"Well, you are right, I never said you needed to bring the groceries here" quickly you snatch the money from the table, getting up and walking to the door as if he didn't say anything about sharing his bed "I shall take my leave and come back before lunch, have a good day, sir!"

The door opens and with a side glance, you take his coat from the hook on the wall, scurrying off before he can say or do anything about it, almost bolting through the factory into the main entrance, afraid he will catch up with you and send you out into the freezing weather with nothing to shield you from it.

The trek down into the Village is something terrible, the terrain is irregular and some of the cobblestone steps are loose, trying to make a mental note of anything that might make you trip on your way back becomes a game, occasionally kicking some of the stones away and praying that you might now slip and fall.

You only stop to look at the 4 statues located past the bridge, taking a bit to admire the enormous things, their rotten features that have been consumed by the elements, and the weather, there's a pedestal of some sort in the middle but nothing else, following the path you find yourself looking at the Duke, slowly dozing off sitting inside his cart and his merchandise im plain view. The sound of your boots against the floor and snow, alert him of your presence.

"Ah! but it isn't our lovely Y/N, did Lord Heisenberg sent you for something, or are you here to acquire something for yourself?" hes already rubbing his hands together looking at you with interest

"You know me so well! I do come to run some...errands...Heisenberg set me to find the seamstress and to get groceries, his entire kitchen is empty, also, to place an order for me!"

The man laughs at your expression filled with pride, trying to uncover what or how you managed to get out of the factory on your second day there, smiling approvingly at whatever trick you used. "Of course, of course! tell me more about your shopping needs and I shall have them covered in no time"

"Oh, I wanted to know if I could write you a list and come back for the groceries on my way back?"

"Whatever you might need, miss Y/N" He's quick into offering you a pen and notepad, remarking the importance of treating all his customers with great care, and prideful of his service.

It takes you a bit to write down everything the kitchen lacks off and placing the order for your tools, gloves, and boots your size, acting a bit selfish by asking him to get you soap. The Duke reassures you that he will have your order as soon as possible and your groceries packed by the time you come back.

"Before I leave, by any chance do you know where I can find the seamstress? Heisenberg sent me out and told me to ask around...the prick"

"I do, it's an easy trip just go through that door and walk until you see the Maiden of War, a statue of a woman with a sword, easy to see! from it go west into the village and look for a house with teal walls, or simply ask for Sabina's house, but be careful Y/N, the people there might not take kindly to your presence"

The Duke was right, as soon as you enter the village, people start to stare and talk in low voices as you walk past them, you can hear them call you "Lord Heisenberg's bride" which makes you scrunch up your nose, others are more concerned of your status as an outsider and the small group of people praising Mother Miranda for giving you a home in this place. At the mention of her name, you have to force down the taste of vile down your throat and keep on walking to Sabina's place.

The house is easy to spot in the sea of gloomy colors, the teal exterior pops like a sore thumb, it's clear the house has seen better days, but you are no one to comment on the current state of the place, limiting yourself to knock on the door and wait for a response.

Sabina is, probably, no older than you, but the expression lines and tiredness of her face make her look a lot older, as soon as she sees you, she ushers you inside, eyes glued to the floor and speaking softly...she's scared of you.

"I was asked by Lord Heisenberg to come, he told me..."

"YES! I...I was made aware of your need for clothes and something like an apron, I received a call from the Chruch and expected you a bit earlier, now im afraid this order might be too hurried" fear masked as anger, you know about that, that's the only thing you have felt lately "please strip down so I can properly measure you"

The woman moves quickly, retrieving her tape and something to write on, while you are shedding the coat, pants, and boots off, leaving only the shirt on.

When she comes back you see her grimace and reach out for the shirt, out of instinct you slap her hand away, the terror in her eyes growing and becoming a burden that makes her freeze in her spot, making you feel a bit of guilt for causing her to do that face. "...Im sorry, I don't feel comfortable with people seeing me in my underwear"

Sabina only nods, trembling hands reaching out to start the process of taking every measurement required to make your new clothes, taking a second you jolt down each number and asking you what kind of fabric you would like for the pants and shirts, if the apron will need pockets and how many, any special requirements she should be aware of.

"Cotton undershirts" you blur out, avoiding to look at Sabina "I...need undershirts that are of a soft material" unconsciously reaching to touch your left side, the woman seems to understand, adding the undershirts to the list.

"I will have everything in the next four days if that's ok with the Lady, if not, I could have it done by tomorrow morning"

"No...four days is ok, how much do I owe you?" you ask absent-mindedly, dressing quickly to avoid losing any more body heat.

Sabina, who was halfway through putting her take away, stops to look at you, an uncomfortable expression on her face followed by a forced smile "I'm just pleased to serve the Heisenberg house, my lady"

You begin to protest but Sabina starts to push you out of the door, talking over you loudly, repeating like crazy how honored she feels, and for you to have a nice day, slamming her door shut and leaving you confused out in the snow.

This time, people avoid you, ducking their heads down, bowling lightly, and muttering praises to have someone from the Heisenberg house come to the village, but all of them speak with reverence, terrified of your existence. Miranda made you feel like a thing and these people make you feel like if you could kill them where they stand any minute now, like you are above them and more important. It's disgusting.

"Did you had a good time with the villagers, miss Y/N?"

"No!? Duke, it was horrible, the way people looked at me like if I was either a God or the Devil himself, it gave me your creeps" you are so lost looking at the crates, sacks, and bags that you have to carry back, that you don't notice him twistedly smile at you "What is wrong with these people?"

"We all need to believe in something, this village, just happens to believe in the protection and love of Mother Miranda and her lords and ladies, divine beings on Earth, but you might be right, perhaps it's not a godly figure what they're chasing after, but the devil" this time you do see him smile, the jolly man from last night is gone, replaced by a being of mischief and secrets that makes your skin crawl.

Hurriedly you pick up everything and balance it all in your arms, finding a way to trust the bag full of lei into his waiting hands and bolt it back into the fabric, distantly hearing him laugh over the sound of your pounding heart.

You only stop right in the middle of all the four statues you saw that morning, uneasiness nestling inside you...just what is going here? what are the lords of this place and why is everyone so panicked by them? why would anyone feel love for a monster like Miranda?

Wondering, if you did the right thing by making a deal with Heisenberg, knowing, he might be the devil incarnate.

#re8 #resident evil village #resident evil 8 #karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg x reader #the many joys

[resident-of-storybrooke]

Nothing Good Happens After 2AM (Ch 4)

Rating: M (finally earning that for this chapter)

Words: 2900

Read: ao3, ff.net CH 1 CH 2 CH 3

Summary: Emma took Killian home for the holidays as a fake date. Things seemed to be going well…until it didn’t. What happens when two fools in love didn’t confess their love over the holidays like they planned and have to go back home to reality? This. This is what happened…(A twist on fake dating during the holidays)

AN: Well....shit lol here we finally are! I wish I had a good reason for the year and a half delay. Honestly, I got one not so great review and it shook me a bit and I was already iffy about writing. But thank you to so many incredible souls being so encouraging and supporting me to get back into writing. Thank you to @kmomof4​ who read all four chapters and edited them (make sure to check them out). I really hope you enjoy this last part as I’m so happy to finally have this out for you all. A very late and final contribution to @csjanuaryjoy

tagging some of the fam squad (please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed): @kymbersmith-90 @let-it-raines @artistic-writer @hollyethecurious @hookedonapirate @carpedzem @nowforruin @kmomof4 @wellhellotragic @thesschesthair @teamhook​ @winterbaby89​ @zaharadessert​ @stahlop​ @ultraluckycatnd @blowmiakisscolin​ @peggyswan​ @jrob64​ @klynn-stormz​​ @tiganasummertree​ @batana54​ @pirateprincessofpizza​​

ALL THE LOVE

Ruby made her way back up to the party, excited to see how the rest of the night would play out after her phone call to Emma. As she made her way back into Killian’s apartment she saw the Nolans as they gestured rather animatedly. Then Ruby rounded the corner and looked in to see who they were yelling at. 

Shit. 

It was Killian. 

And from the looks of it they were letting Killian have it. And he was just standing there taking it.  

What the hell did he get into in the last five minutes to warrant this? Ruby was both concerned, but mostly entertained because the sweet sunshine Charmings never yelled. She strolled into the kitchen with a grin, figuring she would enjoy the show. That was until the furious couple saw her - apparently she was their new target. 

“Ruby Elizabeth Lucas! You have a lot of explaining to do.”

Ruby was confused to say the least. How the hell was she involved in... whatever this was? 

“Um...I don’t know what you’re talking about?”

“Bullshit, Ruby!” She was completely taken back, Mary Margaret never swore. “You just told me that Emma thought Killian was dating Elsa. And last time I checked Killian and Emma have been together for the last three months. So please, explain yourself. Now.”

“I feel like it’s not really my place,” she said, darting her eyes toward Killian, but she could tell no one was buying it. “Listen, Snow White and Prince Charming, your poor sister felt pressured to bring a date home for the holidays. She and Killian decided to go to Ruth’s and tell y’all they were dating so you’d back the hell off. And it worked and everything was fine. Then Elsa showed up and spooked Emma because she thought she lost her chance with him. Because shocker,” she looked fiercely at Killian and had to restrain herself from smacking him upside the head, “they’re both in love with each other and are being absolutely idotic and not telling the other the truth.” She turned back toward the stunned silent Charmings, “And you two are not helping the cause!”

Killian looked up in complete shock, his eyebrows nearly reaching his hair. The Nolans stood gaping at her, obviously not expecting her brutal honesty. 

“Listen,” Ruby took a deep breath. “Cut them some slack. You two were acting like Emma was going to turn into some crazy old spinster if she didn’t find a date soon. Also, you two act as though you are a literal fairytale couple.” She shrugged. “Sometimes it’s hard to live up to your kind of love.”

As David stood in shock, Mary Margaret finally spoke up. “We went too far, didn’t we?” That’s when she turned to Killian. “We’re sorry, Killian. We shouldn’t have ever put you in this situation. We love you, we love Emma, and that wasn’t fair...I hope you can forgive our behavior this evening.”

Just as Killian was about to speak up, the door opened revealing an out of breath Emma Swan.

Emma was confused by the odd looks she was receiving as her welcome. She should be used to their bizarre behavior at this point, but this felt different. 

As she made her way over to the group her nerves set back in. She was here to tell Killian the truth. She was going to finally confess her love for her best friend. On his birthday. What could possibly go wrong?

“Right, well, this has been fun. Perhaps we should give these two some alone time.” Ruby elbowed the couple so Emma and Killian could have a moment.

As Emma walked towards Killian she finally took in her surroundings and realized how packed the apartment was. “I wish there were less people here…”

“Why, Swan? I love large parties, they’re so intimate. At small parties-”

“-there isn’t any privacy. I like it when you quote things to me.” Looking at him, she realized how close they were. She wasn’t even aware of her own movement toward him. Then she looked into his blue eyes. She missed them. 

She missed him. 

They stood there, taking each other in. It’d been weeks since they’d been together, really together. Neither one knew how to start. 

“Emma, you came.”

She wished in that moment she had something poetic to respond with, but that wouldn’t be Emma. “That’s what she said.”

The two instantly burst into laughter, the tension dying with every laugh. 

“I missed you, Swan.” Killian reached his hand out to tuck a loose strand behind her ear, Emma leaned into his touch. 

“I missed you too. I’m so sorry I ran…I wish I had a good excuse, but I don’t. I wanted to tell you so many times how I felt. I was going to tell you. On New Year's Eve. I was finally going to tell you. I had this whole plan. It was a good plan. And then Ruby fucking decided to be Chef Julia Child and give me food posioning. And then...I saw how happy you looked with Elsa and I thought, I thought, I’d lost my chance with you.” Emma finally found the courage to look up when she finished.

Killian’s eyes were full of unshed tears. When Emma opened her mouth to try and say something to break the tension Killian wrapped his arms around her. Emma finally took a breath. A breath she had been holding for weeks. He didn’t hate her. 

“Emma, my love, I promise nothing happened with Elsa. She was Liam’s fiance. She’s an old friend and nothing more. You though...you’re so much more than that. I’ve been a coward. I’ve hidden behind our friendship, behind the lie we told your family, and I will not do that any longer. I’ve had three words on the tip of my tongue since the night we met, I swear, and I will not waste another minute without you hearing them.”

Emma extracted herself from his grasp. “Before you do, I have something for you.” 

Killian lets out a sigh, “Really? Right now?”

Without another word Emma pulled the small red box from her clutch and handed it to Killian. He looked at her with curious eyes. “It’s your birthday, open the damn thing, Jones.”

“So demanding. Now what do we have here? It's a-” 

He stopped.  

Mistletoe. 

It was the most infuriating object that haunted his dreams - well, besides Emma. That trip to her home, the infernal garnish was everywhere. 

There was that kiss.

God, that kiss. He relieved it daily, prayed that it wasn’t the last kiss he’d ever share with Emma. Up until this moment he was convinced that would be the case.

“Well, Swan, this is quite the gift. I don’t know exactly what to say.” He scratched behind his ear, a nervous tick they were both well aware of. 

“I, um, do you wanna see if it works?” Killian’s eyes shot up to Emma.

“Well, love, seems only right I try it out with you since you were the one that gave me such a generous gift. Shall we...”

Emma cut him off with a bruising kiss, it caught him a little off guard, but it only took a moment for him to catch up. Killian didn’t give a damn that there was a party going on around them. He finally had Emma in his arms. Emma’s hands wandered to the nape of his neck, holding on for dear life. Killian’s hands roamed down her sides before anchoring on her hips, holding her tightly against him. He cursed the fact that Emma was wearing a dress, even if she did look bloody gorgeous in the tight red piece. He couldn’t wait to have that blasted thing on his floor.

They finally broke for air, still clinging to one another, foreheads touching. Killian was ready to dive back in when he looked up and remembered they weren’t alone. Mary Margaret was crying, Ruby was cheering, and David looked slightly annoyed but Killian saw the small smile he was trying but failing to hide. 

“Come on, love. I think it’s time we faced the vultures. And I’d like you to meet Elsa, if that’s alright with you?”

“Yeah, I think that’s a pretty good idea, Captain.” Emma reached down and grabbed Killian’s hand before they walked over. 

Maybe the trope board wasn't wrong after all. 

CSCSCSCSCSCSCSCS

As the party went on, Killian and Emma were inseparable; the two constantly touching the other. At one point, while talking to Mary Margaret and David, Emma laid her head on Killian's shoulder, something she'd done a million times, but this time Killian placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. 

The two were in their own happy bubble. They pretended to be engaged with those around them, but they couldn't ignore but feel the sparks ignited with each touch.  

"So, Emma? It's nice to finally meet you. I'm sorry for the miscommunication. I feel as though that was my fault." Emma was confused on how Elsa seemed to be privy to their issue, but then she saw Mary Margaret across the room and assumed her friend had filled her in.

"Please, don't be. I was...scared I lost my chance with Killian."

"Oh, honey. I don't think you could ever lose this one." Killian squeezed Emma closer to prove her point. 

Turns out Elsa was hilarious and had wonderfully embarrassing stories about Killian. Emma had a feeling the two were going to be good friends after tonight. 

The party eventually wound down a little after one, slowly the various couples left. That's when Emma realized she was alone with Killian. 

Finally. 

Suddenly, Emma felt her nerves grow. They'd declared their love and haven't left the others' side since, but she would be lying if she said she wasn't nervous. She absentmindedly threw out some empty cups as she tried to plan her next move.

"Love," Killian called for her from the living room, "can you come here?" Emma slowly made her way into the room as Killian stretched out his arms to embrace her. 

"Emma, I...I know that tonight has been a lot. Our relationship has always been a lot. And I know the future is uncertain, but there's one thing I want you to be certain of - I will always be by your side. For as long as you'll let me, my love."

She didn't even know a tear had slipped until Killian pulled back to wipe it. 

"I haven't always made things easy. I get spooked easily, but I'm tired of running. I want to be with you, Killian. I love you."

"And I you, my beautiful Swan." 

The kiss started off slowly, different than the one earlier, but no less passionate. Emma brought her hands around Killian's neck, playing with the nape of his hair. As Killian kissed down her neck, Emma didn't recognize the noises that escaped her mouth.

As their kisses continued, Emma was surprised when Killian's legs hit the couch and he fell down. She hadn’t been aware that they moved. Emma said she was tired of running, and she was ready to show him. So she straddled his legs and hovered over him for just a moment.

They felt like teenagers again, making out on a couch like this. She could feel him harden beneath her, driving her wild. But, it wasn't enough, she needed more. Emma started unbuttoning his shirt, the bastard already had the top three undone. Without a second thought, she began to rake her fingers through the coarse black hair. 

"I've been dying to do this since we first met. So soft," she murmured. Killian found a spot behind her ear that made her mewl. Emma brought her lips to his ear, "I've always wondered how it'd feel against my breasts." 

With that, Killian pulled back. "My love, are you sure? We can wait. Because once I have you, I'm never going to let you go." Emma nodded slowly. As she looked into his eyes, she could barely see a trace of blue. His pupils were blown. 

Before Emma could stand, Killian wrapped his arms around her to carry her to his bedroom. He only ran into the wall twice as Emma was no doubt leaving marks on his neck. Killian gently placed her in the middle of the bed. 

"I always swore that if we got here, I would worship every inch of you."

"Killian, please, worship later. I need you now."

"Just a taste. Patience, darling." Killian was beyond thankful at that moment Emma had opted for a dress as he quickly removed her thong.  

Before she could speak, he brought his mouth to her sex. "You're already drenched for me. You..fuck...you taste delicious."

Emma couldn't speak, he was overwhelming in every sense of the word. She grabbed a fistful of his hair, not that she needed to guide him; he knew exactly what he was doing. 

Killian replaced his mouth with two fingers. "That's it, Emma. You look so beautiful like this. I want you to come for me, darling. Come and then I'll give you what you really want."

His voice was deeper, accent thicker. Emma had a feeling she could finish from his voice alone, but right now, it was his fingers and mouth that were going to do the trick. 

Emma lost all control of her limbs as he sent her over the edge. He didn't let up though, he continued slowly licking as she came back down. As her breathing returned to normal, Killian kissed up her body. 

"Worship later, Killian,” she moaned again. “Please. I need you. Now."

"So demanding, Swan,” he observed, taking his pants and boxer briefs off. “I think I like this side of you, all in a commanding voice, chills really." 

He climbed back on top of her, but instead of responding, Emma hooked her legs around Killian and flipped him, so he laid on his back. He looked up in awe, he had never been so turned on than in this moment. 

Emma decided she was tired of waiting, but before she could sink down Killian stopped her. "Give me a moment, let me grab something, I -"

"I'm clean, and I'm on the pill. I...I don't want anything between us."

