Tumgik
#and she would always say she would die one day casually to prepare us for the day she Would die
yuri-is-online · 8 months
Note
Hi!
I saw the 300 followers event, and I'd like to request prompt 9 with Leona, Ace, and Jamil
Tumblr media
9. Jealousy pt. 2- someone from a rival school asks for your number
Hi hi! Thank you for your request, I hope you like this friend.
notes: they/them pronouns used for Yuu, Check out the rest of the event requests on my masterlist here.
Tumblr media
Leona
"Overconfidence is a slow and insidious killer." Leona has heard you say that more than once, always in a tone that suggests you are mimicking something or someone; from your world he assumes. Not that he really minds, it's a nice quote. Snappy. And the first time he heard you say it you had been critiquing Azul, not him. Not him, even though it could easily apply.
That's why it is thundering in his skull right now, needling at that knot in his forehead that refuses to leave, twitching in his snarl as he watches some RSA brat wind his way around your shoulders.
Slow.
"I've got to say," purrs the stranger, lightly resting a hand on your shoulder as you consider what power you need to invoke to get him gone "I was surprised to find someone so nice attending NRC." You can't really think of a good reply, the awkward laughter that stutters out of you doesn't seem to count.
Insidious.
"It would be a real shame to let such a chance encounter go unsavored." He could have chosen a less suggestive tone of voice, or maybe it's just Leona's previous comments about how you should try to avoid "getting eaten" that are working double time on your nerves. "Perhaps you could give me your-"
Killer.
"Oi." Leona's voice rumbles, you swear there was an actual roar before he spoke. The RSA student certainly jumps back from you like there was. "You are making them uncomfortable." The student apologizes, to you or Leona you have no idea, as Leona settles a comforting hand onto your shoulder.
"Thank you, sorry for-"
"Don't." Leona is surprisingly calm. "'s my job to scare off bottom feeders like that anyway."
Well now. That is news to you.
Ace
There is something of a disadvantage in always being around the person you like when you aren't quite sure how much it is you like them just yet. The full realization tends to come at an inconvenient time, making ordinary situations into ones of great annoyance. For example, a casual walk through Craneport where you run into some kid from RSA who is also casually enjoying his day of with a friend.
"Cute, right?" A great big dog is happily panting as you scratch her ears, a smile just as shiny as her owners beaming up at you.
"Super cute!" You resist the urge to kiss her all over her massively cute face while Ace tries to fight off an existential crisis. That is a dog, he is feeling jealousy over a dog. What's going to make him insecure next, a tooth brush?
"Her name's Ginger." The stranger says with clear pride. "She really likes you, I'm almost sad to see you go."
"Only almost?" You laugh and give a final head pat to the very good girl while Ace swallows. Anger, jealousy, general annoyance at your obliviousness? Who knows.
"Could I get your number then?" Asks the stranger. "I'm sure she'd love to get to know you."
"I'm sure she would!" Ace's heart skinks, hand going behind his head to awkwardly soothe his wounded heart. "But I think I'll have to pass." You don't give a reason and the stranger doesn't ask, just takes his loss on the chin as you begin to walk again.
"So why'd you say no?" His voice is surprisingly even even if the question feels like it stumbles out of him.
"Oh well you know..." You shuffle along, as eager to let the topic die as he is to press it. "I've already got a favorite ginger." He snorts, threatening to break into a full blown laugh. "I do!" You protest, oddly serious and extremely embarrassed. "And he's enough of a handful already."
"I'm sure Cay-kun will be happy to hear it." Ace laughs, winking back at you as he prepares to run back towards the bus, shouts of protest somehow falling on deaf ears and stroking his ego.
Jamil
Sometimes Jamil is envious of Floyd. His reputation wouldn't take a dive if someone from the other team accidentally ran into a missed shot fifteen times. Nobody would even blink. But if the ball came from his hands... well then people would start asking questions.
"Are you jealous?"
No. A lie. Jamil is jealous of the air you breathe for its closeness to your lips, and this sniveling Nobel Bell brat can actually speak. Not that he knows exactly what he is asking for, but Jamil has an active imagination. And feet, he somehow seems to be stalking his way towards you even though none of what is happening is any of his business.
"Are you dating?"
Why would I want that? I've already got enough on my plate as is, I don't need a partner. Only true on the surface. Jamil has no idea why he wants you (Kalim assures him he doesn't need a reason but why would he want to listen to that advice) he just does. You make him feel a bunch of inconvenient and ridiculous things, he does not need a partner but he does want one.
