#I think the difficulty with starting and getting through this chapter was literally being /so close/ I could touch it and still wanting to | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

starlitmark · 1 year

Text

Summary: San and Seonghwa are away from home during your heat, so they ask Yeosang to help you out. Pairing: Dragon!Yeosang x bunny fem!reader Tropes: hybrid au, poly au Genre: smut, fluff Rating: R 18+ Warnings: language, pet names, mentions of pregnancy Smut Warnings: heat, oral (f receive), dragon cock, unprotected sex, breeding kink, creampie, mommy kink, light dacryphilia Word Count: 6,836 Note: enjoy this chapter of CTASF 🫶 dedicated to the amazing @downtoamagicalland and @mejuii I appreciate you both so much for beta-reading this for me!

Previously: Cuddles & Throw Blankets || CTASF Masterlist

Yeosang couldn’t believe his ears. It may very well be a dream, a very specific and weird dream. He’s sitting on Seonghwa’s tattoo bench while the elder dragon cleans up his back after a touch-up. Seonghwa looks at him through the full-length mirror in front of them. Yeosang isn’t sure how to react. He just stares at the blue-eyed dragon. It seems he wants an answer, and fast.

“You want me to what?” he jumps slightly when Seonghwa sprays a bit more disinfectant cleanser on his back.

“We want you to help Hops through her heat.” Seonghwa reiterates plainly while wiping the fresh tattoo.

“I don’t understand, won’t-” “San isn’t going to be here because he’s going on a business trip in Milan.” the black-scaled dragon explains, “I’m booked solid all week and won’t be able to stay at the lair and help her. We know she likes you a lot, and you like her. We trust you to help her through this.”

Yeosang’s electric green eyes slit thinner at Seonghwa through the mirror. This has to be a test. There’s no way it’s not. Seonghwa pats his bare shoulder, letting him know that he’s done cleaning. Yeosang looks up at his older friend, trying to determine if this is truly a test of his loyalty or if they genuinely want him to help their girlfriend. Seonghwa’s blue eyes dilate and give the bronze dragon a gentle smile.

“We’re serious, Sang. Take care of our girl for us.”

You’re fucked. Not literally; you wish you were literally being fucked. You hadn’t expected your heat to come while Seonghwa was out at the shop. San wasn’t even in the country. You have no idea what to do, and you can’t exactly leave the lair either, or you’ll get jumped by the first alpha that catches your scent. You called Seonghwa, but his phone went to voicemail. He’s likely working on that massive backpiece he sketched last week while you made some jewelry. You know San can’t fly back the day after he left, but still, you call him.

“Hello? You okay, treasure?” San’s early morning voice rings through your phone.

Your knees nearly buckle hearing his gravelly morning voice, “Sannie.”

“What’s wrong?” he asks with more concern.

“I- I don’t know what to do…” you whisper, “You’re in Milan, a-and Hwa isn’t answering his phone, but-” you cut yourself off.

You hear him shifting in bed, “Tell me what’s wrong, treasure.”

“My heat is starting….” you admit.

You hear him chuckle on the other end of the call. It makes a shiver run up your spine.

“Go find Yeosang, treasure.”

“W-what?”

“Hwa talked to him last week. He’ll take care of you this week while we can’t.”

You nod, even though he can’t see you. “I should go find Yeosang then. I feel myself getting hotter.”

“Mmm,” he hums, “you go do that, Hops. Keep me updated.”

“I will. I love you.”

“Love you too, Hops.”

You hang up the call and allow yourself to sniff out Yeosang’s distinct minty scent. Due to how sensitive everything is right now, you don’t have much difficulty sniffing him out. Then, of course, you get a mixture of pine and gingerbread from Mingi’s room. You know Yunho’s in there with him. There’s a strong pull to go in there and ask the tall oranged-eyed dragon to help you, but you go against your wishes and respect what your boyfriends deem best for you in this situation. After all, you’re absolutely not thinking straight anymore.

Your ears droop as you stand outside Yeosang’s door. His peppermint tea scent is soothing but also makes heat swirl low in your belly. Timidly, you knock on the door and wait for a response. You pick at the edges of your nails while you wait. It’s a habit both San and Seonghwa are trying to get you to stop, but you can’t seem to shake it.

“Come in, Hops.” you hear Yeosang call through the door.

You push the door open to find him sitting at his desk, looking over color swatches for his current project. Instead of sitting in the comfy armchair beside his desk, you stand on the fluffy area rug behind him, waiting for some sort of confirmation that he knows you’re there. You jump and let out a small squeak when the door snaps shut on its own accord behind you.

“It was just Jongho using one of his vines to close the door for you.” he states simply, not looking up from his papers.

“H-how did you know it was me?” you ask, now toying with the tip of your ear.

“Hops, I can smell you. We all can.” he tells you.

He turns around to face you, looking you up and down before walking over. He tips your chin up to look at him in the eye. Like with your boyfriends the first time, you feel the intense flight or fight reaction growing in you. Your nose twitches lightly out of a purely natural response.

“Your heat is here. You smell so fucking good. Like a batch of freshly baked sugar cookies.” he smirks, his bright green eyes almost swirling with desire.

“I- um,” you stutter, “Sannie told me to find you.” you blurt out.

He nods, “I chatted with Seonghwa last week when he touched up my tattoo. They want me to take care of you. How clear is your head still?”

“Pretty.” you breathe out, leaning up to hopefully move his pace along.

He places his other hand on your waist, pushing you back down to be flat on your feet.

“How long does your heat normally last, tiny bunny?”

“Max, eight days. Minimum, four.” you say.

Your eyes keep flitting back and forth between his eyes and lips. You feel tiny bits of crystals pricking your chin and hip, wanting to form from his fingertips. He’s holding back; you don’t want him to. Your snow-white ears fall flat against your head as you try to lean up again. You watch how his eyes slit thinner as a last resort to hold onto the last bits of self-control.

“Sangie,” you nearly moan, “please take care of me.”

“Hops, you know we need to at least-”

“It hurts. I just need you in me now.” you beg.

Yeosang growls before surging forward to place his lips against yours. You let a whine slip past your lips into the kiss. Feeling his lips against yours finally makes heat rush through your body even more than your heat typically causes. Your tail flutters lightly behind you, reveling in the affection you’re receiving from the bronze dragon hybrid. The way he kisses you steals the air from your lungs. The longer he kisses you, the more you feel slick gushing from between your thighs.

When you’re about ready to beg again, you feel the back of your legs hit his mattress. You pull back and let yourself fall against his bed despite wanting to stay lost in the kiss. When you make eye contact, you feel the rush of fight or flight again. Only this time, you feel your thighs part and lay against the mattress. Yeosang’s green eyes are nearly fully engulfed in the electric color. His pupils are hardly visible at this point. His veiny arms have barely there dustings of shiny bronze scales. One of those arms comes closer to you. You feel the few scales on his forearm graze against your exposed skin. He runs two fingers along the fabric of your shorts. The shorts aren’t doing much, though. They’re stuck to your puffy, soaked folds, leaving little to the imagination.

“Look at that, Hops.” he muses, “You’ve leaked through these itty bitty shorts of yours. Are you that needy already?”

“Yeosang, please,” you practically cry, “I need you so bad.”

Yeosang doesn’t waste another moment. His body is over yours, and you can feel his hard length grinding against your sopping wet core. You release a continuous stream of whines and moans in lieu of begging him to fuck you properly. Within moments you’ve managed to soak the front of his pants in your slick. You’re so far gone already, though, that you’re shameless about it. Yet again, though, he pulls away from your body, and you let out a noise of dissatisfaction at his action. He slips your soaked shorts off your body, watching how a string of slick stretches from your pussy to the fabric for a few moments. The sleep shorts are discarded on the floor; you couldn’t be bothered to check where.

“I’ve heard,” he chuckles, kneeling down next to the bed, “that omega slick, specifically, bunny omega slick, tastes amazing. I think I better have a taste, don’t you think?”

“Yeosang,” you whimper.

He smirks and starts placing small kisses along your inner thigh, reaching about two inches from where you need him most before switching legs and kissing that one instead. You buck your hips up, hoping he finally gives you the attention you desperately crave. The more time he takes, the more your mind is fogged by your heat. You don’t know how to communicate how desperate you truly are; you aren’t even sure words exist to describe your feelings.

When you feel you’re about to burst at the seams, Yeosang licks a wide stripe over your folds. Your thighs quiver at the feeling. When your eyes meet, you see how the vibrant green seems to almost swirl in his eyes. It’s entrancing the way he looks at you as if you’re his prey but also as if you’re the only woman in the world. The sight makes your heat swirl more aggressively through your body. His tongue explores every bit of your swollen pussy it can. Slurping and kissing noises are the only thing heard besides your moans. You briefly look at him and see his sharp canine teeth shine. A jolt of fear runs through your system before it’s quickly overtaken by lust again.

“So fucking good.” he hums against your folds, “The rumors are true; omega bunny slick tastes like heaven. Tastes as good as you smell, little bunny.”

“Sangie,” you whine, earning a hum of acknowledgment from the bronze dragon, “need you- need you inside me. Please, inside me now.”

He nods and places a soft kiss against the hood of your clit one last time before standing up. You drag your (San’s) t-shirt off your body and toss it somewhere else in the room. You watch as Yeosang strips in front of you. Your ears fall flat against your hair, and your thighs squeeze together, seeing how gorgeous he is beneath his clothes. His muscles are sculpted everywhere; it’s enough to make you drool (more than you already might be). The sight of his tattoo makes your mind reel with different debauched thoughts. The way the long sword goes down his spine with a crescent moon behind it in the center. The sword’s hilt starts at the base of his neck, and the blade’s tip stops about an inch above his hips. It suits him well, and you can imagine how gorgeous it looks when his back muscles are flexed.

When he turns back to you, you think you may combust from the desperation you have for the green-eyed dragon. First, your eyes flit across his muscles—how his toned torso makes your tail flutter behind you. Then your eyes fall to the muscles of his lower stomach, how they lead your eyes to one place. Finally, you feel a gush of slick leak from your needy hole. His cock is something you’ve never experienced before. You thought at first, maybe, that the differences between your boyfriends’ cocks were simply coincidental due to how the dragon genetics worked for each of them. Now though, you know that each dragon has something unique.

Yeosang’s is on the longer side. You’ll struggle a little bit to take him just due to how tiny you are compared to him and all the Thunder, if you’re being completely honest. He has spiral grooves down the entirety of his member. You know, not only will it feel phenomenal having him inside you, but also that it’ll make for a very pretty sight when he cums inside you.

You must’ve made a noise of some sort because Yeosang chuckles at you. He reclaims his place over you. His tip barely grazes against your entrance. He leans down, just far enough away that you can’t kiss him. His dark hair is falling down in his face as he looks at you. A playful smirk finds its way onto his lips.

“Your eyes are so dilated, little bunny. I can hardly see the blue anymore. Are you really that needy?”

“Yeosang,” you nearly sob, “I need you so bad. Please just fuck me already. Need you, need you so bad. Breed me, fuck me, use me. Please!”

“Shh,” he hushes your sobs, wiping a stray tear from your eye in the process. “I got you, little bun.”

His tip prods through your folds, and he slowly pushes into you. Your hands fly to grip the back of his hair as he takes his time. Your fingers dance along a few bronze scales along his hairline. You can’t see them, but tracing them with your fingertips is enough for now. You desperately want to tell him he doesn’t need to be so careful. But, the tiny bit of logical thinking you have left knows he’ll still take his time with this part, at least.

“You’re so fucking wet, Hops. You smell so fucking good too. Fuck.” he muses through soft pants.

“Sangie,” you beg, “more. I need more.”

“We’re about halfway, bun. I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“I’m in fucking heat. Fuck me like you mean it.”

You notice how he takes a sharp breath in. Despite your rather enticing pleas, he’s trying to keep himself levelheaded and patient. He keeps his slow pace as he pushes each inch into you. Once he’s fully sheathed inside you, he searches your face again for discomfort. Not a single clue of that is found, though. Instead, he’s met with the most lust-filled, debauched look he’s ever seen.

“Sangie, fuck me. It’s too hot. ‘M too hot. Need you so bad.” you whine.

“Are you sure?”

“Fuck me right now!” you demand, “Or I’ll go find one of the others to do it.”

His eyes go narrow at your comment. The same kind of possessive look that San gives the others if they get too close when he’s in a bad mood. It’s extremely hot. You find yourself baring your neck in submission to him and your nose twitching again out of some sort of twisted lust-fueled fear.

“That’s a good little bunny.” he says condescendingly, “Now, are you ready for me to take care of this bothersome heat?”

“P-please, Yeosang, you already feel so good.” you admit.

He gives a shallow thrust just to see how you react to it. Your eyes nearly roll back in your head, and one of your ears twitches in pleasure. The way the grooves of his cock feel inside you send you beyond cloud nine. You’re tight around him, tighter than anyone else he’s fucked in the past. San and Seonghwa were right, fucking a pretty little bunny is an indescribable experience. He thrusts into you slowly at first. Yeosang studies every movement and facial expression you make. That is until your hands dance away from his hair and dig into his shoulders. Something about digging your blunt nails into his skin makes him insane.

His thrusts instantly become rough. You let out a choked moan, and your fingers dug into his skin just a bit more. Finally, he presses his body down against yours fully. The feeling of his skin against yours makes your mind go in a million different directions at once. You find yourself hooking your ankles together behind his back. You just want him as close as you can possibly get him. Your orgasm is already bubbling so close to the surface just because of how his cock is and how desperate you are.

You don’t warn him when your orgasm comes bursting through you. You spasm beneath him, your nails digging deeper into his skin. He gasps and lets out a moan. The sound alone makes you feel as though you may cum again instantly. His thrusts get stronger and faster as you ride out your high. The spiral grooves make the whole experience even more euphoric, even though you didn’t think it possible—your tail twitches and shivers behind you, and your ears and nose twitch.

“Fuck, Hops.” he groans in your ear, “I’m gonna fuck this little pussy full. You want me to breed you full, hmm?” “Please, Yeosang, please! Breed me full of your hatchlings. I need it so bad.” you beg as the slow burn of a second orgasm builds.

Yeosang growls again, and his sharp teeth prick at your neck. You can feel small bits of crystals on his fingertips again. The slight pain of the sharpness of both his teeth and crystals feel so good in an odd way. You want more. When he cums he buries himself fully inside you, stilling as he cums. You can feel the cum filling you and sliding back out via the grooves in his cock. As much as you’d love to be plugged up by him and his cum you know that the sight of your small hole leaking his cum is probably much prettier.

“So fucking good for me.” he muses, kissing your collarbone.

“Sangie,” you whimper, running your fingers through his hair.

“Hmm?”

“I think I’ll be okay for an hour or so before another wave comes.” you explain, “After a quick nap can we go to my nest?”

He nods, “If that’s what’ll make you comfortable, bun.”

Yeosang kisses your lips softly before pulling out of you and stepping away to find something to clean you both up with. He returns with a small towel and begins the process of cleaning as gently as he can. You try to pull away from him a few times, whining about how you want to keep his cum leaking out of you. He’s not letting that happen, though. He knows not only will your boyfriends kill him if he doesn’t care for you properly but also that it’s not healthy for you to have it in you for too long.

Once you’re both cleaned up, Yeosang quickly lifts you and places you under a light sheet on his bed. You requested not to have the comforter (as amazing as it smelled) because you knew you’d get far too hot too fast. Yeosang climbs under the sheet after you. You almost instantly find yourself nestling your head against his muscular chest, and he starts petting your ears. This is comfortable. This feels right.

“Sangie,” you ask, half asleep.

“Yes, bun?”

“Can you make any mineral?”

“Yeah, any mineral or mineral compounds. Why did I hurt you at all accidentally?” he starts to worry.

“No, no.” you chuckle, snuggling closer, “Can you make them any shape too?”

He doesn’t respond. Instead, he holds his hand that isn’t wrapped around you, palm up. You watch different minerals appear in the air just above his palm and slowly form into a crystal shaped like a small rabbit. It’s a pale blue color with slightly lighter blue banding around it. The rabbit is comfortably lying with its ears back. The newly formed crystal lowers onto his palm, and he moves it so it’s pinched between his fingers.

“Any shape, any minerals.”

“Why this one?” you ask quietly.

“Blue lace agate,” he starts, “stone of communication. People become more confident and articulate regarding their emotions due to this stone. You’re kind of like that for the Thunder. That’s why. We never really talked out our fights or disagreements before you came along. So having you here really makes a difference, Hops.”

You lift your head up slightly and look at him. His electric eyes are filled with sincerity. His typically thinly slit pupils are dilated, showing his affection toward you. Your ears are standing upright now. Yeosang chuckles lightly, and you give him a confused look. He reaches up and scratches the base of your pure white ears.

“Your ears keep turning to listen to everything.” he explains.

“O-oh,” you find yourself becoming shy, “I didn’t even realize I was doing that.”

“I know,” he smiles softly, “that’s why I laughed. It was cute.”

You’re about to respond, but a light knock sounds on the door. One of your ears shoots toward the sound, and then you properly turn your head toward it. Yeosang sighs but calls to let the person know they can come in. You can smell them through the door, though. It’s Jongho. You can’t mistake his book smell for anyone else. He doesn’t look up at first when he pushes the door open. Instead, his eyes are fixated on the tall tumbler filled with some sort of tea.

“Jesus fucking Christ, it smells like Christmas threw up in h-”

He quickly shuts up when he looks over at the bed where you and Yeosang are still lying. The sheet doesn’t cover your upper body, but you’re not exposed. He can only see your back since your chest is half against the mattress and half against Yeosang’s chest. Jongho quickly turns around, nearly knocking over a houseplant with his dark blue tail. You feel a chuckle start to rise in your throat, but then the heat of a blush runs through your body when you feel Yeosang pull the sheet up over your shoulders. Jongho stays facing Yeosang’s bookshelf when he starts talking again.

“I made some tea for her to drink. It’s that one with the, um, the pregnancy prevention whatever flower.”

Yeosang chuckles, “Yeah, ‘the pregnancy prevention whatever flower’, you’re the damn flora dragon. So you should know the name of it, right?”

“That’s not important right now. I’m putting it on the shelf over here. Get it when you want.”

You sigh, “Just bring it over here. There’s a little table next to me.”

Jongho visibly tenses up, and you see how small vines twine around his fingers. You aren’t trying to make him feel uncomfortable. That’s the last thing you want to do. You just want to offer him a more straightforward solution. Slowly, Jongho turns around, putting a hand in front of his eyes so he only sees just the ground in front of him. He ends up stubbing his toe on the small table anyway. Jongho lets out a slightly pained noise and sets the cup down. You reach over and grab his wrist before he can pull his hand away. The sheet falls off your one shoulder, but your back remains mostly covered.

“Jongho,” you speak softly.

Finally, he takes the hand covering his eyes away and makes eye contact with you. His golden eyes are swirling with some sort of emotion you can’t find words to describe. You don’t say anything at first but offer him a gentle smile. He keeps the same slightly panicked but attentive face.

“Thank you,” you say, “I really appreciate the tea. Is your foot okay?”

“Y-yeah! Great!” he answers a little too quickly, “I’ll just go before another wave hits you.” he chuckles awkwardly before releasing his wrist from your hold.

Jongho is out the door within seconds, and vines stretch back to shut the door behind him. Your heart sinks a little bit, thinking you made him uncomfortable. Yeosang must’ve noticed because his arm wraps tighter around you. When you look up at him, you see a smile resting on his lips while he looks at you. You reach up and run your fingers through his hair along his hairline. He leans into the touch each time your fingertips run across his shiny scales.

“You’re trying to distract me.” he muses, though his eyes stay closed.

“Why do you say that?” you muse back.

“You’re brushing through my hair, but I can smell that your sweet sugar cookie scent is slightly burnt now. What’s wrong?”

You sigh, “I made him uncomfortable.”

“Jongho?” he asks. You nod in response, “You didn’t, little bunny. He doesn’t want to cross a line that he can’t.”

You choose not to think about what he means by that, “Can we go to my nest now?”

“Of course, little bunny. Can you bear to have clothes on for a little bit while we go down the hall to your room?”

You nod at him. He gets up with a slight groan and walks to his closet. He grabs a hoodie and stops at his dresser to grab a pair of sweatpants. Once he’s standing in front of you again, he holds the hoodie up and gently slips it over your head. You think you may not make it to your nest being so wrapped up in his scent. But, when you slide your arms into the sleeves and pop your head out, you see Yeosang looking at you with that same endearing look from earlier.

“You look good in my clothes.” he tells you, “We should keep you this way.”

“Don’t start being protective like Sannie.” you pout.

“Little bunny, you walked into being coveted the moment you joined the Thunder.” he muses.

He offers you a hand to help you stand up. When you stand, the hoodie falls down to be the length of a short dress on you. Yeosang’s sweatpants hang low on his hips, and you desperately want to tug them down and learn what it feels like to have his cock down your throat. You somehow maintain your composure, though, and watch as he grabs your tea from the nightstand. You start your short walk down the hallway, and soon as you’re about halfway down the hall. You feel a second wave of heat takes over your body. You feel the slick coating your thighs, and when Yeosang whips his head around to face you, his eyes are wide. You’re stood in the middle of a communal space in a lust-drunk state. This could get bad, fast. Luckily your room is just another five steps away. He drags you in, shuts the door tightly behind him, and places the tumbler on the small desk next to the door.

He doesn’t expect you to pin him against the door when he closes it. He had expected you to grovel in front of him, begging for his cock again as you had just a little bit ago. Now you’re confident and demanding for him to submit to you. Nothing could’ve prepared him for you in this frame of mind. You’re typically rather meek and prefer to be guided than guide someone else. Seeing you like this, it does something to him. He bears his neck to you as you bury your face against his chest. You’re still so small compared to him; he could easily overpower you if he wanted to. Yet, he doesn’t want to. He wants to submit to you.

“Hops,” he tries to sound firm, though it comes out rather meek.

“Sangie,” you mirror with a sultry tone.

“What are you playing at?”

“Strip and go lay down.” you practically demand, “I’m riding that cock until you cry.”

The rush of something strange goes through him. Yeosang’s never been talked to like that by anyone, especially a prey hybrid. He wants more. Letting you control everything sounds like something he’ll thrive in. Will he ever tell the rest of the Thunder what he’s letting you do? Never. But the rush of submitting to a little bunny has him practically melting in your touch.

When you release him from his place pinned against the door, he releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He slips his sweatpants off his body and walks toward your nest. You stalk up behind him and wrap your small body around him from behind. Your hand snakes down to wrap around his cock. Yeosang lets out a whine like he’s never done before. He feels pliant, ready to bend to whatever you choose at that moment. He tries to buck up into your touch, but you immediately release your hold on him.

“We’re playing my way now, okay, little dragon?” you question condescendingly.

“Y-yes,” he pants.

“Hmm? What was that?” you ask again.

“Yes, m-mommy.” he quips.

You chuckle victoriously and let him climb into your nest. He shifts a little bit back and forth to get comfortable in the space. The scents of Seonghwa and San are prevalent in the room, but they aren’t unwelcome at all. Still, your sugar cookie scent is so overwhelming and powerful that it makes Yeosang’s cock leak a bit of precum in anticipation of being wrapped up in your soaked, swollen pussy again. You crawl over his form and sit right on top of his cock. The spiral grooves of it feel like heaven when you start grinding against him.

“Please,” he whines, his eyebrows furrowing with desire.

“Who are you talking to like that?” you bite.

You lean down to nibble at his throat. Small bits of caramel and dark brown colored stone start rising from his fingertips. The deep color is laced with the fiery red of another stone that desperately wants to form. Pulling back, you notice how his dark pupils nearly overtake his bright green eyes. You’ve never seen his eyes blown so wide, but it makes you even more cocky.

“Go on. Ask nicely, and maybe I’ll let this useless cock inside me after all.”

“Please, Mommy. Please use me.”

That rush of power runs through you again, and a gush of slick escapes your needy hole. Raising yourself up on your knees, you hold the dragon hybrid’s member just below your entrance. Tears prick lightly at the corners of Yeosang’s green eyes as you lower yourself onto him. A pornographic sigh escapes your lips as you feel him fully sheathed inside you. You don’t give him a moment to process how good you feel around him. He desperately wants to hold you. Touch you anywhere you let him as you ride him. Your pace is anything but gentle; your pussy makes squelching noises each time you bounce down on him. An orgasm already threatens to snap inside you despite just starting this round. Something about the grooves running down his shaft makes you feel a way that you’ve never felt before. You’ll have to try out all the Thunder members at this rate to see how good each one of them feels. Another time though.

“Mommy, you’re squeezing me too tight. Wanna- gonna-”

You still your movements, “No. You don’t cum until I say so.”

“But-” he looks like he may cry, “Don’t you wanna be bred, Mommy?”

“Of course, sweet boy, you’ll wait until mommy cums, though. Then you can breed me all you want.”

You start riding him again and let your orgasm tighten in your lower belly. Then, before you can process anything, you feel that tightly wound chord snap. Your walls spasm around him. He lets out small whimpers and whines at the feeling, holding off his own orgasm as best he can. Your soft white ears fall back as you let the orgasm take control of your body, and your tail twitches and shivers with each bounce you do.

“Breed me, little dragon. Breed, Mommy.” you sigh as you come down from your high.

“T-thank you, Mommy.”

Yeosang cums hot and fast inside you. His already pitchy whines become even more pitchy and whiny somehow. You don’t give him a break, even as he releases inside you. Your harsh, fast pace continues making for an even needier dragon beneath you. He practically wails when he comes down from his high and realizes how harshly you’re still riding him. Yeosang’s eyes well up with tears, and you watch as those tears roll down his cheeks a moment later. His hands grip your waist tightly, and the red and brown crystals prick at your skin.

“‘S too much. Mommy, too much!” he begs for a break.

“I told you I’m riding this cock until I’m satisfied, and” you pause and lean down to his ear, “I’m not satisfied yet.”

The hairs on the back of his neck stand up, hearing you whisper in his ear. He’s not sure if he wants to cry more or try to take control of the situation. His head is so fogged with you, your scent, your pussy. He doesn’t know how to handle it anymore. His arms go limp at his sides again, letting you do whatever you want to him. Time feels like an illusion to both of you at this point. You’re unsure how many rounds you go or how filthy the nest is from the mixture of cum and slick.