"Gods, Emma. If you're sure? I'm good too, I haven't been with anyone since...since we met." 

Emma dove down to meet his lips as she sank down onto him. Killian swallowed her gasp as she adjusted to his size. Of course, he lived up to every innuendo, and Emma couldn't be happier for that than in this moment. 

For first times, they were both surprised with how easy it was to fall into rhythm with the other. There were only a few slightly awkward moments, but that didn't stop them from enjoying this moment. Emma's hips met Killian's with each thrust, quickly driving the other wild. 

"So fucking glorious, Emma. You're so tight like this. Ride my cock, such a good girl. I want to feel you come around me this time. You're stunning when you come. That's...fuck... that's it Emma, take what you need, darling."

Before Emma could even respond, Killian decided it was her turn to be flipped on her back. "Now, if I remember correctly, you wanted to know how it feels with me on top."

"That's, ugh, that's not exactly what I said. But I'm not complaining."

Emma felt that familiar sensation growing in her stomach as Killian's pace intensified. "Killian, I'm close. Together, I wanna -"

"Aye, love, together."

Killian felt her tighten around him as she moaned out in ecstasy, pulling him right after her. He gave her a searing kiss as he spilled himself inside of her. Killian fell on top of her, too exhausted to worry about crushing her for a moment. 

"Killian? As much as I love how, uh, close we are now, do you think you can move? I can't breathe, and I need to clean up."

"Oi, you're gonna give a man a complex!" Killian slowly rolled off her, in awe of the glow Emma radiated at the moment. Emma couldn't help but giggle as he was being an annoying ass, but mostly he was still...Killian. 

They were still them. Except they just had mind-blowing sex. 

She could get used to this new addition to their relationship. 

"Stay here, love. Let me." Killian was back in a moment and helped clean Emma. When he finished, he placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, just like before. 

"What is it, Swan?"

"Nothing, I'm just happy. It's just so surprising."

"Aye, love, me too. But this doesn't change anything. I've loved you for years now, and we'll go at whatever pace we both see fit, but I'm in this for the long haul."

"As am I, Captain."

The two laid in bed, cuddled close, and shared lazy kisses. When Emma looked at the clock, she saw it was nearly three in the morning. A few weeks ago, Emma had thought nothing good happened after two am; it turns out she was wrong. 

"Swan? Can you tell me what the bloody hell a trope board is?"

#tori finally finishes a story #nothing good happens after 2am #(formerly) another name #so close and still so far #captain swan #emma swan #killian jones #ouat #once upon a time #cs fanfics #ruby lucas #david nolan #mary margaret blanchard #elsa #part four #IT'S FINALLY DONE #THANK YOU K

[orbitariums]

𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐦 | 𝐠𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐩 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 (𝟏𝟔)

pt. 15

note: missed u baddies~~~!!! this chapter was so hard to write but i love how it turned out, hope y’all loved it tooooo ♡ 

playlist *new additions!*

word count: 7.6k

warnings: age gap, smut 

Absentmindedly, you picked up your phone on the end table beside you. It was positively buzzing with notifications, and you were a bit thrown off by the sheer amount of them. You furrowed your eyebrows as you skimmed through the notifications from the bottom to the top— you had a bunch of missed calls from your parents, more Snapchat notifications on your regular snap than ever, and a plethora of texts. 

You wondered if something had happened, chewing slightly on your bottom lip. Was everything okay at home? Did you post something meant for your cam site on your Instagram? A hundred various circumstances fled through your mind, but none of the situations you had made up could’ve prepared you for when you opened a text from Aaliyah with a picture attached. It read:

    - Attachment: 1 image

    - BITCH, THIS IS LITERALLY YOU!!!

     You sat up immediately, your stomach twisting nauseatingly as you looked at the image on your phone screen. You blinked a few times, rubbing furiously at your eyes like this was all a bad dream and you’d wake up in a few seconds. Because this couldn’t be happening. There was no way that you were looking at a picture of you and Steve that neither of you had taken, walking out of a restaurant you couldn’t be bothered to remember the name of right now. A sense of urgency flooding your veins, you nudged Steve harshly. He shifted in his sleep and put his arms around your waist, unaware of what was going on. 

     “Steve!” you hissed, your face burning. 

     He woke up relatively quickly, hearing the seriousness in your tone, sitting up against the pillow and facing you, his brows knitted together, muscles flexing as he supported himself on his arms. 

     “What’s wrong, babe?” he asked, leaning forward to see what you were showing him on your phone. 

You watched his expression change from one of confusion to one of concern as he began to grasp what had happened. But, instead of talking it out with you as you expected, he cursed under his breath and ripped the bed sheets off of him, getting up out of bed. You leaned forward, your naked bottom half getting exposed to the air while he pulled on some clothes and made his way out the door. 

     “Where’re you going?” you called out after him, and he didn’t even bother to take a look back at you as he marched out of the apartment, muttering,

     “I’ll be back in a few hours.”

You tried to catch up to him, but it was too late. He was gone, and now you were alone in this apartment which felt eerily empty without him now, your phone pinging with a new notification every few seconds. 

| | | 

     As expected, the headquarters were abuzz when Steve entered them. He had arrived in a haste, driving stoically on the busy New York streets, his mind racing just like the cars that zoomed past him. The first person to face him once he got inside was Bucky, who just gave Steve a sympathetic look and held the door open for him— Bucky already knew everything, he had figured it out a few weeks ago on his own. You and Steve had already dealt with that hiccup, and you had hoped (perhaps naively) that the situation with Bucky was just a fluke, and that nothing more like that would happen again. But you had been sorely mistaken. 

     Steve gave Bucky a nod, and they both made their way to the meeting room, where Steve already knew everyone would be waiting for him. Quite immaturely, he rolled his eyes at the fact that everyone was there. This matter was something personal, it had nothing to do with the rest of the Avengers, though technically it did, because Steve’s actions affected the rest of the team and  he knew that. But to his own credit, he had just woken up and he was already being bombarded with messages from PR and the rest of the team about this mishap. He had to compose himself before walking in, taking a deep breath and relaxing his clenched jaw. 

     “Are you insane?” was the first thing Steve heard when he walked in, no doubt coming from Tony.

Steve sighed, tucking his hands into his pockets, glaring at Tony,

     “Save the berating for later.”

     “Were you not thinking? Is this what you were doing during your time off?” Tony continued, his hands up in the air in a questioning motion.

     “Listen, Tony. I’m not here to hear what I did wrong. I’m here to solve this issue right now, whatever that means.”

     “You’re gonna wanna see this,” Sam said reluctantly, sliding a magazine across the table for Steve to see. 

     It was one of those ridiculous celebrity gossip magazines, and multiple pictures of Steve and you were highlighted on the front page. Steve prepared for the worst as he read the headlines: “Captain America with Mystery Girl?” and “Who is Captain America’s New Boo?” He opened the magazine to more unsavory headlines, and to his extreme dismay, pictures of you from your personal Instagram highlighted. 

     He raised his eyebrows as he read: “More on Captain America’s New Girl.” They had found your name, your age, and worst of all, your profession. Steve was seeing red as he forced himself to keep reading the salacious article which made you out to be a deviant with ulterior motives, abusing inaccurate phrases like, “an unemployed college girl turned porn star” and, “the face of Captain America’s midlife crisis!” 

Steve’s face burned white hot as he scanned the article, barely even registering the content and instead finding himself growing more and more angered by the inflammatory statements that were being made. 

     “That’s enough,” Nat finally spoke up, watching the expressions on Steve’s face grow more and more catastrophic.

She snatched the magazine away from Steve and shoved it across the table, folding her arms and glaring down the table at Tony. 

     “You okay?” Bucky asked, reaching a hand out to Steve’s shoulder. He could feel Tony’s angry glare focused on him, while everyone else gazed at him pitifully. 

Steve sighed, jerking his shoulder away from Bucky’s touch. He couldn’t even pinpoint his emotions, all he was feeling right now was rage. He was angry at himself, feeling like he somehow let this happen, even though deep down he could hear your voice telling him that he was doing everything right and that it wasn’t his fault. He was angry that now, your privacy and safety were on the line, and people who didn’t know a thing about you were making absurd assumptions about you. 

     He felt like yelling, punching something, doing anything to let out this anger so he could at least have some sort of vessel for this fury he was feeling. But he stood painstakingly still, trying to hear your voice over all the noise, your voice telling him everything was okay even though right now all signs were saying that everything was not okay. 

     “You have to deny everything,” Tony sighed after moments of awkward silence. “She’s your assistant and you were undercover acting as boyfriend and girlfriend, something convincing but not as exposing as that. And you’re getting your legal team to sue all these publications for false claims and defamation.”

Steve furrowed his brows, staring at Tony,

     “They aren’t false claims.”

Tony shrugged flippantly,

      “If you want everyone to think Captain America is sleeping with a porn star, then so be it. But it’s going to cost you if you think for a second I’m gonna let that slide on our team-”

Steve cut him off, losing the calming hum of your voice in his mind in a new wave of anger, 

     “She’s not a porn star, she’s a college graduate and the owner of an online brand and a sex worker, and that’s more than a lot of people her age can say, so don’t get brave because of these god damn articles, Stark.”

     “Listen, Cap,” Tony spat sarcastically. “I don’t give a shit who she is. The point is that in this case, your opinion on her doesn’t matter because everyone else is going to say whatever the fuck they want to say. And that’s bad for you, it’s bad for us, and it’s bad for her, if you care as much as you claim to.”

     “Don’t act like I didn’t think about this,” Steve lurched forward, slamming his hands on the table. “She’s more than just some girl to me. Don’t act like every waking second I didn’t worry that something like this would happen. Like, like I didn’t take every precaution I could, look over my shoulder every five seconds. I’m not as stupid as you want me to be, Stark.”

Of course Steve cared about his team and how this would affect the Avengers, but the last straw was the media coming for you, putting your privacy and your safety at stake. Your job and the details of your job were extremely sensitive, and you were just beginning to make a name for yourself in the real world. Steve honestly felt like this was worse for you than it was for him. He knew he had to take care of this first, for logistical reasons, but when he was done, he’d get right to you as soon as possible.

     Tony sighed, softening just a bit.

     “Listen. You know what you have to do. After the Accords, this… this isn’t the kind of attention that we need. Regardless of that, we can’t have this. You’re making a statement today, and you know what you have to say. PR’s already contacting the publishers of these bullshit articles. As for your little girlfriend, if we’re not careful, she could be in huge danger. You know the kind of people we deal with, and how fast they would swing at a chance to grab her when they think she’s unprotected. That’s exactly why you need to deny everything, and we’ll do all the damage control possible. Not that there’s even much we can fix at this point.”

      Steve glared all around the table, only to see faces of the rest of the members of the team looking up at him expectantly. He needed to explain himself. How’d he even get into this mess, what was he thinking, the usual. And Steve knew that that was his responsibility— as Captain America. As the leader. As a part of the team. Right now, he was just himself. Steve Rogers. And all that Steve Rogers was worried about was you. Regardless of what you said, the fact that you could be in danger scared the shit out of him, and also put him into this almost primitive, dominant mode. He needed to protect you. He didn’t care about reactions and rumors, he needed to make sure you were safe.

     “Talk later,” was all Steve said, turning out of the room and ignoring Tony calling his name. When he got into the car he slammed the door shut and began the drive home. 

      His mind was swarming with thoughts, about what this meant for his team, for his job, all the things he’d left unaddressed in the meeting room. He knew this wasn’t his fault, he knew that’s what you would say, but Steve wasn’t going to let himself off this easily. He was livid about the fact that the magazines and web articles had found you out so quickly and had posted pictures of you, giving away personal information about you and jeopardizing you as if you deserved it at all. So he drove home in a silent, fuming rage.

      By the time Steve came home, you, too were beside yourself with anger. You’d seen the posts your friends and family were sending you, and your social media was getting flooded with spam and comments from people who didn’t know the first thing about you. Some were downright cruel, others were oddly interested in this situation that was meant to be private all along. You hadn’t even called your parents yet or explained yourself to anyone, all you did was text them and tell them you’d get back to them later when you figured this all out. The only person you wanted to talk to at this point was Steve, and he wasn’t even there, nor was he answering his phone and you knew he had it on him. 

     The fact that he had seen the news and just left immediately, not giving you any sort of comfort or advice, not even beginning to work through this together, had you fuming. You knew that just like you, Steve had people to explain himself to and others to reach out to. But as far as you were concerned, you should’ve been the first person he talked to about this— he should’ve worked with you to at least talk about how to fix this before he just marched out the way he did. 

      You thought you had both worked past his eternal faithfulness to his job and the pressure to be dominant that he felt all the time, felt you had reached the core of the superhuman. But him leaving as promptly as he did only proved you wrong. You didn’t want to go through this alone, you wanted to go through this with him, as it was about the both of you in the first place.

     He came in and you looked up from your phone, where you were scrolling worriedly through the trending Twitter hashtag about you and Steve. Everyone was giving their unwarranted opinions, and you honestly worried how this would impact you— tons of information about you had been revealed without your consent, and it did not at all make you look good to the typical eye. 

     “Where did you go?” you asked him quietly, glaring up at him. 

He seemed to sense your anger and sighed, shrugging his shoulders in a resigned manner,

     “Headquarters. Had to sort some things out.”

     “Do you know how long I’ve been sitting here scrolling through pictures of me that are from my fucking cam site? Strangers exchanging information about me on the internet, seeing all this shit about us? And you just— just left? You didn’t even try to talk to me, Steve, honestly, what the fuck?” you snapped, your upper lip curling up angrily.

     Steve glided over to you, sitting beside you on the side of the bed and trying to get close to you. He truly felt sorrowful for leaving you alone, he wished you had known how much he wanted to talk to you while he was being berated by Tony. He only wished you had known how little he cared about the logistics because you were on his mind the whole time. 

     But he knew you were right, he had left without even trying to sort things out with you, left you to handle things on your own without even giving you an inch of support or telling you where he was going and what he planned for when he got back. 

     “You’re right, I’m sorry,” Steve apologized, his tone genuine, trying to catch your eye. He finally did, and even though you still glared angrily at him, he grinned at the fact that you were at least looking at him. “I should’ve been here for you, and dealt with all the other logistics later. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you, honestly, angel. I didn’t… I didn’t know-”

He didn’t know that your image was being plastered around everywhere, that you were being unpacked by attention-seeking publications. Your safety and your privacy came before the reputation of his team, before all the logistics. That was all he had wanted to protect this entire time. You. Looking into Steve’s eyes, you could see that they were almost glassy, and you shifted from anger to concern quickly. 

     “Baby,” you cradled your arms around his head, frowning. “No, no, I’m… I’m being stupid, of course you have to handle shit with your job first, I should know that. I just wish we could’ve processed this emotionally first. Instead of separating from each other first thing.”

     “No,” Steve said firmly, pulling away from your touch and placing strong, grounding hands on your shoulders. “No, you are completely valid, and you’re right to be angry with me, doll. I should’ve taken a moment. That’s- that’s what we’ve been working on this entire time and you’ve been trying to teach me to step outside of my anxieties and all my duties. And I should’ve been here for you. I didn’t even take the time to comfort you. I’m sorry.”

      “Thank you,” you smiled softly, and he pulled you in for a hug, nuzzling his face in your neck. 

     This was the warmest you’d ever felt with him, just sitting there with him calmly in the midst of all the chaos, finding peace and stillness in each other’s arms. Anywhere else but in each other’s arms felt dangerous and uncertain, and now that you were here together, you were starting to look up. Everything was still shitty, but maybe together, things would feel less shitty. 

     “Listen, you’ll be okay. I’m sorry for all of this, I know what you’re going to say, but I know that I’m partially responsible. I just wanted to keep you safe, and, fuck.”

You chuckled quietly to yourself, your faces only inches apart when you brought your hands up to cup and graze Steve’s cheeks lovingly,

      “You still blame yourself for everything. You can’t control what these fucking publications do. You know that. And selfishly, the risk of getting caught is worth taking, if it means I get to be with you.”

Steve melted into your touch, but still there was that stiff part of him that wanted to blame himself for this mess,

     “We’re gonna have to agree to disagree on this one, doll,” he laughed wistfully. “But, you didn’t teach me for naught. Instead of pitying ourselves, we’re gonna work on this, right?”

You nodded with a smile, 

     “Yes, yes, exactly.”

Steve sighed before continuing, frowning as he remembered the hostile air in the office.

     “They told me to deny everything and get my legal team involved, but I…” Steve paused, feeling his anger and defiance resurge. 

     If they were going to expose you two, then so be it, it was true. If he didn’t tell the truth, if he denied all the “allegations,” he was just letting them win. He was letting them silence him, letting him think he was doing something wrong because he had found you, his happiness. And sure, your relationship was easy to publicize and critique because it was controversial for many obvious reasons— the age difference, the sensitive nature of your jobs. 

     But Steve didn’t care what they had to say. All he cared was that this didn’t push you apart. And if it meant telling the truth, he’d do that. The bombardment of rumors and questions would pass eventually. Nothing could soil the Avengers for long. If he handled this the way the public expected him to handle it— with some spineless apology or some weak minded statement, it wouldn’t be fair to you. Not when you and Steve were together. 

He continued,

     “I’m not going to. I’m not denying a thing. I’ll release a statement on my own… I’ll… I’ll tell the truth. I’ll get them to leave you alone and take down whatever they’ve posted about you. I don’t care what they have to say about us. Just… they can’t mess with you.”

     Steve’s fists balled up inadvertently in frustration and anger, but he was also feeling a surge of pride, courage. He didn’t have to deal with this the way everyone wanted him to. This was a personal matter, and even though it affected his job and his team, Steve had been through too much in the past few weeks to let the public play him the way they wanted to. There would be drama, and talk, but it would all subside as it always did. He’d always be Captain, and as long as he had a good heart and good intentions, and did his job right, he didn’t give a shit about what strangers had to say about who he was in love with. 

You blinked, shocked and puzzled by Steve’s words. This was like a full 180, you weren’t used to Steve rebelling like this. You figured maybe he was just worked up, and you didn’t want to be the reason he got in trouble. You knew he had his responsibilities, regardless of how you felt. You didn’t expect him to put you above everything, you knew he had to deal with matters like this in a specific way. You tried to calm him down,

     “Steve, you’re sweet. But you should go through with what your team wants. I mean, it’s what’s best, isn’t it?”

Steve cocked his head at you,

     “And keep doing this in secret? I mean, we can’t keep this up for long, doll, you know that. If I deny it now and the truth somehow comes out, that’d be even worse. I know my team is saying the opposite, but I think this is what’s best. The rumors, the gossip… it’ll come to a stop. What we have is stronger than that.”

You grinned, your eyes glossy,

     “I know, but I don’t wanna be the reason you get in trouble.”