"Um... I was wondering..." Seven the kid was pathetic from across the court but now that he was actually here he is even worse. Jamil is surprised he hasn't fainted yet. "I was wondering... um if you wouldn't mind could I get your number?" He seems genuinely hopeful and Jamil has got to look just as genuinely disgusted with how far back the kid jumps.
"I'm sorry..." you turn him down so gently it hurts (for Jamil, not the kid, he wants to see the little bitch run away crying) "You've been very nice I'm just not interested right now." You let out a relived sigh as the kid walks away normally as Jamil considers talking to and is not given a chance to think better of it before you turn around. "Oh hey Jamil." Why do you have to look so happy to see him? It hurts. "Sorry you had to see that, I was just trying to turn in the team registratio-"
"Do you find that attractive?" You both look shocked Jamil even asked that, but now that he has, he finds that he is too stubborn to back down.
"No?" And then with a bit more certainty you add. "No. No I think I would like someone with a bit more... mindful" You say with an admiral degree of confidence for someone who is no longer looking him in the eyes.
609 notes · View notes
cerise-on-top · 2 months
Note
Could I request Gaz, Alejandro, & Valeria with gn reader who's love language is violence? Like- always wanting to spar, (affectionate) punches, biting them or casually threatening them (empty threats, obviously)
Love your writing so much! Be sure to take good care of yourself!! 🫶🫶
I used to show my affection like that when I was younger, but me threatening my friends is still very much a thing! And thank you for the compliment, glad to hear my writing is enjoyable to you!
Gaz, Alejandro and Valeria with an S/O with a Violent Love Language
Gaz: In all honesty, the first time you bite him, he’ll stare at you for a bit before asking you what you’re doing. It never occurred to him that biting could be a love language, so you’d need to explain yourself to him first. It would be a bit strange to him at first, it’s definitely something he’ll need to get used to, but he can appreciate you being affectionate in your own ways. He’s a rather affectionate guy himself, even if he doesn’t particularly show his love for others through violent means. Gaz always just assumed that affection was shown through one of the common love languages, but he can get used to it eventually. From time to time, when you threaten to put him in the electric chair, he’ll feign hurt, pretending to be insulted by what you’ve said to him. He knows you wouldn’t ever go through with it, but it’s all in good fun anyway. He might not threaten you back, aside from the occasional “I’m going to drink the strawberry milk if you keep being insolent”, but every time you do say something deranged towards him he has to keep himself from saying something sassy himself. He’d love to, but he’s not sure you’d react well to it. You can lightly punch him, if you dare, but he will get his revenge on you. His love language is being an idiot, so be prepared for a pillow fight or maybe even a tickle war. Something along the lines of that. You can also spar with him, but he won’t go easy on you just because you’re together. If anything, it’s all the more incentive for him to show you how strong he is by beating you every time. Gaz isn’t as weak as many people think he is, he could easily take you in a fight. You will be pinned down a lot, so be prepared.
Alejandro: He’s probably a big fan of you being down to spar with him just about whenever you can. Like Gaz, it’s a way for him to show off, but he’ll also use the opportunity to teach you a thing or two about self-defense, especially if you’re not in the military yourself. It’s a fun way for you to tire yourself out and for him to stay in shape as well. While he may not always have the time to properly spar with you, he’ll try to make it up to you somehow. You could jump at him from behind and he’ll still find a way to get you to the ground. He’s a playful guy, so if you decide to lightly punch him he will punch you back, no qualms whatsoever about it. It might hurt a bit, though, since he does have quite a lot of muscles and doesn’t always take his strength into consideration, but he’ll apologize to you afterwards. If you threaten him he’ll simply roll his eyes at you and take away some privileges you might have. Hugging privileges, kissy privileges, if he’s feeling especially devious your attention privileges will be taken away from you as well. That is until you learn to apologize and not tell a colonel to “eat shit and die”. He could fold you in half just about whenever, so remember that next time you’re about to put him in the meat grinder. He does try to get creative with threatening you as well, though. But it’ll mostly be something easy to digest. You can bite him all you want, if he’s having a good day then there’s a chance he might just bite you back. Alejandro gives you a ten second headstart before he’ll catch you and bite right back. Even if you hide from him, he’ll find you anywhere in Las Almas.