The power shifts back and forth between you throughout the next few hours. You can smell the others roaming about the apartment, trying very hard not to focus on the sugar cookies and peppermint tea scents coming from your nest. This wave of heat seems to be much longer and more intense than any other you’ve experienced all the time you’ve had your heat. Maybe it’s just because you have a proper partner this time; perhaps it’s because of something else. Right now, though, you don’t have the energy or level-headedness to figure it out.

Yeosang is resting beside you. He deserves it after the amount you put him through, regardless of who controlled the situation. He’s lying on his stomach with his head turned toward you. He looks exceptionally peaceful despite the intensity of the situation. You let your fingers card through his hair a few times, admiring the bronze scales along his hairline. Slowly, your hand dances lower to trace his tattoo lightly. Goosebumps appear on his skin as your fingertips trace the art. Having Yeosang in your nest is already amazing, but having him be so comfortable in this space with you is an even better feeling.

You almost get lost in your thoughts but hear knocking on the door. One of your ears again turns toward the sound. You call the person in since you’re between waves. The door creaks open carefully, and then you’re hit with a hefty waft of your elder boyfriend’s scent. You’ve been so engulfed in Yeosang’s scent you didn’t even register Seonghwa’s scent. He steps into the room fully before shutting it tightly behind him. Grabbing the tea on the way, he sits on the bed beside you.

“How are you feeling, my love?” he asks, passing you the tea.

You take a sip, “Good! Yeosang’s been really helping a lot.”

Seonghwa’s eyes dart over to the bronze dragon, “How is he fairing?” he asks, moving a lock of Yeosang’s hair out of his face.

“I really wore him out,” you admit with a blush. Seonghwa chuckles and yawns, “What time is it?”

“Nearly midnight. You should get some rest while you can.”

You nod, “Good night, Hwa. I love you.”

He smiles, “I love you too. I’ll see you once your heat is officially done.” he kisses your cheek before heading toward the door, “Don’t forget to finish that tea. We can’t have hatchlings running around just yet.”

Your heat lasts a few more days. Yeosang manages to keep up somehow. San calls a few times between waves and chats with you both. Once, he called in the midst of a wave and spoke to you during it. You couldn’t recall what you talked about, well, more like what he was telling you. Jongho popped in a few more times to give you more tea. Each time was just as awkward as the first. Still, you find yourself thinking about the navy dragon and wondering what Yeosang meant by the younger not wishing to cross a line.

The two of you stayed locked up in your nest. Yeosang, at one point, tried to leave, and you had a breakdown about it. The dragon quickly learned, do not leave you alone during your heat or bad things happen. You sobbed uncontrollably in his lap for five minutes until you felt grounded again. You do not know how long it has been, nor do you care. All you know is San is home when you’re finally stable enough to reemerge from your room. Your nose twitches as his familiar sea breeze scent fills it. You bounce down the hallway to see him placing his luggage down. He chuckles, seeing you, and you throw yourself into his arms. His strong arms wrap around your waist tightly. Seonghwa isn’t home. He’s likely at the studio already nose-deep in work. San gives a knowing look to Yeosang before the bronze dragon speaks.

“I tried to tell her to stay in the nest and let you come to her.” Yeosang explains, “She wouldn’t listen, though.”

“Did Sangie take care of you, treasure?”

You nod into his shoulder, “Very well.”

“You smell so much like him right now.” he playfully growls, “You’re not in heat anymore?” “No,” you chuckle, “I had my heat crash this morning.”

“It was not a pretty sight,” Yeosang interjects, “I’ve never seen her breakdown like that before.”

You pull yourself out of your boyfriend’s hold to walk back over to Yeosang. Then, wrapping your arms around his shoulders (causing you to be on your tip toes), you gently kiss him on the nose.

“You took such good care of me! No one’s ever taken care of me in heat like that,” you admit.

Yeosang communicates with San silently before wrapping his arms around your middle, “I’m happy I could help, little bunny.”

Later that night, once Seonghwa returns home from the studio, he finds San sitting in the bronze dragon’s bedroom. Seonghwa narrows his eyes. His pupils are slit thin. Something is up. He knows it. He steps into the room and finds that you and Yeosang are there too. You’re happily curled up in Yeosang’s lap while chatting with your boyfriend. San’s body language conveys his relaxedness despite you sitting on Yeosang.

“Seonghwa!” you beam, running up to hug him.

“Hi, bun. You feeling better now?”

“Much,” you giggle, your blue eyes sparkling up at him, “We actually wanted to ask you something.”

Seonghwa’s eyes dart his eyes between the three of you, searching for some sort of non-verbal answer. You smile sweetly, hoping to soothe him slightly. Unfortunately, his typically sweet strawberry jam scent seems a bit sour due to the lack of conversation right now. You climb out of Yeosang’s lap and walk over to Seonghwa. Taking his hands in yours, you look up into his bright blue eyes. How your eyes sparkle looking at him gives him hope of a good question and his strawberry jam scent returns to its standard sweetness.

“Sannie and I talked after he got home and agreed that we really like Yeosang in this dynamic. He took great care of me and didn’t take advantage of me even though he could’ve at any point. And-” you pause, “I know you chose him to care for me for a reason.”

Seonghwa’s brows furrow briefly, then melt into a sweet smile, “So what do you, Sannie, and Sangie want to ask me?”

“How do you feel about Yeosang joining our relationship?” San questions.

Seonghwa looks at the green-eyed dragon who has yet to chime in. His eyes ask a silent question. He already knows the answer, though. A small piece of Carnelian had formed in the bronze dragon’s palm, giving away his thoughts.

“What do you want, Yeosang?” Seonghwa asks gently.

“I want-” Yeosang shifts in his chair slightly, “I would really like it if you would let me join this relationship.”

Your eyes plead for Seonghwa to answer with a yes. Of course, you already know he will, but it never hurt to give him your sparkly begging eyes too. Seonghwa smirks at San, then lets his hand lightly stroke your cheek.

“And to think, San was getting all jealous just before I talked to Yeosang about helping you. Anything to say for yourself, Sannie?”

San shrugs, “Change of heart, I guess.”

“So?” Yeosang asks, almost meekly.

“Welcome to our relationship Yeosang. You better get some of your clothes in Hops’ nest before she steals some.”

You giggle, “I don’t think his scent is coming out of that thing any time soon.”

“San and I better get our scents back in that thing, huh?” he asks with a suggestive lilt.

“H-hwa?”

“I think it might be time to play with our bunny again. What do you think, San?”

“I think so too.” he chuckles, “You coming, Yeosang?” “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Networks: @cultofdionysusnet @kwritersworld @k-vanity

Tag List: @sanjoongie @jaehunnyy @ericssmile @anyamaris

#yeosang smut #cultofdionysusnet #kwritersworldnet #kvanity #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #ateez smut #yeosang fanfic #yeosang x reader

879 notes · View notes

fernsnailz · 1 year

Note

What is your opinion on Hope Kintobor.

i really miss hope :( i had more to say about her than i expected so i’ll put the rest under the cut lol

i think she provides an interesting perspective into the robotnik/kintobor family, and she has some pretty good characterization from the beginning despite being a human side character. she’s consistently shown to be one of the smartest and most capable members of her family - she’s the first to doubt robotnik before the overlanders get roboticized, is the one who theorizes that the xorda followed her ship to mobius, and is able to create a portal into the special zone once she starts working with team dark. she has the robotnik intellect, but also has like. basic human decency which is a HUGE win for that family

the sheer tragedy of her story is also something that gets me - after her grandmother and stepdad get roboticized, any chance hope has at a family that loves her is gone. despite this, she still has hope in her snively, who repeatedly disappoints her - her faith in her family only brings her pain, and it just. hurts to see

and, as is the nature of pre-reboot archie sonic characters, this is the last moment that hope gets in the story. she will never get the chance to be happier. what the fuck

however, i think the biggest issues i have with hope is her initial relationship with shadow and the general feeling that she’s written as a sort of maria 2. this is also a complaint regarding how shadow was written at this point in the comics, because oh man they had NO idea what to do with him.

issue 145 is a hot mess and the height of these problems for me, which is the chapter where shadow and hope get dragged into echidna family drama by locke. hope tells shadow he’s wrong to attack locke... even though locke literally kidnapped both of them?? i guess it’s supposed to be a moment of moral realignment for shadow (similar to maria’s final words), but it just makes it look like hope’s morals are completely backwards.

even though shadow realizes she’s not maria after this, he’s still strangely obsessed with protecting her until they both return in sonic universe, and it's. bad to read? like the only reason he cares about her is because she looks like maria, and nothing in this part of the story ever disproves this idea. idk their dynamic early on feels so hollow and leaves a bad taste in my mouth!! i don't like it it's weird!!!

thankfully their dynamic get better once the sonic universe series begins, and hope’s dynamic with team dark is pretty fun. story-wise, it’s wild that GUN was willing to hire a 14 year old genius to be the tech guy for government missions, but hope’s somewhat absurd existence makes her feel strangely in line with team dark. like this is a team of rag tag losers with nowhere else to go, of COURSE they would take hope in.

i think this is the reason why i miss hope so much: her entire character revolves around a missing family she’ll never regain, but if pre-super genesis archie continued, they could have made team dark into that family. and from what we have, it seems like that’s what they were trying to set up - her and shadow get some decent moments together eventually, and omega is the only one there to comfort her after she finally denounces her brother snively. i can only imagine what a story with her and rouge would look like and i WANT IT

i miss hope, but i think elements of her character exist in belle from the idw series. it’s not an exact match, but both of them have difficulty coming to terms with the morality of their family and bring some extra depth to the robotniks/eggman. i really appreciate a lot of sonic stories for this reason, they bring a lot of depth to the freedom fighter/eggman conflict through the existence of characters like hope. idk i really wish her story could have continued she could have done SO MUCH MORE :(

#i need to include hope in more of the team dark content i made #this is another archie character whose story was cut short by the reboot and it makes me SO SAD #sonic loreposting #archie sonic

136 notes · View notes

this-acuteneurosis · 1 year

Note

The most recent chapter Duty Bound made me wish we knew more about the miriad of WTF experiences Bail and Breha must have while raising a demigoddess (we saw a little during the baby Leia show, but I the Organa family is so much fun). I wonder if Leia comunicated telepathicly (or empathicly) before she learned to talk (or after, depending on young she was when she learned to talk).

Love how people are going around calling Kenobi the "baby Leia show." (No, I still haven't seen it, and no it hasn't had any impact on any fic I've written.)

While Like Fire in Our Bones was the first fic I posted in the GFFA, For Want of Skywalker was the first fic I completed in this fandom, and dealing with toddler Luke and Leia made me think a lot about their respective childhoods. About the nature of the Force and how each of them would have connected with it and used it unconsciously.

It was around then that I started to really consider the differences between Luke and Leia's lives, how the dangers for Luke were serious, but most were more environmental. How he was pretty isolated and was raised by people that loved him unconditionally. How he would have known that, and known empathically that Owen and Beru teaching him how to be prepared, to survive a harsh physical environment, was the greatest act of love they knew how to give.

I thought about Leia, being empathic as well, and having parents that loved her unconditionally, but being around so many people. People who felt all sorts of different things about her. (I will head canon until my dying day that her adoption Pissed Off a lot of people in the line of succession.) People who felt all sorts of different things about each other. How she had parents whose full time jobs were to lie as pleasantly and cheerfully as possible because it was a matter of literal life or death for them to be able to mask what they were really thinking and feeling.

There are some stories of things from Leia's childhood that freaked the Organas out (as much because of how they distressed Leia as because they were close to being too obvious), but honestly, in my head one of the things Leia picked up suuuuuper young was masking. And like, she was really, really supernaturally good at it. Because she intrinsically understood that being able to do it would be a matter of life and death.

And Bail and Breha didn't know that. Leia never verbalized it, didn't know she might need to. Her secrecy and deflection are (almost literally) bone deep. How she was doing something didn't matter, as long as to an outsider she wasn't standing out in a way that was getting a negative response. And obviously baby Leia knew that her parents were amazing and perfect and heroic, and they did teach her some skills, so obviously she was just doing what they had taught her the exact same way they had been doing it.

Obviously.

All of this to say, Leia was 100% pulling stunts in the Force through all of her growing years, but aside from some empathy that tracked too close to mind reading, some difficulty in high sensory environments, and some nightmares that made no sense to Bail and Breha but were horrifying to watch from the outside, they figured they got really lucky. Or that just not being with the Jedi was enough to prevent Leia from manifesting too many skills.

(They were very, very wrong, but they were also very, very busy and doing their best.)

#Don't Look Back #Leia Organa #Leia Skywalker #Bail Organa #Breha Organa #the Force #Luke Skywalker #a super long answer to basically talk all the way around this ask #oops #hope you found it interesting

67 notes · View notes

mental-illness-bingo · 1 year

Text

Content Warning: Venting about ableism against ADHD and Autism in a book; mentions of emotional abuse, repeated mentions of elitism within the autism community, "corrective" surgery for mental health disorders, demonizing of medication, encouraging young adults to refuse their medication etc. Note that I haven't finished the book yet, but I intend to, so I suppose it could get better, but what it's done already is abhorrent, and I'm grossed out.

Book in question: The Love Letters of Abelard and Lily by Laura Creedle

This. Book. Is. Killing. Me.

I saw this recommended as a "really good book about autism and ADHD" from someone but I *really* hate it so far (I'm on Chapter 27, about 2/3 way through the book) and it's honestly just blatantly ableist in so many ways. I do not know if Laura Creedle is autistic or has ADHD, but if so? Internalized ableism everywhere. If not then yet another neurotypical asshat who wrote an ableist ass book.

Context: Lily is diagnosed with ADHD and Abelard is diagnosed with "Asperger's".

And let's start there. This book was written in 2017, years after the switch from that N*zi doctor's name to Autism Spectrum Disorder. This is problem #1, and the reason is not that they use that word for it. I can and have enjoyed books while suspending my disbelief around the fact that they maybe didn't know because a significant number of people still don't in 2023.

However, Abelard is the poster child for elitism. He is this super smart kid who just so happens to have trouble with verbal conversation, being late, and sometimes being touched. He is worse than the savant trope because he is literally talked about like a genius. He is inhumanly good at chess, robotics, old literature, video games, just everything he touches, really. In fact, despite him supposedly having serious communication difficulties, when he is texting, he is suddenly able to communicate just like anyone else, with occasional long pauses between texts being the only issue he shows.

And his sole meltdown that has been shown is honestly so toxic and borders abusive to Lily. She is late to their date due to her ADHD, something any of us with it can relate to, and Abelard knows about her ADHD in advance as well as having had seen her symptoms multiple times in person. There is 0 way he didn't know about her having ADHD. Anyway, she's a little late (I think 20 minutes or something but I can't remember tbh with you) and he is visibly angry with her, and she immediately apologizes, explaining that her ADHD causes her issues being on time. Rather than be understanding of his girlfriend's disorder the way she has tried to be with his, he pretty much ignores her. His mother babies him about it, working on setting up everything for him and getting them into the movie wherein he seems to relax (but only after forcing his mother to go get popcorn right this instant because they're watching a movie and he needs popcorn). Then, after a bit, his father is trying to explain the movie to Lily and its history and Abe does NOT like people talking during movies. He yells at his dad, who continues to try and talk, and then has the meltdown in question. Lily tries to touch him to help comfort him and realizes immediately she shouldn't have when he makes a noise as though he is in pain. He begins slamming his head off the table, which is reasonably off putting to Lily, and she asks his father for help. His father mentions his mom would usually be here and that Lily "shouldn't have been late", basically accusing her of causing the meltdown even though he kept pushing when his son told him they were watching a movie. Lily panics and exits to the kitchen because she feels helpless and upset that she can't do anything for him.

All of this is relatively understandable behavior, I guess. I don't really love that he yelled at his father and mother both in this scene for normal things because it paints autistic people as unreasonable and irrational, but it is true that sometimes meltdowns are caused by people continually doing normal things that happen to really get under our skin. His parents should know his triggers and avoid pushing them because they are his parents. Lily, on the other hand, is a child and one with her own neurodivergent struggle, and should never in any way have been strapped with the blame both because it is not her job to tiptoe around a boy she has been dating for a few days with triggers no one warned her about, and because the issue at hand is a symptom of her own disorder and is equally as in her control as Abelard's reaction to her being late is in his.

BUT THEN while panicking in the kitchen, Lily breaks something on accident as she often does and tries to leave and Abe's mom makes a whole thing out of it. She becomes physically intimidating to Lily, smashing a glass on purpose to "help" the situation, which obviously makes Lily uncomfortable, and half-threatens her to go back into her son's room even though she wants to go. Throughout the entire next scene Lily mentions in her narration wanting to go home and while I think it's important that Lily learns coping skills outside of running away, it is equally within her right to be too stressed by Abe's reaction to her being late and choose to break up with him. Lily is not required to stay with Abe just because she's the only girl he has brought home, and intimidating her into staying is disgusting.

To Abe's credit, he mentions that his mother used his sob story to make Lily stay. Then he loses 100% of that credit in the most entitled scene I've read in a long time where Lily is pressured to not only stay in that house and in that relationship, but also promise to NEVER be late again even though it is a symptom of her own disorder. She mentions that this seems to be the only way to make him happy and that "promising to try harder is not enough". So, more or less, she is in a relationship where she cannot ever show symptoms of her disorder without him giving her the silent treatment, yelling at everyone around him, and smashing his head into a table.

No one ever mentions at any time during this or after that Abelard also should be learning positive coping skills or teaching her how to help with his meltdowns or anything like that. She should just be expected to never show a symptom of her own disorder so that he doesn't react in a very toxic/honestly kind of abusive way. Cannot stress enough that he does not treat her kindly again until she promises she will literally never be late ever again. Not try - NEVER late again.

Abe strongarms multiple people like this throughout the book. His mother with the popcorn, his father with talking during a movie, his robotics teacher where he literally stands there and repeats "I invited my girlfriend to robotics" over and over again until, despite safety concerns, the teacher gives up and allows Lily to stay if she signs a waiver (which she doesn't read and is not the legal age to sign anyway), and Lily when he wants to tell her something but tells her she is not allowed to speak until he has finished then gets visibly angry (as noted by Lily) when she answers a question he asked her out loud. His meltdowns are used as a threat of sorts to the people around him and a manner of controlling them. It is worth noting I have only in my entire life met one autistic person who did this and surprise surprise, they were abusive and had a history of using meltdown threats to R word multiple people. That is not autistic behavior. It is abuse being hidden behind the excuse of autism, and it's gross in every context, including this book.

So, onto Lily's ADHD. Lily is constantly breaking things, constantly late, runs out of any even slightly uncomfortable situation, does not care about the emotions of her mother or her sister, and is overall a really gross ADHD stereotype. But that's okay! Why? Because she will be fixed via corrective surgery. Yes, you read that right. But let's go into why medication didn't work for her first.

Lily lists throughout the book her hatred of her current and all past medications, of which there is a number she lost count of. Because the author treats this ADHD character like a goldfish who was just given access to a human body for the first time and therefore cannot remember anything (or walk two steps without smashing something valuable), that number could still be relatively small. The book doesn't treat it as a small number though, so we're going to assume she's tried most ADHD medications, and is currently taking an antidepressant as a manner of treating ADHD which is so far in the past as far as treatment goes that I don't even know which medication they're talking about.

The typical antidepressants (SSRI's) are not used to treat ADHD at all to my knowledge, and SSNRI's are only really used if every other form of ADHD medication has failed you and even then are rarely used as far as anyone I know with ADHD. Why? Because there are actual medications that help ADHD, and a good amount of them. Realistically, the concept that 0 of them worked for Lily is statistically improbable. The only antidepressant really used to treat ADHD actively is Bupropion, but the emotional blunting the surgeon Lily sees says is a side effect of her medication is not a side effect associated with Bupropion. In fact, Wellbutrin/Bupropion is often used for people either in combination with or as a replacement for other antidepressants to counteract the emotional blunting they cause.

The demonizing of medication in this book is dangerous. Lily hates every medication because all of them have stripped her of her ability to feel anything positive. The book does not mention any other ADHD character that tolerates medication well, or even speak about it as though it is just not working for her. It does not explain that if Lily went to the doctor and told them her side effects, that they would *immediately* taper and remove a medication that is causing emotional blunting and sui thoughts. The book doesn't mention that this is an abnormal side effect - in fact it's says it's a common side effect of antidepressants. It also treats medication as some sort of weird muzzle that is put on people with ADHD so their loved ones (in this case Lily's mom, sister, and teachers) can tolerate them. The book does not mention any positive effects of any medication for ADHD at all. I hate to think how many kids were made afraid of or resentful of their meds by this book.

The book details specific ways to avoid taking your medication, and even how to hide it so you can (tw sui mention) take them all with vodka to hurt yourself. This is not something Lily attempts in the book, but was just thinking about, and therefore did NOT need to be described in detail. The book even acts like sui watch is stupid and unnecessary, and does not detail the dangers if Lily were to take all of these medications at once with alcohol. So basically they wrote in a non-precautionary sui method for kids with ADHD that also involves months or years of medication non-compliance. Great. /sarcasm

But like I said, that's not the worst of it. What upset me enough to write this whole rant is the next part. Lily's mother finally giving up on the neurologists (which... weird because everyone I know with ADHD was treated by a psychiatrist not ever a neurologist), and going to a literal brain surgeon for some sort of electrodes to be placed in her brain that is supposed to permanently change how her synapses fire.

This is the ableist buffet, and for a while Lily feels the same and by a while I mean 2-4 pages. Then she decides that she will see the doctor if her Mom does something for her, and forgets all about the upset of having her mother feel the need to cure her.

In fact, when Lily meets the doctor, it takes him almost no time to convince her that she not only needs but also wants the corrective surgery, spouting about how she could go to college right now if she does it, when college would not have even been an option before.

It is gross on every single level and I looked up this surgery and ITS FAKE ITS NOT EVEN REAL. This author literally made up a fake corrective surgery for ADHD, I wanna puke.

I literally do not even want to read this for the story anymore I just have to know how much worse it can possibly get. If it's bad maybe I'll reblog and add on to this.

Edit: HOW could I possibly forget Lily's Dad? A total deadbeat who cheated on her mother and ran off to Portland, who was only able to interact with his daughter while actively drinking when he still lived with them, who is constantly switching what he wants to do in his life to the point that he can't hold a job, and who refuses to talk to let alone see either of his daughters in the years since he's been gone because he "can't keep a phone". And why is he like this? As the books tells you very explicitly about 2/3 of the way in, he is like this because he also has ADHD. Lovely. He had this apparently entirely inspired, amazing, never-been-done idea for his dissertation in college. But then he more or less got bored and overwhelmed with the idea so he just dropped it, left college and his family, and ran away to Portland. All because he has ADHD, because the author thinks that's what this disorder is - an inability to have any responsibility or finish anything ever no matter what it is or how important. The author treats ADHD like it's a lobotomy and I hate it here.

Maybe don't read The Love Letters of Abelard and Lily.

Edit: see reblog. It got so much worse, not better.

43 notes · View notes

iuteamstarcandy · 8 months

Text

→

[TRANS] IU ‘Pieces’ Album Introduction and Song Introductions

IU [Pieces]

The pieces in between my 20s that I didn’t bother to take out

1. Drama

It’s a song that I wrote when I was 20. I composed it because I wanted to cheer up a friend who was going through a breakup and was being very pessimistic about love for a few days. Although I didn’t release it yet, I have so much affection for this song that I sang it for my concert en-encore [T/L note: another encore after the encore] every year without fail. I occasionally tried to write songs with similar emotions, but it seemed like I was just trying to imitate (a version of myself from) a chapter that had already passed in my life, so I stopped doing that.

When I sang it during concerts, because I was in the moment, I could sing it easily and cheerfully, but while recording it, I realised that this was indeed totally different. Out of all the songs I recorded this time, I had the most difficulty with this song, trying to find the character [get into character]. In order to bring out the atmosphere during concerts as much as possible, there wasn’t any special arrangement done for this song.

I’m sincerely grateful towards my fans who didn’t forget the existence of the song ‘Drama’ and strongly requested for it to be released officially. ‘Drama’ is in between ‘Hold My Hand’ which made my blood boil (with ambition) because it was my first (self-composed song) and ‘Friday’ which I was already feeling pretty relaxed about, before I knew it. This song which I was not ambitious about nominating (for this album), because it’s a precious song that I hold close to my heart, perhaps is the reason and theme for this collection of (music) pieces.

2. Next Stop

I started writing this song when I was 25, so by the time I was done, I was 26. There are some songs whereby the lyrics and melody come to my mind together, like a piece of music born with the two as one. It had been awhile since I had a song like that and this was one of them.

It can’t be helped that (I am) biased towards such songs.

There wasn’t any format or particular chord work that I worked hard on, but the moment I wrote the first verse as easily as breathing, I was so in love with this song.

But even then, I forgot about it. Heh.

It was a year later when I encountered my character ‘Jian’ in ‘My Mister’ that I naturally took on that character and was able to finish the second verse. While there was no plan cast in stone, it was a song that I definitely wanted to release one day. Beyond being a storyteller, but as a top liner [T/L note: person who composes the main melody of a song], I think this song contains my most central emotions as a creator.

This is the only song that we mixed in the vocals from the guide version. It contains both my voice from 3 years ago, as well as my current voice. I sang it calmly back then, by now I sing it in a way that appeals (to emotions). Ironically, it might be because it’s all in the past now.

Between Jieun and Jian is a ‘station’.

The two are connected by the distance of a station.

[T/L note: literal translation of the Korean song title is ‘The Station’.]

3. Winter Sleep

It started out as a sketch when I was 27 and had more thoughts than usual about a life leaving this world and about being left on such a world and I finally completed the song when I was 29, after experiencing several more huge separations.

It contains the story of welcoming the first year alone after sending off a beloved family member, friend or pet. It was a track that the lyrics were not difficult to write due to the clear plot in the order of spring, summer, autumn and winter, but in comparison to that, (the whole song) took a much longer time to be completed. That’s because I wanted to use direct expressions, yet I didn’t want the emotions to turn out to be too superficial.

This song took the longest time to record.

I’m usually the type to try my best to be as concise as possible in my expression during recordings, but for this song, I didn’t feel the need to hold back my emotions. Instead, to maximise the feelings of longing, I tried to go for a rather bold(?) arrangement in the precursor to the interlude in the middle of the song and not in the second half of the song [T/L note: question mark used in the original text]. That’s also the reason why the song is based on piano, unlike the other tracks.