Steve inched closer to you and cupped your face firmly with his hands, looking into your eyes,

     “You’re not. And you won’t be. Don’t blame yourself for a second. I’m taking care of this, alright? You’ve done so much for me and you don’t even know it. It would be a disservice to the both of us if I didn’t stand up for us. Don’t worry about me, don’t worry about my job. I was wrong to ever make you feel like that was your responsibility more than it was my own. We’ll be alright.”

     Steve was true to his word. As the day progressed and word spread even more, soon enough there was a statement to match the rumors. It wasn’t what the publicists or his fellow Avengers wanted to hear, but it was what he thought was right. And there was no reversing it. Later that day you sat on your laptop, scrolling through the recently updated articles on your situation. 

     Superhero Captain America, known to those in his personal life as Steve Rogers, admits that he has been in a private relationship for the past few months. Rogers and his team ask that their privacy be maintained and respected despite the shocking, unexpected news. At the time, Rogers and his fellow Avengers will not be taking any further inquiries about the matter, and they are taking this violation of privacy and security very seriously. 

     You breathed out a sigh of relief as you read the statement, mulling it over a few times in your head. All Steve wanted was to keep you safe and get as much information that had been revealed about you taken down. You weren’t quite sure what you were going to do from here on out— your sensitive profession had been exposed and this was something that would quite likely impact you for the rest of your life. 

     How could you be expected to be taken seriously to get a career when you had been trashed and defamed on the internet for your job? It seemed that still, no one quite understood sex work and that it was just as legitimate a profession as anything else, and you knew from the start that sex workers were looked down upon. You had done everything right— you used an alias, you didn’t give away personal information. And now, your face was plastered on gossip websites, with links to the very cam site you used. 

     Needless to say, you were stressed. But, you weren’t panicking. You were processing everything and it was all so overwhelming. In the grand scheme of things, you weren’t being nitpicky about the specifics. You had faith that you would figure this all out, that everything would be back to normal soon. Whatever that meant for your future, you weren’t sure. But you refused to lose hope. Not yet. You’d pick yourself back up from the ground and dust yourself off, just like you’d done so many times before. The difference was that Steve would be there for you every step of the way.

     Steve was out again handling important business. He’d talked to you before leaving and you understood that he’d have to be gone for a few hours trying to juggle this insane situation. In the meantime, you decided that since you had time, you’d call back everyone who had been bombarding you with messages and calls. Firstly, you’d call your parents. You dialed your dad’s number and he picked up almost immediately. 

You could hear him calling your mother’s name so she could talk to you too, and you heard her scramble up to the phone to talk. 

      “YN, what the hell is going on?” your mother asked, but she sounded more concerned than upset. 

     “We’ve been calling all day, we’ve been worried sick. Everyone’s been asking about you and we had no clue what was going on,” your father continued. 

You were surprised at their tone. Perhaps ever since your awkward dinner with them where you’d revealed what was likely your biggest secret, there had been a shift. You were surprised when they were so quick to accept you despite being so distant from you your whole life, being the root of your emotional issues. You sighed, rubbing your forehead,

     “Look, I know it’s a lot.”

     “Are you okay, sweetie? Be honest,” your mother pleaded, and you made a face,

     “I’m fine, it’s been a stressful day, but-”

      “No, I mean in general. We… we know we haven’t been talking much, but this… this whole thing, it’s-- we’re worried about you. You just go off to New York without saying a thing to anyone? You’re in some secret relationship with a man twice your age?” 

You understood their concern, but at the same time, you knew you weren’t being irrational by doing these things. Instead, you were doing what made you happy. This wasn’t a spontaneous, crazy decision. You and Steve were both extremely logical people, and you weren’t unstable just because you did this without anyone knowing. You had your reasons. 

     “Look, I… this is something I did on my own. I’m an adult and I’m doing what's best for me. And, obviously, there was a reason I didn’t tell anyone. I mean, he’s- he’s not just some random guy. And what we have is… you might not understand it, but that doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with me.”

     “I just wish you felt like you could talk to us.”

     “Yeah. Me too. Listen, I just wanted to call you to let you know that I’m fine. I don’t really know what’s next, but I’ll try to keep you updated, alright? Don’t worry about me, everything will be okay.”

      “What about all those posts about you? The things people are saying, it’s- and your safety! This is serious.”

     “Dad, I know. We are working it out, believe me. I’m just as worried as you are. I’m probably more worried. But you know what, I knew the risk in coming here, and I knew what I was doing. And I’m still glad I did it. Steve means so much to me, and I’m not gonna let this change that. But all that matters is that I’m okay. I just wanted to call you and tell you that.”

      “Well, we’re glad to hear that you’re okay. There’s just so much about you that we’re just now finding out, we have every reason to be worried.”

     “Yes, you do, and you’re right. If things were different… well. Anyways. I love you both, I’ll call you later,” you said, hanging up without waiting for them to reply.

At least that was off your plate. 

| | |

     The next morning, you woke up with Steve by your side, holding you in his arms. Needless to say, yesterday had been incredibly eventful, and by the time Steve got back home, there was nothing left to do except sleep the day off. It seemed as if your troubles were far in the past, considering how quickly everything had been handled. You had to hand it to Steve, he was the one who had to talk to so many people yesterday- legal teams, PR, his team members, just to clear the air. And of course, people were still talking about everything. But the initial shock and widespread reaction from yesterday was already beginning to calm down. It was still a bit dark in the bedroom, and Steve was still asleep, his arms wrapped around you.

     You stretched to reach your phone on the side table and started scrolling. There were still articles up and pictures of you up, but Steve was working to wipe those out to protect your privacy. You chewed on your bottom lip worriedly. Even after this was all over, you’d have to figure out what the hell you were going to do. Would you have to stop camming? Would you have to throw away all hopes of any other career as well? This was all on your mind.

     Suddenly, Steve’s hand was wrapped around your phone, pulling it out of your grasp. He sighed sleepily, his voice still groggy and deep, 

     “What’d I tell you about that?”

     “I know…” you pouted, turning to face him. His eyes were closed, but you knew he was listening. “Shouldn’t keep looking for updates.”

     “Mm,” Steve hummed. “You’ll be alright, YN. I’ll make sure of that.”

     “Promise?” you asked.

     “I promise.”

That was all the reassurance you needed for now.

     Eventually, you both woke up and got ready for the day. You weren’t doing much of anything, since you’d have to stay low for a few days. But it meant you got to be in each other’s company all day, so you weren’t exactly complaining. You were laying in between Steve’s legs on the couch, your head resting on his chest. 

     Today was supposed to be your last day, but due to recent events, there had been a change in plans. You would probably stay here until this all settled, then go back to Cali and deal with business back home. Luckily for you, your friends were supportive all the way. They were astonished and shocked of course, but incredibly happy for you. They’d be there for you just as much as Steve would. 

     “You okay, doll?” Steve asked, and you glanced up at him.

     “Good as I can be. Are you okay?” you asked.

     “Better than yesterday,” Steve chuckled, his blue eyes glimmering. “My team is still working on taking down any private information about you, by the end of this week, we should be all good-”

     “Steve,” you flopped over, straddling his legs now. Instinctively, he reached up to caress your arm and your thigh. 

     “Hmm?” he hummed, looking up at you. 

     “What happens after this? I mean, as far as I’m concerned, any hopes of getting a serious job are kind of fucked now.”

     “That’s not true,” Steve furrowed his brows, frowning. He didn’t want you to feel like this incident would mess up your whole future.

     “Steve, I majored in environmental policy. That’s like, government job type shit. I have to be someone who’s reputable. And I don’t know many people who are looking to hire a porn star sugar baby. I mean, that’s what everyone’s been calling me.”

     “But you’re not that. And once we clear up all this, I promise you, no one will think that about you. you’ Besides, Stark Industries is always looking for people like that, you could work for-”

You put your finger to his lips, shaking your head with a small smile,

     “Ah ah ah. You know I like to do things myself.”

You didn’t want to just beat around the bush and take the easy way out of all this. You liked knowing that you were accomplishing what you were accomplishing all on your own. If you worked for Steve or his team, it would just feel like giving up.

     “I know, and I love that about you. But why make things so hard on yourself?”

You shrugged,

     “I don’t see it like that. I see it like… like making my own way. You know? I’d probably be set for life if I worked for Tony Stark. But… I don’t know, it’s just a thing I have. I like to get it myself.”

Steve sighed slowly, shaking his head with a sly smile. His girl, such a go-getter. That aspect of you was honestly a turn-on for him. You didn’t want anyone to be able to say they did something major for you, and even though there were flaws within that ideology, he had to give you credit where credit was due. You were a hard worker. You liked to do things on your own and know that you were where you were because of your own discipline and hard work. Not because your boyfriend had recommended you.

     “You are something else,” Steve shook his head.

     “Mm hmm,” you grinned knowingly, stretching your hands along his chest. 

     “Listen, I can’t predict the future. But I will be there for you. And I know how much you like to hustle and do things on your own, but it’s good to accept help sometimes, doll. And I want to help you through this. Don’t think the worst of everything. You’ve always managed, even in the worst of times. This is no different. No job you apply for is going to try to judge you, I can guarantee you that. I’ll make sure of that, no matter how much you try to stop me.”

You scoffed, smirking,

      “You’re such a guy.”

      “I do it for you.”

Accepting help. Maybe Steve was right. Just because you accepted someone’s help didn’t mean you hadn’t done something on your own. And when it came to something like this, you needed all the help you could get, even if you didn’t want to admit that. It didn’t make you any less of an independent woman. 

| | |

      You woke up to thousands more follower requests the next day as you ate breakfast sitting at the kitchen counter. Steve was at the stove, finishing up his own plate, and you were chewing your eggs pensively as you scrolled through your Instagram. Ever since the day everything went down, you’d been getting a lot of attention. Most of it was honestly unwanted. Magazines you actually read were DMing you, asking to interview you, wanting the inside scoop on “the life of Captain America’s girlfriend.” You didn’t pay them any mind, because that was attention you didn’t want. You cringed to think of yourself being interviewed by a reporter about personal matters for fifteen minutes of fame. 

     But the attention wasn’t all bad, and now that you thought about it, maybe your future wouldn’t be so scary. Whether you liked it or not, you were almost like a celebrity now, and celebrities always had their scandals and their speculations, and they still got booked. Maybe this was meant to be, to steer your life in a different direction. 

     It didn’t seem ideal, and you didn’t even want fame. You certainly didn’t want to be known as “Steve Rogers’ girlfriend.” If you knew one thing, it was that you were going to make a name out of yourself before people tried to make one for you. Now that you were thinking about it, you could honestly seize this opportunity. 

     Even the sales for your clothing brand had hiked up since that day. People actually took an interest in what you had to offer, and you’d rather they take an interest in that than your personal life. You had no real interest in becoming some mystical figure or some it girl who was on Steve’s arm. You were just a regular, hardworking girl from California, and you wouldn’t lose sight of that. But if this was going to happen, you were going to take advantage of it. 

     “Steve,” you said his name, and he turned to face you, putting his plate together.

     “Yeah?”

     “Look at my Instagram,” you pointed your phone screen towards him and he squinted. “All these follower requests. And I keep getting orders, this is insane.”

Steve grinned, beaming. He was glad that something good was coming out of all this for you. He knew you didn’t want or like attention, but this went to show that all eyes on you wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. He knew you knew how to flip it and turn it into something beneficial for you. You weren’t the kind of girl to bask in attention just because. You would make something out of this. 

     “I’m proud, YN, honestly. You know that’s all you, right?”

You chuckled, shaking your head,

      “Kinda crazy to wrap my head around. I don’t wanna be this sensationalized person or this public figure, but, fuck. This isn’t at all how I imagined my life going. I could make something out of this. It’s such a turn around, but maybe it was supposed to happen.”

     “I’m sorry about all this unwanted attention. But if I know you, you’ll make it work.”

It was interesting, this unwanted celebrity. You had to accept that people would start to know you. You could capitalize off this and highlight your brand, make people pay attention to that instead of your private life. You could even put your studies to work and create an environmental company. You wouldn’t just work for Stark Industries, you’d create an industry of your own. Of course, this was all in theory, and you had to gather yourself before you did those things. But the fact that this was possible just because of some unwanted attention reminded you that you could always flip a bad situation into something ten times better.

| | |

     “Fuck, Steve, I can’t,” you were panting heavily, sweat dripping down your forehead as you grasped onto his biceps. 

      Safe to say, since you were laying low and there wasn’t much to do, this was a very reliable option, every time. Now that the stress of the past few days was winding down, you were finally able to focus on what you had both been neglecting, which was each other’s bodies. Every time Steve was inside you, it was as good as the first time, if not better. You’d been going at it for hours now, partially because Steve didn’t have anything else to do and his endurance was ridiculous. You almost wanted to slap his pretty face for being able to go so long like this, drawing out your pain and your pleasure so effortlessly, only to kiss his cheek afterwards. 

     “Yes you can, doll, I know you can,” Steve said, not nearly as breathless as you were— it was safe to say sex with Steve was a workout. “Come for me just one more time.”

     “Mm,” you whined, lifting yourself up with the help of Steve’s hands clasped beneath your shaking thighs, feeling him shift inside you. You cursed, biting down on your lip and glancing down at where you two met with your brows wrung together. 

You were a mess. Both you and Steve had already came multiple times, but Steve wasn’t in a rush. He was honestly handcrafted by the devil. And since you were together, Steve had grown so much more confident. You switched in bed, sometimes you took the lead and sometimes Steve did, and sometimes it wasn’t about who was in the lead. But right now, Steve had you about to beg for mercy. 

     “Fuck, that looks so good, just watching me stretch you out like that,” Steve groaned, his eyes lowering to watch you slowly drop up and down on his cock, which was coated in your slick arousal. “You like this? Riding me for hours, coming over and over again on my cock?”

You shuddered with an almost humiliating moan, nodding your head because you weren’t able to speak. But Steve wasn’t letting you off that easy. He gripped your jaw with his hand, prying your mouth open.

      “Use your words,” he said, nodding slowly and mouthing ‘yes.’

      “Yes,” you stuttered out, feeling as Steve pulsed inside of you. You sounded ridiculous, pathetic, and you knew you looked absolutely filthy in the best way possible. You began to ramble. “Yes, yes, I love when you take me like this and— fuck— force me to come for you.”

     “Mmm,” Steve hummed like he was taking your words into consideration, mulling it over in his mind. “Yeah. You love this. You look so pretty like this.”

Pretty wasn’t the word you’d use to describe it. It was messy. You were practically drooling, and your body felt as exposed as it had ever been. Steve’s own cum from the previous times he came was pouring out of you each time you slid down onto him, and you were incredibly wet still. The sound your bodies made meeting was almost criminal. You were hot and sticky and sweaty and still somehow ridiculously gorgeous to Steve, and you looked even better when he was torturing you with pleasure. 

     You gasped raggedly when Steve had the audacity to bring his fingers down to your clit, those thick, unforgettable fingers that he used to stretch you out every time before you took his cock, rubbing harsh circles against your sensitive clit. Your whole body seemed to shudder, and Steve chuckled lowly, not even trying to hide the smirk that appeared on his face. Oh, you would so be getting him back for this. 

     “That feel good, doll?”

     “Fuck,” you whined, your hand flinging to his wrist to keep his fingers there doing the same motion. 

      Your body seemed to tighten and coil up, your eyes squeezing shut before you let go, and before you knew it, you were cumming on his cock. Or more like squirting, the way it seemed never ending and made your whole body convulse. Steve groaned as you soaked his torso and his legs, stilling yourself on his length and riding your orgasm out. He must have come inside you a few times while you were squirting. Wet tears, the good, hot kind, were forming down your cheeks as you come for what feels like the hundredth time in the span of a few slow, tantalizing hours. 

      “There you go, darling, I knew you could do it,” Steve finally pulled out of you, still hard against his stomach. He reached up and wiped the tears off your face. “Now do that again on my face.”

Fuck. You’d get him back another day.

| | |

      “Oh fuck, right there,” you sighed in ecstasy. 

     Steve’s hands were kneading into your back with expertise. He seemed to know just what he was doing, relieving all the tension from your spine and shoulders, and god knows you needed it. It had been about a week since the news came out, and everything seemed much less urgent now. 

     Reports about you two were dwindling, especially because you had stayed lowkey and didn’t flaunt your relationship about town. But it was almost freeing that you had the liberty to do so now, even if your relationship had been unfairly exposed. At least now, you could go out together without wondering if you’d get caught. 

     Steve chuckled and finished up, rolling off of you and facing you on the bed, his eyes glittering as he smiled at you. 

      “You know,” you started, reaching your hand out to stroke his cheek. “I’m kinda glad this all happened. Is that selfish?” 

      “No,” Steve grinned, shaking his head and reveling in the touch of your hand on his cheek. He grasped your wrist, gazing into your eyes. 

      These past few months had been such a whirlwind for the both of you. The both of you were doing things that surprised you, that made you endlessly happy. Steve had never felt more grateful for anything or anyone in his life. You helped him grow, and he did the same for you. He couldn’t see his future without you, and he didn’t even want to imagine it. He knew you were irreplaceable, he knew this was meant to be. Your odd circumstances and the unconventional way you met seemed to emphasize that truth. There was a reason why he had been so blue without you, and there was a reason why he had come back. Deep down, he knew all along that it was worth it, that you were worth it. Nothing else had ever been so clear to him, especially in that moment, gazing into your deep, warm eyes. 

His heart blossomed with that irrevocable feeling, and before he could stop himself, the words were bubbling out of his mouth, 

      “I love you.”

You didn’t have to think, didn’t have to second guess yourself before you replied. You knew it all along, it was just a matter of time before one of you actually said it. And now, after you’d been through so much together, after you’d taught each other so much, and healed from so much as a collective, there was no reluctance. You weren’t scared to admit that it was true.

      “I love you,” you said, with a soft grin and a dreamy look in your eyes.

You didn’t know how long you stayed there together, looking at each other and kissing and holding each other, but it was enough time to make you forget the world. 

ayeeee!!! as a bonus, i’m including this lil thing i made, it’s supposed to be what i imagine moonrose’s IG to look like! the pictures are not her faceclaims, they’re just black women that i imagine moonrose to look like LMAO but she’s free to look like whatever u want her to ♡ this is her aesthetic!!

ENJOY! new chapter soon hopefully!!!!

tags added later ♡ 

#the l bomb #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x yn #marvel #marvel imagine #marvel fic #smut #captain america #captain america fic #captain america smut #captain america x reader

[emospritelet]

Twisted Fate - chapter 23

31: We have to let go

Last time, Belle and Gold made the final preparations for their baby, and Belle sought a reconciliation with her father. Here’s what happened next.