Valeria: Don’t be too affectionate with her in public. It’s not that she wouldn’t love to show you off, but she doesn’t really have the time for your affections nor does she want to draw attention to you either. You can bite her in private. While she may not be the biggest fan of being bitten, she will tolerate just about everything else. In fact, you threatening her, El Sin Nombre, the leader of a great drug cartel, is sort of funny to her. She could kill you so easily and no one would ever know, but no, she won’t. You can threaten her all you want, she’ll find a way to make you take back your words. She can either beckon you over so you will turn your empty threat into a promise, or she’ll walk up to you herself, take your wrist into her hand, give you a sly smirk and tell you to toughen up. She’ll always quip back at you when she can, threatening you herself. She gets very violent, though, and it’s hard to differentiate between what is a joke and what she’s actually done before. Hanging someone from their intestines might either be Valeria humor, or something she’s done before. Sparring with her is interesting, because she will give it her all. You need to realize your place in your relationship, which is somewhere pinned underneath her. It’s a nice way for her to get out her frustrations while also staying professional and showing you just how cool she is. Don’t mess with her is her message here. You can gladly try to beat her, but Valeria plays dirty, even against you. She’s not above cheating to get her way, so you might wanna tap into your inner swindler as well if you really wanna win. However, it does make her feel very powerful whenever she does have you pinned underneath her, looking down at you with a smirk. Just a small reminder of what she’s capable of.
213 notes · View notes
therealeagal · 7 months
Text
Hades
You know, I've mentioned before that I don't care for certain genres of video games. It's because I'm a scrub who hates losing and a fake gamer who likes games that are easy, and in neither case have I the patience to Git Gud.
On the other hand, I've also mentioned that I am endlessly fascinated by Greek mythology because I'm a nerd. It's always interesting, if a bit over-exposed. How about a game about mythology other than the bloody Greeks and the Norse? I'm lookin' at you, Kratos.
I guess there was that one Hinduism game some years ago. What was it again? The dude with the multiple arms and the giant planet sized dude who tries to crush the hero with his finger. I think it started with an N...ok I found it. Asura's Wrath. I was way off.
Didn't get enough credit if you ask me.
If one were to make a game based on mythology, perhaps there's something from Africa that would make for an interesting concept. I don't know, I'm just spitballing. Preferably one that doesn't involve freaking Anansi, because he's overexposed too.
ANYWAY.
So I picked up Hades on the strength of being a nerd, not because I had a sudden change of heart viz a viz rogue-likes.
Cast in the role of protagonist, one Zagreus, son of Hades and (so he formerly believed) Nyx, respectively the god of the Underworld and the goddess of the night.
But some how that I forget, young Zaggy discovered that Nyx is not truly his mother. His true mother is actually named Persephone and that's a whole thing, but suffice it to say, she left the underworld at some point because reasons and hasn't been seen since.
Anyway, so then young Zaggy must fight his way out of the underworld in search of his mother. Along the way, he receives help from several of the gods who reside upon Mount Olympus, who are his uncles and assorted cousins as well as his grandmother (who doesn't know she's his grandmother. It's a very top secret hush hush sort of thing), Demeter.
Then middle middle middle, everyone lives happily ever after. Except not really because they're doing a sequel, but I'm sure that game will have everyone living happily ever after. Except for the Titans, I guess, but fuck them anyway.
====
So anyway, as to the gameplay, I was prepared for a slog, and mightily did I toil until - while searching the settings for the volume controls (it's a very loud game) I discovered a nifty little option in the settings menu called God Mode. Fake gamer that I am, I naturally took the opportunity to activate it, providing 20% damage reduction, which reduction would grow incrementally 'pon my inevitable death, capped at 80% and rarely did I turn it back off.
It really does make a world of difference. What once promised to be an unbearable slog was now instead an enjoyable game.
The deaths I still suffer on occasion (on account of being a fake gamer) still manage to advance the story 9 times out of 10, and always manage to entertain and at no point do I feel overwhelmed or frustrated by needless difficulty that the devs refuse to accomodate. Well, except when using the bow. I know it's supposed to be the strongest weapon, but I'm more of a button mash kinda gamer. Perils of being a filthy casual, I guess. Gimme Excalibur any day of the week.
The only thing missing is a sword beam and a Japanese highschooler who wants to be a hero.
That's a reference by the way. It shows that I am very clever. But it's an anime reference, which cancels out the cleverness and instead shows that I'm a jackass.
P.S. If you are offended by my use of God Mode, which invalidates everything that you - as a REAL gamer - went through to Git Gud, then please remember that I warned you several times throughout this post that I am both a filthy casual and a fake gamer, so... well, I won't tell you to eat all of the shit and then die, because I am a nice person, but I will think it. Really hard.