Even though a great loss came into my world, there were flowers blooming, stars coming up and poems being born out there without delay. In between these repetitive seasons is ‘winter sleep’.

As I sing this song, this time I really won’t break down anymore. They’ll know this isn’t a lie.

4. You

This is a song I wrote at the age of 24, when I was filming a drama in the mountains, so I couldn’t go home for days and I missed my friend who lived upstairs so much. [T/L note: IU was filming the drama ‘Moon Lovers’ and missed Yoo Inna who lives in the apartment above hers.]

I remember immersing myself in my character of the historical drama I was filming for ten minutes and imagined myself to be writing a postcard to someone far away, not knowing whether it would reach the person and with that, I affectionately wrote the lyrics line by line.

I thought hard about whether to include this track or not.

Many years ago, I had already told my fans that I did not intend to release this song, so in my mind that was the end of it. Then one day as I was surfing on YouTube, I happened to listen to this song again after a long time and saw in the comments that there were more fans than I had thought waiting for this song to be released. On top of that, perhaps because I had written the song sincerely, the lyrics in the song still touched my heart.

Feeling uncertain about whether I would include it in this album, I sang this song in the recording studio again after about five years and amazingly, starting from the first verse, it just came out right.

This is the only song that I let my fans listen to in the one and only year that I did not have any music-related activities in the 14 years of my singing career. [T/L note: It was an untitled april fools song that IU uploaded on her fancafe for uaenas.]

Between ‘Chat-shire’ and ‘Palette’ is ‘You’ wanting to slowly and quietly flow along.

It’s probably the song (title) with the least syllables out of all the songs I’ve worked on.

5. Love Letter

I sketched this song at 26, completed it when I was 28, and “even” gave it to another artist. It was the first time ever since I started composing that another singer sang my song. [T/L note: Previously IU only wrote lyrics for others’ songs, like Cherry B’s “Her” and Jung Seunghwan’s “The Snowman”, Seulong’s “The Moment” and Sam Kim’s “When You Fall”.]

Last year, I went on KBS ‘Sketchbook’ and sang this song, which gave me the opportunity to work with Jung Seunghwan, who is a singer I admire. When we working together on this song, I briefly explained to Antenna and Jung Seunghwan about (my plans) to release this collection of my pieces and earned their consent to release the song. I wrote the lyrics based on the scenario of one half of an elderly couple leaving the world first and writing a final love letter for the other half who is left behind.

If Jung Seunghwan’s version is more calm and refined, I wanted my version of ‘Love Letter’ to be delivered in a more straightforward manner.

The arrangement of the song is fairytale-like and lovely, but I tried to make the vocals sound solid and the song was comparatively easy to record. I also tried to vary the ‘da-o’ part each time it was repeated throughout the song.

The last part of the lyrics, ‘I am still there, remaining in your heart, more than anywhere else’ became the seed of the last track ‘Epilogue’ in my 5th album ‘LILAC’. It’s also something that I want to tell my fans that I am grateful for, who have known me for a long time, know me (for who I am) and continue to want to know me better.

In between a novel and a letter, with this ‘Love Letter’ that I pressed my sincere emotions into and wish to send to those who love me, I close this collection of my (music) pieces.

Translated by IUteamstarcandy

#IU #pieces #album introduction

12 notes · View notes

intrepidacious · 2 years

Text

time after time [5]

series summary: After what starts out as a fairly normal mission, you find yourself stuck in a time loop. Which would already be bad enough in itself if it didn’t also mean having to watch Bucky die over and over again.

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

word count: 10.9k

chapter warnings: nothing except the usual ones; another panic attack near the end; the riveting resolution of the coffee side quest? please note that my blog is rated 18+. minors dni. ageless/empty blogs will be blocked without warning.

a/n: after my week of technical difficulties (got shadowbanned, had a breakdown, bon appétit), this chapter finally made it to tumblr as well. thank you so much to everyone who reached out, it's meant more than you know!! <3 this one starts out fairly harmless and then i threw some punches again and for that i apologise

series masterlist | main masterlist | read on ao3

five: carousel

The first mission they took you on was nothing short of a disaster.

It should have been simple, was simple, a quick extraction to get a microchip from this decimated group of criminals operating out of an abandoned toy store that Nat had discovered through one of her contacts. You were only supposed to tag along to get a feeling for being out in the field, an additional pair of eyes just in case things went south.

Did they ever.

Not only was the chip accidentally destroyed, your ensuing panic got you stuck for a good twenty minutes until the world started spinning again. Steve fell down a full flight of stairs when you reappeared out of thin air next to him the moment it did.

Needless to say, you went into hiding as soon as you got back to the Compound.

She gave you about an hour before the hatch in the floor boards opened, even though for you, it was much longer. She didn’t know that, though. You sat very still, your breath finally silent again. Maybe she didn’t know you were in here.

"I know you’re up here, Y/N."

You pulled the cape off your head with a sigh. Natasha grimaced.

"Don’t do that, I’m not talking to a floating head," she said with a shudder. "You know how weird that is?"

You huffed and let her pull the fabric into her lap, watching your own limbs reappear, your arms hugged around your knees. She sat down next to you, leaning against the wall with her eyes closed. You watched a spider scatter away from you.

"How did you even find me?" you asked quietly after she made no further attempts to speak to you.

"My sister had a similar hiding spot when we were little." You could hear the smile in her voice as she said it. "And you kicked up quite a bit of dust."

She didn’t elaborate on either of those things and you didn’t ask, even though you wanted to. Anything that could get your mind off what happened.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Yeah," you said dryly. "That’s why I’m sitting in the supply closet."

"That’s exactly what I told Steve." Your face fell again, but hers didn’t. "He’s alright. Or he will be, once he forgives me for laughing at him for five minutes."

That didn’t make you feel any better. "I fucked up today," you said softly, your voice still rough.

"You didn’t do anything wrong."

"I did, though. I literally froze as soon as things went wrong, and the chip—"

"Is expendable," Natasha interrupted calmly.

You shook your head. "I only mess everything up for you guys. I’m not a real agent, and my powers just make things worse, and I should just—"

"Do you realize that this thing you were given can be a gift?" You cringed and started turning away, but Natasha reached out for you, a gentle hand on your arm. "I mean it. You think every time you’re unable to use your powers is your personal failure, but you don’t see how every time you are able to use them is precious."

There was a delicate hue to her green eyes, a weariness that was visible even in the dim light of the closet. For the first time, you had the feeling she let you see something she usually wouldn’t.

"Our lives … they’re hard," she went on. "Unpredictable. We live on borrowed time. And you get to have more of it. That’s …" You waited for the words you’d heard before. Invaluable. Instrumental. Priceless. "Beautiful."

You swallowed hard. "Is that why you took me on? For the team?"

Nat looked at you for so long you were almost sure she wasn’t going to answer your question. Then, she said, "I took you on because you needed a reason to get up in the morning."

You stared at her, your nails digging into the palm of your hand until it hurt more than the ache in your chest. Natasha kept looking at you as she continued.

"I lost a lot of people over the years, you know. But never like this. Never this many at once. Something like that …" She trailed off, her eyes wet. "The entire planet was grieving and struggling and blaming us, because at that point hardly anyone understood any of it apart from the fact that the Avengers were involved. And then one day, out of nowhere, a letter materialized on our doorstep, and the security cameras didn’t show a thing." Her grip on your arm tightened, as if she needed to steady herself. "Do you remember what you wrote?"

I’m sorry for your loss.

You’d struggled to put it down for days, because how else could you apologize for something you might have been able to prevent had you only been there instead of hiding? In the end, you’d only added your name and the address of that diner in Brooklyn where you picked up a few shifts after their waitress had been blipped.

You’d gotten a call less than twenty-four hours later.

"You were the first person to say that," Nat continued, because she could see the memories flit across your face as easily as others watched a movie. "And yet, when you got here, you looked as guilty as if you’d personally murdered every single one of the Vanished."

"Well, if I’d been with you—"

"Stop it." For the first time, her voice was sharp. Your mouth fell closed. "We’re all trying to do better, right?"

You could only nod.

"That’s all anybody here is ever going to ask of you. And sometimes 'better' is just getting one hell of a kick in during a mission. Don’t think I didn’t see that."

You smiled ever so slightly. "I have a pretty good teacher."

"Yeah, you do." She shoved your shoulder lightly. "You can’t do more than show up and do your best, honey."

"My best looks like a dead possum next to yours."

"Then stop looking at me." Natasha got up to her feet slowly, patting you on the knee when she did. "Unless it’s for a post mission wind down because I have a movie queued up and I know where Steve hid the cookies."

"Can I have my cape back?"

"Nope." She folded it up with the green side out, letting it hang loosely over her arm. "You’re supposed to use it to hide from your enemies, not your friends."

You didn’t attempt to argue further, warmth rising to your cheeks.

"Nat?" She turned again, halfway down the hatch, caught by the emotion in your voice. "Thank you."

Her smile told you that, as always, she understood.

*****

There simply isn’t a world in which you can do this even one more time. It’s too much.

"You need to sort out your priorities," Sam says, zero sympathy in his voice. Bucky has the audacity to look amused.

"I’m serious," you say, looking between the two of them. "My day is bad enough already. I don’t care where we order, but it’s not going to be Italian unless you want me to puke on your cat."

Over the past couple of weeks, you’ve eaten your way through the entirety of your pizza place’s menu. If you have to smell the rank cheese Sam likes to order one more time, you can’t be held responsible for your actions.

"How about sushi?" Bucky says, and you almost start protesting out of habit before you realize that for once, he’s not arguing your side. You turn to Sam with an expectant grin.

"Fine," he grunts, shaking Alpine off his trouser leg as gently as he can while his nose twitches. "I guess Russian Doll has the right to choose his last meal."

Bucky frowns at him, but you gasp in delight. "Are you finally joining us in dark humor land, Sammy?"

He flips you off wordlessly as he leaves the room and you chuckle to yourself, pulling up the sushi menu on your phone. Alpine starts nibbling on the bandage around your foot that’s stretched out on the couch and you wiggle your toes a bit. It seems to entertain her.

"What," you ask when the staring becomes unbearable.

"Nothing."

When you lift your gaze to meet Bucky’s, his jaw is clenched again, his eyes fixed on you with a distant expression in them. You tilt your head, and he lowers his.

"So what’s the plan?"

You send your part of the order to FRIDAY and put your phone to the side. "I have to get back to Strange to figure out how to stop this loop from happening again."

You’ve almost felt sorry to see your series of library heists break, even though you have no reason to feel his way. This is progress. Strange’s offer to help has been genuine enough so far, even though you hate paying him in answers.

Now that he’s not deliberately keeping you out anymore, getting to the astral plane has been a lot easier, at least, even though emptying your mind enough to cross over without a prior emotional breakdown has still proven somewhat difficult. Weirdly, it’s easiest on the couch.

Bucky nods shortly. "And what do I do?"

"Whatever you want."

He scoffs. "Right."

It makes your insides twist. "Bucky, as much as I hope that today is the last time we’re doing this, I can’t guarantee it. So you should just, I don’t know, enjoy yourself." You cringe even as you say it.

"I wanna come see Strange."

You blink, watching him clench and unclench his fists slowly, deliberating. The golden parts of his arm gleam in the sunlight. "Why?"

His voice, when he speaks, sounds haunted. "I can’t just sit around and do nothing."

Something in his voice sticks with you as you lie down on the couch and stare up at the ceiling. You’re not even sure if what he’s asking is possible.

"No, it’s not," Strange says bluntly. "Not as long as you’re in the loop."

"Why not?"

"Stop asking questions and focus."

With a roll of your eyes, you raise up your arms again. So far, you’ve spent most of your so-called lessons trying to make sense of the cryptic texts Strange makes you read and then summarize like you’re in fifth grade. If you’re not doing that, you’re talking him through the events of your July 4th, or explaining your powers to the best of your abilities, going through the motions and habits you’ve taught yourself over the years. It all feels like you’re revealing something very personal for someone else to judge.

You don’t care much for any of it.

"Again."

"Is this supposed to teach me something new?" you ask, turning your thumb and first two fingers upwards again while your other hand balls into a fist by your side.Threads of sunlight glittering like spun gold. You take a breath and shake your head.

"Do you feel anything?"

Annoyance. You bite your tongue and reach out, carefully, like you would to a scared animal, searching for that old familiar feeling.

It takes a while.

Dim, at first, but clearly there, vibrating deep in your veins, hesitantly stumbling towards your hands like it was suprised, too, to be called upon again. Softly glowing embers slowly filling the void you’ve grown so hopelessly accustomed to.

You open your eyes to find the tiniest green spark dancing across your fingertips and almost laugh in relief.

"Interesting," Strange says.

You flick your fingers softly, once, twice, letting the spec of power grow until it’s the size of a pinhead, cradling it softly with your other hand as if to protect it from a gust of wind. Slowly, bit by bit, it settles back into your skin, and you feel it tingling all the way up to your ears.

Strange contemplates you for a long moment. "When did you get that cut?" he finally asks.

At this point, you should be used to his unfazedness. "Yesterday," you say, the 'obviously' clinging to every syllable. Riff was putting up a better fight than usual; or maybe you’re getting sloppy again.

Strange moves his right hand in that circular motion you’ve seen him do before, and the air in front of you cracks. It’s weird to see your own slightly translucent reflection suspended in the middle of your room. The gash on your cheek has barely had the chance to scab. You subconsciously reach for your necklace again.

"Look at the wound, and hold your hands like this."

You try and mimic Strange’s gesture. "I feel ridiculous." Like a mime. Or a really bad stage magician.

"Good," he says. "Now focus your powers, and follow my lead."

You watch Strange move his shaky hands out of the corner of your eye while trying to concentrate on that little spec of power you’ve felt earlier. Slowly, itchingly, the wound starts knitting itself together, as if it’s been healing for days. The skin smoothes over as if nothing had ever happened.

A rush of excitement goes through you at the sight, and there’s a stutter. With a flash of pain, the cut tears up again and you flinch, your hands falling.

"Fuck."

"I told you to focus."

"Well, if only saying it made it happen," you snap, then try again. This time, you let go of your power more carefully, almost coaxing it down. The gash doesn’t heal completely, but at least it looks better than what you started with. Strange watches you closely, brow furrowed deeply in thought.

"Let’s try something different," he says, and with another flick of his wrist, the mirror vanishes again. "Sit down."

You bristle at the command, but obey. A sidelong glance confirms that your sleeping body’s cut on the cheek has somewhat improved as well. There seems to be something connecting the two of you after all.

"When is this here, anyway?" you ask.

Once again, he doesn’t give you an answer. With another quick movement he grabs something through a small portal and throws it at you without any regard to your reflexes. You grab it off the bed incredulously.

"That’s … a meditation CD."

"Congratulations," Strange says. "You can read."

"You’re not serious."

"Deadly." He unfastens his cloak, which flies over to drape itself over the reading chair like a blanket, and then joins you on the floor, crossing his legs as well. It’s bizarrely casual. "If you don’t learn to focus," he continues, "there’s no moving forward from this point."

You huff, holding the CD out for him to take back. He doesn’t. "I’ve tried meditation," you say impatiently. "It doesn’t work for me. My mind—it doesn’t work for me."

"Your mind what?"

"It’s too loud."

You put the CD on the ground with a little too much force, moving to twist your rings around again, but they’re still absent. Your nails dig into your skin, instead.

"Did you know I don’t really forget stuff? Did I tell you that?" You laugh humorlessly, because what else can you do. "Fun side effect of the traveling back and forth through time. I always know where I’ve been and what I’ve done, and what everyone else has done while I was there. All that information is in my head, all the time, and I can’t get rid of it."

"All the more reason to have it quiet down every once in a while," Strange says calmly.

You want to strangle him.

"Believe me, I’d love nothing more, but I can’t. It’s not like I’m a computer and you can do the whole 'Hello, this is IT, have you tried turning it off and on again?' It doesn’t work like that."

"You do know a lot about how things don’t work."

"Welcome to my world," you mutter, flexing your fingers and crossing your arms before you draw blood.

Strange sighs. "Your mind isn’t a hard drive. No matter what your powers entail, your brain is still human. And it needs to rest every once in a while."

For some reason, in the middle of this whole crazy situation, that thought settles. Maybe it’s because it’s possibly the first genuinely kind sentiment he’s shown you so far. Maybe you’re just tired of pushing.

"How?" It’s more a croak than a question.

"Just stay like that and breathe." You look at him incredulously and he raises an eyebrow. "What? No one said you have to think nothing. It’s fine if you just sit there with your thoughts."

There’s a short pause. "That sounds terrifying," you admit quietly.

Strange considers you for a long moment, as if he’s contemplating what to say, until he finally admits, "I know."

***

You blink awake slowly this time, as if gradually awakening from a deep sleep. The TV is on again, quietly chattering in the background, and a weight on your legs tells you that Alpine has found a new spot again.

A glance at your phone shows that surprisingly little time has passed. When you sit up, the white cat on top of you complaining loudly, you can see Sam leaning against the kitchen counter, laptop closed, talking to Sarah on the phone.

The fact that you’re not alone quite yet is weirdly comforting.

In a moment of sleepy contentment, you reach out to scratch Alpine under the chin like you’ve seen Bucky do countless times. Curiously, she lets you without immediately extending her claws. At least for a moment.

"You’re awake."

Immediately, Alpine loses interest in you and jumps onto the backrest of the couch to nestle her head into Bucky’s palm. You roll your eyes.

"Keen observation, sarge."

He slowly peels his gloves off, not quite looking at you. "What did he say?"

Right. There was that.

"Nothing, to be honest," you say, folding up the throw blanket Sam must have put over you while you were sleeping. "Apart from the fact that he really can’t actually do as much as one would think."

"Can’t, or doesn’t want to?"

You shrug. "Same difference."

Despite everything, somehow you feel inclined to believe that there really isn’t a way to get Bucky to the astral plane, though. After all, things haven’t been normal ever since this loop began; and since you’re the only one who can lift it, maybe that also means you’re the only one who can do things like that.

You can only hope that at some point, something—anything—you do is going to stick.

Bucky studies your face, but doesn’t tell you whatever is still clearly gnawing at him. You don’t know why for a moment, you thought he would.

It reminds you of something you haven’t asked in a while.

"Is there something you want to tell me?"

His mouth opens, but he doesn’t speak immediately. "Like what?"

"It’s just …" You struggle with the words, as if your mind is still half-asleep. "In some of the loops, it was kind of …" You trail off when you notice he’s holding something in his other hand. "Did you go get coffee again?"

Bucky clears his throat. "Yeah. I thought since you didn’t get one earlier, ya know …"

You’ve stopped getting caffeinated drinks for yourself in the mornings to make it easier to get to that voidlike state you need to be in to enter the astral plane. It’s been making you rather irritable; though, truth be told, that might also be due to Strange’s charming personality.

"That’s nice," you say, reaching for the paper cup with your name on it, taking a sniff before tasting it carefully. It’s perfect. "I should change my habits," you say lightly, "if Lucy knows my order even if I don’t pick it up myself."

"Who’s Lucy?" Bucky says, sitting down on the couch next to you.

You stop yourself from rolling your eyes. "The pretty one on register? Stars and stripes on her cheeks?" He hums noncommittantly and you decide it’s not worth the effort. "What did you get?" you ask with a nod to the second cup.

"Just … coffee."

You squint to read the sticker, but he puts his fingers over it in a motion so smooth it almost hides its defensiveness. There’s the slightest hint of a grin on his face as you scowl, trying to catch his sleeve to get him to twist the writing back in your direction. Your thumb grazes cool metal and you still. Bucky does, too.

"Did she actually give you her number?"

Your laugh comes out through your nose, somehow, as if it’s not much more than a breath. The expression on Bucky’s face doesn’t quite fit his widening grin, or the slight tinge of pink on his cheeks, but you couldn’t say why.

"So?" he says. Alpine stares at you accusingly, settling in his lap once more.

"Nothing!" It comes out quickly. "I’m not surprised. I mean, she thinks you’re hot."

His eyebrow quirks. "Does she, now?"

You take a gulp of coffee so large it makes your eyes water. "Her shift’s probably over by now. You should call her."

"Why," Bucky says wryly.

"To take her out." Should you be weirded out by the fact that this is happening as soon as Bucky entered the store without you? You tug at the ring on your pinkie.

"Why do you want me to take her out if I’m gonna die later?" Bucky asks.

"Well, it might take your edge off for one."

"And why does my edge concern you?"

"Have you met yourself?" You shrug, your ears drumming. "Besides, it might be fun."

He doesn’t look at you as he takes a sip from his own coffee, as if still determined not to let you see his reaction. "You have a strange definition of fun."

Alpine yawns as if to agree. You stand up abruptly, suddenly nauseated from drinking too fast.

"I’m just gonna …"

Again, you don’t finish your sentence, and Bucky doesn’t stop you from grabbing your takeout containers and taking them with you to your room, where you stare at the toilet for a good minute, waiting for the queasiness to pass. Your meet your own gaze in the mirror.

The cut on your face looks better than it did a few hours ago.

You walk back into your bedroom and take a critical look at your bookcase.The Wind in the Willows is back in its place where it belongs. What isn’t there is the CD Strange finally managed to force upon you.

The rules of this multiverse crap are going to give you another migraine on top of your current one.

You sit down on the floor next to your window to eat, but your cheek keeps itching until you notice yourself tapping your chopsticks against the plastic container so hard soy sauce is splashing everywhere. With a displeased twitch of your mouth, you reach for your phone.

It rings for a very long time and you realize it’s already past midnight in Seoul when finally, there’s a voice on the other end.

"This better be good, agent Y/L/N."

Her voice is quiet, tired, and you press the phone to your ear even harder. "Can I ask you a hypothetical question?"

Doctor Helen Cho sighs deeply on the other end of the line, and you can almost picture her leaning back in her ergonomic office chair. "Alright."

You toy with the edges of the building scab on your cheek. "Is it possible for someone to go through physical changes and … not go through them at the same time?"

There’s a pause on the other end, followed by a sigh. "Are you asking me if Schrödinger’s cat is real or not?"

A living being that simultaneously is and isn’t dead? That’s a paradox you have an answer for.

The problem, as always, is you.

"Sort of. I don’t know." You bite your lip.

"You realize quantum mechanics is not exactly my specialty, right?" Even while she says that, you can hear the clicking of her keyboard. "You are talking about a body, I presume. A human one?"

"Mhm."

"And the changes?"

You think of the cut and the writing and Bucky’s blood on your sheets. And your changed clothes. "They’re only to the body itself. Everything around stays the same. Pretty much like Schrödinger’s cat, I guess. Nothing about the box changes." Ever.

There’s another pause before Helen speaks again.

"Look, as far as I know—and with all these new and upcoming aliens and superheroes and so on that have been appearing over the past couple of years that’s less and less, mind you—but as far as I know, humans can only be in one state at one particular time. There’s ways to accelerate healing processes or even meddle with the body in other ways, but it’s still an either–or scenario."

"So, it’s impossible?" you ask, biting your cheek.

"It’s improbable, based on what I understand." Time has definitely started to bleed into itself, then. Great. "But like I said, that’s not really my area of expertise," she continues. "Speaking of, though, I got an e-mail from your new captain earlier."

"You did?" you ask, surprised. Sam hasn’t said anything to you, not today or any other iteration of it.

"You can tell him I’m hearing the same things he has," Helen says. "My lab wasn’t approached, but I have a colleague at a partner institution who left for Madripoor a couple of weeks ago."

You’ve barely thought about ULTIMATUM and their experiments since you laid everything out for Sam and Bucky earlier this morning. Another wave of guilt flashes through you.

"I’ll tell him," you say tonelessly. "Thanks, Helen."

"In this hypothetical of yours," Helen says before you can hang up. "Who’s the observing party?"

You watch the green symbols circle around your wrist, once, twice, three times. "I’m not sure yet."

You stare at them for a while longer after the call disconnects.

"There’s nothing to observe when the flow of time is reduced to a single day," Strange says when you relay the question to him the next day, his voice dripping with annoyance.

"So there would be, usually?" you ask, eyes narrowing as you try to channel the flow of your powers into the palm of your hand, like he’s told you.

"It’s not a perfect comparison," he answers. "The cat is only dead or not because time passes. Time is only our way of perceiving space dimensionally."

"Time and relative dimension in space," you hum with a light smile. Your palm starts tingling. "But if it’s not that, either, then … I still feel like there has to be something I’m missing here."

Every single review of the mission fills in another piece of the puzzle, the map of the lab you draw on the whiteboard growing more and more detailed each day, but still, it’s never enough. You miss the way Steve would draw out detailed building plans and escape routes before any mission, such ease to the stroke of his pen; your own talent for drawing is borderline abysmal by comparison.

The green shimmer around your hand dissipates again. Strange groans, fingers massaging his temple like he, too, is getting a headache from this stupid realm. His cloak wipes a bead of sweat from his forehead.

"What you’re missing," he says through gritted teeth, "is the point of this exercise."

"Enlighten me," you snap back.

You watch him take a deep breath before he answers. "Do you, or do you not realize that this isn’t all about you?"

You huff. "If you say something like this is the universe imparting a message upon me, I got that point. The message is that I suck at what I’m doing."

"If that’s the message, then how come you’re not the one who’s really getting knocked around every single day?"

The anger and remorse that wash over you make your power flare up like a bolt of electricity, your fingertips and the dark of your eyes flashing an eery shade of green. You can feel the little hairs in the back of your neck stand up. Strange only looks at you, his expression unexpectedly somber.

"At least he doesn’t remember," you say tonelessly.

Strange smiles, but there’s no joy in it. "Indeed," he says.

The rush ebbs off, bit by bit, and you blink to get rid of the last of the strange double vision you sometimes get when time stutters again.

"You keep telling a man he will die today because you think that’s best for him," Strange goes on. "Better than him getting to choose his own path. Have you ever paid attention to how he spends his last precious hours once he knows?"

Of course you have. Sitting around in the Tower, going over mission plans again and again. Getting coffee. Lurking in doorways, leaning against walls, thinking, talking, looking.

It’s all time spent with you, and Sam, and Alpine.

It’s weird that you shouldn’t have realized this fact when in the beginning, you kept wondering about the time he came back to the Tower. Because before you’ve started telling him, Bucky always left.