[AO3]

x

Gold pushed the jeweller’s glass into his eye socket, peering at the tiny cog on the square of black velvet. He reached for the pair of steel tweezers by its side, carefully picking up the cog and transferring it to the silver music box that lay open in front of him. He had been working on it whenever he had a spare moment whilst in Storybrooke, though in truth there had been little opportunity since he had effectively moved to Boston. Belle had not returned from visiting her father, and in order to distract himself from thoughts of marching over there to make sure she was alright, he had decided to concentrate on the music box. Over the past six weeks or so he had cleaned the mechanism, replaced the bent and broken pieces, and carefully and methodically put every piece in its place. This was among the last of them.

The sound of the shop doorbell made him glance up, and he shook his head, turning back to his work.

“A moment,” he called. “I’ll be with you in a moment.”

“It’s okay, it’s only me.”

Belle’s voice made him smile, and he put down the tweezers, removing the glass from his eye socket and turning on the stool to face her as she pushed the curtain aside and stepped into the back room. She looked a little strained around the eyes, but she was smiling.

“How did it go?” she asked, and he raised an eyebrow.

“That was going to be my question.”

“Oh…” Belle sighed, flopping down on the cot. “Okay, I guess. He apologised. Kind of. We talked. He’s not happy about you being in my life, but I told him he’ll have to get used to it.”

“Hmm.” Gold ran a hand through his hair. “Christmas will be fun.”

“Yeah, I’m trying not to think about that.”

Her tone was very dry, and it made him grin, even as he shuddered internally at the thought of having to spend the festive season with Moe French.

“The shop’s doing okay,” she went on. “I had a quick look through the accounts. He’s got a few weddings this month, which is always good for business. Keeps complaining about not having the time to do anything else, so I’ve tried to convince him to get some help in.”

“You think that’s likely?” he asked. “He always managed by himself before you helped him out. I presumed he’d do the same after you left.”

“Yeah, but I think he needs to,” she said. “Just a few hours. Maybe get one of the school seniors to help at weekends, or something. They could cover the shop while he does the wedding arrangements.”

“Well, perhaps he’ll take your advice,” said Gold, and Belle pulled a face.

“He doesn’t look too well,” she said then. “Says he’s been very tired recently. I told him to go to the doctor, but you know how he is.”

“You think it’s something serious?” he asked, and she shrugged.

“He’s overweight, diabetic, high blood pressure - I just worry his heart is gonna give out one day,” she said. “It’s not as though he looks after himself. The shop keeps him active, I suppose, but I bet he’s still drinking too much and avoiding veggies like they’re poison.”

“Well, you can only suggest a course of action,” he said. “It’s up to him to take it.”

“I know.”

She looked gloomy, and he tried to steer her away from talk of her father’s ill health.

“What did he say about the baby?” he asked.

“Asked when it was due, if I had everything I needed…” Belle put a hand to the small of her back. “He says he’ll visit when the baby’s born.”

“Great.”

It was said under his breath, and he winced at the reluctant tone of his voice.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I know you wanted to make things up with him. I’m happy for you, really. Don’t listen to my complaining.”

“Can I have that in writing?” She looked amused, and he smiled.

“You know how I feel about formalising agreements.”

“Well, I’d hate to hold you to a promise you can’t keep,” she teased. “How about you buy me dinner tonight and we call it even?”

“That sounds like a deal I couldn’t possibly refuse,” he said. “Are you ready to head back?”

“I think so.” She peered at the bench behind him. “What are you working on?”

“Oh - it’s a music box,” he said. “I’ve been restoring it for some time now. Almost finished.”

“Oh.” She heaved a breath, letting her shoulders drop as she let out a sigh. “You can finish it, if you like. I don’t mind waiting.”

Gold hesitated, glancing over his shoulder at the music box.

“No, it’s okay,” he said. “I’ll be here next week, after all. Gives me something to do in between dealing with business matters.”

She smiled, and he pushed to his feet, carefully putting the remaining pieces of the music box into a small pot and rolling up the square of black velvet. Belle was chewing her lip, staring off into the distance, and he folded his hands over the cane handle, looking at her.

“We can always stay another night, if you’re worried about him,” he said. “I could - uh - make dinner. You could invite him round. If you like.”

Belle glanced around at that, and the way her eyes lit up made him forget about any distaste he felt at the idea of spending an evening with Moe French.

“That’s very kind of you,” she said, her tone warm. “But I think we’ll take things one step at a time. I still haven’t talked to him about all those ridiculous lies he told you about me and Gaston.”

“Ah.” Gold wanted to scowl at the memory, but he kept his face neutral.

“Not sure I will,” she added. “At least not right now. I don’t think I have the energy.”

“Fair enough.”

“How did things go with Dr Hopper?” she asked, and he blew out his cheeks, huffing air.

“We’re making progress,” he said. “Slow, but progress all the same.”

"Good."

"The fact that it's slow is my fault, not his," he added, and she gave him a patient look.

"It's no one's fault," she said gently. "It's just a process, and it takes as long as it takes."

"Yeah." He sighed the word, looking at the floor. "I suppose there are no quick fixes, are there?"

"Exactly," she said. "So no giving yourself a hard time because you're not magically fixed after a few sessions, okay?"

"Okay." He looked up again and smiled at her. "Dr Hopper says the same. And the sessions are going about as well as could be expected, in the circumstances. So that's something."

“Well, that’s good.” Belle stood, shouldering her bag and rolling her shoulders. “You want to tell me about it in the car? I think I want to get home.”

“Of course.”

Gold took off the apron he was wearing and went to the small bathroom to wash his hands. When he returned Belle was peering at the music box with a tiny smile on her face.

“It’s so pretty,” she said. “What tune does it play?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“Is it for sale?”

“Perhaps,” he said. “We’ll see how it sounds. Maybe we can play it to the baby, get him to fall asleep.”

Belle straightened up, beaming at him.

“You think it’s a boy?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “That was a slip of the tongue. Honestly, I’d be happy with anything as long as it’s human.”

He grinned at her, and Belle bit her lip, looking amused.

“I think we can guarantee it’ll be human.”

“The rest of Storybrooke may question that, given that I’m the father,” he remarked dryly.

“Well, the rest of Storybrooke can kiss my arse, then,” she said, and Gold burst out laughing, reaching out to take her hand and pull her close.

“Oh, I’m not sharing that pleasure with anyone,” he murmured, and bent his head to kiss her.

x

Belle found that she grew nervous as April wore on and the time for the baby to be born drew nearer. She told herself it was fear of the unknown; no matter how many books she read or videos she watched on the birthing process, she felt that she knew nothing at all. Emma had been wonderful, patiently talking her through every minute of her labour with Henry, but Belle was well aware that Emma’s experience would not necessarily be her own. It didn't help that she was now extremely uncomfortable; the baby had moved, head down towards her pelvis, and she had been suffering from an ever-present backache and an overwhelming need to run to the bathroom. It reminded her that the baby would soon be outside of her, and that she would need to endure a lot of pain for that to happen. She told herself that women had been giving birth for thousands of years, and there was no reason she should find it any more difficult than they had, but she had made the mistake of reading about everything that could possibly go wrong in childbirth. It hadn't helped her nerves. At least her hospital bag was packed and ready to go. It sat in the hallway of the apartment and made her anxious every time she passed it.

She had expected Gold to be as nervous as she, given his past pain and the loss of his son, but he was surprisingly calm, and talked her down from a minor panic attack with soothing words and a bubble bath. He got in with her, sitting at the opposite end with his knees poking up through the fragrant bubbles, the hot water making his skin flush a little. Belle let him take her foot and start to massage it.

“Sorry I seem to be losing it,” she said, as she lay back. “How are you being so calm? We’re gonna be parents in like a fortnight!”

Gold grinned, his eyes soft, but still with that glint in them that she loved. His thumb worked magic circles on the ball of her foot, and she heaved a sigh, trying to relax.

“Yes, and I can’t wait,” he said. “Aren’t you excited?”

“Yes, but - mostly nervous,” she said. “I know it’ll hurt, but - but what if I can’t bear it?”

“You talked through your pain relief options,” he said. “You can speak to the doctor again, if you think it’ll put your mind at ease.”

“I guess.”

“I have every faith in you,” he added. “And in the medical staff. I know how independent you are, and how hard it can be to rely so completely on others, but in these circumstances, I think we both have to trust that they know better than we do. We have to let go.”

“Yeah.”

Belle chewed her lip, running a hand over the curve of her belly.

“I know you’re right,” she added.

“It’s perfectly natural to be nervous the first time,” he said soothingly. “I’m sure next time will be easier.”

“Next time?”

“Ah.” He squeezed his eyes shut, drawing his lower lip up over his teeth. “Forget I said that.”

“Hmm.” She was amused, and poked him with a foot. “Let’s get this one out before we think about the next, okay?”

“Agreed.”

He was grinning at her, and she couldn’t help smiling back, enjoying the easy banter. The fears were still there, whispering at the back of her mind, but she found that talking about them with him was helping.

“What if something goes wrong and they have to cut me open?” she said then.

“Then you’ll need to take things even easier after the birth and leave more to me, that’s what,” he said. “You’ll be in excellent hands. You have the best hospital staff in Boston caring for you and the baby, I promise.”

“I’d have a scar.”

Gold lifted her foot, kissing her toes.

“And it’ll be beautiful.”

“And - and even if I manage to give birth naturally, they’ll probably have to give me stitches,” she added. “That’s gotta hurt, right?”

Gold sighed.

“Look, I can’t pretend to understand your fears or to know what you’re going through,” he said gently. “But you are the bravest person I’ve ever known. I know you’re going to be just fine.”

He resumed the massage, thumb rubbing in slow circles, and Belle sighed, feeling the tension start to drain out of her.

“Sorry,” she said. “I just - I’ve been pregnant all this time and it’s like I’ve just realised I actually have to get this person that’s inside me outside. Does that make sense?”

Gold shrugged, grinning.

“I’m not sure I can ever entirely empathise,” he said. “I suppose I’ll have to settle for being as helpful as I can.”

“Well, you’ve certainly made yourself useful since you moved in,” she said, poking him with her toes again, and his grin widened.

“Indispensable, I would hope.”

“Absolutely.”

“Glad to hear it.”

Belle giggled a little, and wriggled a little, slipping down in the hot water and letting out a long, heavy sigh as she felt her body soften under the rhythmic sweeps of his thumbs.

“That’s better,” he murmured, moving his hands up to massage her calf. “Just relax.”

“Mm.” Belle watched him through half-closed eyes. “Emma, Neal and Henry are coming over Friday, by the way. Do you think you could make something for dinner? Nothing fancy, just anything I can shove in the oven.”

“I don’t mind cooking while you talk to your friends,” he said absently, and looked up. “Oh, unless you want me to find somewhere else to be, of course.”

“It’s not that,” she said. “Of course you could be here. It’s just I thought you’d be in Storybrooke most of the day.”

Gold pulled a face.

“You sure you want me to go?” he asked. “It’s the week before the baby’s due.”

“What about your therapy session?” she asked, and he sighed.

“True,” he allowed. “I suppose I really should try to make that.”

“Do you not want to go?”

Gold hesitated a moment, then shook his head.

“It’s not that,” he said. “It’s just - well, perhaps you’re not the only one who’s a little nervous. Maybe I’m just better at hiding it. I want to be here for you every step of the way, and I worry about leaving you alone for any length of time. Just in case.”

Belle smiled, reaching out to run a hand over his knee.

“It’s only a few hours away,” she pointed out. “And it’s only one day. I’m sure I’ll be fine. Besides, Emma and Neal will be here, it’s not like I’ll be alone.”

“Alright,” he said. “If you’re sure.”

He let go of her foot, and she slipped it back under the water as he reached for the other.

“You said your father was planning on coming to Boston,” he said. “Did he say when?”

“No, he said he’d let me settle in with the baby first,” she said. “He asked that I call him when it’s born, but I think he was planning on leaving the visit for a week or two.”

“Will he stay long?”

“I doubt it. He has the shop to run for a start, and unless he gets an assistant in like I suggested, there’s no one to cover. I imagine it’ll only be for a day or two.”

Gold nodded, and she gave him a wry look.

“I think he’s planning on making his own way here,” she added. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna ask you to go pick him up.”

He grunted at that.

“Good,” he remarked. “The idea of spending four hours in a confined space with Moe French doesn’t fill me with joy, I have to confess.”

“I expect the feeling’s mutual.”

A soft chuckle, and he glanced up at her.

“Don’t know how you put up with us.”

“Well, I’m an extremely patient person.”

“I noticed,” he said, with a wry twist to his mouth. “Far too good for the likes of me.”

Belle pressed her lips together.

“I thought we agreed you wouldn’t trash talk yourself anymore,” she said sternly, and he inclined his head.

“Work in progress,” he said.

“Hmm.”

“I’ve had years of practice, after all,” he added. “Old habits die hard.”

Belle sat forward, reaching up with one hand to cup his cheek. Bubbles ran over her arm, dripping into the bath around them, and she held his eyes with her own.

“You’re a good man,” she said gently. “And you’re going to be a wonderful father. Okay?”

Gold smiled, leaning into her touch.

“I’ll do my best,” he said. “I promise you that.”

“That’s all anyone could ask.”

He kissed her fingertips, and she settled back in the warm water with a sigh as he continued his massage. Two weeks until the baby gets here. We’re going to be a family.

x

The clock on the wall ticked slowly. Gold was sitting on the couch with his elbows on his knees, studying the rug between the shining toes of his shoes. Dr Hopper was waiting patiently for him to speak, and he threaded his fingers together and pulled them apart, a whispery sound of skin against skin.

“So you said the baby was due on May fifth,” said Dr Hopper. “How are you feeling about that?”

“Belle’s nervous,” said Gold, fingers moving restlessly. “I’ve tried to reassure her, but she’s anxious about the birth.”

“Well, that’s understandable, given that this is her first child.”

“I know. I’ve tried to tell her that, but I’m not sure I’m helping.”

Dr Hopper scribbled briefly.

“And how do you feel about it?” he asked. Gold shrugged.

“She’s in good hands. I’m sure she’ll be fine. I don’t want to see her in pain, of course.”

“And the baby?”

“The baby will be fine too.”

“That’s not what I meant,” said Dr Hopper calmly. “You said in our first meeting that you were excited to be a father again. Do you have any other feelings?”

Gold hesitated, ducking his head a little.

“I am excited,” he said eventually. “But there’s this underlying sense of - unease - I suppose.”

“About what?”

“About bringing this child into the world when I couldn’t hold onto the last,” he said, his voice soft. “About whether I’ll fail to protect it. Whether I’ll be - enough.”

“Do you worry that Belle will take it from you?”

“No,” he said, after a pause. “No, I don’t think she’d do that. Not really. Not now I’ve told her how much the thought of it scares me. Belle wouldn’t use my own fears against me like that. She isn’t cruel.”

“Of course not.”

Dr Hopper waited, and Gold ran a hand across the back of his neck, feeling awkward.

“It’s more a fear of what may happen in the future,” he said eventually. “That my child will leave and not come back. That I’ll drive him away; something that I say or do will be the last straw, and he’ll leave.”

“I see.” He could hear the sound of Dr Hopper’s pen scratching away. “Is there anything that sets off this train of thought?”

“Not really.” Gold thought for a moment. “Maybe. When I think about Bailey.”

“Your first son?” Dr Hopper nodded slowly. “You said he was two when his mother took him away.”

“Yes.”

“What was it that made her go?”

“I don’t know…” Gold sat back with a sigh. “She was seeing someone else. She was bored with me. I wanted financial and physical stability for our child, and she wanted excitement and - and drama for herself. The two were incompatible. We were incompatible.”

“Was there something specific that you said or did that made her leave?”

“Not that I can think of.”

“So the leaving was her choice.”

“Yes.”

“And your son had no choice in the matter at all,” added Dr Hopper. “Being two.”

“No, of course not.”

“Then why do you think it makes you worry about this child leaving?”

Gold hesitated.

“I suppose when you say it like that, it’s ridiculous,” he admitted, and Dr Hopper smiled.

“Oh, I find there’s very little that’s completely ridiculous,” he said. “Sometimes the reasons behind someone’s thought patterns may be a little convoluted, but there’s usually some basis in reality. Unfortunately, sometimes our minds focus on the least likely and most painful scenarios that may come from that.”

“Oh, I’m well aware of that,” grumbled Gold.

“So if you know that it wasn’t your son’s choice to leave,” said Dr Hopper. “Why do you fear your second child leaving you?”

“Because he never came back.”

Gold snapped his mouth shut, feeling tears prick his eyes, a heavy weight seeming to shift inside him. Dr Hopper was silent, waiting, and he forced himself to speak.

“He never came back,” he repeated, his voice a hoarse whisper. “I tried to find him for - for years. I employed private detectives and followed up leads and took out advertisements....” He broke off with a bark of a laugh. “I even went on some of those stupid shows where they try to reunite you with lost loved ones. I thought - I thought even if he didn’t watch them himself, maybe someone who knew him would see, they’d tell him. And - and nothing. He doesn’t want to be found. He - he doesn’t want me to find him.”

“Do you think that’s because of something you did?” Dr Hopper’s tone was careful, and Gold shrugged.

“Maybe it was what I didn’t do,” he said. “Milah always said I worked too much. I should have spent more time with him.”

“How much do you think he remembers?” asked Dr Hopper. “Given that he was two.”

“I don’t know…” Gold ran his hands over his face. “Why wouldn’t he look for his father? If she abandoned him, if she left him with Social Services, why wouldn’t he seek me out? All these years I’ve told myself that maybe he had no information to go on, that she told him nothing about me, but maybe that’s not the case. Maybe he chose not to look.”

“I understand how painful those thoughts must be,” said Dr Hopper gently. “Let’s consider your other child for a moment. You worry that you’ll do or say something to make this child leave and not come back.”

“Yes.”

“Some - confrontation, perhaps,” he went on. “I’m assuming you’re looking ahead to when the child is a teenager or a young adult.”

“Yes.”

“Conflict between a parent and child is the most natural thing in the world,” added Dr Hopper, his tone reassuring. “Especially when a child is maturing and starting to make its own choices.”

“I don’t want to be the reason my child leaves,” whispered Gold, and Dr Hopper smiled.

“Then how about you and I talk through some ways of communicating that should maximise your chances of avoiding something like that?” he suggested.

“Alright.” Gold nodded. “Yes. Good.”

“You’ll probably find these techniques useful in other relationships,” he added, and Gold gave him a wry smile.

“Good.”

“I’m going to give you some homework to do, as well,” said Dr Hopper. “Recording these unwanted thoughts. There are some worksheets I’d like you to complete. A kind of journal.”