P.P.S. This is totally unrelated, but WHY DID THEY CHANGE THE WAY THAT POSTS ARE MADE? I HATE THIS FORMAT (is that the right word?). WHAT WAS WRONG WITH THE OLD WAY!? NEW IS BAD! CHANGE IS SCARY! ARGNOEHAOAFEHJKHSGDGSHGJKDHGJKDGHDK!
61 notes · View notes
beanghostprincess · 4 months
Note
Thinking about transfem sanuso again (I love women I love trans women I love fem people I love saphics have I said I love women?)
You know about that one post of someone saying that if they had a lame ass bf they would hype the shit out off them before entering any room? That's them (not bc they think the other is lame but just to show off how beautiful and incredible their gf is)
Usopp putting ribbons and cute hair clips on Sanji's hair (I think she would like it)
Sanji liking to run her fingers on Usopp's hair on the mornings before she goes and prepare breakfast for all of them
Just them giving eachother quick kisses while they work
You said something about them sharing clothes (THAT WAS SO CUTE AND LOVELY I JUST AAAAAAAW LOVE THEM) so I had another thought about that
Sanji cares about her outfits and puts more thought into them so she does a little fashion show for Usopp
Usopp who doesn't care much about fashion (she looks good with anything but she likes her overalls and a shirt she has to put on since if she goes without one like she used to Sanji would die) but is Sanji's hype woman even if she doesn't get fashion that much but tries for her
*holds them gently* you have open my eyes to transfem sanuso and now they're my world :((
"I love women I love trans women I love fem people I love sapphics have I said I love women?" <- Same. Mood. This is like my whole identity.
OKAY SO ALL OF THESE ARE GREAT?????? I'M GOING INSANE THANK YOU!!!!!!!!!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA- I love them so much!!
YES! They would hype each other up so so so so much!! Sanji would literally scream how much she loves her girlfriend and how she's the best sniper at the top of her lungs for everyone to hear her. In the middle of a battle, she would literally be Usopp's biggest fan. And Usopp already does that in canon atp because I've lost count of how many times she compliments Sanji's food. And she's so loud about it too!! They would literally go to every person they meet and say shit like: "My girlfriend is the best sniper you'll ever see! Her aim is so good that her love arrows went straight to my heart!!!! *dies from a nosebleed or whatever*" and "Oh, actually I am dating the best cook in all seas!! Her food is so delicious it can send you to heaven and back and I would even say it gives you more strength and power than devil fruits themselves!!! And you can't have her because she's mine *mischievous/proud smile*"
I think Usopp one day catches Sanji cooking (the kitchen is usually closed when she works because of... Luffy reasons. But she always lets Usopp be with her) and she casually sees both of her eyes because her bangs are held by a hair clip. It does things to Usopp, honestly. When they're bored she always plays with Sanji's hair and does anything she wants to it and Sanji is just glad Usopp's touching her. Simp (derogatory but I understand).
Sanji, waking up earlier than her girlfriend, would absolutely love to worship her and stare at her for a while before getting out of bed. She'd run her fingers through her hair and whisper sweet nothings against her ear while hugging her close and kissing her all over (without managing to wake her up). She actually suffers a lot from the "I miss my girlfriend's warmth and I could sleep with her all day long" disease. But it's fine because an hour later Usopp is always in the kitchen to hug her from behind and see how she cooks breakfast and prepares food for lunch.
The quick kisses thing makes me,,, Go insane, honestly. I think it's so sweet and so real. They can't be apart. Do not separate them. They're SO clingy. Usopp often works in the kitchen while Sanji tries new recipes, so Sanji always asks her to try her food and judge it! It's always good, but Usopp always tries to give her very specific and objective criticism. Sanji always stops from time to time to give Usopp quick kisses after she has tasted a bit of her food, and when Usopp is feeling stressed for not getting something right in her inventions/drawings she always stands up to kiss Sanji. And I think they do this ALL the time. Whenever they are together without doing much, Sanji will always cling to Usopp and kiss her cheeks. And Usopp always kisses Sanji's knuckles and forehead for no reason all the time. These kisses are sweet and short but they mean the world to them.