Maybe that’s what you’re missing.

"Careful," Strange says, noticing your change in expression.

"You know me, doc," you answer, letting the power crackle again ever so slightly. It’s a thrill, getting to feel it again. "Careful’s basically my middle name."

***

"Doesn’t matter," Bucky says when you ask him what he’d be up to if you hadn’t told him about the loop.

"Oh no, leave me out of this. That’s his thing," Sam says when you ask him about the whole thing, and he so clearly knows what it is and yet refuses to tell you.

"None of your business," Bucky says when you press the matter, his jaw clenched tightly, and you hate to do this, but you don’t exactly have limitless options here. Besides, it’s the first new idea you’ve had in a while, which means there’s an almost moral obligation for you to go through with it. And still.

This feels wrong, you think when Sam comes to knock at your door and you throw on your gym clothes, pulling the sweatband over your wrist tightly.

This feels wrong, you think when you climb into the ring as if nothing had ever happened, as if this was just a normal day. Your side is still a little sore, but you’re able to play it off as a scratch with ease. How would he know to call you out on it?

This feels wrong, you think when you close your eyes as you lie on the mat and wait. You promised.

"You look like shit."

Your head turns like muscle memory. "Hey."

"Hi." Bucky’s eyebrow raises at your silence, but you’re not sure if the words aren’t just going to come bursting out of you. You have a tell. "You alright?"

Your grin tastes just a little bitter. "Why wouldn’t I be?"

"Right." He doesn’t quite believe you, of course, but it’s fine. You can do this.

You turn your gaze back to the ceiling and try to recall the very first July 4th, the version of you that you were. She resists you slipping her back on, but you take another deep breath, just like you’ve been practicing. A chuckle slips free.

"Fuck you, Barnes."

Your heart is still beating fast in your chest, but he must chalk it off to the training, because you can hear him huff. "There she is."

You close your eyes with a petulant sigh, just in case he can see your conscience written all over them. Again, you remind yourself that you tried asking him, that you tried everything else, that this is the only option you can think of right now.

"You’re horrible." It’s more like talking to yourself out loud, but of course Bucky doesn’t know that. And the sad truth is, he’s used to your temper.

"Take the towel on the right, I already used the other one."

You give an affirmative hum, waiting until you hear the door close behind him. Then, you rush to the showers, wasting no time to get ready and dressed again.

Bucky walks out the door of the Tower at precisely 09:43, a fact you know thanks to the time stamps on the security footage from the lobby you had FRIDAY pull up early on in the loop. This leaves you with a pretty small window of time to clean up, add another line to the tally on your thigh, and get back to your room to grab your stuff without making what you’re doing to obvious to either him or Sam. You have FRIDAY call up the elevator with barely a minute to spare, going down to the second floor and quickly heading towards the stairs. Behind you, the elevator dings once.

You basically sprint downstairs, readjusting your backpack. You almost barrel into the fire door, peering through the window into the lobby after another glance at your watch. Only a few seconds later, you can see Bucky walk across the entrance hall, the usual resting scowl on his face as he looks around once and then ducks out the side door.

You tug the cap you found at the back of your closet deeper into your face and start after him.

This feels wrong, and it’s a terrible idea, you can’t help but think as you watch him head down Lex, hands stuffed into the pockets of his leather jacket. His strides are long, but unhurried, and even though you know he’s the furthest thing from vulnerable, the fact that you’re seeing him unguarded like this doesn’t sit right with you. Nevertheless, you continue.

You expect him to head for the subway, but instead, he turns left after the Chrysler Building, going east. With a slightly confused frown, you briefly join a group of clearly lost tourists to cross the street and follow him back up Third Avenue. At least there’s just enough people around to make it easy enough for you to hide in a crowd, you suppose.

You’re going to follow him, and find out what he’s up to, and then you’re going to see if and how it all connects to this stupid loop.

Easy as that.

It’s about an hour and a half later when you seriously start cursing Bucky’s name. Inexplicably, he’s still just walking around the streets of Manhattan like a fucking peasant. Your clothes are sticking to your body in ways you don’t care to describe, and you’re sick of having to pretend to be interested in shitty Independance Day memorabilia and battered paperbacks on sale while trying to avoid eye contact with the people trying to sell them to you.

You’re also pretty sure you’re walking around in circles.

Letting your head fall into your neck, you blink up into the bright sunlight from underneath the shade of your cap. As always, there is not a single cloud in sight, a perfect Friday in July. It’s making your eyes burn.

You glance back at Bucky, who has continued walking after taking a look at his phone, and sigh. All of this would be so much easier with your powers.

"What on earth are you up to," you mumble to yourself as you watch him take another left.

You count to ten before rounding the corner as well—and then you yelp when you almost slam into Bucky’s chest.

"What are you doing?" He doesn’t sound annoyed at all; more entertained. You take a step back, assessing, but his face doesn’t betray him whatsoever.

"Going on a walk," you try cautiously.

"Yeah, right." He tilts his head, features despicably neutral. "Why are you following me?"

"I’m not?" He stares at you, and you groan. "Fine. I just wanted to see where you’re going?"

"Why?" There’s an edge to his voice that you can’t quite make sense of, but your thoughts tumble right over it, scrambling for an excuse and coming up empty. The glint in his eye is distracting.

"Because …" Because you don’t know what else to do at this point. "I don’t know, I was just curious."

Bucky raises an eyebrow. "That’s a lot of dedication when you could’ve just asked."

You look at him doubtfully. "So you’d have told me?" you say, already knowing the answer.

"No." He puts his hands back into his pockets and turns around, leaving you standing there staring at his back.

"Well, there you go then," you shout and start to follow along again. You take the stupid hat off with a sigh and stuff it into the backpack, wiping sweat off your forehead. "How long did you know I was there?"

Bucky shrugs. "About when I got outside."

"Seriously." He stares at you over his shoulder. "Seriously?!"

"You came down the stairs," he says, shaking his head. "And in a Yankees cap."

"So?"

"Don’t tell me you suddenly like baseball."

"I might like baseball," you mumble. "It’s a very fine … ball sport."

He snorts. "Sure ya do. I’ll remind you next time the game’s on."

"Circling back," you quickly change the subject, "why the fuck did you make me chase you halfway across Midtown if you knew I was there anyway?"

"It was funny." The shit-eating grin spreading on his face surprises you so much you stumble over your own feet. His arm extends to stop your fall if necessary, as if on instinct. "You know," he continues, "I thought you’d lost me on Times Square. Almost asked one of those guys in costume to help you out."

You slap his hand away. "You’re the worst, Barnes."

"And you’re a shit spy, time powers or not." The smile changes, but stays. Somehow, you’re glad.

Your fingers twitch inside your own pockets, your thumbs tracing along your rings. "So," you say, suppressing the nervous chuckle. "Where are we actually going?"

"Don’t know yet." Bucky turns his head to look out for cars before he continues walking. It takes you a second to match his pace again.

"What do you mean, you don’t know."

"Well, I had to cancel my plans because I got an amateur stalker on my heels."

"Wow." You squint at him and the blinding sunshine behind his head. "And you’re calling me stubborn."

"To your face? I would never."

Oh, you hate this.

"So we’re actually just walking around town for the hell of it." And you’ve done all of this for nothing.

"Yup."

The realization that you wasted yet another day by thinking you could be sneaky around Bucky almost takes you down a spiral, and you don’t even notice he’s still talking to you until he ducks his head to catch your eye. "Huh?"

"I said I’ll buy you a coffee. Think you might need it." He pauses. "That is, if you wanna."

"I could always go for coffee," you say, and it’s true. First, though, you should tell him. Rip the band-aid off and get it over with. "Listen, I—"

But then he looks at you, his eyes impossibly blue in the sunshine, and for the first time in weeks, you don’t have to deal with that damn preciousness in them, because he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen, and so he just looks at you like he has a thousand times before, the normalcy of it like a breath of fresh air after his eyes have dragged you under again and again.

How come you’re not the one who’s really getting knocked around every single day?

Maybe it’d really be a kindness to spare him the news, just once. It’s still so early.

"What?" Bucky asks when the silence stretches.

You think of the ever unchanging Tower and the neverending pizza delivery and the fact that you hate this. You hate lying to him. You do it anyway.

Just once.

"I thought of something, but it doesn’t matter now," you say. "We have time."

***

"Are you gonna tell me what’s up with you?"

You pretend not to hear him, shuffling the straws around in their container until they look a bit more orderly. Even though you’re not working, even though this isn’t even your store, it’s hard to shake the need to feel useful. Particularly if you’re trying to ignore Bucky’s gaze burning into your neck.

You’re saved by your name being called out because your coffee is ready. For some reason, you half-expect him to swoop in front of you and take the drinks himself, but of course he doesn’t. Why would he?

With a shake of your head, you rid yourself of the ridiculous thought and hand Bucky his coffee without looking at him.

"You know," you say, stepping out of the crowded Starbucks into the sunshine. "I have a blanket somewhere in here." You point at your backpack. "We could try to fight for a spot in the park."

There’s a pause, and then Bucky sighs. "What else do you have in there, anyway?"

"Spy stuff."

You don’t expect him to find that funny, but he snorts slightly. Then, like a habit he can’t break, his gaze falls on your hands again.

"I’m just tired," you say wearily before he presses the matter.

"You should try the floor," Bucky says. "If you can’t sleep."

It helps, sometimes. "I’ll keep that in mind."

You take a sip of your coffee and scrunch your nose when you realize it isn’t what you ordered for yourself; it’s what you ordered for him. In your haste to change the topic earlier, you must have switched the cups.

"Sorry," you say, "this is actually—"

But you stop talking, because he’s already taking a tentative nip of yor drink, and then he licks his lips. And they curl slightly upwards.

He blinks a few times, as if he’s as surprised as you are, and tries again, less hesitantly this time. Then he looks at the writing on the cup. "Wait," he says, frowning, "I think you’ve got mine."

Your mouth closes, then opens again. "How do you know?" you finally say. "They both have my name on them."

"Yeah, but you always get the same thing," Bucky says, as if him knowing your order couldn’t possibly be news to you.

"It’s fine," you say when he tries to hand you your cup back. "Maybe I should try something different sometimes."

Bryant Park is already bustling with people, and it’s just about noon. The little green tables are all occupied by chess players and chatting families, the carousel horses manned with happily shrieking children.

Still, you find a place to spread out your blanket near the edge of the lawn, almost within talking distance of the Public Library’s security guard, who is currently on his first smoke break. You demonstratively sit down with your back to him. If ever a man took his job too seriously.

"Aren’t you hot in that?" you ask doubtfully when Bucky uncomfortably sits down opposite you, the collar of his leather jacket pushing up.

"'Course I am," he answers, not elaborating.

You let your eye roam through the park. "Terrible news," you say dryly. "Not a single person is looking at you, Sergeant Cool."

Bucky shakes his head, not looking at you.

"No one cares," you say, more sincerely this time. "Even if they did, they’re not gonna say anything. And they’ll have forgotten about you tomorrow."

He huffs again. "And you’re wonderin’ why I call you stubborn."

"I thought you didn’t do that to my face?"

He pulls his gloves off, throwing them on the blanket between you with his eyebrow raised. "Happy?"

In the bright sun, his left hand is gleaming, the inlets reflecting the light in a way that makes it dance across the cotton like swirls of pure gold. You smile and lean back, closing your eyes.

You don’t come to this park often, even though it’s not far from the Tower at all and it’s easier than returning to Central Park with all the memories it holds and that have turned more bitter than sweet after everything. It’s the same as with the library, you suppose. Sometimes you don’t even know you’re missing something until you find yourself in the middle of it.

It might have been a Saturday, you think, the last time you were here. What a concept; Saturday. You sit with the thought for a while, and then you let it drift away, just like you’ve been practicing.

It’s such an unexpected feeling, to get to experience this moment of quiet reprieve when lately, most of your time in this loop has been spent studying, or training, or fighting. You already know you’re getting another talking-to if you don’t return to the astral plane at all today; but it’s just the one day. Surely, you can be allowed one day.

Your brain craves it more than anything.

When you open your eyes again, Bucky is contemplating your backpack with a frown so oddly different than the one you’ve gotten used to in previous loops. He seems so … It takes you a while to come up with the right word, because somehow, it makes you think of Alpine, and that doesn’t make any sense at all. Comfortable. He seems comfortable.

His shoulders are relaxed, his jaw unclenched, and even though he’s still wearing the jacket, his eyes aren’t flitting around to assess everyone within sight. His head tilts slightly.

"Are you trying to see through it?" you say, and the dryness tastes wrong on your tongue.

Bucky nudges the backpack with his foot. "Just wonderin’ what you thought you were gonna be up to."

"I like to come prepared."

"Since when?"

Well, ever since resetting has kind of stopped being an option whatsoever. "This isn’t gonna turn into one of your 'constant vigilance' talks, is it, Moody?" you say lightly.

He looks at you again, and you’re not really sure if that’s better or worse. "You’re deflecting, doll."

"Well, what do I know!" you say. It’s worse, definitely worse, but you don’t know why. "You might have been off on a covert mission or visiting a secret girlfriend or buying a beehive to put on the roof or—"

He unzips the backpack. "So you brought a blanket, a baseball cap, binoculars and a banana?"

You try to bite your tongue, but it’s impossible. "I was kind of set on the bee scenario."

Bucky laughs.

Genuinely laughs. His nose scrunches up, his eyes creasing and his head thrown back a little, shaking with a quiet and almost childish glee as you blink at the unusual sight. It’s over almost as suddenly as it began, but … still. A warmth spreads from your chest to your cheeks as you watch him, your own smile almost hesitant by comparison.

Joy looks good on him.

It leaves a twinkle in his eye even as the laughter subsides, like specs of sunlight.

"What?" he says, his mouth still twitching.

"You seem happy." And it’s astonishing.

Bucky shakes his head slightly, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he’s blushing. "No need to sound so shocked about it."

"You sure?" you ask, your voice cracking only a little. "I feel like I need to call an ambulance."

"Shut up."

"Or Area 51. I think you might’ve been swapped with an alien doppelganger." You sit up properly. "Tell me something only the real Bucky would know. Oh, wait. He wouldn’t have told me, either."

"You are the most dramatic person I know, you know that?"

"You’re one to talk, Sergeant I Need Nobody’s Help, I Will Jump Out Of A Plane Without A Parachute."

"So many rank drops today."

"Now who’s deflecting?"

"I take calculated risks."

Except he doesn’t even know his calculator is broken.

Bucky stares at you. "What’s that even supposed to mean?"

You didn’t mean to say it out loud. Not today. Your fingers twitch automatically to take it back, but of course, nothing happens. Nothing apart from his attention being brought back to your black rings.

"What did you do?"

The concern in his voice is quiet, but it’s there nevertheless, and it makes your heart ache, long desperately for it to go away, to be replaced by the joy that was there mere seconds ago. You want to make this day stop, make the world stop so you can continue living in that ease of just sitting here and laughing together without thinking about anything else.

And then you realize what’s really happening, and the world chokes, like something falling into place.

For a moment, you can’t breathe as you look at him, whole and confused and missing parts he can’t even remember leaving with you, and you feel as though your heart might stop because the only thought running through your head is Please, not now. Not now. Not now. Every single beat is an echoing no inside your mind.

You are so fucked up, you think, but you can’t find it in you to stop looking at his face, nearly flinching as you shove the feeling all the way down, down, down, until you can feel it like a brick in your stomach. It’s nauseating, like the vertigo you get at the very top of a roller coaster just before the car drops into freefall.

"Y/N?"

"I don’t know," you say tonelessly. He must have noticed your face change, he must have. So why doesn’t the frown deepen?

"Liar." Your heart is still pounding so loud he must hear it, even over the racket of children screaming in delight and cars blowing their horns in the distance.

Concern, you think again. Exact same thing that you see mirrored on Bucky’s face right now. You're concerned for your friend.

Roommate, really.

Colleague.

Guy you sometimes work with, professionally.

Exactly. That’s it. That has to be it.

You’re in deep enough shit already.

He’s still waiting for you to say something and you can hear the blood rushing in your ears, the buzzing in your head getting louder, and the only thing you can think to say is, once again, "I’m sorry."

Before Bucky can answer, his phone rings, and there’s the flicker of annoyance you’ve been waiting for.

"Hold that thought," he says. "Sam?"

Your heart sinks as Bucky presses his phone to his ear, reality catching up with you again. You try to rearrange your features into a neutrally curious expression when he glances back at you, but you’re probably failing horribly.

"No, I’m good, I didn’t end up going.Yeah. Alright."

You clear your throat as he hangs up. "So. Sam’s about to give his big speech then?"

Bucky looks bemused. "I’d hope not. That was hours ago."

"What?"

Confused, you look at your watch. Then you look at Bucky’s watch. Then you look at your phone.

Even though you can’t have been sitting here for more than thirty minutes, every clock you look at tells you it’s past 4 p.m. Confused, you twist your rings around your fingers, one by one, but they’re as pitch black as ever, and yet somehow …

"Should we go?" you ask, your voice just a little pitchy.

Bucky gazes at you for a very long moment, and then gets up to his feet and holds out his hand to pull you up. He still hasn’t put his gloves back on.

You take it.

"You’re really off today," he remarks and you hum noncommittantly as you fold the blanket back up and unceremoniously stuff it into the backpack. He shoulders it himself before you can grab it. "You’re just gonna complain again," he says, even though the Tower isn’t that far.

You don’t say anything, though, just trudging behind him without a glance back.

Probably because of the time of day, 42nd street is packed. You watch Bucky pass through the crowd with his head downcast and his hands back in his pockets. If it’s been a struggle not to get separated from him earlier this morning, it’s near impossible now.

He looks over his shoulder when, for the third time, several people have pushed between the two of you, and you shrug helplessly as you try to catch up to him. Again, you can’t help but think this would be so much easier with your powers working the way they’re supposed to; just stopping everyone else for a second while you move past them.

"Sorry," you mumble when you reach him waiting for you at a crossing. All of a sudden, you feel how tired you’ve been for a while.

"Wanna just go home?" Bucky asks.

"That’d be nice," you say, cringing at the thought of having to change immediately once you get back. Sam is probably already impatient.

Bucky’s mouth twitches. "Don’t make this a thing."

And then he takes your hand again and links his fingers with yours as if he’s done it a thousand times before. The light changes to green, but you don’t move, and Bucky softly tugs to get your attention. His hand is solid and warm in yours, and it does nothing to ease the feelings of unease and contentment that mingle in your stomach with his touch.

Neither does the fact that as soon as the crowd disperses and you slowly, reluctantly let go of his hand, he steps out into the street with his head half-turned to you and—well.

You wake up with a start to the sun in your face and FRIDAY blasting The All-American Rejects at full volume, and it’s like the air is getting knocked out of your lungs.

After that, the days start to blur.

***

"Why would it have anything to do with the mission?" Strange asks, and you can’t decide whether he sounds condescending or genuinely confused.

"Because it’s never happened before then, maybe?" you say, throwing up your arms. "I don’t know!"

"The loop is tied to you, not the other way around. If Sergeant Barnes has only ever died during the mission before today, the only other variable in that equation is you."

His cloak curls at the seams in a way that’s almost apologetic. What a stupid thing to say about a piece of magical fabric, you think.

"Great," you huff, sitting down on the ground and crossing your arms in order to not shake violently. "So first time’s skipping and now if I spend time with him, he’s just gonna die earlier?"

There’s a pause as Strange frowns. "Show me your wrist."

You press your lips together tightly and hold out the arm with the swirling green symbols. Strange examines it with a particularly grim expression.

"Just say it," you mutter when it becomes unbearable.

"Time is a precious thread in the fabric of the universe," he says, dropping your hand. His silver eyes are very serious. "You don’t get an endless supply of it."

"I literally do," you reply, flourishing your wrist demonstratively. "That’s the whole problem."

"No." Strange shakes his head. "Your reality is going to collapse if time can’t move on from where it’s stuck. Not today, not tomorrow, but it will happen."

You stare at him with wide eyes. "What does that mean?"

"It means, no more distractions. Things are detereorating more quickly than I’d hoped." He sighs, and there’s something about his demeanor that lets real fear course through your bones for the first time in a while.

"Okay," you say, swallowing it down. "Let’s do some overtime, then."

"I’m afraid that’s not how it works. Look at her."

You glance at your sleeping body, stirring in her sleep.

"You asked when this is," Strange continues. "That’s the thing with this version of the astral plane. It’s unstable. It only exists between dreaming and waking, and so our time here is very limited. You are then, and now. Past and present and future all folded into each other and wrapped into one. The nature of time doesn’t like this."

"So, what?" You laugh humorlessly. "I go through an endless day, and then reality crumbles anyway?"

"Do you understand now why it’s so important that you get a grip on your powers?"

Because you’re the one who created the loop, and therefore the only person who can untangle it again.

"So no pressure then," you say tonelessly.

"All of the pressure, I’m afraid," Strange says grimly. "There’s really no time to waste anymore."

***

"When we live such fragile lives, it’s the best way we survive. I go around a time or two, just to waste my time with you."

Your head has started pounding to the beat of the song and Sam’s fist at your door, but you keep staring at the ceiling, unmoving. It all just starts over.

Even this godawful song.

"Tell me all that you’ve thrown away. Find out games you don’t wanna play."

You must admit, the universe has a certain sense of cruel humor. Not that that’s any news. It doesn’t fucking matter what you do any of these days, because the outcome stays the exact same, and there’s a moment each and every time where Bucky knows that, too. Only by then, it’s too late.

"Geez, I hate you."

You’re so tired.

"I know, Buck."

Fade to black. Back in with a blast and the sun in your face, FRIDAY blasting The—

"I’m coming in," Sam finally shouts from the other side of the door. "You better not be naked!"

You hear him enter, but you still don’t move. You’re busy replaying that look on Bucky’s face in your mind of the exact moment it goes wrong. It looks so pale, his mouth twitching downwards, a bit like with his coffee, but much more devastating.

Black out. Rewind. His eyes are on you, not even on the white jacket shooting him.

Black out. Rewind. The fingers on his metal hand grasp so tightly around your wrist you feel something move underneath your skin.

"What is going on with—Y/N!" You feel Sam rushing to your bedside in three long strides.

Right. You’re still covered in blood.

You can’t look away from his eyes until the last second. Black out. Rewind.

"FRIDAY, turn this shit off. Call an ambulance."

"Calling 911."

The sudden silence slams you back into the present with a start. "Cancel call," you say loudly, your voice only slightly shaking. "I’m fine, Sam."

"You don’t look fine!" He helps you sit up, looking you up and down, a sense of urgency still vibrating in his every movement, but of course, you’re not bleeding. "You look like you just shot a man and then rolled over."

"You’re not wrong," is all you get out before you start crying.

Black out. Rewind. God, you’re pathetic.

You shrink back from his arms, cradling your wrist to your chest. It’s starting to swell.

And yet, the green symbols swirl.

You’re not sure why you’re reacting like this now, after … you’re not sure. It’s not like this is your first time. Does that make you an even worse person? Probably.

Sam is talking to you, you recognize his voice, but you can’t focus on the words. You’re desperate to find something to focus your attention on, like you’ve been trying, training, grasping to do, but you’ve got nothing. Just numbness, a gaping nothingness, and the scars to prove you’re not just stuck in a nightmare but this is in fact your reality, and you are the only thing that remains while everything else resets in an endless cycle of hell, over and over and over again.

Nothing stays.

And you can’t help but feel like you’re running out of time, anyway.

This is ridiculous, you know that. You know you’re worrying Sam out of his mind, that you just need to focus, damnit, take a breath, stop crying, anything. Your incompetence to do any of these simple tasks is like another slap to the face.

Time passes, and doesn’t pass; it doesn’t matter at all whether you’re there for a minute or six hours, it’s all the same to you.

Through the fog of it all, Bucky’s voice is like your lighthouse.

And you despise yourself for it, even as you reach out for him.

"Hey," he says quietly, his hands rubbing circles into your back until he slowly, carefully pulls you out of your head back to earth. "It’s alright. Everything’s okay."

He says it over and over and over again until you nod slowly. It’s a pretty lie, after all.

"What happened to your wrist?"

You know what you have to do, but that concerned undertone makes it so hard. You’re still not used to it, but you want to be. Fuck, you want … No.

It doesn’t matter.

"I need to tell you something," you whisper, barely loud enough for him to hear. "One more time. And then … Then that’s it."

You have to do this. Have to close yourself off emotionally. Distance yourself from Bucky in order to stay rational about this situation and find your way out. Treat this like you’re not involved at all; like this is just another puzzle for you to solve, and nothing else.

It’s the only way.

You’re going to fix this mess you’ve created, if it’s the last thing you do.

*****

"If we die here tonight, I’m blaming you," you told Steve through chattering teeth, and he laughed at you. If you hadn’t still felt bad about his bruises—no matter that they’d already healed completely again—you might have kicked him in the shin.

You’d reached the point of wanting to kick Captain America on a concerningly regular basis.

This time, though, you felt completely within your rights, because you’d been training hard all week, and thanks to New York being just about the most disgustingly freezing place on the planet if they asked you, you really didn’t see the point of driving into the city to a random ice rink. Particularly not on an evening in early January when it was already dark outside.

"You’ll be warmed up in no time," Steve said and waved at Nat, who was already waiting for the two of you, the hood of her sweatshirt pulled up so the red roots of her hair stayed hidden.

"Couldn’t we have done this at the lake?" you asked, looking around wearily. The crowd was substantial.

"Sure," Nat said and put an arm around you. "Do you have about fifty friends we can invite so we can properly train your powers around other people?"

You grimaced. "There are children everywhere."

"Oh, yeah. Some of them went home early, but most opted to stay when I told them Steve would drop by."

You groaned. Of course they were Natasha’s Blip orphans; they had the same mischievous shimmer in their tired eyes. "Thanks for that, Nat."

"You’re so welcome," she answered, patting your shoulder. You narrowed your eyes when her coat shifted to the side.

"Is that my hoodie?" you said.

She looked down as if she hadn’t noticed what she was wearing at all. "Yeah, I think so."

"I was looking for that everywhere earlier!"

Natasha merely shrugged. "It’s your own fault for leaving your stuff in the dryer for anyone to take."

"Don’t pay attention to it, she does it to all of us," Steve said, putting an arm around her.

"That is not true."

"It is. You’re like a clothes hoarding dragon."

"Did you just call me a dragon?"