“Alright.” Gold slumped a little in the chair, feeling drained. “It’ll give me something to do while we’re waiting for the baby to arrive.”

x

“So.” Emma slumped into one of the kitchen chairs, folding her arms across the back and eyeing Belle. “Not long now. You have your bag packed and ready?”

“It’s in the hall,” said Belle, sliding the casserole into the oven and closing the door. “You guys want a drink?”

“You sit down, me and Henry are on it,” said Neal. “I’m guessing some sort of tea?”

“Yeah, can I have fennel?” asked Belle, rubbing a hand over her belly. “This little guy’s been kicking so hard it gave me indigestion.”

“Wine for me,” said Emma, and grinned at Belle. “Hey, I can’t wait until the two of us can have a girls’ night. You can leave Gold changing diapers and come out and get wasted.”

“Looking forward to it.”

Belle sat down with a sigh of relief, still rubbing her belly. She had been having odd twinges all day, and it was getting on her nerves.

“I think he’d be in his element, anyway,” she said. “It’s gonna be a new thing for him, having a newborn to care for, but he’s been reading all the books. I think he’ll be great.”

“Wasn’t he around when his son was born?” asked Neal.

“I’m sure he would have been, had he known about it,” she said dryly, and Neal and Emma winced.

“Ouch,” said Emma. “Poor guy.”

“Yeah.” Belle slumped in her chair a little. “I get the feeling that’s not the only issue from his past that he needs to work through.”

“How’s the therapy going?” asked Emma, and Belle wrinkled her nose.

“He seems - less anxious about it,” she said eventually. “I think it took him a while to open up, but that’s no surprise. He’s committed to it, though.”

“Is that where he is now?”

“That’s the reason he went to Storybrooke, but he’s had his session,” said Belle. “I spoke to him this afternoon. He said he had a tenancy issue to sort out and then he’d be on his way back.”

She flinched as another spasm went through her. That one had hurt more than the last. Neal set a cup of fennel tea in front of her and gave Henry his cocoa before pouring two glasses of wine and slipping into the chair next to Emma. He was watching her with a tiny frown on his face.

“Are you okay?” he asked. “You keep wincing.”

“Yeah, just twinges,” said Belle, and Emma looked thoughtful.

“What kind of twinges?”

“Just - I don’t know, I guess the baby’s head is pressing on something. It’s been going on most of the day.”

“Does it hurt?”

“Well, it does now,” sighed Belle. “Figured it was Braxton Hicks. They’ve been driving me nuts this past month, but this is hurting more.”

“You got any backache?”

“Yeah,” said Belle, pressing a hand to her back. “God, I’ll be glad when this is over.”

“You may get your wish sooner than you think,” said Emma. “Sounds like you could be in early labour.”

“What?” Belle shook her head. “But the baby’s not due until next week.”

“Yeah, but babies don’t always stick to the schedule, and everything you just described could be early labour pains,” said Emma. “How often are you getting the twinges?”

“Oh, I dunno. Maybe a few times an hour?”

“Hmm.” Emma reached for her glass of wine. “You might want to time them. Could be nothing. Could be something.”

“Is the baby coming?” asked Henry excitedly.

“Maybe, kid.” Emma took a sip of her wine. “Belle, what time’s Alex getting back?”

“I don’t know, he said he’d call when he left.” Belle rubbed at her back, trying to ease the dull ache. “You think I should call him?”

“Not until you need to go to hospital,” said Emma. “If it is early labour you’ve probably got a good few hours before then. The baby probably won’t come until tomorrow.”

“Right.” Belle turned her mug of tea with nervous fingers. “Wow. Is this really it?”

Emma reached over to grasp her hand.

“You’re gonna be fine,” she said firmly. “We can time the contractions, and we’ll stay with you until Gold gets back, okay?”

“Okay.” 

Belle tapped her fingers against the mug restlessly. The dull ache in her lower back was getting worse, and the pain wasn’t helped by her nerves.

“D’you want me to read you a story?” asked Henry. “I always feel better if I get a story.”

Belle smiled at him.

“Thanks Henry, that sounds great.”

“Cool! I’m gonna read you the one about Beauty and the Beast!”

He slipped from the table and ran through to the lounge to get the storybook he carried everywhere. Belle was feeling restless, fingers still tapping, and she pushed to her feet, almost toppling the chair over backwards.

“You okay?” asked Neal.

“Yeah, fine,” she muttered. “I’m just - excuse me a moment.”

She strode from the room, heading for the bathroom. There was wetness between her legs, a sudden rush of fluid. She had taken to wearing pads in the lead-up to her due date, as the literature suggested, and this felt like something that needed attention. A strong cramp went through her, and Belle stopped dead, pressing a hand to her belly with a groan, her heart thumping. How long since the last one? Ten minutes? Less?

“Belle?” Emma had put her head around the kitchen door and was eyeing her curiously. “You okay?”

Belle turned on her toes slowly, trying to steady her breathing as the cramping continued.

“Could you call Alex?” she asked. “I think my waters just broke.”

#fic: twisted fate #rumbelle fic #rumbelle #my fic

[morgana-ren]

Come Down to the Black Sea

Summary: The sea seems to call to you, but it’s not the tumultuous clash of the waves you should fear. Something lurks deep beneath the black waters, something sinister with a piqued interest and ill intent. 

Rating: Teen, unless I chose to post the later chapters. Then things get all dirty and stuff.

Warnings: Siren!Shigaraki. So, there’s that. Foul language, as always. Slight struggle.

Hello, please take my garbage. This was originally a discord exclusive ficlet that ended up too fucking long. I meant to post it a while back but got distracted. I’ve read over it and I hate it a lot more than I did originally, more than I can really convey, but I feel bad for not posting anything story related for a while and maybe some folks will enjoy this. I promise I edited, I swear. Never thought I’d write something like this. Ever. and by ‘like this’, I mean no filth less than 500 words in. Either way, here it is. 

“What would an ocean be without a monster lurking in the dark? It would be like sleep without dreams.”

The sea is as much a constant to you as the gentle breeze that blankets your little port town. Every action you take daily in some small way reminds you that not so far away, the unforgiving tides are lapping hungrily at the shore and the restless ocean waters stir miles from the coast. Every breath you take is somewhat tinged with the briny smell of sea salt and slight sulfur. Seafood stalls and restaurants dot the coastal region, making up a large portion of the diets and employ of the folks who make their homes here. 

Yet, for as big of a part of their lives as it is, there is so little known about it. 

The ocean’s mysteries are as vast as her expanse and as deep as the trenches that lurk within her depths. 

Children are raised on cautionary tales, made acutely aware of the ever-present dangers of life near the open water. Rip currents and drowning, sailors lost at sea and boats that never make it to harbor. Hostile creatures that make their nests within the darkened deep  beyond the pale of human experience. These things are often as mysterious as they are tragic and leave behind loved ones mourning not only the loss of lives, but the answers they’ll never have.

Sometimes, you can’t help but wonder if your kind has gotten just a bit too comfortable near the seaside. 

You’re not the only one that thinks so. 

It’s not by any stretch of the imagination to consider humans a loud and overwhelming presence. They dominate any space they come across, often having little to no regard for any other living creature and imposing their will on anything unfortunate enough to cross their path. Once tranquil steads are trampled, native creatures baited and hunted, and soon there’s no semblance of the beauty that once existed. Humanity leaves behind an impossibly large footprint that destroys whatever is caught beneath its crushing boot.

The ocean is no exception. 

Sailors, whalers, and fishermen blot the waters, disrupting the natural cycles of the creatures that make their homes beneath them. Garbage, rot, and other various forms of filth are callously dumped and left to drift. Human hubris has seen the death of the coral reefs, the extinction of entire species, and even radiation left to leak and poison everything in its path. 

The only place safe from the fecund shadow of destruction that looms wherever humans may roam are places far too treacherous to facilitate their survival. 

You’ve come to believe that maybe beings that are forced to breed in that darkness grow to harbor a grudge against that which pushed them there.

Your little seaport city has always been relatively calm. It attracts enough tourists to keep it economically stable, but not so many as to make it a cultural hub. The signature beaches are only mildly clogged with tourist trap giftshops, and while the sands are busy, there’s not so much foot traffic as to make it unpleasant to visit. 

Things have run relatively smoothly for your hometown, at least for the majority of your life. There’s the one-off oddity every now and again, but for the most part, it’s a fine place to live. The native folk are kind enough, and there’s decent opportunity for growth. Still, life always left something to be desired; some greater need that tugs at you and calls you toward the ocean.

Watching the fishing vessels come to and from the bay can be calming. What started as a time wasting hobby as a child has turned into a nightly practice. The marine layer makes it difficult to see early mornings, and the incessant chatter of tourists and their screeching younglings make it difficult to think during the daylight hours. It didn’t take long before the boats mattered little, and it was the time alone you valued. You’d curl up in the still-warm sand, gazing out into the horizon and watching the moon rise high above the waves, listening to the sound of the ocean and losing yourself in its subtle song.

Even as adulthood inevitably sought you out, you found time for your solitary moments that existed between no one but you and the horizon. 

It brought you a sense of peace. No matter how much time passed, a part of you stayed anchored to the beach. 

Yet, nothing stays peaceful forever, especially near the rocky shoreline.

It started with a missing boat.

It was the talk of the town. A small schooner had gone missing just off the coast and never returned. A band of brothers had set out for a weekend voyage and by Tuesday, no word of them had returned to shore. It had made the local news, pictures of the men aboard flashed across the screen, all smiling faces and sunburned skin. They were experienced sailors, raised on the waves and having spent more time in a boat than they did on land.

Surely, they were fine. Everyone hoped for the best. 

At least until pieces of the boat washed ashore a week later, no sign of brothers anywhere.

That incident was the first of many.

Early morning swimmers began to disappear without a trace, divers vanishing without warning. More and more boats failed to make it to harbor despite calm conditions, and soon some people rejected the water all together. The missing persons board was filled with more macabre grinning faces that served as reminders than ever before, and inevitably, people became paranoid.

Superstition gained favor over logic, and tales spread of a malevolent being plaguing the coast began to spread. Children were warned against playing in the tides and tourists begin to shy away from the port. Locals and witnesses talk amongst each other, claiming to see a pair of vicious, glowing red eyes from deep within the water after dark.

Those who denied the possibility shunned those who fell into the myth, claiming that it was clearly boat lights and that folks were too finicky. There was no mysterious sea monster, only misfortune and the loose lips of idle handed fools. 

Still, that didn’t account for the sudden surge in disappearances nor did it explain why no remains were ever found. 

The mysteries intrigued you, but you worry little for the danger. While you weren’t entirely sure what to think, you never stepped far into the ocean on your nightly visits, mostly only skirting around the water’s edges and observing. Superstition be damned, this was the one place you felt a sense of utter calm and peace. You’re not disturbing the sea or her inhabitants; only sitting by her and admiring her beauty.

You mind your business along the beach and you think that keeps you safe, but that doesn’t spare you his wrath.

A lonely night walker, you loiter along the sands and drag your feet through the wetness. You never let the water flood past your ankles, opting to squish the damp muck beneath your toes instead. He watches you, just out of his reach and still so close. Rage simmers in his chest and his fingers twitch, longing to rip you apart, feel your heartbeat as it slows and ceases beneath his fingertips. He doesn’t dare try his luck against the surface, but you infuriate him. 

Time and time again, he’s tried to lure you out.

You never fall for it, though he can tell by the way your eyes linger on the ocean a tad too long that you're curious. If he cared enough to place it, he'd say you look sad, maybe a little forlorn. After all, who comes to a deserted beach alone at night that isn't?

Always the same section of sand, always the same look on your face. You kick at the particles stuck to your grimy feet like it'll sooth whatever repressed emotion you're stewing in, and he can't help but scoff. 

Humans are completely ridiculous. 

Still, he watches, determined to see you inhale deep the waters around you while what little light you have left in your eyes leaves, same as the rest of your kind that has fallen prey to his deadly actions.

Night after night he waits, and night after night you resist. You don't fall for his tricks, even the ones that beguile the seasoned sailors. It's curious, he'll admit. No matter how longingly you look at the ocean like it could offer you something you need desperately, you never give into the temptation to wade just a little deeper, just take a few fucking steps forward. Perhaps you come from a sea fairing family who had elders that warned against the seduction of the low night tides, or maybe your primal human brain still holds an inkling as to what dwells deep beneath your world, but either way, it agitates him more than he'd like.

He's always had a wanderlust and never sticks around the same sections for long, but the fact that you've been evading the watery grave he dug just for you grates at him. He finds himself waiting moonrise after moonrise to see your form emerge, wracking his brain for ways to trick your feeble human mind into his waters. He's better than you, in every sense of the word. This shouldn't be this difficult. 

If he didn't know better, he would say that you know. You never quite look directly at him, but your head is always turned in his direction, as if you have some sixth sense of his location. He doesn't like it. Even though you're the one in the sights of a predator, it makes him feel like a goldfish trapped in a tank. You piss him off.

But eventually, one night, his patience finally pays off.

Warily, you perch yourself on some rocks that stray into the ocean. You don't even dip your feet in, which, while not ideal, would have been enough for him to work with. Instead, you sit with your arms crossed over your knees, same distant grimace on your face that you sport every night. You seem hypnotized by the reflection of the moon on his waters, hardly blinking or even really breathing except for the occasional despondent sigh.

The thing that stirs you from your daze is a flash of silver just under the water beneath where you're sitting. At first you think it's a fish, since it's not uncommon to see them around when all the beachgoers retreat for the day, but the eerie luminescent glow is unlike any fish you've ever seen before in a life almost wholly occupied by the sea. You watch intently for a moment, hoping to see it again, but give up when all that greets you is the deep, murky blue of sunsetted waters. 

Still, once you pull your eyes from the gently splashing waves, it catches your attention once more. You're curious if you're just seeing strange broken reflections of the moon, but that wouldn't explain why once you offer it your attention, it disappears.

You keep your eyes down and stare long into the water, and eventually it appears again. Long and stringy, it’s definitely unlike any fish fin you've ever seen. It's incandescent almost, reflecting the silvery light of the moon with an oddly hypnotizing pearlescent glow. You’ll admit, it’s strange, but what alarms you the most are the two crimson eyes staring up at you from beneath the tangle of silvered webbing.

You almost recoil, but you're anchored in place by some hybrid mix of fear and curiosity. The urge to scream becomes paralyzed somewhere deep in your throat when a thin, gangly arm reaches up and grasps at the craggy surface of the rock before your feet. It looks… human... or at least it would, if it wasn't for the slight iridescent sheen of the skin- if you look closely, you can almost make out what appears to be scales and a thin fin that runs the expanse of the forearm. Thick, slimy webbing coats the inside of each finger, becoming more apparent as long claws stretch and crawl toward your retracted legs.

Those maliciously alluring eyes draw closer and closer to the surface and soon enough, you can make out what appears to be a face somewhere just under the waves staring right back up you.

Another hand joins the one currently clinging to the rock and the figure hoists itself up partway from the water, and soon you're face to face with... 

Well, you can't really say what. 

You were right, it's human. He's human. At least… half human?

Drenched white hair slicks back just below his shoulders and clings to the sides of his face, beadlets of water sliding down from the wintery strands down to what appears to be a pair of gills that encircle the rounds of his neck. There's something akin to black fins parting the slicked hair where his ears should be, but even that's not enough to pull your attention from the perverse scarlet eyes burning into yours from behind the severely salt-chapped flesh of his face. 

Unnatural hue aside, they’re utterly petrifying, and while something deep in your body tells you that you should run, you can't bring yourself to move from the spot. 

He pulls himself up a bit, lithe torso exposed as he lazily rests his head on his finned forearms by your feet. His body language is completely contradicted by the obvious hate in his expression, which only makes it even more difficult for your brain to try and decide what in the fuck you're supposed to do in this situation. 

What the hell is he?

You try to ask, but the shock of seemingly stumbling upon a possibly malevolent supernatural creature in the dead of night has caused a severe regression in your speech capabilities. The only thing your mouth is capable of producing is a series of incoherent babbles and sounds, hands shaking as your resist the urge to touch him to see if he's real or if you've been slipped some form of extremely powerful hallucinogen.

He studies you briefly through pale lashes and you could swear you see him roll his eyes before a prolonged blink. 

I'm sorry, is this not the expected result? He's looking at you like you're the weird one in this scenario?

Regardless, he lets you stare at him and allows your feeble human brain to come to terms with what you're seeing. Amazing, how quickly your kind forgets you don't exist alone. He draws the line, however, when you finally find the ability to go to poke his fins. He swats you away with an unnaturally quick movement from his slippery, wet hand and you stare at the water spots he leaves behind like it's the strangest shit you've ever seen.

"Are you often so rude as to touch strangers, human?"

You skitter back on your ass, eyes wide and disbelieving even as the truth stares you back with a mocking expression. His voice is raspy and graveled, cracking from what you assume is disuse. It takes you a moment to process his words, despite being absolutely certain that you’ve heard them.

 "Holy fuck, you're real!"

"Just grasping that, are we?"

"What the fuck are you?"

His face contorts and his lips lift in a snarl, revealing the extremely sharp looking fangs on either side of his mouth. Okay, so that might've been extremely rude. He's obviously sentient, so maybe saying something so brash and offensive wasn't really the way to go.

"Sorry, I mean -fuck - I've just never, uh-" You clear your throat awkwardly, still trying to decide whether or not to bolt. He watches you through tautly narrowed lids, and you get the feeling you should tread very carefully. Whatever emotion it is you see in his face, it certainly isn't patience.

"Are you a..." What would you call him? A mermaid? A fish-man? A sea spirit? It doesn't quite matter, since he doesn't give you time to finish your line of thought.

"Your people have no word for what I am." He speaks the words almost bitterly. "But just because your kind doesn’t acknowledge me doesn't mean I don't exist."

You're not entirely sure if you should apologize on behalf of the human race or admit yourself into a psych ward.

"What, uh, what should I call you... Um, sir?" Smooth. But you're not really sure what to say here. What exactly are proper honorifics when it comes to situations like this? 

"My name," He sighs again, as if it's some great chore to introduce himself. "Is Shigaraki."

"Okay, Shigaraki," You say his name, trying to get the hang of it as it rolls off your tongue. "It's nice to meet you- I think?"

He pays your attempt at polite conversation no mind at all. 

"What are you doing here, human?" 

Okay, he's curt and to the point. Good to know. He seems to have very little consideration for your bewilderment, despite being the one that demanded your attention in the first place, which isn’t necessarily a good thing when you don’t really know how to answer his question between the confusion and the sheer oddity. To be frank, you can’t muster much of a response. 

"Just... sitting here?" 

"No, I mean what are you doing? Every single night, you come here, you look at the sea for hours. Why?"

His pointed tone demands an answer, seeming irate or even provoked by your harmless nightly activity. 

"I don't know." For some reason, the question frustrates you as well, mainly because you really don't know. The ocean soothes you, even if you're just spectating it. It's too busy during the day, packed with tourists and teenagers yelling and bounding around in the sand, and while you're happy they're having a good time and all, the voices are impossible to drown out. Even the sea seems to protest their presence, the tide becoming higher and higher and more rambunctious until it almost forces the invaders out. More than once, folks have almost drowned for being too stubborn and refusing to cut their beach day short despite the obvious danger.

It seems to calm itself at night, waves gently washing ashore instead of slapping angrily at the feet of anyone treading the sand as if it's trying to coax them deeper only to pull them under. 

"You don't know?" It seems more like a statement than a question, and it's an unimpressed statement at that.

"Yeah. I don't really know. I just like being here, I suppose." You shrug, letting your arms fall limp at your sides. It could be the shock, but somehow, you’re actually managing to carry on the conversation with him. "Is there something wrong with that?"

Something flashes in his eyes, and it sends a shiver down your spine. Once again his body language drastically contradicts the vibe you're getting from him. He leans back casually in the water, and just beneath the edge, you see something slick and shiny flutter where you're certain his legs should be. "I guess not. But if you like it here so much, why don't you ever come in?"

"I-I don't know... The water is dangerous at night..."

“Is ‘I don’t know’ all you know how to say?” He gives you a derisive smile, mocking your tone while swimming graceful circles back and forth in front of the rock with an inhuman grace that sets you on edge. "Don't tell me you're scared, little human."

"I'm not scared, I'm just not stupid."

He runs his tongue over his fangs and something akin to a smile crosses his features. "Sure you're not. A little girl like you could never be afraid of a little water."

He's taunting you and you know it, but the way his eyes stay locked with yours as he swims around and around and around is making you feel a little dizzy...

"I'm not afraid-" 

"Come in then."

He dips into the water and disappears, and despite knowing better, you find yourself leaning over the rock to see where he's gone. He's waiting for you just under the waves. You can see the fluid flap of an ebony tail glimmering in the moonlight, silver hair haloed around his head. One clawed finger beckons you toward him, and you can feel yourself leaning further and further.

You're willing yourself to draw back, but the closest you can come is ceasing your forward movements. Even as you try, you can't pull your eyes away from his, staring unblinkingly up at you and glowing that foreboding sanguine shade that cuts even through the darkness of the waves.

'Come in, little girl. Show me you're not scared.’

His webbed hand threads up through the rippling surface, ready and waiting for yours. 

You can't help it. 

You reach.

You feel the slippery surface of his scaley skin interlocking with yours before something in his expression morphs into something wholly ominous and knocks you from your stupor. His magnetic eyes darken, sinister snarl hinting through the smile he’s straining to keep. This isn’t a serene sea creature playfully helping you face your fears; the ill intent is written on his face too prevalently as his mesmeric movements lure you toward the water. 

This is a predator, one determined to sink his teeth deep into your neck and steal the life from your still beating heart. You can feel it as his grip begins to tighten on your own palm.

Whatever spell he might have been casting has been broken if only just enough for you to shake yourself free. He's almost fully closed his fingers around yours before you jerk sharply, yanking your hand away. In anticipation of your movements, he thrusts up and out of the water, sharp claws digging hold into the skin of your forearm. You cry out from surprise more so than the pain even though the tips of his pointed talons slice open your skin with little to no resistance.

Fangs bared and enraged, he’s clearly livid now. All facade of relaxation falls away as his tail flaps furiously trying to pull you into the water with him. He's strong, but your will to live is stronger. The layered skin of your knees breaks as it scrapes against the jagged rock, body thrashing and desperately try to release yourself from his unyielding grip 

"Let go of me!" 

"Get in, you little brat!" 

"No!"

Falling backwards and trying to use your weight as leverage, you do your best to kick the creature off. You land a few good hits on his lean chest, but it's not enough to fully dislodge his grip. It takes a well-placed, hard slap to the side of one of his headfins to finally stun him. It was a last-ditch effort, but oddly enough, it works. 

He instinctively releases you in favor of cradling his tender, damaged fin. It isn’t long before he realizes his error and comes to his senses, but it gives you just enough time to pull away. He snaps forward several more times in pure, seething rage, fingers clamping around nothing but air in his failed attempt to seize you once more.

Sputtering and hissing, he even crawls partway onto the rock as you're furiously backpedaling away from the water to save yourself, giving you good look at where his hips meet the sleek scales of his pitch-black tail. It’s fascinating, beautiful even, but your body knows better than to slow to give yourself a better look. The split-second flash in your memory will have to suffice, coupled with the sheer and utter terror that will no doubt be permanently ingrained in your memory from this encounter. 

His inflamed face and vividly gleaming red eyes that watch you with palpable hate written in his expression are the last thing you see before pushing yourself up on your haunches and sprinting away from the sea as quickly as your little human legs can carry you. 

He watches you run, slamming a fist down on the rock in frustration and spitting out curses. He almost had you. He was so fucking close!

Once he manages to calm himself, he allows himself to coax the sore fin on the side of his head. Its thrumming in pain, overly sensitive to the touch. It was like you had known just where to hit him to make it hurt. Yet, as angry as he is, he can't deny that you're interesting.

"You can't escape me, girl. You'll be back."

The sea calls to you, and you can’t resist that call forever. You can’t resist him forever.

#Shigaraki x reader #Tomura Shigaraki #Shigaraki #Hey Ho What the fuck is wrong with me #Siren Boy just wantsta love you I swear #It aint my best but I really love the sea right now

[omniswords]

Chronicles of a Parisian Dumbass 15

new year, new chapter c: it's been a while since i've worked on Chronicles—December Mood dips are Not Delicious, plus i started streaming regularly, which has been fun! ((i’m omnistruck on Twitch if you want to check it out 🥰) but rest assured i intend to see it through to the end. i hope you've been well <3 take care, and enjoy!

From: itsdjbubbles

My dude, if your stage presence is anything like this flyer, y’all are absolutely gonna kill it at La Tortue.

Well. Luka doesn’t know about that.

It’s not like Kitty Section is totally obscure. They’ve had a stage in Paris’s annual pop-up music festival or more than one occasion. And sometimes Juleka’s tagged along to street corners with him so they could duet in hopes of more than just pocket change. And, of course, there was that whole music contest with Bob Ross and XY, but that had only ended in fiasco: their music was stolen, Rose’s vocals ripped right off the track. Luka argued up and down over the phone until he was red in the face, nearly biked down to the studio and let them have it, but he could hardly prove it. And he cared too much about it jeopardizing Juleka’s happiness to follow through.

Total corporate bullshit. He didn’t know how Jagged Stone did it. When he said so at dinner the night he gave up, his Ma only tousled his hair and said, “You’re my boy, aren’t you?”

Sometimes he thinks that’s the strongest, bravest, he’s ever been. That all his audacity peaked years ago, and he’s only gotten worse since then.

Bubbles isn’t corporate bullshit. Luka feels like he’d be able to figure out something like that from conversation alone. But their talks have been friendly—and more than that, supportive. He’s even shown a few messages to the band, just to check that he wasn’t losing his mind. And he saw how their faces softened in approval, or lit up with excitement. Even Juleka’s.

Besides, Bubbles makes music. And when he samples something, he actually credits it. He knows how to play the game. And it feels like they’re on the same side of the board.

Bubbles has that stage presence; the fact that he only needs that one shadowy picture on his profile is more than enough of an indicator. And Bubbles has a reputation that precedes him. So even if they’re on the same side of the board, it feels like Bubbles is always just a couple of steps ahead.

At least his bandmates are on the same side, and at the same step. All it took was a casual mention, during a late-night band practice, of “the bakery he keeps getting their snacks from” being all in on getting them even more exposure. They didn’t exactly do a good job of hiding their excitement, but he wouldn’t have wanted them to, anyway. Even Juleka, after practice ended, had to admit, “You did good.” And then, with perhaps a bit more snark, “Maybe she’s the one trying to impress you. “

“Stop,” Luka said with a roll of his eyes, but he couldn’t help thinking about it once the partition between their beds was up. There was no way Marinette Dupain-Cheng was trying to impress him.

…Was there?

By now, nearly a day later, Luka’s still asking himself that. Still hemming and hawing like they have more than just two weeks to get their act together. Pacing below deck with his phone in his hand, thinking about pear tarts and pretty faces instead of going to see them in person, and staring at Marinette’s phone numbers until he thinks he’s accidentally memorized both of them.

He doesn’t recognize the pattern or the area code of one of them, so he can only assume that it's an American number. But he still hasn’t mucked up the courage to text or even save the French one in his phone. Why does he need to be scared in the first place? It’s a phone number, and this is strictly business, and everything between them has been strictly business.

Well. Nearly everything. Nearly strictly.

He thinks.

Okay. Okay. All he has to do is say… what? Hi? Who just starts texting someone for the first time with “Hi?” But he can’t go writing a whole essay either, even though at least now he has the power to edit his words instead of just saying them and hoping for the best.

This is harder than it needs to be. And yeah, maybe he’s just making it harder than it needs to be, but it’s not like his brain and the shake in his hands are giving him much of a choice in the matter.

Luka switches back over to his message thread with Bubbles and shoots off a quick reply—flatterer—because maybe answering something easy will make the hard stuff more tolerable. He finds himself looking toward his guitar as though it might lend him strength… well, what the hell. It couldn’t hurt. He plays a doodle or two, idle notes, and catches himself before his fingers can drift toward the beginning of the ocean-blue song. At this point, it’s neither perfect nor good, and he can’t tell if it’s personal dissatisfaction or the numbers that the latest draft has been doing online.

Both. It’s probably both.

Messaging Marinette ends up being just as hard after his attempts at centering as it was before—because as it turns out, the whole music-giving-him-unbridled-confidence thing really only works while he’s playing it. So now he’s left still staring at the blank NEW MESSAGE screen, the cursor blinking almost tauntingly at him because of course it is. Because somehow, he can write a note telling a girl her eyes are pretty and survive long enough to see her smile about it, but he can’t send that same girl a text. It’s not like he can even see her reaction this time, anyway; that just gives him even more of an advantage.

Okay. Okay. He can actually do this. Maybe. He thinks—no, no, he has to.

With a deep breath that he holds longer than he releases, Luka opens a new message.

To: Marinette hey. it’s luka.

And like an idiot, he hits SEND before he’s even put the rest of his message together. So now he has to make a mad dash to come up with something so he doesn’t seem like a total creep for messaging her out of the blue.

For fuck’s sake. This is exactly why he writes his messages in the notes first.

To: Marinette sorry, hit send before i could finish. anyway, just wanted to tell you the band is cool with the postcard idea. i can pay you next time i come to the bakery, if that’s cool.

To: Marinette anyway, it’s really cool of you to offer your help like this. sorry if i didn’t say so yesterday, it’s kind of been... a wild time.

Luka locks his phone before he can agonize too much over what he’s sent, stuffs it away and starts pacing again. It’s not a frantic, shaky thing; no, he’s learned to keep the shakes on the inside until no one’s around to see them. He jumps when his back pocket vibrates, and he nearly drops his phone trying to fish it out. It’s only Bubbles, and he can’t tell whether he’s relieved or disappointed until his phone buzzes again. Twice. And this time, it actually is from Marinette.

From: itsdjbubbles Sorry, I was getting some stuff ready for my next project. Listen, I’m just saying. Don’t sell yourself short as this stuff. Paris is gonna hear you up there, and it’s gonna lose its collective fucking mind.

From: Marinette hi luka ☺️ no worries, i do that too sometimes. here’s the mockup for the postcard. let me know what your band thinks, i’ll do some tweaks and send it to print. sound good?

Luka balks, both at the tone of the message and at the picture she sent. It looks almost exactly like the flyer, same color scheme and everything. The only difference seems to be in the composition, which makes sense; she’s got more of the eye for this stuff, even for someone who only “dabbles.”

To: Marinette wow, this is... thank you? that was fast. and this is really well put-together. i think they’re gonna love it.

you really weren’t kidding, huh.

Luka finds himself sinking onto his bed and staring at the message thread instead of actually doing something productive. And strangely, he’s fine with that. The more time passes, the less scary it is to see her typing back, again and again and again.

From: Marinette course i wasn’t kidding. “help” is practically my middle name to the people who matter.

and i mean, there’s only a little bit of time until your show, right? so, gotta get movin.

anyway, i gotta run. my friend needs help for his summer class and i promised i’d go visit today.

Keep me posted about your band!

♥️

There is far too much in that message for Luka to need to process. “People who matter?” “Keep me posted?” The literal heart emoji at the end? He reads their messages over and over, mostly to confirm that this really, actually just happened, but he’s not going to push his luck. Maybe she just talks to everyone like that, and more importantly, the two of them haven’t been much more than a series of transactions anyway.

A... lot of transactions.

That she’s been doing a lot of giving for.

Luka tries and at least sort of succeeds at shaking the thought from his mind; he can’t read hers, and he shouldn’t try to. He sends her one last text—cool, have a good one—and switches back to Bubbles before he can worry if his words were too casual.

To: itsdjbubbles Thanks for the vote of confidence. I guess you’re not the only one? the bakery I go to, they’re offering to help too.

or, I mean, CBG is offering to help.

Bubbles’s reply doesn’t come until a few hours later. It’s presumably after that project work he mentioned, and definitely after Luka’s had some time to play out the rest of the shakes before he goes busking. His phone buzzes with the notification just as he’s about to leave, and what Bubbles has to say makes his stomach churn and his blood run both hot and cold.

From: itsdjbubbles wait. wait wait wait. hold on i just scrolled your posts.

CBG is *Marinette Dupain-Cheng?*

ohhhhhhh my dude you are in for it now.

#miraculous ladybug #lukanette #endgame lukanette #luka couffaine #marinette dupain cheng #fic: chronicles of a parisian dumbass #and we're back to luka being a total mess. #how are you? i hope you're well 💙💖🎶

[docheros]

flower shop/tattoo studio au: new beginnings

Anthony just opened his floriculture, and from everything he planned, he didn’t expect to see a tattooed greek god™ working on the other side of the street.

Hope you’re all awake and I want to see all of you commenting because I spent almost 2 months writing this and it’s only the first chapter

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It was a sunny day, hot and with few clouds in the sky, perhaps the perfect beach day at another time. But this wasn’t a beach day, because at that very moment, Anthony was too busy organizing the last details of his new floriculture, since everything had to be just like what he and his grandmother imagined. It was the first time that he would open the store and, if all went well, fulfill his oldest dream.

Fluffing the cushions on the small sofa, he remembered how lucky he was to have gotten that spot in a popular neighborhood. It wasn’t an absurdly large property, but enough for the pink balcony, a small sofa with an armchair and lots, lots plants. Maybe in the future, he would put a little table and some sweets on the outside, so that people could also enjoy some snacks.

He sighed when he saw the whole tidy room, turning to the clock and seeing that there were still five minutes to go before the opening. Before he could check the flowers again, a knock on the door caught his eye. He turned, finding Marvin practically glued to the window.

— Get out of there! — Anti opened the door laughing, giving space for the friend to enter — Did your mother ever teach you about not supporting yourself on glass?

— Don't worry, this window is armored! — They unlocked their phone, hugging the other’s neck — Let's take a selfie so I can do the commercial for your flower shop!

— And since when are you a digital influencer? — He let go of the hug before Marvin took his picture — I thought your followers just liked to see animals on your profile.

— I also have a profile for me, okay? — she sat on the couch, waving her freshly dyed hair — I'm a beauty guru.

Anti just rolled his eyes, he had more important things to do instead of answering Marvin. For example, turn the front plate to indicate that it was open.

— Will you find me a pretty client? — they asked, still typing on their cell phone — I miss kissing on the mouth, and no single person appears in the pet shop!

— Why don’t you just go to a club? — Marvin made a face of pure disgust for Anti, who lifted his shoulders — Do I look like someone who knows how to give advice? Honestly, I only wait for old ladies and plant’s moms around here.

— It was time for a sugar mommy to appear for me.

— As if some rich old woman would want you.

— I'm not liking that character of yours, Anthony — He stood up, going to the front door — I have to go now, otherwise I'm really going to need a sugar mommy. I'll call you later!

— Bye Marvin!

Anti watched the car until he turned the street corner, leaving the man alone and the flower shop silent again, waiting for a customer to show up.

But before sitting behind the counter, he noticed the establishment across the street. Small, but intimidating: all painted in black, with a large window, three chairs in the front, and a few graffiti phrases on the door, which was certainly not part of the aesthetic. Above the window, the (off) sign with the word "TATTOOS" indicated the obvious: a tattoo studio. Anti laughed with his nose, how ironic a flower shop opens in front of a tattoo studio.

— Who is the owner? — He asked to himself, leaning on the counter. He wanted to wait for the tattoo artist to arrive, but a customer had arrived at his own store.

Yeah, he needed to start the day

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The sky was beginning to darken when the florist closed the doors, tired of the busy but productive day. Many customers showed up and many flowers were sold, Anti was sure that some would be frequent customers.

After he finished sweeping the front area, he went in again to tidy up the plants and put new ones on display for the next day. He spotted the studio across the street when he was cleaning the windows, and remembered that he hadn't seen the owner all day. Well, he was probably there, since the lights were on and some figures could be seen moving through the frosted glass. Maybe it was more than one owner?

And suddenly, all the lights turned off, and two people left the establishment. They appeared to be two men, both probably in their thirties and displaying many tattoos on both arms. The shorter one had light brown hair, a thin beard and wore glasses; the black sleeveless turtleneck and white coat tied at their waist certainly made them look like a doctor when they dressed both. The taller one had dark hair — Anti couldn't tell if it was black or brown — and a thick mustache. The white button-down blouse and dark gray vest contrasted with the thousands of tattoos on their arm and supposed profession, like a man from the 1900s with a few touches from the 2010s.

The two talked and laughed loudly, it was possible to hear from inside the floriculture. Slightly gaping, Anti saw the shortest get into a car that had just arrived and the tallest to get on a nearby motorcycle, waving at the car before the vehicle left. They stayed there for a while looking at something on their cell phone and then put it away and put on a helmet. But before giving the ignition, they raised their face to the flower shop. Anthony quickly turned around, pretending to be cleaning the chairs. Had the stranger realized that they were being stared at, or did they just want to see the name of the flower shop?

In one way or another, the florist only looked up when he heard the engine’s noise moving away. As soon as he was sure he was alone again, he sat on the couch, releasing all the air he was holding and his thoughts all over the place. How, how could someone so handsome work literally in front of him? Was this an offering from God for Anti to become a Catholic again or a temptation for some demon to lose the job he had barely won?

Because he knew he would be distracted.

Instinctively, he took out his cell phone and called a number. He needed to tell his brother everything that happened.