You didn’t listen to the rest of their bickering, because your eyes had started to water, and not because of the cold. It’d been a long time since you’ve felt this warmth inside, this feeling of belonging, of, well … family. It made your powers pulsate through your veins soothingly.

Still, the worry came back when they gave you a helmet and knee pads to wear.

"I’m a travesty on skates, but it’s not this bad," you told Natasha again when you shakily followed her to the rink entrance.

"We’re here to train, not to have fun," she said, taking your hands. Of course, she moved like a dancer even on the ice. "Well, both," she amended when you looked unconvinced. "Oh, don’t look at me like that, it was Steve’s idea."

"Then why is he sitting over there doing nothing?"

"He’s got the day off." She pulled you to the side of the rink. "Here’s what we’re gonna do," she said, pointing to the far end. "I’m going to close my eyes and you’re going to guide me straight through the middle to the other side."

You stared at her. "You’re insane."

Natasha ignored you. "One straight line, you tell me when to dodge someone. We’ll go slow."

"I don’t know how many times I can jump."

"It’s not exactly a life or death situation, Y/N. I can survive a few bruises and so can the kids."

"I’d rather not injure a child if you don’t mind," you say, trying not to sound hysterical.

"And I’m confident that you won’t. Do you trust me on this?"

You met Nat’s calm gaze and took a breath, even though the knot in your stomach tightened. "Fine."

"Such a vote of confidence," she snorted. "Just watch what they’re doing, and keep it in mind. Think of it like a dance recital. It’s all just a sequence of steps in a specific order."

You bit the inside of your cheek and nodded. Natasha closed her eyes. "Ready?" you asked.

She smiled. "I love this song."

You could barely hear the music over the thrum of adrenaline, but you supposed that was her way of saying yes. This’ll be the day that I die.

You pushed forward.

chapter six

thank you for reading!! you can follow my library blog @intrepidacious-fics for update notifications 💚

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes series #marvel fanfic #mcu fanfic #time after time

157 notes · View notes

mt-musings · 1 year

Text

Bluebell

Chapter 41

After being abruptly transferred to the BAU at what she suspects was Gideon's request, Cassie Boann struggles to find her footing. Shy and solitary by nature, the transition is made all the more difficult when Dr. Spencer Reid seems to take an almost immediate dislike to her. Unfortunately for them both, their respective areas of expertise leave them paired off more often than not. But when Cassie's past literally starts hunting her, Spencer is forced to consider that he might, in fact, not hate her at all.

Quite the opposite, actually.

Spencer Reid x OC

Warnings: Canon typical violence, kidnapping, stalking, drug use, blood, injury, death, PTSD, eventual smut, more tags to be added

***Smut in this chapter, minors DNI***

Series Masterlist

Read on AO3

41. In the Dark of the Night

The rest of the week went by in a haze of lectures and reconstructions and research. Spencer had been right—it had only taken them another two days to close the case in Colorado, but before they could even fly back they were called out to Anaheim. By the time she was cleared she was the only one in the bullpen having to wait until the next case to meet with the team.

She didn’t mind, really. It reminded her of CASMIRC where she had her little desk in the corner where everyone left her alone for the most part, unless her supervisor stalked over to tell her off for her excessive reports or exhumation requests. Except for the fact the in the BAU she actually got visitors.

Penelope made it a habit of stopping by her desk, of dragging her back to her ‘cave’ so she wouldn’t have to sit out in the bullpen by herself. It made it harder to plow through her backlog of files in-between consults for the team, but it was nice. It also meant that she could pick Penelope’s brain about the difficulty of different government databases to hack into and who might be able to. They even went out to dinner the night they wrapped the case to celebrate and walked around one of the downtown malls.

It was probably the closest she’d gotten to having friends and a normal social life in her entire life.

She’d finally gotten back to her apartment around 9:30 and showered and changed into a pair of oversized sweatpants and a tank top before turning back to the bags she’d dropped at the end of her bed.

Penelope was a dangerous person to shop with. She was just so encouraging and complimentary and bubbly it was hard to say no like she usually did to everything that wasn’t strictly necessary and practical. Usually she only replaced something after it had been torn beyond repair, only bought sweaters and cardigans that were at least four sizes too big so she could easily hide her shoulder holster, only bought wide leg work pants to conceal the fact that more often than not, especially after Whitefish, she was carrying a third handgun on her left ankle. The last time she’d bought new workout clothes had been when she’d turned eighteen in Boston. Hell, the only thing she was diligent about replacing and upgrading were her sneakers, and that was only because she need to to run as much as she did.

But nothing she’d gotten today was necessary or practical. Certainly not the black near-mini skirt and tights, or the over the knee black boots Penelope had insisted she pair with it. Not the short sleeved babydoll top she’d bought on a whim because it was the same purple as Spencer’s favorite tie.

And certainly not the three matching lace sets of underwear.

If she was being fair it was long overdue that she bought some actual bras—not just black compression ones she wore regardless of wether she was working out or not. Of course that hadn’t been her reasoning behind the choice.

She glanced over at the sound of her phone, furrowing her brow until she saw the caller ID.

“Hey Spence.”

“Hey! I know it’s late, but I’m just getting in and I know you’re a night owl, so I was just thinking maybe if you’re feeling up to it we could have a movie night or something. I mean, if you feeling like coming over! It’s almost ten, I know, but I just—I missed you.”

“I missed you too. I can be up in twenty minutes?”

“Perfect! I’m still on the Metro, so I’ll beat you there by like 10 minutes.”

“Have you eaten? I can pick something up on my way over.”

“Actually—I’ll call in a pizza at Mario’s, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course. I’ll see you in a few.”

“I can’t wait.”

She couldn’t help but smile at her phone, even after they’d hung up. She surveyed the lacy lavender bra and panties on her bed for a moment before grabbing them and her new shirt and crossing to the bathroom to change before she lost her nerve.

She took a steadying breath before knocking on the door. She knew, at least at first glance, that she looked nothing out of the ordinary. She’d braided her hair back like she almost always did for work and wore the same ripped jeans and oversized corduroy jacket she wore almost everywhere when she wasn’t at work. But she was hyper aware of the light fabric of the shirt, of the feeling of the inside of her jacket on her arms.

Her spiral was cut short when Spencer opened the door, beaming. His hair was still damp from the shower and he wore a comfortable pair of sweatpants along with a t shirt and cardigan. She couldn’t help but smile back, holding up the pizza box.

“I have a delivery for a jet-lagged Doctor,” she quipped and Spencer laughed before tugging her inside, taking the box from her and dropping it on the edge of the table so he could kiss her. She couldn’t help but melt into him, bury her fingers in his curls as he pulled her close.

“Missed you,” she said when they finally broke apart, trying the ignore the way her heart was hammering in her chest.

“I missed you more,” he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead before retrieving the pizza and carrying it over to the coffee table. He disappeared into the kitchen and she could hear him pulling out plates and glasses.

“What do you want to drink?”

“Whatever you’re having,” she replied, suddenly realizing she hadn’t even taken her shoes off. She kicked them off quickly and placed them next to his before hesitating with the buttons of her jacket.

She was being stupid. He’d already seen her scars—twice before they’d ever even been friends, and she’d practically given him a tour of her left arm. She hadn’t really cared before they’d been friends—he’d made the same face everyone did, a mixture of pity and morbid curiosity, but he hadn’t asked questions, which she’d appreciated.

She took a deep breath before undoing the line of buttons and hanging her coat on the rack, forcing herself to ignore how exposed she felt. She crossed to his tiny kitchen to find him at the counter, pouring two glasses of wine. She glanced down at his table where he’d left out his chessboard—he’d been playing himself before he’d gotten called away to Boulder. She traded a black night for a white bishop, narrowing her eyes at the board.

“Check in two, Mate in four.”

Spencer whipped around to look at the board. “How did you—I thought you said you weren’t good at chess.”

“I’m not,” she said, hiding her grin as she watched him pour over the board. “Not compared to Gideon.”

“You were hustling me, the night of the opening,” he laughed, nose scrunching up, “I should have—“ he broke off, looking up at her for the first time eyes wide. She stood frozen as his eyes roved over her, fighting the urge to shrink away.

The silence was awful. It was enough to bring on the familiar pricking of tears, the heat of mortification high in her cheeks. She dropped her gaze to the floor.

“Cass, you look—God, you’re so pretty,” he said, stepping forward to run the edge of the sleeve between his fingers. She looked back up at him, the faintest smile curling her lips as she searched his face.

“I went shopping with Penelope.”

“Yeah? That’s great! Did you guys have fun?”

“Y-yeah. She really likes to shop. Somehow she makes it contagious.”

“Did you get anything else?”

She could feel how red her cheeks were as she answered. “A few things.”

“You’ll have to show me.”

She just nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She carried the plates over to the coffee table while Spencer carried the wine, seemingly oblivious to her embarrassment.

“I’m glad you and Garcia hung out—she really likes you. I think this time was really good for you. I mean, you’re royalty now,” he said, smirking as he plopped down on the couch. “Fair warning, Morgan has not shut up about the fact that you not only get drunk in shitty college bars, but, and I quote, ‘go to mummy burlesque shows with all your secret nerd friends’ and don’t invite anyone on the team.”

“It wasn’t mummy-themed burlesque—“

“I don’t think that mattered. I think he just wants to drag everyone over there the next time we’re free on a Friday.”

“That would—I don’t know about that.”

“It might be fun.”

“Or it might give Morgan a year’s worth of blackmail.”

He snorted, flipping open the pizza box and grabbing a slice. “That is a possibility.”

“It was cool though. It would be fun, if you wanted to go sometime. Ayesh really wants you to come to the Tombs too. He seems to doubt my ability to carry the streak.”

“Of course. It’d be nice to get to know your friends more too. I really only ended up meeting them in passing, besides Ayesh.”

“Yeah, well now he calls you with the evidentiary report before me now half the time.”

“Eventually you have to stop being mad about that.”

“Says who?”

Spencer laughed, and then sat up, setting his plate on the table before crossing to his bag and digging through. A second later he pulled out a DVD, holding it aloft with triumph.

“I found it at the airport in Anaheim—I thought since never watched anything as a kid it might be fun,” he said, setting the movie up before tossing her the box. It was the animated Anastasia.

“I watched things as a child!”

“Oh yeah? Other than the X Files?”

“Sometimes I watched MTV while I was doing my homework, if we had cable. And I had a foster mom who made us watch those stupid After School Specials.”

“Well, this is adorable, and the songs are really good. And it has Christopher Lloyd in it.”

“Who’s Christopher Llyod?”

“Who’s—Back to the Future, The Addams Family, Clue?” He asked, eyes wide. She just shook her head. “We are going to have to have a movie marathon next time we have a few days. You are missing out on so many classics.”

“Okay,” she said, grabbing her glass of wine as he plopped back down on the couch and grabbed his plate. She curled into his side, glad to just be close again. However much fun it was to have some semblance of a normal social life for a few days, she’d pick quiet nights in with Spencer every time.

“I really missed you,” she said, eyes locked on the movie as she took a deep draft of her wine. Spencer pressed a kiss to the top of her head, wrapping his free arm around her.

“I missed you too. It was terrible, knowing that you were still hurt and I couldn’t do anything. And then Anaheim just made it worse—it was so weird to not have you there, like half my brain was missing.”

“Half your brain is better than most people’s whole.”

“Maybe, but I couldn’t wait to get back.”

She smiled at him before dropping her gaze and finishing her glass of wine and leaning forward to place it on the table. She tucked herself back against him, arm curling around his waist.

She wasn’t really watching the movie, even though Spencer was right, just like always—it was really cute. Instead she focused on the weight of his arm around her, the way his fingertips played across her skin, on tracing the swirling cables of his cardigan. She looked up as he turned towards her, eyes half-lidded and pupils blown. His gaze flicked down the her lips for a moment before returning to her own, his free hand gently raising her chin so he could press a sweet, chaste kiss to her lips before almost immediately deepening it, teeth nipping at her bottom lip. She couldn’t help her tiny gasp at the sensation. He pulled back enough to look in her eyes, searching her face for something.

“Is this okay?” He asked, voice barely more than a whisper. She nodded, biting her lip.

“Yes. Please, Spence,” she whispered back. She wanted that and so much more, to drown in him, to lose herself in everything that was Spencer.

He closed the distance in an instant, one hand knotting itself in her hair as the other tugged her into his lap. She kissed him back, gently cupping his jaw and hoping he couldn’t feel the slight tremor of it. She tried to focus on the feeling of his hand at her back, the light scratching of his nails on her scalp as he buried his fingers in her curls, tried to ground herself to the feeling of his touch.

When they finally broke apart they were both breathless, color high on their cheeks, pupils blown. She grinned at him shyly as she sat back, just admiring his face.

“You’re so beautiful, Spence,” she said, almost not recognizing her own voice because of the soft breathiness of it. She couldn’t find it in herself to care, tracing her thumb along his cheekbone as she memorized the brown of his eyes, the flecks of amber that haloed his iris. Her gaze flicked to his perfect button nose across the sharpness of his jaw to the softness of his lips, slightly swollen from the intensity of their kisses.

“Cassie, you’re—“ Spencer started, breathless, chest heaving. She dropped her hands to the hem of her shirt before she lost her nerve and pulled it over her head, letting it fall to the floor.

Spencer gaped at her, mouth slightly open. She watched his eyes trace up her torso, lingering on the lavender lace of her bra. She knew he could see the mess of scars across her chest and stomach, the thick, ragged ones along her ribs, the circular burns, the newest scar right under her rib cage that hadn’t yet silvered, that was still a livid sort of red. The places—like along her collarbone and chest—where there were more scars than skin.

She dropped her gaze, pressing her nails into the flesh of her palms to keep herself steady, to make sure she kept her breath even and not too fast.

She’d been stupid, really, for thinking Spencer—for thinking anyone—might want her after seeing the horror that had been carved into her flesh. Selfish, really, to put him in the awful position. Spencer was beautiful in the way Michelangelo’s David was beautiful, in the otherworldly way he’d painted the angels and she was a nightmare straight out of Bosch’s Vision of Hell.

She started at the feeling of Spencer’s hands settling at her waist.

“Sorry, sorry!” He said quickly, eyes wide. “I just—you’re so pretty, Cass. C-can I touch you?”

She hesitated a moment before nodding.

He ran his hands up her sides, feather-like, thumbs toying with the lace at the base of her breasts. Somehow she felt small in his hands—delicate. He pressed open-mouthed kisses down her neck and chest, the sensation alone enough to make her arch into him and moan before she could stop herself. She froze, turning bright red. Spencer looked up at her through half-lidded eyes.

“Do that again,” he said, voice deeper, rougher than she was used to hearing, a hint of an authoritarian edge to his words. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, sucking a mark into her skin. She whimpered, knotting her hands in the back of his sweater. His hold on her tightened, one hand slipping up to cup her breast through her bra, thumb lazily circling her nipple. She bucked her hips into his at the sensation, her breath ragged. He pressed a kiss behind her ear and she melted, running her hands up his chest before catching his lips with hers, a desperate edge to the kiss.

“Cassie—darling,” he said between kisses.

“Yes,” she replied, breathless.

“I—I need to know what you want. We can—we can stop right now—“

“Do you want to stop?” She asked, brows furrowed as her stomach dropped.

“I—no. But I only want to do what you’re comfortable with.”

“I—I don’t want to stop. But I—haven’t, before,” she said haltingly, cheeks crimson. “I’m sorry—“

“No, no, no, why are you sorry?” He said, sitting up and wrapping her in a tight hug. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Cass.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing and I—I just don’t want to disappoint you.”

“You could never, Cass, I promise.”

“You’re not just saying that, right?”

She knew her voice sounded incredibly small and pathetic, could feel tears pricking her eyes as she looked away. She hated the chasm of unknown that permeated everything, hated that she was so hesitant and unsure and scared, hated that even now, when all she wanted was to get lost in Spencer she was still buried under everything that had been done to her nineteen years ago.

“No, of course not! I adore you, and I want you. Today, tomorrow—any day. I-I’ll show you just how much, but I want you to be sure, okay?”

“Please? I want you, Spence. So badly.”

Spencer just stared at her a moment, bottom lip caught in his teeth, cradling her head in his hands. “God, Cass. Say it again.”

“I want you. Please,” she said, voice still breathy and shy.

He kissed her, a new edge of desperation apparent even before he wrapped his arms around her and stood, pulling her gently towards his bedroom.

Spencer pulled off his cardigan without bothering with any of the buttons, the t shirt underneath riding up and baring a strip of his stomach. Cassie traced the skin without thinking, pulling back when he jumped at the contact.

“Sorry—“

“Your hands are cold,” he said, grinning as he recaptured her lips. He took them gently in his own and placed them back on his bare skin, thumbs tracing soothing circles over the back of her palms. He shivered as she ran her hands up his chest to his shoulders and then back down, toying with the hem of his shirt.

“Can I?” She asked, pulling away enough to search his face. He nodded, eagerly, half ducking out of it when she lifted it over his head. She smiled at the was it messed up his curls, at the hint of a dimple in his cheek before letting her gaze trail lower, across the newly exposed skin. It was smooth and unblemished and faintly dusted with hair and she couldn’t help but trace over his collarbone, run her fingers over his stomach. There was something fascinating abut how smooth and soft it was, how the only real variation in color was the handful of freckles across his shoulders.

“What are you thinking?” He asked, watching her explore.

“How to tell you that you have nice skin without sounding like I’m lowering a basket of lotion.”

Spencer barked out a surprised laugh, dropping down on his bed. She followed, biting her lip to suppress her own laugh. She’d said it without thinking, too enraptured by Spencer to filter herself.

“I love it when you really smile,” he said as he threaded his fingers through he hair, pressing desperate kisses to her lips. “I love that I can make you smile like that.”

She closed her eyes, focusing on the feeling of Spencer all around her, of his breath fanning across her face, of her lips on hers, of his hand cupping her through her bra, his thumb playing with the edge of the lace.

“I love you,” she breathed, pressing her forehead to his before dipping to press open-mouthed kisses to his throat, to the crook of his neck. He sucked in a shaking breath, grip tightening momentarily. She hummed her approval, reveling in the way the simple pulling of her hair sent tingles through her, straight to her core.

“Lay back, Cass,” he whispered, gently guiding her back against the pillows. She followed his lead, a bubble of anxiety rising in her stomach, though it was different from the panic she was used to. It was more anticipation as she watched him kneel above her, straddling her hips.

“Is it okay—can I take this off?” He asked, playing with the strap of her bra. She nodded, biting her bottom lip. She sat up to allow him to unclasp it, trying not to watch his face as he tossed it haphazardly behind him. Her chest had some of the worst scarring, even carving through her left nipple in a way that left a thick indentation in the areola. Spencer’s face didn’t change though, except for a slight darkening of his eyes as he dropped to his elbows to press an almost harsh open-mouthed kiss to it, kneading the other. She gasped at the feeling of his teeth grazing her nipple and he looked up to search her face.

“Was that okay?”

“Yes—yes,” she replied, voice shaking as she reached out to weave her fingers through his curls. He grinned at her before continuing his ministrations. He alternated between sweet kisses and hints of teeth, grinning into her skin each time she gasped or wriggled, slowly working his way down her stomach to the waist of her jeans. His hands stilled at the skin above and he looked up again, taking in her half-lidded eyes, her bottom lip red from being caught in her teeth.

“Do you want to keep going?”

She nodded.

“I need you to tell me, sweet girl.”

She shivered at the endearment, something she knew he noticed by the up quirk of his lips. “I want to. I want to keep going. Please.”

“So polite,” he said teasingly, maintaining eye contact as he undid her jeans and pulled them from her legs infuriatingly slowly. She held his gaze, unable to look away. This was an entirely different Spencer from the one she saw at work, that she spent days with in coffee shops and museums, spent trading rambling facts. His usually neat hair was mussed every which way, his lips pink and swollen from their kisses. Underneath all his lovely sweaters he was lithe, the muscles in his arms and torso more defined than she would have guessed. But more than that it was something that had shifted in his demeanor. There was a different sort of confidence in his actions, his words, that she wasn’t accustomed to. And still he was gentle, soft where she needed him to be, even without asking, without being told to be.

He made her feel safe, somehow, even in the face of the unknown. Even stripped bare, every awful mark on her skin on display.

She hadn’t realized how foreign the feeling had become.

He tossed her jeans over his shoulder, not caring where they landed. He kissed back up her leg, from her ankle up her calf, to one of the few scars not from Olney, but from her fifth foster father’s stupid Doberman he never bothered to train. He pressed a kiss to the inside of her knee, eyes finding hers as he slowly continued up, looking for any sign of hesitancy on her face. His fingers hooked in the sides of her panties and she nodded, cheeks flaring at how frantic he’d managed to drive her with just his kisses and trailing touches.

“Yes, please—please Spence.”

He pulled them off faster, tossing them off the bed before running his hands up the sides of her legs, settling on her hips as his eyes dragged across her, lip caught in his teeth as he sat back to get a better view. She squeezed her thighs together, a flush rising in her cheeks at the intensity of his gaze. She dropped her own, eyes widening slightly at his arousal tented in his sweat pants. She knew she had no metric to go off of, but she knew he was big. Big enough that she wondered how she’d possibly fit all of him inside her.

She looked back up as she felt his hands at her knees, lightly pulling them apart.

“I want to taste you.” The phrase fell from his lips so easily, not a hint of embarrassment on his beautiful face. She just stared a moment, feeling that she must be crimson. He traced circles along her inner thighs with his thumbs, the same reassuring pattern he traced on her back when they cuddled together on the couch.

“Please, sweet girl, can I?” He asked sweetly, though the glimmer behind his eyes let her know he knew exactly what he was doing. She didn’t trust her voice, instead letting her thighs fall open as she watched his face. He grinned at her, hastily pressing kissed up her inner thighs before burying his face in her core. She moaned at the sensation of his tongue on her clit and he laughed without stopping, making her throw her head back into the pillows, eyes squeezed shut.

“Fuck! Fuck—fuck!” She cried, thighs clamping around Spencers head. Somehow it only seemed to spur him on more. Suddenly she couldn’t form a complete thought, couldn’t do more than whimper his name and stutter obscenities. She covered her mouth to muffle her babbling, trying to focus on simply breathing as she felt herself begin to tense.

Her eyes flew open as Spencer’s hand closed around her wrist and tugged her hand away. He looked up at her, mouth and chin gleaming with her slick, his other arm wrapped around her thigh.

“I want to hear your pretty moans for me.”

“Spencer—“

She nearly screamed as he sucked on her clit, the shock of pleasure almost pushed her over the edge. She felt him look up rather than saw him, eyes squeezed shut as she threw her head back.

“Do you want more?”

“Please, please,” she whimpered, practically begging. She felt his hot breath ghost over her slit before she felt his fingers trailing through her folds, blushed at the sound of how obscenely wet she was. She gasped as he sunk in a finger and it brushed something inside of her that made her jolt with a different type of pleasure. It was a strange feeling, but nit unpleasant. He froze.

“Are you okay?” He asked, concern clear.

“Feels—feels so good,” she gasped, chest heaving. He set a languid pace, brushing that place each time and sending starts through her. He circled her clit with his thumb as he slowly added a second finger, watching her body tense as she slipped closer and closer to release. He quickened his pace, placing sloppy kisses to her clit. She tensed, arching her back as something snapped and she came so hard her vision went black for a moment. She swore, moaning his name. He rode her through it, slipping his fingers from her as she started to come down and climbed up to kiss her. She could taste herself on him, on his lips and tongue. She was still trembling with the aftershocks, still panting as if she’d sprinted a mile.

“You did such a good job,” Spencer said, one hand cradling her face, eyes full of pure adoration. “My sweet girl, you’re so perfect. You look so pretty when you cum.”

She bit her lip, trying to hide how much his words effected her. She doubted it worked.

She ran her hands down his chest and stomach, savoring the little shiver her touch sent through him. She paused at the waistband of his sweatpants, fingers tracing the fabric.

“Spence, can we—please?

“Can we what?” He asked, very clearly enjoying her shyness. He tucked a stray curl behind her ear, waiting for an answer.

“Please, Spencer, I want you so badly.”

He took pity on her, pressing a sweet kiss to the tip of her nose before rolling off of her and digging through his nightstand for a condom. He kicked off his pants and boxers, slipping it on before crawling back between her legs, elbows pressed into the mattress on either side of her head. He gave her a sweet, almost chaste kiss, eyes lingering on her lips before meeting hers.

“Are you sure?” He asked, his previous playfulness replaced with seriousness.

“I’m sure.”

“Promise me you’ll tell me if anything hurts, okay?”

“I will.”

He pressed a kiss to her forehead as she felt him run his cock through her slick folds. She couldn’t help but buck her hips, needing more. He chuckled, tangling his fingers in her hair.

“You ready, sweet girl?”

She nodded and gasped as she felt him slowly press inside, searching her face as he did. The stretch was so much more than his fingers, almost overwhelmingly so. There was a sharp sting of pain, but there was a different sort of pleasure in being just so incredibly full of him.

“Cass—“

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” she panted quickly, already knowing what he was about to ask from the furrow of his brow. “It’s just—You’re just big.”

He slowly pushed in until he bottomed out with a moan, peppering her face with kisses. The fullness knocked the wind out of her for a moment, and she grabbed hold of his forearm.

“God, you’re so fucking tight. You feel amazing.”

“I love you. God, I love you, Spence. You’re so good to me. I’m so lucky, so lucky,” she babbled as he began to gently rock into her. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him closer, close enough that she could kiss him. She nipped at his bottom lip and he bucked into her harder, making them both moan.

“I love you so much. You’re doing so good. Fuck,” he said through labored breaths. He picked up his pace as she bucked to meet his hips, eyes screwed shut at the sensation of being so full. The sting had mostly given way to pleasure, especially when Spencer’s hand snaked between them to rub tight circles into her clit.

She swore, arching into him, nails pressing into his back. He kissed her, hard, slipping his tongue into her mouth. She moaned into his mouth as her pleasure grew closer and closer to a crescendo.

“Fuck, I’m close,” Spencer said, pressing his forehead to hers as his hips pistoned forward to drive into hers. “Can you cum for me, sweet girl? Can you show me that pretty face?”

His words were the last little push she needed to fall off the edge. A moment later Spencer pressed himself into her as deeply as he could manage, shaking as he joined her in bliss. They lay there for a few minutes as they came down, holding each other, before he finally pulled out, careful to go slow.