— Hello-

— Chase, for your son's sake, call an ambulance because I feel like I'm going to die.

— WHAT? Anthony, what happened?

— Oh man — He passed the right hand over his mouth, wiping sweat — I opened my flower shop, right? Right, beautiful, very cool. Everything was going really well UNTIL I found out that there is a tattoo studio in front of me and-

— Calm down, tattoo studio? In front of your flower shop?

— I thought the same thing! Irony, right? Anyway, there is the tattoo studio, right, and it looks like there are two guys who work there, or whatever. And listen, Chase, there's one that is SO HANDSOME like, Chase, Chase you don't understand me, the guy is everything I ever wanted in a boyfriend.

— Damn, even the mustache?

— EVEN THE MUSTACHE! I didn't get to talk to them, but just because of the appearance, the guy has already won 50% of me and, and… — he took a pillow nearby, muffling his scream — Chase I should have gone to more teenage parties to learn how to relate to people. Beautiful, very beautiful people.

— You really should. Now seriously, how was the first day?

— Ah, nothing impressive. But do you believe that…

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anti i feel you i also like mustachioed men

ik you already know who the two men are, but i talked about them with they/them pronouns because it’s partially anti’s pov dksjsdkfkdj

yeah hope you liked it

#i'm writing!! #antisepticeye #jameson jackson #ego shipping #dapperanti #antidapper #dapperanti my beloved #flower shop/tattoo studio au

[yehet-me-up]

Content Tag Game

Tagged by EXO sister-wife Kat @yeoldontknow​ <3 1. what fandoms have you written for (but do not currently)?

2. what fandoms are you currently writing for?

3. how long have you been writing? on this blog?

uhhh I definitely wrote half of several harry potter and lotr fanfics in HS but that was ‘the dark times’ many moons ago. so as an adult this is my only fandom! just stumbled into kpop and stumbled onto fanfics in the most backwards way possible (was sent a meme of a 1D ‘imagine’ and was like hey I wonder if they have these for kpop and then I found them and they were not a meme, but were fucking incredible AND NOW 4 YEARS LATER (started August-ish 2017???) here we are hahaha)

4. on which platforms do you post your stories?

oh dear god i just remembered I have an AO3 account..... WHOOPS, shit 😅 might need to, y’know, update that at some point. jfc adhd object permanence is something else.

5. what is your favorite genre to write?

Personally it’s sci fi/fantasy, but here in the fanfic space I’d say..... uhh slice of life, romance, angst but make it a happy ending?? fanfic is a way for me to share all the sort romantic hopeful feelings I have about love and life and friendship and purpose 💕

6. are you a pantser or a planner?

Used to be a pantser when I started this (and when fics used to be like ?? 3k-5k) now that fics in general are longer for one-shots and series my good lord I need an outline. Especially for exo mall which is *insert meme of crazy guy with the bulletin board* a lot for my brain haha

7. one shot or multi-chapter?

8. what is the perfect chapter length in your opinion?

I’d say mine are usually 5k or so?? some series were shorter per chapter, depending on subject matter. I tend to write like... interconnected long as frick oneshots, so i don’t count those as chapters ☠️

9. what is your longest published story? is it complete?

uhhhhh good question haha. my book was 95k and I think exo mall is like *dammit math* 140k or something that has significantly gotten out of hand. I have two more fics so it will probably be like 180ish when it’s done?? not including the drabbles to come haha 

10. which story did you enjoy working on the most?

I loved No Quarter and torturing Kat with her husband, also staying up all night to finish Chanyeol’s exo mall knowing kat had NO idea it was coming was a BLAST. Kyungsoo’s exo mall was one of the most ‘in the flow’ writing experiences i’ve ever had. I wrote this Baek oneshot at like 3am when i couldn’t sleep once and tbh it felt like I wrote it in a dream. ja;slkfjasd I love so many of these this is like a trip down memory lane, so I’m going to be a wh*re and say two more haha.  This is the most honest and close to ‘real life’ thing I think I’ve written on here (and also one of the only sex scenes I didn’t lose my goddamned mind trying to write a;sldkfja;sdf). And lastly Ablaze, which was the longest thing I’d written (I think) and let me know that hey? maybe I could write a book someday <3

11. favorite request you’ve have written and why (if any?)

This request for Exo Mall Baek was such a joy to write! And for some reason this Taeyong drabble makes me wish I had the time/energy to write it into a full story, it gripped me so much when I wrote it, like a movie had fully downloaded into my brain out of nowhere.

12. are there reoccurring themes in your stories?

For sure! I’d say found family is a big one. Trusting that you’ll find your place even if things don’t make sense or you feel unsure. Believing that love is worth the risk and fear of trusting someone ;laksjdfal;sd. That love can be big gestures and super intense, but that after that fades away it’s the small daily moments that matter most - the people who stay and listen when you’re sad, holding hands and forehead kisses, taking care of people when they’re sick or scared or just need company, showing up to try again or to communicate even when things are hard. 

Someone commented on a fic of mine ages ago that I helped them see that real love (of that small, daily, consistent kind) is possible and MAYHAPS I cried because underneath it all, that’s what I’d want people to take away - that love of all kinds is scary, but it’s always worth it in the end <3

13. current number of wips?

Surprisingly just ... 3? wow how time has changed hahaha. I have Jun + Baek for exo mall (plus some drabbles but that will be something people write in about, so I wouldn’t consider them wips) and then I maaaaay continute on here with the Jun + Min regency baes series. We shall see :)

14. three things you have noticed about your own writing?

1. I can’t NOT write Baekhyun as the biggest cheesy dork in the entire world 2. That I’ll always have endless fantasy world to live in. I have to try actively to not start new WIPs because it’s so damn easy to be inspired. If I’m ever bored I know that I can jump into some story and let myself be carried away for a while 3. that who and how i am in real life is not usually the same person that i am when it comes to the vibe of my writing, and that that’s totally okay <3

15. a quote you like from a published story.

“I wish it had been with someone like you, though,” you say, squeezing his hand.

“Someone like me?” he says, raising his eyebrows, waiting for an explanation.

You look down at the floor, trying to figure out how to put how he makes you feel into words. “Yeah, someone strong, and steady. And safe.”

He lets out a laugh. “Safe? That sounds awfully similar to boring.”

“No, no. You don’t understand,” you say emphatically, coming to stand fully in front of him, grabbing his other hand as well. “You never ask me to be anything but who I am. You’re patient, kind, caring. For the longest time I thought that falling in love would be stifling. That it would… I don’t know, take my independence. Take my spirit. Make me into someone I don’t recognize.”

You step closer, holding his face in your hands. “But I can’t think of anything I want more than to be with you. You make me the best version of who I am. I don’t know how it is for you, being with me. But when I’m with you, it just feels like… home,” you finish gently.

- from Kyungsoo’s exo mall because THIS is how I feel about falling in love now, and this story was me working out what I believed about the process (like a goddamned emo bish haha)

16. a quote from an unpublished story.

For a moment you allow yourself this weakness. It won't destroy you to admire the strong lines of his body, the intensity and focus in the set of his brows, the deep, warm color brown of his eyes as they - oh lord, he's looking directly at you. As he notices you watching him his lips press into a small smile, inclining his head towards you.

'Oh no,' you say, mortified. In a breath you've blinked and drawn your arm through Maggie's, weaving your way through the crowd and dragging her with you.

'What's wrong?' she hisses in your ear, slightly off-kilter from the drink and revelry. 'You're going to tear my arm off.’.

'Sorry, he -' With a hand you push through the front doors, gulping in the cool night air and breathing deeply to steady the erratic pace of your heartbeat. 'Maggie, what's happening to me? He looked at me and I felt so... naked. I can't explain it.'

She realizes you aren't in actual distress and laughs. 'Good. About time you fell in love. I'm delighted.'

- From perhaps a future chapter of Jun and Min regency baes series....

17. space for you to say something to your readers.

Thank you so much. Truly, from the bottom of my heart. This fandom brought writing back into my life after such a long time away and I had no idea I would love it so much. The friends it’s brought me and the kind words that made me cry or cheered me up on a shitty day or made me laugh out loud and the watching other writers grow on their journeys. Getting to hear how something I made could help you feel less alone or less sad on a shitty day is all I’ve ever wanted from sharing all this. Thank you for being here and thank you for sharing parts of yourself with me <3

Tagging anyone who sees this who would like to do it, even if you don’t consider yourself a “real writer” yet (yes you are, stop doubting yourself!!!!) 😘

#taggity tag

[cozy-the-overlord]

Dances and Daggers

Summary:   The Summer Festival is upon Asgard, as is the tradition of the dagger ceremony, where each unmarried gentleman chooses a lady to bestow with the honor of carrying his dagger for the night. As Prince Thor’s betrothed, Teki’s only goal is to accept his dagger with grace and hope that her violent stepfather doesn’t find fault with her in the process. But Prince Thor is unpredictable, and when he ignores his engagement on a whim Teki finds herself in a desperate situation. Luckily, Thor isn’t the only prince in Asgard…

Pairing: Loki x Original Female Character

Chapter 4: The Indiscretion

Previous Chapter  |  Next Chapter

Word Count: 4,191

Chapter Summary:  Prince Loki’s Nameday Feast gets a little out of hand.

A/N: So, when I write stories, I usually follow a very strict, detailed, scene-by-scene outline-- otherwise, I loose track of what I'm supposed to be doing. I had one such outline for Dances and Daggers. However, when writing this chapter, Teki and Loki just... decided not to follow it. I was writing it with a specific plan in mind, and they were were just like "nope!" and went and did their own thing. So... yeah. This chapter looks very different than I originally planned. I'm kind of nervous about posting it, but it was a fun writing experience, and I hope you enjoy it!

Thanks for reading! :)

TW: mentions of child abuse, cursing, threats of violence

Tags: @lucywrites02 @gaitwae

Read it on Ao3!

“You look beautiful, Tekla,” her mother was saying. Teki inhaled sharply as she yanked a brush through her hair. “Everyone will adore you.”

She studied her reflection—or, more accurately, she studied the scarlet gown in her reflection.

“Mama,” she whispered. “Shouldn’t I be wearing green?” It was a losing battle and she knew it, but the thought of being the only one dressed in red was mortifying enough to make her fight it.

“Nonsense. Why would you wear anything but your betrothed’s colors?” Her mother twisted her hair into an elegant bun, Teki flinching as she shoved pins in too close to her scalp. “Tekla, stay still.”

“But it’s Prince Loki’s Nameday Feast,” she pleaded, still keeping her voice low enough so that Osvald couldn’t hear her complaining from the next room. “Everyone’s going to be wearing green—”

“Then you’ll stand out, as you should.” She patted her shoulder. “Well, are you ready?”

Teki stared into the mirror, her reflection only returning her misery.

…

Everyone was wearing green.

Teki slunk through the Great Hall with her head down, praying to the Norns or anyone listening that everyone was too distracted with their own problems to notice her, a bloodstain on a beautiful emerald tapestry. When she saw Thor approaching, she knew even that was too much to ask.

“Lady Tekla,” he said, bowing. “Would you honor me with this dance?”

She curtseyed, holding back a sigh. “It is I who would be honored, my prince.”

It was a short song, but somehow the dance lasted for eternity. They moved together stiffly, not saying a word, Teki’s gaze never rising above her partner’s chest. Somehow, she knew Thor had only asked her to satisfy the demands of his parents. That was all right, she told herself. After all, she only accepted to satisfy the demands of hers. Hopefully Mama and Osvald are watching. Still, she found herself thinking about the night Loki had given her his dagger, how nice it had felt to know that someone had asked her to dance simply because they wanted to dance with her.

When the music came to a close, he bowed, she curtseyed, and they both went their separate ways. Lurking at the refreshment table, she watched her fiancé rush to ask that same girl to dance. Sif. Who trained with the boys in the courtyard. She was saying something with a smirk on her face. Thor burst into laughter, his cackles booming across the room like a drum.

Teki bit her lip. Loki had told her that Sif was nothing more than a passing fancy, but she couldn’t imagine herself ever making Thor laugh like that. She couldn’t imagine herself ever making Thor laugh at all. She had always told herself that would change, that when the time came, they would learn to love each other and be happy together, but… what if it didn’t? Was this going to be the rest of her life—forced curtseys and stiff dances, smiling for the crowd before slipping away alone when it ended?

“Having a good time?”

Teki jumped. Prince Loki grinned, reaching out to steady her.

“Why do you always do that?” she whispered.

He chuckled. “Forgive me, my lady. This time was unintentional.”

This time. There was a snarky reply right on the edge of her lips, but Teki caught herself.

“Happy Nameday, my prince,” she said

He nodded, his green eyes never leaving hers. “Thank you.”

They stared at each other for a moment. Teki was the first to look away.

“Have—have you had a good Nameday, my prince?” she asked awkwardly.

Loki shrugged. “No different than all the previous, I suppose,” he said. “Namedays are rather exhausting, really. I don’t need a feast to remind the world that I exist.”

There was something in his eyes, a darkness that Teki couldn’t quite read, but she could tell he was upset. “I can understand that,” she said softly. “But sometimes a little reminder is nice, isn’t it?”

“Perhaps,” he mused, staring into the distance. “And yet it seems people forget regardless.” Suddenly his head snapped back to her. “I’m going to the lake. Do you want to come?”

Teki’s brain short-circuited. “I—what?”

“I’m going to the lake in the gardens,” he repeated. “Do you want to come with me?”

“But—you mean—” she stuttered, glancing around wildly. “We can’t just leave.”

“Sure we can. I do it all the time.”

“But—how?” How was he so nonchalant about this? “What if someone notices?”

“No one ever notices as these things.” He motioned to the room, to the couples on the dancefloor, clusters of people conversing in the corners, servants rushing through the crowd with trays of beverages. “Just look around—everyone’s living in their own little world.

Teki didn’t say anything. Her mind was whirring. Besides her, Loki ran a hand through his raven hair, shifting uncomfortably.

“You—you don’t have to come if you don’t want to,” he said. The cocksure confidence seemed to have drained from his voice, leaving only hesitancy. “I—I don’t mean to pressure you. It’s just—it’s nice having someone to talk to.”

She frowned. This was a terrible idea. If someone saw that she was gone, if they told Osvald… this was a terrible idea. She knew it was a terrible idea. But Loki was right, likely more so than he realized. It is nice having someone to talk to.

Teki inhaled. “My stepfather—” her voice dropped to a whisper, as if merely mentioning his name could summon him. “We’d have to get back before he sees I’m gone, all right?”

He nodded vigorously, matching her urgent tone. “Of course. He’ll never know, I promise.”

“Okay,” she breathed. She couldn’t see any of her family from where they stood, which only exacerbated her fear that Osvald was going to pop out of the shadows and demand to know what she was doing.

Almost shyly, Loki offered her his hand. She took with equal timidity, her heart racing as his cold fingers closed around hers. What was wrong with her today?

She let him pull her out of the hall, through corridors she hadn’t realized even existed, until somehow they were standing outside, the warm summer air kissing her cheeks. Her pulse was thrumming.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this!” she murmured. It was madness. Tekla Osvalddottir didn’t sneak out in the middle of a feast to run around the gardens with a boy who was decidedly not her fiancé. But then again, she wasn’t Tekla Osvalddottir.

“It’s fun, isn’t it?” Loki asked. “Out here, you can actually hear yourself think.” He was right. The air was beautifully still. The only sounds she could hear were the crickets chirping in the distance. They made their way around the perimeter of the lake, eventually landing on the wooden dock that stretched out across the glittering water. For a while, they didn’t say anything.

“How often do you do this?” she asked after a bit. “You know, slipping away?”

Loki kicked at a pebble on the dock. “Oh, I don’t know. A lot. I don’t do it every time, but sometimes it’s just too much.” He laughed drily. “In case you can’t tell, I don’t particularly care for parties.”

“Not even your Nameday parties?”

“Especially not the Nameday parties! They’re so frustrating. Everyone’s pretending that they’re all celebrating for you, but they’re just looking for an excuse to get drunk.” He kicked the pebble one last time, watching as it plopped into the water below. “It’s all so fake. No one actually cares.”

Teki hesitated. There was something bothering him, definitely, but she didn’t know how to address it. How do you make someone feel better when you don’t know what’s causing them to feel bad in the first place?

“Well… I care,” she finally mumbled. The words hung awkwardly in the air, waiting for her to complete the thought, but Teki didn’t know what else to say.

Loki turned back to her. There were still pinpricks of bitterness in his emerald eyes, but they were slowly being overcome by a mischievous smirk. “Says the only person not swathed in my color.”

Teki burned. She knew everyone would notice. “That’s not my fault! My mother made me.” She scowled. “I wanted to wear green.”

His smirk widened. “Oh really? Were you going to dance with your fiancé wearing another’s color?” He covered his mouth in mock horror. “How scandalous!”

She rolled her eyes. “No more scandalous than sneaking away from your own feast, your highness.”

“True.” He wiggled his eyebrows, leaning in slowly. “This is all quite scandalous when you think about it.”

Teki giggled. “Stop it.” She shoved his chest playfully. It wasn’t that hard—her hands only just grazed his leather top—and yet, Loki flew backwards as if he had been hit by a skiff and tumbled over the side of the dock with a theatrical cry. Water splashed over the wood, soaking the bottom part of her skirt.

At first, Teki could only sputter. What just happened? She barely touched him, what was he thinking?

“Loki!” She peered over the edge of the dock into the rippling water. There was no sign of the prince. “Loki, what are you doing?”

It was a prank. It had to be a prank. The lake wasn’t even that deep, there was no way he couldn’t surface. But as the seconds ticked by, with no change in the inky waves, panic began to lodge in the back of Teki’s throat.

“Loki?” she called again, alarmed. What if he hit his head? Should she go in after him? Should she get somebody? How long would it take her to get back to the Great Hall? What if he stuck at the bottom and drowning? She knelt on the dock, leaning over as far as she could. “Lok—”

Without a warning, the prince shot out of the water like a leaping dolphin, grabbing ahold of her shoulders and yanking her down with him. The lake muffled her screams as she thrashed around like a wounded animal, desperately trying to surface. By the time she did she was shaking, gulping air like an addict. Behind her, Loki was chortling.

“You—” Teki didn’t have words. Droplets trickled down the sides of her face, her hair falling out its bun, her scarlet sleeves clinging to her arms like a clammy second skin.  “What—you—” she screeched like a bird. “Why would you do that?”

Loki only laughed harder.

She couldn’t believe this. The dress her mother had so carefully and so adamantly picked out was soaked—there was no way she could possibly return to the feast without causing a scene. Teki’s breath was coming too fast.

Why did she agree to go with Loki? Why?

“I—stop laughing!” she snapped, voice breaking. Loki fell quiet abruptly. Teki’s eyes were heating up. She blinked frantically, but the heat was climbing her throat as well. “My parents are going to kill me!” she whimpered.

Loki looked stricken. He swam toward her, hands outstretched. “Teki, I—”

She splashed water in his face. “Why would you do that?” she sobbed. “Why?”

“I was just—I meant it as a joke—”

“Well, it wasn’t funny!” she gulped. “How—how am I going to explain this?” He’s going to kill me. He’s going to kill me. He’s going to kill me…

Loki reached out again cautiously. This time, she didn’t bother to push him away.

“Here, please.” Gently, he guided her towards the bank. She stumbled as they walked out of the water, the weight of her wet dress pulling her down. When she tripped on the uneven ground, Loki grabbed her to keep her from falling.

Water cascaded into the grass as she tried to wring her skirt out. Norns, she’d never be dry.

“Here,” Loki repeated. He was holding out a towel. Where… oh. Right. Magic.

Shakily, Teki tried to wipe away the sopping mess she had turned into. Loki watched with a shamefaced expression.

“It should dry fairly quickly,” he said softly. “It’s a warm night. By the time we get back no one will know the difference.”

She shook her head. “He will.” He always knows.

“I’ll put an illusion over you,” Loki insisted. “You’ll look exactly as you did when you arrived tonight. No one will tell the difference, I swear.”

Teki looked up at him. The prince hadn’t bothered to make any effort to dry himself. Water pooled at his feet as it streamed down the sides of his leather armor, streaking the gold embellishments. Black strands of hair clung to his cheeks, his forehead creased with guilt. She inhaled.

“Can we go somewhere else?” she asked quietly. The lake had lost its serenity.

He nodded. “Of course.”

“Well, well, well. What’s going on over here?” They both whipped around to see a figure stumbling down the embankment, illuminated by the moonlight.

Loki stiffened. “Fandral.”

“I was wondering where the little prince had gotten to,” the boy called Fandral laughed. There was something in his tone that Teki didn’t like. “You stopped sulking in the corner, I see.” He took a wrong step as he navigated the slope and was nearly the third person to end up in the lake that night, but righted himself just in time.

Teki was frozen. She recognized this Fandral—he was the same person who Thor had been pummeling in the courtyard a few weeks ago. What if he told the Crown Prince what his fiancé was up to when she wasn’t dancing with him? What if Thor told Osvald?

“Thor’s not here, Fandral,” Loki said tightly. “I haven’t seen him all night.”

“Aha. I get it. The little prince wants to be alone with his lady friend,” he smirked, aiming a wink at Teki that sent chills down her spine. He turned back to Loki. “Aren’t you a little young to be making girls wet?”

Teki flushed, and Fandral burst out into laughter. Loki grabbed her hand and started pulling her back towards the palace. “Come on. We’re leaving.”

“Wait, wait. I haven’t met the lady yet.” Fandral pushed towards her, leaning down so that his face was inches from hers. His breath stank of wine. “What’s your name, kitten?”

Teki smacked him.

What happened next was a blur. Fandral stumbled backwards, cursing. Loki yanked her arm—“Come on!”—and then they were sprinting across the palace grounds, the night air whistling through their wet clothing. They didn’t stop until they reached the noble apartments, at which point they collapsed on the grass in a panting, giggling mess.

“Oh my goodness,” she gasped. “I can’t believe I did that!”

“The look on his face!” Loki choked. “Did you see the look on his face?”

“I hit him!” she heaved, still trying to comprehend. “I can’t believe I hit him!”

Loki clapped his hands. “He deserved it. That was beautiful—”

“Is he going to tell everybody now?” The thought dampened her excitement. I’m going to have a criminal record by the time this night is through. “Am I going to get in trouble?”

The prince shook his head. “Don’t worry. Even if he is sober enough to remember what happened, he won’t tell anyone.” He snorted. “It wouldn’t do for the realm to know that Fandral the Dashing got slapped in the face by a girl.”

“What was he doing away from the feast anyways?” she asked. He hardly seemed like the type to abandon a party.

“I wouldn’t know. Looking for fun perhaps? Or maybe he just got lost.” Loki stood up, offering Teki his hand.  She let him pull her to her feet as well. “We still need to dry off,” he said apologetically.

“Wait. My apartment’s right around the corner. We can dry off in there.” She pulled him towards her window. Climbing the ivy wall shouldn’t be an issue—if Teki could do it, then surely the prince wouldn’t have any trouble. She tried not to think about how Osvald would react if he knew she was alone in their rooms with a boy.

Loki frowned, but followed her just the same. “But we can’t get in from here, can we?” he asked. “Don’t we have to go through the main palace?”

“No, there’s another way,” she said, gripping the vines as she reached the wall. She had never done this after dark before, but luckily the light of the moon was bright enough to see clearly. Teki pulled herself onto a foothold.

Behind her, Loki’s eyes were wide. “You’re going to climb that?”

“Sure. I do it all the time.” She pulled herself up the vine, bracing her feet against the wall. Going up was much more difficult than going down.

When Teki glanced back, she realized Loki hadn’t left the ground. “Are you coming?”

“I—” Loki was staring pointedly at the ground, ears pink. “I’ll wait, until you’ve made it in.”

She frowned. “Is something wrong?”

“Um—” he glanced up, then quickly snapped his gaze back to the grass. “It’s—it’s just—” he motioned towards her as her dress fluttered in the breeze.

What was he—oh. Oh. He was trying to avoid looking up her skirt. Teki flushed.

Well, at least he’s nice enough not to look.

She scrambled up the rest of the wall as quickly as she could and pulled on the window. It didn’t budge.

What?

She pulled again. What was wrong? Teki never latched this window. Could her mother have done it? Certainly Osvald and Brant wouldn’t have—Osvald never came in her room and Brant didn’t know how. She pulled once more, this time with even more force.

“What is it?” Loki yelled from the ground.

She sighed. “I think my mother latched the window.”

“Oh, is that all? I can handle that.” Teki looked down just in time to see him flick his wrist. In front of her, the latch fell open. Her eyes widened.

“Wow!”

Loki laughed. “Thor hates that I know that trick.”

She pushed open the window and pulled herself into her room. A few moments later, Loki followed. He went to dry off best he could in the bathroom while fixed her appearance in front of the mirror in her room. He had been right about one thing—the warm air worked in their favor. Teki’s hair was almost completely dry. She quickly brushed through it and twisted it back into its bun—it wasn’t quite as precise as her mother’s work, but hopefully she wouldn’t notice. She realized as she was pinning it down that she must have lost a few pins back in the lake. Hopefully her mother wouldn’t notice that either.

Her dress, however, was a disaster. Not only was it still soaked, but the hem was stained from sitting in the dirt for too long. She peeled it off, making sure to stuff it down the dirty clothes chute before anyone else had time to notice. She’d just have to put on another scarlet dress and, again, hope that no one noticed.

It was only then that Teki realized she had another problem. While she had no shortage of scarlet dresses, she had failed to consider the type of scarlet dresses. The one she had been wearing had a sealed back—she could simply pull it over her head to wear without worrying about buttons or laces. All her other scarlet gowns had lacing on the back that somebody had to tie off for her to wear.

Oh no.

The panic was coming back, but Teki forced herself to breath. What were her options? She could wear one of her other sealed back dresses—but they were less formal, and the wrong color. It would be abundantly clear to anyone who saw her that she had changed for some reason. No, no.

She could try to get the original dress out of the chute, clean it up best she could, and wear it. Teki checked the black abyss into which she had tossed the gown moments ago, praying that it had caught on the way down. Nope. She reached into the darkness as far as she could—no sign of the dress.

She could stay in the apartment—tell her parents that she hadn’t been feeling well and left the feast early. But that wasn’t a real option. Osvald would see through that instantly. She shivered.

That left only one alternative.

“Loki?”

“Yes?” he called from the sitting room.

“Could—could you come in and help me with something?”

The door cracked open and Loki peeked in. “What can I do?”

“I—” Her cheeks were on fire. The dress covered her up—everything but her back, that is—but still she felt so exposed. “Could you lace the back for me?” She turned around so he could see.

“Oh—I—” Loki faltered, taking a step back. “I don’t know how to—”

“Please, it’s—it’s not hard, it’s—it’s just like lacing boots.” Norns, kill me now. “Please,” she added.

For a moment, she thought he wasn’t going to do it. But then, slowly, he made his way across the room, hesitantly taking the laces into his hands.

“Like lacing boots?” he asked.

Teki gulped. “Yes—the crisscross.”

At first, he fumbled with the eyeholes a bit, but he picked up the idea fairly quickly. It was only when he was halfway down her back that another problem became apparent.

“You’re—you’re not doing it tight enough,” she spluttered.

He wavered. “You want it tighter? I don’t want to hurt you—”

“If it’s not tight enough, the dress won’t stay up,” Teki interjected.

“But—”

“It’s all right. I’ll tell you if it’s too tight.” Please, just let this end.

Uncertainly, Loki pulled more at the lacings, stopping the moment Teki winced.

“Are you—”

“It’s fine—keep going.”

It was an eternity before he finally tied off the laces at the bottom. When she turned around, she found that his cheeks were as red as hers. Teki slipped into an awkward curtsey.

“Thank you, my prince,” she mumbled. She wasn’t sure why she had suddenly fallen back into formal titles when they were in possibly the least formal situation she could ever imagine, but here she was.

Loki cleared his throat. “Perhaps it’s time we—”

The downstairs door slammed open.

“Tekla!”

Teki felt all the color drain from her face.

She heard Osvald’s footsteps on the stairs. “Are you in here, you little bitch?”

Her breath was coming too fast, so fast her vision was going dark in the corners.

He’s going to find us. He’s going to find us both in here.

Loki was whispering her name, rubbing her shoulders and saying something else, but all Teki could hear was the pounding of impending doom as it opened her bedroom door. Loki clapped his hand over her mouth just as Osvald walked in.

She expected his eyes to narrow, his brow to deepen. She expected him to drag her by the neck down the hall and demand to know what the Hel she thought she was doing gallivanting about the palace the wrong prince. She expected him to throw her on the ground, or into the wall, or down the stairs, expected him to curse as he hit her, to tell her how she brought it upon herself, to demand that she clean up the mess her blood has made on the floor before her mother saw it and got upset.

But none of that happened.

Instead, her stepfather surveyed the room with a frown, looking straight at them as if they weren’t even there.

“Fucking Hel,” he muttered as he closed the door again.

Teki stood there shaking as his steps echoed back down the stairs, front door slamming as he left. Loki lifted his trembling hand off her mouth.

She stared at him, breathing heavily. “H-how—how did—”

“Illusion.” He smiled, but it looked more like a grimace of pain. “See? I told you no one would know the difference.”

Her head was spinning. “So—so when he walked in—”

“He just saw the empty room.” Loki dropped the act and turned to her, his face filled with concern. “Teki, please let me tell my mother about—”

“No, don’t—”

“Then you tell her, please.” He gripped her shoulder. “This isn’t—”

She shook her head. “You don’t understand—”

“You’re terrified of him!”

“It’s fine—”

“Nothing about what I just saw was fine!”

“Don’t tell anyone.” Teki gripped the fabric on his chest, pleading. “Believe me, it’ll just make things worse. Please don’t tell anyone.”

Loki stared at her, brow furrowed. “All right,” he finally said. “I suppose we should be getting back to the Great Hall.”

She nodded. “Yes, I suppose so.”

He offered her his arm awkwardly. Teki took it even more awkwardly.

She couldn’t blame anyone but herself. This had been a terrible idea.

#dances and daggers #loki x ofc #loki marvel #loki fanfic #dances and daggers chapter 4 #the indiscretion #cozy writes

[aliypop]

And So It Starts Chap 5

Wordcount: 1,365

Warning SPOILERS FOR EPISODE 6

A/N : Welp guys this is the last chapter so tell me how you like it! I plan to do more with Astrid! as well as more stuff with her sister as well! 

"We... did it? You did it. That was amazing!" Loki kissed Astrid, "Where has that magic been!" "Hidden... like this house..." Sylvie mumbled, watching Astrid 2.0. look back to where the void was, "Anyone wants to kick the door down..." Astrid asked as they all stood there, "Because we're all just standing, and it's a bit anticlimactic." she mumbled as Sylvie looked back,

"I got pruned before you existed. I have been waiting for this moment my entire life. I  need a second to get my head straight..." She smiled at Loki, who shrugged, "Sure, of course..." As the doors opened up, Astrid, Loki, Sylvie, and Astrid 2.0. stepped into the secluded mansion that stood at the end of time. "You know this is how people die... in movies..." Astrid turned to look back at the door as it abruptly shut.

"Congratulations, Y'all had a long journey to get here," Miss Minute popped up, "He's impressed." "Who's impressed?" "He who remains." she smiled. "And who is he." "He created all. He controls all. In the end, it is only he who remains, And he offers you a deal. " "A deal?

"He's been making a few creative adjustments, and he's worked it out so we can  reinsert you all back into the timeline without disrupting things."   Miss Minute smiled, "That sounds absurd..." Astrid said, her hands on her hips as Miss Minute sighed, "The TVA can keep doing its vital work, and Y'all can live the lives you've always wanted..." she leaned in as Loki and Astrid stepped back, "And what have we always wanted?" Loki asked, curious as to what she'd say."Now don't play coy with me, mister. You know how you got into this mess." she laughed, "What..." Loki looked a bit offended. "The battle of New York, silly you versus those self-righteous Avengers," she grinned as Astrid giggled at him, "Oh, and don't get me started on you, little Ms. ended up in a sitcom." Astrid looked at her as she grumbled, "Now, how would you like to win? But not just there. You can kill Thanos. Do you want the infinity gauntlet? Yours. Throne of Asgard. No problem. And you dear, The throne of Vanaheim, or the love of your mother, perhaps even that big Asgardian wedding you wanted," Astrid leaned into Loki as she almost took the offer, "And you Missy? Just a lifetime of happy memories..." "Together in the same timeline..." "It's crazy, but he could make it work. All of it everything the way you've always wanted it together. She smiled. "It's fiction." Sylvie laughed, "We write our destiny." Loki said, "Good luck with that..."  Miss Minute laughed as she vanished, Astrid was still stuck on having the life she had always wanted, the admiration and the throne, but it wasn't the time to dwell on it. "He who remains..." Loki questioned. "Not for very much longer..." "Are we sure he's still alive..." Asked Astrid as they kept walking. "I mean, he could be dead..." she laughed until a shadowy figure appeared,

"This is wild two Loki's same person... I mean, it's a little unnatural, but wow! Wild an Astrid too. I haven't seen one of those in like years..." "He who remains ..." "She still calls me that, Creepy? Right, but I like it." he smiled, going into his elevator, "What am I not what you were expecting, hmm?" he turned to look at Loki as Astrid just sat, "You're just a man..." he said a bit confused, "Flesh and blood don't tell me I'm a disappointment I know Astrid knows a lot about that." he smiled a sword now in her hands, "Just a bit easier to kill," Sylvie smirked, trying to stab him as he phased around the room. The Three eventually making it to his office space. "Been a long journey for you, hasn't it?  A lot running lots of pain,"  Kang asked, pouring cups of tea, "And you a flea on the back of a dragon on one hell of a ride, but you managed to hang on. I guess that counts for something." He shrugged, "And Astrid, a fine worker who'd do anything to betray the sacred timeline and for what... " he sighed, "Look, we found you, and you lose."Loki smiled, "It's simple as that." "Duh, of course, you did." He took a bite of his apple." See, you can't kill me because I already know what's going to happen..."  Kang smiled, "It's a parlor trick..."Loki snarled, "I beg to differ..." Astrid mumbled, "I'd listen to her. She's seen things you two can't even comprehend!" Kang sat on top of his desk as both Sylvie and Loki looked at him confused,

"You see, I know it all, seen it all, even everything on Lamentis, all the stuff the TVA doesn't even know about, I know! The scheming and the talking." He then looked at Astrid, "The little look by the lake, sentimental, touching stuff." he smiled, "We broke out your little game." Sylvie "Oh no, you see, every step you took, I paved the road Lamentis, the void, you all walked down it." he shrugged. "So it's a game..." Astrid asked, her legs crossed,  "This all needs to happen..." he shrugged, "Tell you what, Sylvie do you think you could trust these two..." Kang asked as Sylvie looked between the two. As Astrid's curls begun to get frizzy from the humidity of the end of time, "Don't listen to him..." Loki snapped, "Do you think you could trust anyone at all..." Kang looked at Astrid, giving her a hair tie. "You're gonna need this." he winked, handing them cups of tea, Astrid blushing at the gesture. What seemed like hours had passed as the three sat looking at the holder of time.

 "We're all villains here. We've done horrible, terrible, horrific things. But now we, you have the chance to do good."

Astrid scoffed at his remark, "I prefer the word anti-hero..." "Yeah, anti-heroes don't try to stab their older sisters because mommy loves them more..." he took another bite of his apple as Astrid tried to lunge at him, "You know I just love all this honesty..." He laughed, watching as Loki held her back. Sylvie had her blade ready to kill Kang. In an instant, Loki sighed as he stood up to stop her, "What are you doing..." She growled "Sylvie hang on, let's just talk about it..." "How about we finish what we started." "And kill him no..." Astrid turned to face them. "You think he's telling the truth..." Sylvie asked. While Kang just sat and watched, "Boogeymen popping up because we gave people free will!" she lunged at him, "He's a liar!" "So am I." Astrid caught the blade, a sword reappearing,

"You took Excalibur for yourself..." Kang asked, "Beautiful..."  he gasped as Astrid swung at Sylvie, her blade clashing onto the Loki variants. "Why are you not seeing this the same way..." she asked, getting closer to Astrid. Loki pulled her back as he used his powers as Sylvie took his dagger, "Because you can't trust me, and I can't be trusted." he tried shooting a green orb from his hand. "Then I guess we're in a pickle !" Astrid growled her blade's now at both their necks, "Maybe he's lying!" Loki shouted his blade near Sylvie's stomach, "Maybe he's not... " Astrid shrugged, "The cost of getting this wrong, however, is too great! " Loki sighed, "Fine, do it kill me. Take your throne!" Sylvie laughed as she turned to face Astrid, her head held back, ready to die, "No." Astrid sighed, "I've been where you are. I've felt what you feel, like you weren't good enough or that you don't belong, but..." she sighed, "Loki and I don't want to hurt you," Astrid sighed, "I just want you to be okay..." she held her face. Their foreheads pressed together, lips in a kiss, pain twinging in her stomach, Sylvie sent both Loki and Astrid away as she killed Kang.

"Astrid, what are you wearing..." "Astrid, it's absurd ..." "Darling... You're going to be late..." "Late for what..." "Our wedding." Loki smirked, "Damn you, Sylvie..."

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