“I love you. That was wonderful, you were wonderful.”

She leaned up to kiss him, breath still stuttering slightly, heart hammering against her ribs. He smiled into the kiss, one hand carding through her curls, long pulled free of her braid. She clung to him, something in her craving the feeling of his skin pressed against hers, of his weight anchoring her. She felt a little strange, almost lightheaded and like she was about to burst from the sheer amount of emotion rioting in her, even if she wasn’t sure she could put a name to what it was.

Spencer was the first to move, pressing another kiss to her lips before moving to sit at the edge of the bed.

“I’m going to go throw this out and clean up and I’ll be right back, okay?”

She nodded, watching him grab a fresh pair of boxers and pajamas as he crossed to the bathroom. She knew she should get up too, but her legs were still trembling in an unfamiliar way. She knew virginity was just a patriarchal concept, but she still felt different. Maybe it was the riot of hormones she knew were flooding her system or maybe just the fact that intimacy of any sort was so foreign to her.

She tried to focus on her breath, on slowing it down, on forcing the tears she felt pricking her eyes back. It didn’t make sense—she wasn’t sad, she wasn’t hurt or scared, but she couldn’t push the feeling back down. She curled in on herself, hoping it would wash over her like a wave, that it would pass before Spencer came back.

---

Spencer returned a few minutes later with a warm washcloth and a glass of water for Cassie, absently humming to himself. He was still riding high, still replaying every beautiful face Cassie had made, every sound, every delicious moment of pleasure he’d been able to give her. He’d never seen her so soft and shy, and he’d never felt luckier to be allowed to see her that way, that she trusted him that much. He’d particularly enjoyed the way she reacted to his praise, the way she simply melted at his sweet words.

It definitely presented interesting options for the future. He tried to focus on that, rather than the implications of why such simple, sweet affirmations had such a profound effect on her.

He was surprised to see her curled up in a ball, shaking with silent tears.

“Oh no—Cassie, sweetheart, what is it? Are you hurt?”

“No—I’m sorry. I don’t know why, I’m just overwhelmed. I—I just need a minute.”

“Of course—of course,” he said, pulling the blanket from the end of the bed and wrapping it around her before holding her tight. She pressed her face into his chest, clinging to him like a lifeline. It was a few minutes before she calmed and lifted her head, her face heartbreakingly repentant.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“No, no, no,” he said, wiping the remaining tears from her cheeks. “Don’t be sorry. Just—are you sure you’re okay? I didn’t hurt you?”

“No, I’m fine. Really. It’s stupid, I don’t know why I did that.”

“Can I profile you a little. Just this once?” He asked, brows furrowed.

She nodded, avoiding his gaze. He cradled her face in his hands, brushing away her tears.

“I think it’s really hard for you to be vulnerable with anyone. I think it’s hard for you to let someone else take charge and take care of you, because you’ve only ever been able to count on yourself. I think you loath your scars and you think everyone else finds them just as offensive as you. I think you’re unbelievably hard on yourself and you rarely had anyone tell you how utterly amazing you are and receiving even just a little praise in such a vulnerable state was a lot. And you know what else? I think you’re really brave, for letting yourself be vulnerable, and I’m really honored that you chose to do so with me. And I think you’re beautiful, with or without your scars, and brilliant and strong and funny. And you’re my favorite person, and I love you, and I missed you, so much it hurt.”

She stared up at him, tears once more glistening in her eyes. Then she hugged him, almost too tight, check pressed to his chest.

“I don’t deserve you.”

The words broke his heart, the fact that she so clearly couldn’t see even an ounce of the Cassie he knew, the Cassie he loved.

“You deserve the world, Cass. I don’t care how long it takes, I’m going to convince you of it.”

He squeezed her tight, pressing a kiss to the top of her head before pulling her to a seated position.

“Come on, you have to go pee, or you’ll get a UTI. I’ll grab you pajamas, okay?”

She nodded and he watched her cross to the bathroom, admiring her svelte form, the slight swaying of her hips. It was the first time he’d truly seen it, the first time it hadn’t been drowned in the oversized clothing she favored. He knew it was another way in which she hid, another barrier of protection.

He’d seen as much in the look on her face after he’d turned around in the kitchen to find her in that beautiful silk shirt she’d picked out with Penelope, a shirt that—while still slightly too big—was far more fitted and revealing than anything she’d ever worn around him. And while he’d been struck by how the color complimented her eyes, how the overtly feminine cut of it brought out the softness in her features, contrasted with the sharp line of her jaw, the lean muscle of her bare arms, her face had whitened and she’d avoided his gaze as she tried to cover her scars as subtly as she could manage.

He wished he could convince her that the only shock of seeing the extent of them had been the amount of what she’d endured, that she’d managed to survive it. That the only disgust he had was for what had been inflicted on her, for the lingering pain it still caused her.

He crossed to his bureau, pulling open Cassie’s drawer to see if she had anything stashed there. He found only a few work sweaters and a pair of trousers and a handful of practical underwear, of which he grabbed a pair, very unlike the pretty lace matching set she’d worn tonight.

He hoped she believed him, hoped she took even a little bit of what he’d said to heart. He hated seeing her cry, hated the way she looked at herself, hated that she’d so clearly been let down by so many people in her life.

He pulled out another drawer filled with his own sleepwear, picking the softest set he had before walking to the bathroom to gently knock on the door. She opened it, halfway through brushing her teeth. He set the clothes on the corner of the sink, pressing a kiss to the crook of her neck as he watched her in the mirror.

They both still looked disheveled, but in the endearing post-sex way that left a slight glow to the skin, cheeks and lips rosy. Spencer catalogued the hickeys across both their necks and chests, hickeys that would certainly be of interest to the team tomorrow.

He doubted that would be a fun thing to explain.

She finished brushing her teeth and pulled on the pajamas with a quiet ‘thank you.’

“Do you want to read, before bed? I picked up the new Collected Poems by Auden,” He asked, knowing how it helped her to sleep better when he read to her, how it made him sleep better to know she was safe in his arms. Her face lit up and she nodded, reaching out to wrap her arms around him and tug him back towards the bed.

Previous Next

#spencer reid #spencer reid x oc #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #long reads #slow burn #spencer reid smut

8 notes · View notes

weregreatatcrime · 9 months

Text

I'm sick and rereading Two Halves and I know I leave a lot (A LOT) of stuff in the end notes but there's actually lots of stuff I still never mention or talk about so here's a long sick at 4am ramble about things I didn't get the chance to talk about but wanted to (in somewhat of an order reminded by rereading) or at least just some lines I particularly enjoyed

Chapter Two commentary ayyy

Stockman is great at keeping a secret but horrible at reigning in his scientific curiosity. Karai literally running away from attention asdfg. Karai twitchy (stabby) when people stare at her part 2

"She didn't even understand half the things he said. She wasn’t going to waste her only shot by being a dick to the scientist making it possible."

Karai playing ambush predator ninja on the Kraang just makes me happy

Her magic cloak isn't like an invisibility cloak or anything. It just retracts light juuust enough to distract from the size of her. If you don't know she's there your eyes will glance right over. Rip her cool cloak, torn to shreds in the Darklands later

The cloak is a thing because 1: drawing four arms EVERY TIME can get frustrating and 2: she holds it tight around herself when anxious. Karai twitchy (stabby) when people stare part 3

Karai doesn't NEED her magic to be stealthy, it just adds an extra touch

Her worst fear is being Caught

If I were to explain cognitive difficulties fucking with the way I talk, I would point directly at the Kraang. That's what I sound like on bad days, except a lot simpler and a lot less robotic hfvsjfhsf

I'm never writing Kraang dialogue again, that One sentence made my head spin

Karai’s lower legs are super thin and she uses this to her advantage. They work excellent as piercing weapons when she needs em. She landed on those Kraang and her legs just fucking stabbed through them.

I like to think that despite how easy she makes it look, the Kraang armor is actually harder to cut through than she expected. Even for her magic burny blades

I say "blades" because her weapons aren't exactly swords. She has some swords, but she also has a wide variety of weapons all shaped differently. Most are curved and jagged in strange ways like most changeling weapons tend to be. She's got a couple hand axes too

She stashed Kraang tech in her actual pockets and also in her magic pockets

Karai stuffing wires in her mouth like a little kid shoving candy in her mouth trying to hide that she did it

"Donatello's voice crack was always funny to hear in the middle of combat."

"Karai thanked the Pale that her cloak covered most of her. The four sets of curious staring to suspicious glaring made her hackles raise." Twitchy (stabby) pt 4

The Kraang started trying to bug their tech when DONNIE started to steal their shit lmao

Using Leeroy Jenkins as a non, verb, and adjective brings me joy

Unfortunately those thin legs mean when she loses her balance it goes hard

"She just wanted to eat him up, he was so cute." <- literal

When designing her I briefly considered tusks but tossed them aside almost instantly

Karai definitely almost cried when Mikey gave her a name. She's never been given her own real name before. Crying in the club

I'm gonna stop trying to count all the times Karai gets twitchy (stabby) over being Seen bcz it's a lot and I'm too tired to count. Just know it's Everywhere

Shout out to this chapter for the comment that gave me a dizzy spell from excitement because it's when the TV Tropes was first set up lol

#I'm. gonna go back to sleep maybe #continue my commentary later #my stuff #trollhunters #my writing #two daughters au #tmnt 2k12 #rai internal review #commentary #ya I'm gonna see about going back to sleep and if not #then coffee #possibly a run to the store for medicine

2 notes · View notes

eyndr-stories · 2 years

Text

The Stranger The Better (FNAF SB fanfic) C16 - OBJECTION!

Read the intro to Chapter 1 (Enter A Sleepy Bitchard) for more details! I'd start reading there anyways else things won't make a whole lot of sense lol

In Summary: Reader is a forever exhausted young adult who has social difficulties doing their best to pay the bills, so when they get hired at the well-paying, almost entirely automated Freddy Fazbear's Mega Pizza-Plex, they don't really hesitate to think things through before stumbling headfirst into a horror mystery surrounding this company and its crew of quirky (and surprisingly kind) animatronics.

Things To Know (lmk if I should add anything):

There are some horror elements in several chapters! This chapter is not particularly spooky, there's just feelings of stress and some paranoia, but this chapter does heavily discuss just about every spooky thing that happened in the fic. So just to be safe, tags for everything that is mentioned to have happened but does not directly happen in this chapter: Feelings of fear, being hunted, being grabbed, being attacked, being controlled, attempted murder, feelings of stress, a taser being used, manipulation, blackmail, a gun being used.

Eventual romance, minorly important to the plot.

Reader has paranoia.

There is much swearing.

Reader is also addicted to energy drinks, though at this point in the story they are doing well with battling said addiction.

Reader is nonbinary (and also trans masc) though it's not vital to the plot and only comes up once or twice.

Reader is from the south, is protective of their friends, and if you threaten their friends then I'm afraid you've yee'd your last haw and yes that is important to the plot

Previous Chapter | Chapter 15 | Next Chapter

C16 - OBJECTION!

You'd never been in a real court case before.

You straightened your suit yet again and shifted anxiously in your seat. The finely dressed lady sitting next to you looked calm and confidant. This was her job, after all. You tried willing yourself not to sweat and mess up your nice clothes. You'd check your phone, just to do literally anything else but sit here, but it had gotten a weird virus sometime yesterday and was no longer working.

Paige was sitting across the room from you. Several suited people sat and stood around her, talking quietly about one thing or another. Behind you were aisles packed with lots of people you didn't know, and a few you did. Omari caught your eye and held up a hand in greeting. You gave her a small wave.

You took a deep breath. You straightened your suit again. The jury funneled into the room, and the judge took a seat before you.

Your head was swimming with anxieties and stress and a small amount of pain from the events that had transpired two nights ago. Your shoulder still hurt, but at least the swelling had gone down.

The case began, and the judge whacked their gavel down. The room quieted.

"Alright, it's time for the opening statements. Prosecutor, you may begin," said the judge.

The woman next to you got up from her seat.

"Thank you, and good evening. My name is Alexandria Norwich, and I am the prosecutor in this case. It is my pleasure to represent the people of this state. The defendant in this case, Fazbear Entertainment, a company run on greed and corruption, represented today by Paige Anderson, is guilty not only of blackmail, the violation of multiple health and safety requirements, but also violating the 13th amendment, which I'm sure you know abolished slavery and involuntary servitude. You'll hear from several witnesses today, all of whom have worked for this company, have interacted with management, and who know the true lengths to which this company will go to for the sake of greed. For the sake of lining their pockets, they have committed these atrocities. Now of course, I'm sure their money has hired a very persuasive defense attorney, but rest assured. The evidence against them is staggering. Don't trust me, or any other lawyer sitting over there when you make your decisions. Trust the facts, and the evidence, which I believe you will find there is quite a lot of. You'll see for yourselves, without a shadow of a doubt, that the defendant is guilty, on all accounts."

Alexandria sat back down next to you.

"Defense, you may begin with your opening statement," said the judge.

The defense attorney, a clearly upper-class woman who you had no doubt management paid big money to hire, rose from her seat next to Paige and cleared her throat.

"Thank you, your honor. My name is Rachel Smith, and I am the defense attorney in this case. Despite what the prosecutor would have you think, neither me or the company I represent is out to get you, or anyone else for that matter. We are just people, in the business of bringing joy to your children, and even yourselves. I won't judge, that's your job." Rachel gave the jury a charming smile. "As for the accusations thrown at our historically family friendly company, I will say this. Consider who has more to gain here, and who has more to loose. If Fazbear Entertainment were to be found guilty, not only would this staple attraction of our community be shut down, but the prosecutor would be written a very nice fat check. Just keep that in mind as the so called evidence the prosecutor may bring to you is put forward." Rachel sat back down.

The judge nodded, then said, "Following opening statements, the prosecutor begins direct examination of her first witness."

Alexandria stood again. "I call Y/N to the stand."

You'd been prepared for this, but you still winced when all the attention in the room came down on you. You got up from your seat and crossed the floor to sit in the witness booth. You adjusted your suit again as you sat back down.

"So, Y/N. You've been employed at Freddy Fazbear's Mega Pizza-Plex for two months and two weeks, correct?" Alexandria asked you.

"That's correct," you said.

"And during your employment, you met and befriended several of your fellow coworkers, yes? Among them animatronics by the names of Sun and Moon."

"I did," you confirmed.

"You also happened to record several incidents pertaining to this case, did you not?"

"I did, yes."

"Would you mind telling the court about the first incident you recorded, Precisely two weeks after being hired?" Alexandria asked.

"Right." You took a deep breath, and spoke as clearly as you could. "So I drove home from my shift, and there was someone waiting for me at my house. I got nervous because, you know, I hadn't invited anyone over at six am in the morning, and the person standing there in front of my door was a stranger at the time. Turns out it was Ms. Anderson, but I had opened an app on my phone and started recording just in case someone was about to try and rob me or something."

"We have this audio file to share with you today. It has a confirmed time stamp, and the voices you will hear are confirmed to match precisely Y/N and Paige Anderson's voices," Alexandria said. She lifted her smart watch and tapped through a few screens. Audio began to play over the court's speakers.

You could be heard quietly whispering 'what the fuck' as there was some shuffling background noise. Then your car door opening and closing, and then your voice calling out with much more clarity, "Who are you?"

Paige's voice responded. "Hi, Y/N. My name is Paige. I’m the official head of the A.R.D. at Freddy Fazbear’s Mega Pizza-Plex management offices."

You and the rest of the courtroom listened as you invited Paige around back for an impromptu meeting. Right after you mentioned the incident with Moon, "…I believe you tried to dissuade me from engaging with one of your biggest safety concerns. After an incident had already occurred. I have the proof, if you’d like to review it…" Alexandria paused the audio clip.

"We'll discuss in a moment the incident in question, of which we have video-graphic evidence taken from a security camera inside the building," Alexandria said.

You realized Paige was glaring at you, and the suited lawyers around her were discretely whispering to one another.

Alexandria resumed the audio. Paige's voice filled the courtroom. "…No need. I’m aware of the incident. Here’s the thing… It would be rather unfortunate if word got out about an incident like that. We’d have no choice but to decommission the animatronic. Permanently."

Alexandria paused the recording again. "That brings us to our first count of blackmail. The company sought to silence Y/N, to keep them from exposing the results of the company's negligence for the health and safety requirements. Listen to what Paige Anderson has to say on the matter."

Alexandria played the recording.

There was a moment of silence, and then your voice, "…Why haven’t you jackals gotten your specialist in to fix Moon’s bug yet?"

Paige's voice responded. "You know as well as I do that at the end of the day, its all about money. Profit. Budgets. That’s why you came back to work after the incident. Gotta pay the bills. It’d be a shame for you to loose such a nice little place, especially so soon after the last move."

Alexandria paused again. She told the jury about how you'd come upon hard times, loosing your house after your fiancé ran off with your roommate. You wanted to crawl into a corner and die. Alexandria went on to tell the jury that Fazbear Entertainment had dug up this personal information to use against you, to further persuade you that you should not cross the company.

Alexandria played the rest of the tape, where Paige told you about how management wanted to decommission Moon, and your idea to save him. Paige left, and you went inside and went to bed, forgetting all about the recording, which recorded your snoring for the next hour before hitting the audio file size limit. Luckily, Alexandria didn't make everyone sit through your embarrassing snoring for an hour.

Then, Alexandria went over the video footage you'd saved, the clip Sun had helped you download. You didn't want to watch it again, so you stared at your hands and focused on your breathing for a minute.

Alexandria went into detail about the virus that caused the animatronics to turn violent, how it was her virus that had made Moon aggressive in the first place, and how Vanessa had conspired for literal years within the company's own building, able to inflict her virus and build her mech and endanger a countless number of people over the years, all because of the company's negligence and lack of care for its employees.

She talked about the working conditions, the photographic evidence of the access tunnels she'd gotten and how disgusting they were. She said a lot of complicated words about specific regulations that you sort of tuned out.

Alexandria turned back to you. "The second incident you recorded was from two nights ago, the night that brought this all to light at long last. Is this correct?"

"Yes." You nodded. You were grateful that Alexandria was making your job so easy. You were not looking forward to being cross-examined, however.

"Now before I play this audio, I will warn you and everyone else in this room that what you are about to hear may be disturbing to some. There is discussion of death, threats of death, loud noises, a gunshot, and some screaming." Alexandria paused politely while two people excused themselves from the aisles and stepped outside.

Alexandria hit play. Your voice filled the courtroom again. "Uh. So this is Y/N. Just gonna leave a little message, just… just in case. Preparing for the worst case scenario to help ease my anxieties. So, let me explain…"

You laid everything out, the virus, how it made everyone act violently against their own will or recollection, putting everyone in safe mode, the notes Monty left, how Greggory had gotten trapped in the plex with you and everyone else. "I'm not sure what happened to Vanessa," your voice continued. "I hope she isn't… I hope she's okay… Uh. I think that's everything. So yeah, there's some freaky virus, the animatronics are not at fault here, they are not acting of their own will. If… Sun and Moon, if you two hear this… well, I'll be damned if I kick the bucket without coming clean. There's something I've been meaning to tell you… I-" you were beyond grateful that Greggory interrupted you there, calling you back into the security room. The embarrassment of admitting your crush to a courtroom full of strangers… you thought you would have died on the spot.

The audio went on, you and Greggory proceeded to the delivery bay, where you were confronted by Monty and Vanessa. You listened to Vanessa's confession a second time. She talked about her late husband Cameron, how he'd died and how Fazbear Entertainment covered everything up and so she had no proof but knew what they'd done. Vanessa admitted everything, the virus, plotting the murder of a building full of people, and how she wouldn't hesitate to kill you too.

Alexandria turned the volume down slightly as the fight happened. She paused to briefly explain what was going on in the audio. There was a lot of background noise and shuffling as you moved around, the phone still in your pocket. Then, everything quieted down, and Alexandria turned the volume back up.

Your voice came through the speakers. "Vanessa, are you alright?"

There was a few moments of silence. Alexandria paused briefly to explain that Vanessa had, according to several eye witness accounts, climbed out of the mech and pulled out a gun.

Vanessa's voice spoke up. "You think… I'd do all this shit… and not have a backup plan? I've got enough bullets for management and you."

You replied. "Vanessa… don't do this. Cameron wouldn't want this."

A few seconds of silence, and then the gunshot. You could hear Vanessa screaming, exclaiming at Moon to get off of her. You heard Sun's voice.

"Sunshine, I'm here. Are you alright? Y/N??"

Sirens could be heard quickly getting closer. The next hour was a cacophony of noise, cops asking all kinds of questions, an emergency responder asking Sun if you'd hit your head or were injured anywhere.

Alexandria stopped the recording after a minute of this.

"So. By all means, the evidence shows that the defendant manipulated and blackmailed Y/N. They did not follow the outlined heath and safety regulations." Alexandria looked to you again. "Now. This next question may seem out of the blue, but it leads to our third accusation regarding Fazbear Entertainment's violation of the thirteenth amendment. How do you define sentience? What makes me, or you, or the person next to you sentient? Y/N, would you mind attempting an answer?"

"Oh. Well…" You thought about it for a moment. "Thoughts, feelings. Ideas. Advanced reasoning?"

"And how would you describe the animatronics you've been working with for months?" Alexandria asked.

"Quirky," you started with a small smile. "They're kind, in their own ways. Thoughtful. Sometimes a little rude, but once they warm up to you, you see that they're really just under a lot of stress. They're anxious about one thing or another, or they had a bad day or something. They're a great bunch."

"Would you say that they meet your definition of sentience?"

"Oh, yeah. Without a doubt."

"Would you, as Ms. Anderson put it, consider them Fazbear Entertainment property?" Alexandria asked.

"I would not," you said.

"And why is that?"

"Because they're people. Same as you and me. Just because they're made of metal doesn't mean they're tools. My fourth cousin back home, his brain is more metal plate than anything else. And he's not a tool. Well, at least not most of the time."

Someone on the jury coughed to cover a laugh.

You went on. "They're sentient, feeling, thinking people. Like, all I am is just a meat sack being piloted around by stubborn electricity, you know? Just because someone's vessel looks different doesn't mean they're not worth the same care and respect as anyone else."

"Thank you, Y/N," Alexandria said, ending your rambling. "I have no further questions."

"Defense, would you like to cross-examine the witness?" the judge asked.

"Yes, your honor." Rachel got up as Alexandria took her seat.

You shifted uncomfortably, but held Rachel's gaze.

"Firstly, I would like to discuss these audio files. They may be time stamped, but that does not mean they were not staged. What proof do we have that this wasn't all staged by Y/N? Everything from their tragic backstory to the personification of robots programmed to be nice to kids. The prosecutor accuses Fazbear Entertainment of greed, but who is really the greedy one here?" Rachel paused.

You stared at her blankly. She could not be serious. Right?

"Who's to say that this hasn't all been orchestrated to pull at your heartstrings? A poor, down on their luck underdog using a supposed friendship with some robots in order to sway you to their side, so the court might award them a nice paycheck."

Your face felt warm. You didn't want to get worked up, so you put your years of bottling up your feelings to good use.

"In this brilliant age of technological advancement, it's not hard at all to add sounds effects to recordings, cut things out, omit context, move words around. Would you agree with that statement, Y/N?"

"I mean… I dunno? You can ask literally anyone who knows me, I don't know a damn thing about computers." You glanced apologetically at the judge. "Er, sorry for swearing."

Rachel stared at you. "I'm sure. I'm also sure you probably think you really are friends with these robots. Y/N, can you confirm that you have been medically diagnosed with paranoia, depression, and anxiety by a healthcare professional?"

God, was there anything these fucks didn't know about you? "…Yes, which I went to therapy and took medicine for. The treatment proved extremely effective. I'm no longer in therapy or on medication."

"Yet you still suffer from paranoid delusions, correct?" Rachel asked.

"…On occasion," you said. "It's manageable, else the doc wouldn't have taken me off the medication."

"Of course. However, wouldn't you agree that your perception of reality is not entirely accurate?"

You knew she was trying to make you look untrustworthy, to make everything you'd said unbelievable. At the same time, only a few nights ago you'd been entirely convinced that the drink you'd left alone on the other side of your locked house was definitely poisoned, and that if you drank it, you would die. "I am, at times, very worried about things that are highly unlikely to be true."

"How can we trust anything you've said if you can't even give us a straight answer?" Rachel asked.

"I have spoken nothing but the truth," you said.

"The truth as you believe it to be." Rachel smiled at you in an almost pitying way. "No further questions."

You went back to your seat. Alexandria called another witness, Omari, and asked her about her experiences working for Fazbear Entertainment, and her experience interacting with the animatronics. You were having trouble focusing. You felt embarrassed, and honestly, a little doubtful. What if it really was all in your head? What if the animatronics were all just very well programmed to emulate nice personalities for the kids, and you were just lonely enough to believe that you'd been making friends? You shrank in your seat. You felt like everyone in the room was watching you, judging you, not believing you.

Wait. You were paranoid. You were feeling anxious right now. You looked around. Everyone was looking at Omari and Alexandria. No one was paying any attention to you beyond a brief glance. You thought back on your time at the plex. You thought about how it didn't make sense for the animatronics to talk to you at all, or each other, if they weren't sentient. They'd just stay in their rooms and rest for the night once the plex closed. Freddy wouldn't have sat with you in your car that night. Monty wouldn't have smashed lightbulbs with you to relieve stress. Chica wouldn't have kept you company or enthused with you about your passions. Roxy wouldn't have been so crass with you at the beginning, only to trust you to sit and comfort her while she cried a handful of nights ago. Sun and Moon… they cared about you. Moon saved your life when Sun was about to bash your skull in. Sun had literally taken a bullet for you. You were not imagining things. Logically, it didn't make sense. You took a deep breath, then turned your attention back to the case.

Rachel was questioning Omari, who answered her questions with the curt dispassionate tone of someone very used to dealing with frustrating corporate bullshit.

Finally, Alexandria called her final witness.

To the surprise of several people, including yourself, Paige, and everyone on her team, Sun walked into the room. He had traded his usual costume for a very slick suit and a bright yellow bowtie. He gave you a small smile as he passed you on his way to the witness stand.

The last you'd seen Sun, you'd woken up once the aftermath of everything had cooled down. You'd gotten to talk to Sun long enough to learn that Moon had managed to restrain him and manually shut him down. Once he'd rebooted in safe mode, Moon had explained everything, and Sun had experienced a bit of a breakdown. The two left to look for you and the others, (they'd gotten around Sun's programming not allowing him to leave the daycare by Moon lifting him and carrying him through the doorway) searching high and low without success until they found the no longer secret door in the security room, just in the nick of time to come to your aid.

Sun assured you that he was fine, yes he had been shot but he was fine, he was made of metal and wires, remember? You'd calmed down, only to be whisked away into a confusing chaotic hailstorm of lawyers and news reporters and police asking you all sorts of questions. Someone asked if you’d be pressing charges, to which you replied on the spot “hell fucking yeah I wanna press charges”, not really fully comprehending what all that would entail. You'd sent word to Sun and Moon to talk to Greggory, who still had your house key, and if any of them needed to stay the night at your place they were more than welcome to. Then, your phone had gotten that virus and shut down, (luckily all your recordings and evidence were in your writing app, so you could just log in on a computer and access it) and you were back in it with the lawyers and stayed overnight in protective custody.

You stared at Sun, searching him for scrapes or injuries or any sign that he wasn't okay. He looked normal. Well, as normal as Sun could look, dressed in a suit instead of a silly jester costume.

"I won't ask you about your relationship with management, since the topic of Fazbear Entertainment's relationship with its employees has been covered extensively. Instead, I'll ask you this. Is it true that you are programmed not to lie?"

"Yes, that's true," Sun said.

"Any objection?" Alexandria asked, turning to look at Paige, who only glared at her. "So, Sun. You've known Y/N for over two months now, is that right?"

"That's right." Sun nodded and smiled at you.

"Do you have any reason to believe that Y/N would have or did orchestrate the events that transpired two nights ago?" Alexandria asked. "Furthermore, do you have reason to believe that Y/N forged faulty evidence, tampered with recordings, or conspired in the slightest against Fazbear Entertainment at any point in time?"

"Absolutely not! Nothing was planned. Except by Vanessa, of course," Sun answered.

Rachel shot to her feet. "Objection, Y/N did conspire against the company. After their first meeting with Ms. Anderson, Y/N began doing research into the company and its past, presumably to dig up dirt on the company!"

"What evidence do you have to back these claims??" Alexandria asked.

"Y/N's search history," Rachel stated.

"How do you have my search history??" you exclaimed. "Besides, it's not weird to do research on the company you work for."

"I'm sure if the jury saw the precise terms of your 'research' they would disagree," Rachel argued.

"I'll pull up my history right now and prove it," you argued, certain that you hadn't even gotten very far into your research. You reached for your phone, then remembered it was busted.

"You can't," Rachel shot back with a grin.

You paused. "…How do you know I can't?"

Rachel paled. Murmurs rose throughout the jury and the rest of the courtroom.

You got to your feet and pulled out your dead phone. "How did you know my phone was busted, that it had conveniently gotten a virus yesterday, shutting it down and not allowing me to prove wrong whatever you said my search history was??"

There were gasps and chattering throughout the room.

The judge banged their gavel. "Order in the court, please. Everyone take your seats."

Rachel's face was beet red. Paige put her face in her hands. The other lawyers around her whispered furiously to each other. Alexandria smiled at you.

During the closing statements, Alexandria recounted everything very neatly and stated that, as she'd said it would, the evidence spoke for itself. Rachel got herself composed enough to deliver a final speech about how much good Fazbear Entertainment did for this town, how it would be a financial travesty for the town if it shut down. She mentioned that the daycare was a life saver for many busy parents in town, and remarked on how sad the children would be without the pizza-plex.

After the case was concluded, the jury left to make their decision and everyone was excused. There was some more nonsense with the lawyers, and then you were finally allowed to go home. You had to appear in court for the final verdict, and you couldn't skip town, but that was all fine by you. All you wanted to do was go home and curl up in bed.

To your relief and joy, both Sun and Moon were waiting for you outside. You pulled them both into a tight hug, and felt an incredible tension ease from your body as they hugged you back.

"Common, Y/N. Let's get you home," Moon said.

You sighed. "Yes please."

7 notes · View notes

tokiro07 · 1 year

Text

Cipher Academy ch. 12 thoughts

[Iroha Demands Satisfaction]

I’d like to start this review by noting that the translator, Kumar Sivasubramanian, has decided to step down as translator due to the previous few chapters being “impossible to translate.” I did note that it was strange that he left parts literally untranslated, but damn, I didn’t think he did such a bad job that he needed to quit. I just thought he made an odd choice with how to approach it

I am legitimately worried about what this will mean going forward, as I can’t imagine that any other translator is going to have an easier time. Maybe the Viz translation will be on a two week schedule to accommodate for the difficulty? That’d be sad since it would mean that we’d fall very far behind very fast, but that would be better than the alternative of the series being dropped internationally entirely

Anyway, we start this chapter in media res with Iroha marching through the halls, pissed as all get out. As he walks past other characters, we get a brief overview of everyone’s current standings and relationships. Omamuro is listed as being in the Toshusai Faction, and Mokumokuren is listed as Omamuro’s friend; this will be the running theme of this chapter, much like the “Class 1-A’s Sole X” from a few chapters ago

We see that the target of Iroha’s ire is Nohime, who responds with “Iroha, is that you?” as if she can’t see him. This brings up the question: is she literally an eyes closed character like Meido from 100 Girlfriends? I figured she was just drawn that way, but if her eyes are literally closed, then that means it’s possible that she’s hiding AR contact lenses behind those lids. I’m onto Nisio!

Omamuro asks Yugata what’s going on with Iroha, and she has a very cute flashback transition where she clearly narrates the sound effect of the speech bubble forming. I love her, she asserts herself as my favorite more and more each week lately

Yugata recounts giving Iroha an apology letter in the form of a puzzle after their lipogram battle, and this is noteworthy as it’s the only puzzle aside from Q.??? that we aren’t given the answer to. I don’t imagine it’s one we’re ever going to get the answer to since Kogoe challenges us, the reader, to solve it alone, but maybe we’ll get it in the volume release? I certainly wouldn’t know where to start with it since I can’t say for sure if it’s meant to be solved in English or Japanese. Iroha himself isn’t up to the task at the moment either, as he’s still somewhat word-sick from the game, as Yugata predicted he would be

As a more concrete apology, Yugata offers to answer one question, no catch, even being willing to answer about Q.???. That would be boring, though, so instead Iroha asks why Toshusai’s catchphrase is to incorporate butts and asses into her speech. Honestly, I didn’t really think anything of it since everyone else has catchphrases and it’s just such a Nisio Isin thing to do, but subverting that expectation is also very Nisio Isin. In line with the rest of the series so far, it turns out that this too is because of a puzzle battle; specifically, she lost to Nohime and was sentenced to say “butt” or “ass” ten times a day. With this revelation, it’s not too surprising that Iroha is so pissed; Nohime’s clearly had beef with Toshusai this entire time, so making her say something so demeaning is obviously meant to debase and humiliate her

As Iroha confronts Nohime, three other girls who we haven’t had much interaction with join in the conversation to show that they’re backing up Nohime. Hahakura, Nomasu and Yorokawa’s name cards all introduce them as somehow related to Nohime, being her knight, informant, and houseguest respectively. This is a pretty wide range of titles, implying that they’re not a uniform group, but either have sworn their loyalty, are in her employ, or are mooching off of her, though how much we’re supposed to extrapolate from this is yet to be seen

To even the playing field, Iroha is joined by Oboro, Umitsubame and Kasuri, who similarly are listed as being Iroha’s friends, but in a distinctly non-uniform way: Oboro is part of the Oborozaka (Oboro and Irohazaka) Alliance, Umitsubame the Tsubamezaka Alliance, and Kasuri on Team Irohazaka. Similar to the above, this clearly illustrates that they aren’t really a team, they’re just all connected through Iroha, though it’s interesting that Oboro apparently has decided to side with Iroha so quickly. Not that Nisio Isin has ever worried too much about the length of the enemies-to-friends pipeline in the past, of course

The remaining students of 1-A are all given different variations of neutral, so I won’t go over them, but one of them, Yosaimura, explains that this type of faction-forming is pretty typical of all-girls schools, as you may have seen in the most recent arc of A Certain Scientific Railgun if you’ve been keeping up with that series. Since it’s now come up twice in my manga-reading life, I assume that his is a common trope, just not one I’d be familiar with as a shonen manga reader. Actually, it only just occurred to me how odd it is that Cipher Academy is about a boy in an all-girls school in JUMP. I’m sure it’s come up before, but I can’t say I’ve ever seen that set-up here, at least not to my recollection. And we haven’t even seen a single panty in 12 chapters...I appreciate that, but I’m worried that the demographic might not...good luck, Nisio!

Nohime insists that she was doing her duty, Noblesse Oblige, by giving Toshusai a fitting catchphrase. I presume this to mean that she was showing Toshusai her place, but that’s really not what Noblesse Oblige means; Noblesse Oblige is the obligation to use nobility for the benefit of others, but she’s abusing the idea to mean “upholding the status quo” at best and “using my power as I see fit” at worst. This is more or less the kind of crap I expected from her after she said she was attending the school out of Noblesse Oblige in chapter 2, though, as historically Japanese nobility have been very fond of abusing the idea after they adopted it from Europe, or so I’ve heard. I think that’s why Eden of the East focused so heavily on it, to try to move away from the warped ideal it had become

GAH! I FORGOT TO LIST EDEN OF THE EAST IN MY FAVORITE ANIME WHEN SOMEONE ASKED ME ABOUT IT THE OTHER DAY!!! What a blunder...

Enraged, Iroha challenges Nohime to a code battle, a first for our boy! He’s been in, what, three already? ...And all against Toshusai’s group, come to think of it, so I guess it makes sense that the first one he personally challenges be Toshusai’s “enemy.” I hesitate to commit to calling Nohime an antagonist or Toshusai’s enemy at the moment since she’s obviously going to become an ally once either Toshusai or Iroha become class leading private, but for all intents and purposes, that’s what she is for now

If Iroha wins the battle, Toshusai’s punishment is lifted, but if Nohime wins, then Iroha’s “it’s elementary” is replaced with...uh...”it’s butt-end”? What...does that mean? I don’t get it? Does that work better in Japanese? Is Kumar right? Is this series truly untranslatable? Or is it something really simple that I just happen to not be familiar with. Fortunately, Iroha is certainly not going to lose here after his “I’m never going to lose a code battle again” declaration last week, so I don’t really need to worry about it so much, but geez, Nohime, try to be a bit more clever, huh? Or are you the one that’s really obsessed with butts? Well even if I don’t get the joke, Oboro does, as she visibly stifles a laugh by pretending to cough into her arm. Very subtle, lady, good job

Iroha removes the accessories from his hair and slams them on the table as if they were poker chips, which I interpret to mean that he’s taking the bet, but the wind is knocked out of his sails pretty quickly when Nohime asks him to provide the question. This is actually a pretty perfect time to bring this up in the story since, after three battles establishing clear patterns and familiarizing ourselves with the game conceptually, we’re seeing how the logistics of the game actually work from the inside now while still being consistent with what we’ve learned so far. Honestly, I’m surprised that all of these girls are able to come up with puzzles off the top of their heads to match any given situation, no wonder Omamuro stalled by watching Iroha dance first

Kasuri, who calls Iroha IroIro now and is in turn called En-chan, explains that the challenger supplies the question, so Iroha thinks quickly and asks to borrow Kasuri’s music notes. another example of his highly touted quick decision-making skills

Omamuro is worried about Iroha and chides Yugata for letting him know about Toshusai’s relationship with Nohime, as it has resulted in goading him into a fight with her. Because she’s the head of the academy’s founding family, making an enemy of Nohime is bound to have a drastic impact on Iroha’s life regardless of the outcome of this one battle. She’s also the one who scouted Kogoe, so there’s basically no way that she isn’t hiding contacts like I said earlier. I wouldn’t be surprised if she was also the one who turned Kogoe away from Toshusai, orchestrating not just Kogoe’s ability to disseminate the glasses throughout the school, but also taking a vital resource away from her rival

Knowing that Nohime is the heir to the founding family of the school, which again has a uniquely shaped clocktower, I am once again reminded of Medaka Box. Is Nohime meant to be a Medaka-like figure in the context of Cipher Academy? Is Nisio Isin analyzing what Medaka would have been like as an antagonist? Will her AR glasses have some kind of wild ability that thematically links back to Medaka Box?

Probably not, but I can dream

Iroha completes Q.18, a three-star puzzle, using Kasuri’s music notes to create a musical bar. I can’t read sheet music, so I’m not even going to make an attempt at guessing what’s going on here, but Iroha, designated as the Representative of the Masses, proclaims that this is a song of revolution, the kind of shonen hero declaration that always gets my blood pumping!

Nohime Iesuno, as the 33rd Head of the Nohime Clan, chillingly retorts that revolutions are forbidden as she opens her eye. For the upper class to simply shut down rebellion as “not allowed” is such a scary thought, but it’s not too far off from how modern society seems to work: those in power will make or break any rule they can to make sure that no one below them threatens their power

She also says that there are no eight enders allowed either, which...is apparently a curling term for ending a game with a perfect score. That’s...an odd thing to say, but I choose to interpret it as she’s saying that no matter what, this won’t end up being a perfect victory for Iroha like he probably hopes, in line with Omamuro’s projection that even if he wins, Nohime is going to make sure the victory is pyrrhic

This was a surprisingly easy chapter to review, I feel silly for putting it off so long now. It’s actually kept me up quite late the night before the new chapter comes out, I’m worried that I’m going to sleep in...oh well! I’m just glad I got this done in time, I was going to feel pretty bad if I had two chapters worth to do at once, and that probably would have just led to me not doing it, so I’m glad I get to continue for a while longer!

I’m super curious to see what kind of puzzle Iroha actually came up with, but for now, I’ll leave you all with my prediction of the outcome: Nohime will end up joining Iroha’s growing harem, and while Toshusai will no longer be obligated to say anything related to butts, she may still do so around Iroha specifically as a thinly veiled sign of affection or respect. I think that would be really cute if it became like an inside joke between them, especially when you consider that she normally says ass to everyone but Iroha anyway, which already established him as somewhat special

See you next week, hopefully it won’t take me until the last minute this time!

#cipher academy #fouryearsandananime #4y1a reviews

1 note · View note

cedarkiller · 3 months

Text

I spent 8 hours today reading a yuri manga. I initially woke up with my mind being extremely hyperactive. So much so that I was getting a headache from how much I was thinking. I then started a new yuri manga. I've been reading those since December of last year. I only learned I'm autistic last month. And while I understood what special interests were and that I have some, I never made the connection with the process. The yuri manga I read today gripped me with an uncontrollable desire. I literally had to finish it. So I concentrated everything to do so. I spent 8 hours to read all 55 available chapters of it. I became irritable. I became unsociable. I pretty much lost my basic social skills because I needed to finish reading it. Now it feels like my senses are blasted and moving around and looking at things is exhausting.

There was something I've read from Unmasking Autism that I think is extremely important to understand. Figuring out you're autistic is wonderful because you don't have to hate yourself for not being good at a bunch of things. But it also means that there are scenarios where even if you're a lower needs person like me, you can quite literally stop being able to function okay. I get extremely obsessive when an interest grips me like this. I can't control anything about it. I haven't been officially diagnosed. But besides my high scores in various tests, my obsessive reading into autism, me talking and infodumping to other autistics, there's also days like today. Days where what makes me autistic really pops out and I can't do anything about it. So I understand very well that autism is a good thing but also a bad thing.

I might not have learning disabilities like higher needs autistics. But my mind being this active is actually crippling my ability to function or make conversations work. I think for autistics, how autism manifests will depend on the day and the situation. I'm very good at reading texts and parsing information. But I also have no ability to not think and parse information. This means that I can both come off as highly intelligent, but also highly naive and sometimes with an understanding more similar to a child. And of course, I burnout myself badly when I can't control it.

If you're a high needs autistic, someone with a learning disability or simply have other difficulties, please share them with me. I don't want to be selfish and complain about myself only. I want to understand everyone else that's going through a spectrum of this. I want to be better and understand others. I rambled here, but for the longest time I felt alone. I know there's a community for me out there now. And so, I want to also make it a little bit better for someone else.

Thank you for being so great!

#actually autistic #autism #neurodivergent #neurodivergence #i talk #special interests #infodumping

0 notes

unmeiokaemasu · 8 months

Text

I FINALLY beat Sacred Stones! :D

The "finally" is bcs the first time I played I literally set it down in the final chapter and just. never didn't pick it back up for like a year, at which point I was better fire emblem player so the idea of picking up a year-old savefile was abhorrent.

THEN, in the past year I've had two different software difficulties with it that led to losing save files. So yeah, the difficulty of finishing was not game difficulty, but software, including my own brainpower.

I'd been bashing my head against several maddening mode runs of Three Houses - since there are so many save slots I've got a run going for each of the four paths, and I'm not far on any of them - and finally got fed up and decided to see what I could salvage of my SS savedata.

The answer was not nothing, and...I honestly can't tell if this is an easier game than Blazing Blade or not; it might just seem that way because this time I was extremely cavalier (lol) about sending my units into danger...and I found out they could handle it. I think I used to just assume a magic unit had a more-than-50% chance of getting hit by a physical attacker and that a physical attack would shave off at least a third of their health, and the reality is very much not that. If you've trained your units, they're pretty tanky.

The first time I played through, I lots Vanessa in an early map and wasn't willing to restart it for her, and then didn't recruit Amelia when she threw herself into battle against one of my units and died before I could recruit her...so this time I was determined to not let any unit die, that's just my playstyle that's what I like, that and getting the supports I want adds a layer of challenge to some otherwise easier games.

And BOY HOWDY was Vanessa my MVP this time around. I think I did the same thing with Florina in my most recent Blazing Blade playthrough, insisted I'd make a good pegasus knight and damn, they do get good...although Vanessa promoted to a wyvern knight so not sure if that's a point in favor of pegasi? Anyway. Talk about a tank, I feel I really redeemed myself for letting her die the first time.

I went in the first time interested in the relationship between Ephraim and Lyon, knowing little about Eirika and kind of resenting that I had to start with her...and then by the time it got to picking a twin to follow I picked her instantly, even knowing Ephraim apparently accomplishes more story-wise in his route. I find Ephraim kinda boring, which I think is a consequence of splitting the protagonists like that, and Lyon...Lyon is honestly the second purple-haired softboi I thought was going to be my favorite and then was just kinda...idk. too soft. underbaked. Radiant Dawn fans @me if you know where I'm going with this.

(My real purple-haired softboi love is Knoll, idk why and I don't care, he's extremely disillusioned and sad and tired and resigned and I love him)

Anyway Eirika is in my top 3 favorite FE protagonists list, she's just probably my favorite version of a standard FE protagonist alongside Eliwood. I might like Eirika even a little more personality-wise but Eliwood's in my favorite game and I love him a lot so eh, I don't have to pick a winner.

So yeah, Sacred Stones is going to slot in very solidly at #4 for my favorite FE game ever. Blazing Blade just hit the exact right balance of gameplay and story for me, and Path of Radiance and Three Houses I think managed to both tell good and complex stories with excellent writing while also being fun to play (I'm so sorry Genealogy fans I'm a weak baby scrublord and I can't finish that game I know it has good writing but also it is more cynical I k n o w it's good I'm not arguing that I just cAN'T--)

Ahem. Anyway...oh yeah also the reason I was trying so hard at 3H maddening is...I finally have a hardmode-classic cleared savefile on 3H! :D

I think I may have beating Verdant Wind on that mode, but I don't have that savedata anymore so I can't check. Anyway I cleared hard/classic Azure Moon with these rules: no new game+ (so no bonus statue restoration, I think that was mechanic that let you buy things like support and weapons and professor levels so none of that either), no items from sources other than base-level gameplay (with possible exceptions, we'll get to that) so no under-the-bed items, nothing from amiibo gazebo, and no spirits of the fallen (I just played with online turned off), and no abyss resources other than the students (so no exchanging renown for items that the statue...honestly I don't even know what else is down there, I never used any of it even on easy mode, but yeah I defo didn't use it this time).

So the things I did allow myself were recruiting the Ashen Wolves (Yuri is basically always my dancer now and I always train up Constance so they can pass that paralogue and get Yuri's relic), and then stuff like Constance's quest to get the roster that allows you to to redo an answer once per teaparty, Aelfric's flower quest, the two Ashen Wolves paralogues, etc, all those things were allowed. Pouring exp into other students, esp the Ashen Wolves since they're available so early on, means sacrificing exp for your house's students, which means a harder Hunting by Daybreak, so I figured it was a fair tradeoff.

So yeah that was really fun. Glad to have both a hard/classic 3H and Sacred Stones savefile finally under my belt. What's next?

I honestly tried to start New Mystery and uh. ran into trouble getting it to. work. Will work on that more. Hilariously I saw there was a mod to minimize Kris's involvement, but I shan't be using that, bcs literally my main mission statement is to find out how annoying Kris actually is. I haven't beaten Shadow Dragon yet (the version of Marth's story that I've actually played), but I've gotten quite a ways in, and that really is the danger zone for me. I really do enjoy the early parts of Fire Emblem games more, when all the level-ups and unit potential and support-conversations-if-that's-a-thing haven't been decided yet. But I also like actually finishing!

So yeah I wanna start New Mystery, and finish Shadow Dragon. Then I've got a Binding Blade run that's like 2 years old at this point that I'll probably return to since that games...less fun to slog through...Shadows of Valentia I never finish, idk if I'd restart that or pick up my now like...three or four year old run of that...might fuck around and start Thracia...and might take another stab and Genealogy chapter 4 and see how I do. I won't ever get back to Radiant Dawn unless I can successfully transfer savedata from Path of Radiance, and at this point for me that means actually getting through Path of Radiance from the start again...which as I'm saying it actually sounds like a lot of fun. I might...I might actually do that. We'll see.

SO YEAH that's my Fire Emblem diary for today. I truly adore this franchise. I think there might be a lot of other jrpgs I might like for their story, but this mix of story and turn-based strategy is just absolutely perfect for me. I've noticed I've done well in irl board games in the past couple years, and it's definintely bcs of these games. I thought I'd be bad at strategy to the point of never enjoying these games unless they were on easiest-possible mode, but now I love the challenge! And yeah the fact that even tho in broad strokes the endings will always be the same, I adore the little things you can affect along the way (mostly who your best units are and which pairs make it to A-support). I may not have loved Engage, but there're still a bunch of great FE games in the back-catalogue for me to experience for the first time or have a new fun run of. Excited!

#catfishchat #fe talk

1 note · View note

hazisonline · 2 years

Text

Death Stranding: A Casual Gamer’s First Impressions

Okay… straight up, full disclosure: I’ve only just started the game – more specifically, I’ve just started Episode 2: Amelie, but I can already tell that this game is going to be an absolute rollercoaster, so I wanted to pause and share some thoughts before I really get into it.

Second disclosure: This is my first ever playthrough, and my first ever first-hand experience with any of Hideo Kojima’s work, and so I’ve started my game out on ‘easy’ difficulty, with the intention of getting a feel for the controls and game mechanics before I switch to normal. ‘Very easy’ felt like a cop-out, but diving straight into ‘normal’ difficulty on a game with new controls and mechanics (after another Bethesda binge, no less) would be more frustrating than enjoyable… easy it is, for now.

Let’s get into it ✨

I don’t think anyone who’s played DS will be surprised that my first impressions were simultaneously “WOW”, and “what the actual fuck?”, and I highly doubt these will change much as I progress further. Rather than running through my questions and the unknowns of the story so far, I’m going to talk about some of the game’s conventions and ‘notable bits’ that have caught my attention early.

(Above: My literal first reactions, and the reason I started this blog. My friends have no idea what any of this means, and are bored of my game ramblings)

Visuals straight from a cinema screen

The cinematic shots so far have been incredibly beautiful, in eerie contrast to the desolate version of America that the game introduces us to. The game was released in 2019, only four years ago as I’m writing this, but even with our current expectations of what good graphics are, I was blown away by how ‘stunningly uncanny’ the landscape looks - both during cutscenes and gameplay. It’s rare to see a place that is both incredibly aesthetically beautiful, and to simultaneously never, ever want to set foot in that landscape, and yet DS have created a world that manages to do both within a few minutes of starting the game.

The lighting caught my attention straight away, and so far, it hasn’t missed once – from the grey ominous chill that comes from the title screen, to the clinical blue lab-lights in Bridge’s isolation lab, and ESPECIALLY the golden-hour shots in which we see Sam and Amelie in his dream at the beginning of chapter two. I could probably write about how aesthetically pleasing I find this game all day, to be honest.

Speaking of aesthetics, the character design in this game is INSANELY high quality. Seeing Sam for the first time immediately had me saying “Hey, it’s Daryl!” to my screen, and his likeness being so on-point only adds to the sheer horror that is Sam’s habit of fourth-wall breaking… but we’ll get to that in a minute.

The cast of DS is super impressive, too – Kojima could so easily have hired actors who are less well known and played it safe with their character design and responsibility to portray them well, but instead they went all out with their casting, a risk that absolutely paid off with the high-quality of their graphics and character design. On that note, I don’t believe a better actor could have been chosen for Sam’s character than Norman Reedus. He’s mastered the scruffy appearance and husky voice, which perfectly complements Sam’s somewhat apprehensive, so-far-pessimistic character – I believe Reedus’ portrayal of Daryl in The Walking Dead likely influenced this casting choice greatly.

A sensory portrayal of aphenphosmphobia

Very early on in the storyline, we learn about Sam’s dislike for being touched, which Deadman soon introduces to us as ‘aphenphosmphobia’. Whilst this is potentially a theme that the game will build upon further, as of now, it seems more than reasonable to have a phobia of touch in this universe – the way in which the BT’s have marked his skin with scar-like handprints being a stark reminder of the dangers of his work as a Porter, many of which are still just unknowns at this point in the game.

Whilst DS doesn’t hold back on using the controller vibration feature on PS4, the way in which the game incorporates this feature to emphasise Sam’s discomfort when being touched is somewhat jarring as the player, creating an interesting juxtaposition between feeling connected to Sam and the way in which he processes his senses, to then feeling suddenly very disconnected by all of the harsh fourth wall breaks… let’s talk about those.

Shattering the fourth wall (and any understanding of our player/character relationship…)

Whilst I took Deadman’s quote of “The only ones to get a continue were you – for obvious reasons…” [when speaking to Sam after the vehicle crash during the prologue] as a huge hint to this, Sam’s fourth wall breaking whilst LITERALLY pointing us towards points of interest around his room at the Bridges facility opens up a whole new possibility for how the DS storyline is going to unfold. Does Sam know he’s in a video game? Do they ALL know? Or am I, as the player, in his universe now? I have so many questions, and truthfully, I’m looking forward to the game progressing and answering them naturally, or more likely, giving me even more questions.

Whilst I’m not ready to make any real predictions about how the story is going to progress, I have a small gut feeling that as the player, our role might be even more literal within the game universe… something about the angle in which we seem to be placed opposite Sam in his room looks awfully similar to BB’s pod location on the back wall. Please don’t let us be BB… BB is vile. Speaking of which, Oh my god, I’m still not sure how I feel about BB. It’s fine in its pod, but in Sam’s throat? Its creepy hands? nah. Truthfully, more grossed out than curious. I hope Sam’s refusal to chuck that thing in the incinerator doesn’t come back to haunt him.

I couldn’t not mention the Monster Energy.

Listen… I’m not complaining. Get that coin, get that sponsor… I get it. Seeing a product I recognised in real life was also kinda fun, as was clearly the point, and the idea that Monster energy survives the potential end of humanity is hilarious. This kind of unintentional-but-also-very-much-intentional comedy feels like much-needed respite from the bleak and confusing world we’ve been thrust into, and paired with character names like Die Hardman, adds a touch of sarcastic humour that’s enjoyable, without taking away from the game’s bizarre, supernatural (???) overtone. I’m massively looking forward to playing further, to gage a better understanding of the vibe of the story.

We’re not in Skyrim anymore…

I briefly mentioned Bethesda in my intro – whilst I play a multitude of different games and genres, I repeatedly start new saves on both Skyrim and Fallout in between trying out new titles (as every other casual gamer on the planet does, too). They’re cult classics, and whilst Bethesda’s style is worlds away from that of Kojima productions, I still wanted to use them as a reference point to mention one of DS’s most noticeable differences when jumping from one to another – that being the way in which DS forces the player to use some autonomy.

Any avid Fallout 4 player, for example, will tell you that relying on V.A.N.S and V.A.T.S is the equivalent of the game holding your hand and telling you where to go, and what to do next. This isn’t a criticism if that’s how you choose to play (your save, your rules, after all), but getting used to this style of playthrough can make it extremely difficult to adjust to new games outside of one studio; Whilst my FO4 playthroughs weren’t necessarily VATS-heavy, the jump to DS, in which you’re largely left to your own devices, was something I definitely noticed almost immediately. Physically balancing a character isn’t a mechanic I’ve experienced before, and there’s certainly no continuous mashing of triangle to walk a horse vertically up a mountain or fast-travel here. Whilst it took some getting used to (and is STILL taking some getting used to), it’s very refreshing to play a game that requires that extra level of concentration for a task as normally simple in-game as holding the left joystick in place. Dare I compare it to mindfulness? (Bit of a stretch…?)

Last but NOT least… Accessibility

The last thing I wanted to talk about, as I plan to discuss for any and all games I review on this blog, is accessibility. I strongly believe that gaming is for everyone, and that both indie and triple-A game studios should put in the extra work to be as accessible as possible to allow for this.

First up, the subtitles are clean, and the option to change the text size from medium to large is a great feature for easy reading. I’m also pleased to share that (so far!) there hasn’t been any cluttered overlapping of subtitles that can often be an issue when background NPC’s start talking within earshot.

On PS4, as previously mentioned, the game doesn’t shy away from using the vibration feature on the controller – this could be a positive or a negative, depending on the player, but in the instance of using the vibrations to intensify Sam’s dislike of being touched, this added sensory element works really well to further invite us into his story.

It does have to be said, though, that the almost-intricate nature of moving Sam’s character without him tripping or falling over won’t be an easy feat for all players, and my understanding is that this isn’t a convention that gets easier by changing your game difficulty. Whilst for a lot of us, it will just take a bit of extra practice, this feature of the game could deter potential players who don’t have the level of dexterity needed for Sam to be maneuvered without constantly tripping and falling.

Final thoughts? (Before moving on with episode two!)

So far? Massively excited about Death Stranding. I can already tell it’s going on my favourites list. It’s the perfect level of haunting and uncomfortably unfamiliar whilst also being mysterious and enticing, for the very same reason. Truthfully, I don’t yet have any game predictions, other than that the plot twists are going to be mind-blowing, and that as a player, we may play a bigger role in the game universe than initially expected.

I also predict that LOW ROAR’s “Don’t Be So Serious” will be stuck in my head for days. DAYS.

If you’ve not played Death Stranding yet, I highly recommend you give it a go, and if you have, let me know whether you agree with my initial reaction! (no spoilers though, please!)

I’m legitimately turning the PlayStation back on to continue DS as I finish this post.

See you around!

- Haz x

#deathstranding #gamereview #casualgamer #sam porter bridges #first playthrough #hideo kojima #kojima productions #game blog

1 note · View note

iu-jjang · 2 years

Text

[TRANS] IU ‘Pieces’ Album and Song Introductions

IU [Pieces]

The pieces in between my 20s that I purposely didn’t take out

1. Drama

2. Next Stop

It can’t be helped that (I am) biased towards such songs.

There wasn’t any format or particular chord work that I worked hard on, but the moment I wrote the first verse as easily as breathing, I was so in love with this song.

But even then, I forgot about it. Heh.

This is the only song that we mixed in the vocals from the guide version. It contains both my voice from 3 years ago, as well as my current voice. I sang it calmly back then, but now I sing it in a way that appeals (to emotions). Ironically, it might be because it’s all in the past now.

Between Jieun and Jian is a ‘station’.

The two are connected by the distance of a station.

[T/L note: literal translation of the Korean song title is ‘The Station’.]

3. Winter Sleep

This song took the longest time to record.

Even though a great loss came into my world, there were flowers blooming, stars coming up and poems being born out there without delay. In between these repetitive seasons is ‘winter sleep’.

As I sing this song, this time I really won’t break down anymore. They’ll know this isn’t a lie.

4. You

I thought hard about whether to include this track or not.

Between ‘Chat-shire’ and ‘Palette’ is ‘You’ wanting to slowly and quietly flow along.

It’s probably the song (title) with the least syllables out of all the songs I’ve worked on.

5. Love Letter

Last year, I went on KBS ‘Sketchbook’ and sang this song, which gave me the opportunity to work with Jung Seunghwan, who is a singer I admire. When we were working together on this song, I briefly explained to Antenna and Jung Seunghwan about (my plans) to release this collection of my pieces and earned their consent to release the song. I wrote the lyrics based on the scenario of one half of an elderly couple leaving the world first and writing a final love letter for the other half who is left behind.

If Jung Seunghwan’s version is more calm and refined, I wanted my version of ‘Love Letter’ to be delivered in a more straightforward manner.

In between a novel and a letter, with this ‘Love Letter’ that I pressed my sincere emotions into and wish to send to those who love me, I close this collection of my (music) pieces.

Translated by IUteamstarcandy

#IU #pieces #album introduction #song introduction

235 notes · View notes

johnsamericano · 3 years

Text

𝔖𝔲𝔤𝔞𝔯 ℜ𝔲𝔰𝔥 𝔧.𝔧.𝔥

Hi everyone! As promised, here’s one of the two most voted fic continuations. There will be more chapters to this story though I'm not sure how many yet. Thank you for reading!

warnings: sugar daddy jae, mentions of injuries and hospitals, language.

taglist: @thoreeo @trustmahluv

Sugar rush m.list.

The machine monitoring your father’s heartbeat was the only sound filling the quiet hospital room, where your once healthy father laid unconscious, his perfect, chiseled cheeks adorned with cuts and bruises. Would they leave a mark?

The machine monitoring your father’s heartbeat was the only sound filling the hospital room, where your once healthy father laid unconscious, his perfect, chiseled cheeks adorned with cuts and bruises. Would they leave a mark?

Where did everything go wrong?

Your string of thoughts was cut off by a call from your aunt.

“Hello?” Your voice was raspy from not using it. There was no one to talk to in the quiet, hospital room but the nurses, who weren't especially keen on chatting.

“How’s your dad, sweetie?”

“They let him out of ICU, but he doesn't look good to me.” Your fingers traced the cuts in his chiseled cheeks that would soon turn into scars, ruining his perfect skin. Your eyes then diverted to his head, thoroughly covered in bandages to protect his damaged skull.

“Honey, I've got bad news...”

“They rejected the case, didn't they?”

“Not precisely.” She deeply inhaled before continuing. “It’s a tough case, almost impossible to win, nonetheless, they're willing to take it. But their fee is a little...”

“Expensive.”

“Yes.”

As expected from the best firm in town, they wouldn't take less than $8,000. Your bank account didn't have enough money to even cover half of it, and with your job at the convenience store, you'd only earn so much to cover your expenses.

“We can take the lawyer that the government provides us with, it would be free.”

“But then I'm sure we’d lose.” You groaned in frustration, using your free hand to rub your forehead. “Don’t worry, I'll find a way to get the money.”

“Why don't we just accept the compensation they're offering? It could pay for the hospital bills and you'd still have some left to pay for your tuition.”

“That would be like putting a price on my father's life. I don't want their money, I want them to make themselves responsible for what they've caused.” The sound of wheels approached the door of your father's room, signaling the nurse was outside with his meds. “It’s okay, Auntie, I'll take care of everything. You can go back home, I know my uncle isn't doing so well.”

“Are you sure, darling?” It was undeniable that she wanted to head back to her little ranch fat away from the hectic city life to take care of her sick husband, but still, her brother was laying down on a hospital bed, fighting for his life.

“Yes, I'm an adult, I'll find a way.”

“Take care of yourself, and don't hesitate to call me if you're having any difficulties. I'll be there in the blink of an eye.” She said before sending a kiss into the speaker, proceeding to hang up.

You sighed. It was never usual for you to ask for help, as you were an extremely prideful and independent person, and you doubted this time would be different.

“Don’t worry, dad. Everything will be alright.”

Three failed job interviews and one more to go. Your feet were killing you, the high heels covering them already worn out from walking to avoid taking the bus. Every penny counted, and as long as your legs worked, you weren't spending any more money than what was necessary.

You sat down in the waiting room of the company, massaging your neck to relieve some tension. College was becoming a burden. Maybe you'd take a semester off to focus on working, that is if someone wanted to hire an inexperienced student.

“Y/n, Y/l/n?”

“Here.” You darted up, gathering your belongings to enter the room on which your life almost literally depended.

You gave all the right answers, earning a polite ‘we’ll contact you’ in return. But you could see that they weren't convinced with your lack of experience, no company in their right mind would be.

As soon as you arrived at your apartment, you slid out of the uncomfortable pencil skirt, tucking yourself under the covers with your phone screen almost hitting your nose.

To take your mind off things, you decided to watch some videos. Halfway in, an ad popped up, interrupting the interior deco video you were watching.

A picture of a girl about your age hugging an older man was right in the middle of your screen. Written with fancy letters, the words ‘make your life simpler’ could be read, followed by what you guessed was the title of the app. Sugar rush.

Out of pure curiosity, your finger tapped at the small icon that led to the app store, absentmindedly clicking the download button. A few seconds later, an icon with the letters ‘SR’ was added to your home screen.

“Log in?” You murmured out loud, squinting your eyes to adjust your eyes to the bright, white homepage.

Just as you were about to click out, the phrase from the ad reappeared, stopping your finger from moving any further.

You could always delete your account if something went wrong, right? Nonetheless, you decided to use a false name, and that's how Melanie Kim’s profile was created. You left the circle of your profile picture empty for now, only filling the spaces that asked about your likes, dislikes, age, and all that stuff that people care about so much.

You knew what the app was for, but that didn't stop you from being surprised when a list of men and women of different ages greeted you. Right then, a small rectangle obstructed your sight, two buttons offering opposite things.

‘Pick the role you'd like to develop.’

Sugar daddy/mommy / Sugar baby.

Clearly, you didn’t have nor the money or the years to be the first, so you clicked the opposite button without giving it more thought.

‘Welcome. You've been registered as a sugar baby at Sugar rush. Meet thousands of men and women willing to finance you for free!’

You hummed.

‘As we're always looking to make our users’ experience better, we've developed Sugar Rush premium, a membership to meet the richest and hottest people in your surroundings. Get the premium version for only $5.95 a month. Click here to get Sugar Rush premium.’

Your finger pad was dangerously close to the blue button, almost grazing the screen of the phone. It was then when you were pulled out of your trance, blinking as if just then you'd realized what you were doing.

“I must be crazy.” You turned off your phone, not bothering to turn on an alarm for the next day. You had no interviews left. You had nowhere to go.

Waking up was getting harder with every passing day. Not being able to call your dad to go out for breakfast or even sending a simple good morning message hurt you deeply. You missed him. But seeing him laying down on a hospital bed, unable to do anything by himself, was even worse.

Ding

A notification filled the silence in your room.

‘Come back, you haven't finished setting up your account yet!’

You scoffed at your past self. What were you even thinking when you downloaded the app?

You simply turned off the phone before standing up to take a relaxing shower. As the water soaked up your tense body, your mind started wandering off back to the app. A million what-ifs filled your head, nonetheless, there was one that remained the most persistent.

‘What if this can pay for a lawyer?’

Your part-time job surely couldn't, and you had no one to assist you financially speaking. The whole idea of paying that ridiculous membership seemed more tempting as your fingers started getting wrinkly under the showerhead.

You decided to take some time to consider it, after all, you still had a week to give the lawyers an answer.

Hot soup seemed like a good option to comfort you, and thankfully, there was a store right in front of your place that claimed to sell the best soups in town.

It wasn't bad, but not nearly as good as the one your dad cooked when you were a kid. You sighed, wondering if you'd ever be able to eat it again. Just then, a woman about your age came into the shop, carrying a couple of bags where names of popular brands could be read. A pinch of jealousy made your heart stir as you glanced at yourself through the reflection in the glass at your side. You looked devastated, your skin pale and your cheekbones slightly sunken, a sign of the lack of rest and food you'd been getting.

Out of pure impulse, you pulled out your phone, clicked on the app you'd recently downloaded, and finally accepted the charges for a premium membership.

‘Welcome, new member of our wide community, click ok to get started!’

Well, no turning back now.

Right after pressing the blue letters with your thumb, you were presented with a list of potential prospects, some of them including pictures, some of them only including name and a brief description of what they were looking for. The minority included their ages, but most left the space blank.

A bunch of old men looking for a youthful, pretty woman to be by their sides, some of them even went as far as writing the weight and height their ideal partner should have. Of course, there were also some women in the look for young meat, but the number of men overpassed them.

About to exit the app in defeat, a profile caught your eye. His pale pink hair was parted, allowing his thick eyebrows to stand out. His high cheekbones made him look like a statue, the details in his face almost too perfect for a mere human. He must be the incarnation of a Greek God, you thought.

‘Jung Yoonoh. 41 years old. Owner of N & C.’

“Should I...?” You asked yourself in a voice lower than a whisper.

He has probably gotten hundreds of messages, so what would be the point of sending one yourself? Your eyes scanned the picture over and over again as the remains of your soup started getting cold.

He was probably the only acceptable man in the whole app, so why not give it a try?

You already spent five whole dollars on it, might as well make it worth the money.

‘Hi.’ Sent.

“Holy crap.” You breathed out, regretting every single action that led you to take such a stupid decision. “Ah!” You squeaked as three small dots appeared beside his profile picture, signaling he was writing a reply.

What if he rejected you right from the beginning? God, that would be so humiliating. His message stopped your train of thought.

‘Hi!’

Followed by:

‘How are you?’

Sweating like a pig, thank you for asking.

‘Fine. You?’ Read.

‘Thrilled. No one had messaged me since I created my account two weeks ago.’

‘How is that possible?’ You imprinted your thoughts on a message.

‘It’s hard to trust people nowadays. I guess people might think either my picture is photoshopped or I'm lying about my job.’

‘Their loss, ig.’ Read.

He was taking some time to answer. Had you said something inappropriate?

‘Hahaha.’

The conversation stopped there, as you didn't know how exactly to answer his message. But a few minutes later, another text from him popped up at your chat.

‘If you're okay with it, we can start talking about a possible arrangement.’

Already? You've known each other for like five minutes. But then again, arrangements were the whole purpose of the app.

‘Sure.’

‘May I ask your reasons for joining the app?’

‘I need urgent money, but my job doesn't pay nearly enough.’ You omitted the part of your agonizing father, he didn't need to know that. ‘And you?’

‘I need someone to be my partner at public spaces.’

‘Alright.’ Read.

‘Do you happen to have some free time tomorrow at lunchtime? I think it’d be better to meet first before making any decisions.’

‘Yeah, I'm free.’

‘Great, I’ll send you the address.’

You thought a day would be enough to prepare yourself, but time passed by quicker than usual, and soon enough, it was time to get ready for your meeting with Mr. Jung. He was only a few years younger than your father, and calling him by his first name wouldn't feel right.

Unsure if you should wear something formal, you threw on a beige (the color you'd agreed on wearing so it’d be easier to recognize each other) summer dress, pairing it with the gold hoops you'd inherited from your grandma to make it look more elegant.

The hardest part of your routine was makeup. Your sunken cheeks couldn't be covered, and only after a few layers of blush and highlighter, you could bring your skin back to life.

On your way to the cafe, you went through the things you'd say when you met him. It was your chance to get your father what he needed.

You stood at the entrance with wide, scared eyes, shyly scanning through the place to look for your date.

“Melanie?” A hand on your shoulder had you jolting. “I’m Jung Yoonoh, nice to meet you.”

What you saw after turning around was breathtaking. A handsome, healthy man, with the most beautiful pair of dimples.

“Nice to meet you.” You managed to blurt out without stuttering, extending your hand to make the greeting more formal. The fake name didn’t seem necessary anymore. “It’s actually y/n, I didn't want to use my real name.”

“I understand. Let’s take a seat.” He offered with a kind smile.

He left you seating at the terrace while he made your order, a latte, and a chocolate cookie. Your fingers played with your hoops anxiously, trying to regulate your breath.

“They’ll bring our food in just a sec.” He offered a warm smile. “Your dress is pretty.” Yoonoh said out of nowhere.

“Thank you.”

“I see you're not a chatty person.” You were about to object, but he started speaking again. “It's not a bad thing! I usually talk a lot, so it’s a nice way to balance things.”

You nodded, seemingly uncomfortable with the man sitting in front of you.

“So, uhm, this is my first time doing this, so I'm not really sure where to begin.” He pulled out a folded paper from the front pocket of his dressing pants. “It’s a bit creased, but I can always print another one. I brought it so you could take a look and let me know if you wanted to change anything. I don't mean to pressure you, but you said it was urgent, so...”

You read the paper under his attentive gaze, making sure not to miss a single word. Everything seemed correct, except...

“Six months?”

“Is that too much?” A small wrinkle formed between his eyebrows, a sign of deep concentration. “Okay, so let's do this instead.”

He took back the contract, pulling out a pen from the pocket in his dressing shirt to correct the original stipulations.

“Four months, and if by the end of them you don't absolutely hate me, we can extend the time. Deal?”

“Just one more thing.”

You cleared your throat, conscious that your following words might jeopardize the whole arrangement.

“Are you sure you want to make it official already?” You had to stop for a moment as the waiter left your orders on top of the wooden table. “I mean, it's not that I have a problem with it, but it's your money and maybe you'd like to give it a better thought.” You resumed.

“The fact that you're concerned about me proves I'm making the right choice. Now, tell me, how much would you like to receive as a weekly allowance?”

Would it be too reckless to ask him straight up for the $8,000?

“H-how much are you willing to give me?” You felt dirty, accepting a stranger’s money like that.

“Whatever you need.” His hand suddenly reached forward to yours, causing every ounce of blood in your body to rush to your face. “There’s no need to be embarrassed, I'm here to help you.” His voice tone dropped, acquiring an almost soothing feeling.

“I need eight thousand by Thursday, next week.” His eyes were wide open, mouth having difficulties remaining closed. “I-I know it's too much, but...”

“I can find a way to give you that money, but I'd like to know the reason why you need it. Just to make sure it's nothing illegal.”

You puffed your cheeks, trying to find an excuse good enough to justify the amount of money you were asking for.

“It isn’t illegal, is it?”

“No!” You retrieved your hand from below his, now embarrassed at the possibility of him having a bad image of you. “I need it for my father.”

“I suppose you don't want to talk about it.” He started at his palm, lips pressed in a thin life. “But when it comes to arrangements like this, we need to trust each other, alright?” You barely knew each other, yet, he demanded to know a very personal detail of your life. Not that he didn't have a good reason for wanting to know, it wasn't a particularly small amount of money.

“He had an accident at work...” You started, fearful of looking up to find pity in his eyes. “I need a lawyer to make his company legally responsible. They intend to throw it under the rug and pay a somewhat decent amount of money to make it go away. The firm I intend to hire is supposedly the best in town, probably my only chance of getting justice.”

“And why don't you just accept it? There's no guarantee that your lawyer will win the case.” You fisted the delicate fabric of your dress, eyes watering as you tried to hold back your anger.

“My father’s life is priceless, and if you think what I'm doing is a waste of money, then fine, we can both look for someone else to help us.” It sounded more aggressive than you'd first intended, but you meant every word that came out of your mouth.

Before you could even stand up, his slim fingers had already wrapped themselves around your wrist.

“I never said that.” He whispered with an almost sad tone. “Come on, sit down.”

He tugged at your arm the slightest, showing off his charming dimples once again.

“I’ll give you the money on one condition...” He raised one of his thick eyebrows. “I’ll go with you to see the lawyer.”

“Why...?”

“That’s my condition, take it or leave it.”

“Okay.”

The days before your meeting with your potential lawyer were nerve-wracking. You'd seen Yoonoh another time to sign the contract, which finally made your arrangement official.

You’d visit your father every day, always hoping he'd be sitting with his arms wide open, ready to hug you. But nothing had changed ever since he first came into that room.

“I’m here to see Mr. Kim.” The secretary's gaze lingered on Jaehyun a few seconds before he finally snapped out of it. “Y/n Y/l/n.”

“Just a second.” He opened his agenda and quickly found your appointment. With a warm smile, he guided you through the corridors of the building, all the way to the elevator. “It’s the only office on the last floor, I'll be at my desk if you need anything.”

Once again, he shot Jae an uneasy glance before the metal doors slid close.

“What was all that?” To be honest, you couldn't care less. But a small chat might calm your nerves and prevent you from throwing up all over the place.

“What do you mean?” He grinned, pressing the button to the top floor.

“You know what I mean.” You scoffed, annoyed at his evasive behavior.

“We just happen to know each other, nothing special.” Before the conversation could continue, a loud ding resonated through the metal cubicle. “Let’s go.” His hand found its place at the small of your back, pushing you towards the glass door. Through it, you could see a black-haired man reading a pile of documents, occasionally raising a photo to examine it with his gold-rimmed glasses supported at the bridge of his elegant nose.

Jaehyun extended his arm over your shoulder to knock on the door, earning an almost annoyed ‘come in’ from the man inside.

“Let’s go.” Once again invading your personal space, he reached for the doorknob with you trapped between his arms.

As soon as the door opened, the man raised his eyes from the documents he was checking.

“What are you doing here, Jung?”

“I knew something was off...” You murmured, loud enough for the man at your side to chuckle.

“I brought you a client, you should be happy.”

“Miss y/n, I suppose. Have a seat.” His demeanor completely changed while speaking directly to you. “I spoke with your aunt last week, she explained the details of the lawsuit, but I must say, it isn't an easy case.”

“I know that, but I've been told you're the best firm in town, I know I'll have more possibilities of winning if you're my lawyer.”

“Best firm in town my ass.”

“Be silent or I’ll kick you out of the building.”

That was enough for Yoonoh to zip his mouth. For a while at least.

“I suppose she also told you about our fee.” He pushed his glasses up using his thumb. “We’d also keep 25% of the lawsuit money assuming we win the case, is that okay with you?”

“Yes-”

“Okay, stop.”

“I’ll call security, Jung.”

“Look at me, y/n.” He squeezed your arms. “This clown is trying to scam you...” He pointed his finger at the lawyer without breaking eye contact. “You’d be spending loads of money for someone who isn't even confident in his abilities. It isn't worth it.”

“And I suppose you'd do better than me, then.” The black-haired man scoffed. “If that's the case, then you can both leave. I'm quite busy at the moment.” With a turn of his wrist, he signaled you to leave the room.

You were fuming, stomping out of the building with Jaehyun right behind you.

“I found a great restaurant nearby, we can go there and-”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Calm down-”

“Don’t tell me to calm down when you just fucked up my only chance to give those bastards what they deserve.” The sun was starting to set, yellow light casting shadows over his tender cheeks.

“Can you listen to me for a second?”

“Are you laughing right now?” You bit your lip, hard, trying to hold back the tsunami of tears threatening to come out of your eyes. “Asshole.”

“Ouch.” He furrowed his eyebrows mockingly. Oh, how close you were to punch that pretty face of his. “Can I explain now?”

You remained silent, staring at the ground with the smallest frown between your eyebrows.

“How do you think I know Kim Doyoung?” Before even giving you a chance to answer, he continued. “That son of a bitch has been stealing my clients for ages.”

“Your clients...?”

“He isn't even that good of a lawyer compared to me.” He scoffed with fake arrogance.

“You're a lawyer?!” You slammed your palms into your face, whining at the newly acquired information. “Why didn't you tell me from the beginning?”

“Just wanted to swing by and annoy him a bit. Don't worry, I wasn't gonna let you accept his deal.” He winked playfully.

The sun was now hidden, the sky darkening as the moon rose to take its shift.

“Though I gotta say, I'm kinda offended I wasn't even an option. I'm a pretty great lawyer, you know?”

“Sorry.”

“I’ll forgive you if you join me for dinner. What do you say?”

As you walked into the darkness of the streets, his shoulder occasionally bumping yours, you wondered if meeting him was a casualty. Maybe the world was finally smiling at you.

#nct smut #nct angst #nct fluff #nct au #nct imagines #nct ot21 #nct x reader #nct #nct 127 #nct scenarios #nct jaehyun

252 notes · View notes