OMG THE CLOTHES THINGY- Okay, so I LOVE it when couples share clothes. When my girlfriend wears my cardigans (lots of times. She's always cold and I would literally die before letting her freeze. I'm not a fucking monster. Always give your clothes to your cold girlfriends even if you freeze and turn to stone) I literally die. I think Sanji is basically the same. Usopp is dumb and careless and she's always wearing overalls without anything under or just bigass t-shirts and baggy pants. Whatever's comfortable (she's literally my girlfriend what the fuck- Also in my head Fem Sanuso literally dresses like me and my fiancé lmfao this is- This is very funny. I have so many clothes/aesthetic headcanons for these two. Should make a pinterest board or a post about it here or something idk). So she always ends up getting cold but keeps saying no!! That she's great!! (Liar) And Sanji always gives her her suit jackets. Usopp couldn't be happier, but Sanji always dies when this happens. On the other hand, Usopp's clothes are wayyy more comfortable than suits/dresses/skirts (which are basically all the clothes Sanji has if you ignore some t-shirts she barely wears anyway) and Sanji always ends up stealing them after waking up to make breakfast or whenever they are sure it's going to be a lazy day on the ship without anyone bothering them. Usopp loves seeing her wearing her t-shirts, especially because they're oversized (for both of them. Usopp likes baggy clothes) and Sanji's legs are more visible. Usopp dies every time.
Sanji always does lil fashion shows for her girlfriend every time she buys new clothes and Usopp is her biggest fan. And whenever they change to go on an adventure and Usopp wears eccentric hats Sanji would never wear, she hypes her up anyway because, after all, it's what her girlfriend likes. And she looks adorable anyway!
*holds them gently* I'm so glad you love them this much too because they mean the world to me !! <3
32 notes · View notes
michwritesstuff · 2 years
Text
Times Like This (Top Gun: Maverick: Bradley Bradshaw)
Tumblr media
ok forgive me! i’ve been in a t-swizzle mood so every song i hear inspires me to write something for you guys. This is a short one, which I usually have problems writing cause I never know when to stop, so hope you like it! :))
summary: female reader (she/her) x Bradley Bradshaw Being with Rooster was never going to be easy. As you both were pilots you understood the danger that surrounded your job, but somehow he always made it seem like it was life or death. With him, you never knew if he was going to come back, and sometimes you weren’t sure if you wanted to deal with the back and forth, the up and down. It was all just too much. Not to mention that you weren’t officially together… notes/warnings: angst? word count: 406
It was times like this when it felt like being in love with Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw would kill you. Felt even more dangerous than the years you spent assigned to strike fighter squadron VFA-151 Vigilantes with Hangman.
You knew the risks that your job entailed; you were both great pilots who risked your lives every day. But something about having someone you could lose was even harder.
As training for this special detachment seemed to get even more mentally and physically demanding, the only comfort that could be found was within your teammates. They were the only ones that truly knew what you were going through.
Everything with Bradley was so easy, it started off with casual hook-ups. Just moments to let the frustration out.
But as time passed, it felt like so much more. Bradley knew you on a level that no one else had even came close to.
You used to joke that you’d die for him, not realizing how much it meant for him to say he’d do the same for you.
Everyone warned you, they said the road gets hard and we’d get lost if we were led by blind faith.
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
After a particularly rough day where he nearly killed himself and Maverick in training by breaking the hard deck and barreling towards the ground in his plane is when you really felt your heart hurt.
You almost lost him, and if it wasn’t because of training it would be because of this mission.
He couldn’t exactly talk to you when you got like this.
A screaming match about how stupid and careless he was being, pushing and shoving him against the door while you stabbed your finger in his chest before you could do anything but cry as he held you.
And he would hold you so tightly that you could barely breathe, but it felt like Heaven.
Whispering “What would you do if I just left like that?”
He would move your head from his chest, using his thumb to ghost over your lips.
All it took was the one touch and he’d have you crumbling before him.
He could make everything better with his touch, all the displaced anger and frustration would melt away.
You loved him, so deeply it hurt.
You weren’t prepared for what this mission would bring, and it terrified you to think about it.
Regardless, you were prepared to worship this love.
a/n: If you like my work please support by liking/reblogging. Also, feel free to message me about ideas. I haven’t written in a while because I don’t have a lot of time, but when inspiration hits i’ll sit down for hours
check out the rest of my work ⤑ here!
161 notes · View notes
differentcatcat · 3 months
Text
Alex - Fiction - Episode 7 - NC-17
Tumblr media
Sweden's sexiest man five times and forever. CanadianBeaversLoveAskars credited for one of my favorites.
As we take up the scene – Alex, in all our stickiness, got up and fetched moistened hand towels to free us from some of our combined goo.  He murmured to me as he prepared for the fake fucking, i.e., “action, cut, print” he was about to undertake.  “Jamesy, do you feel like waiting for me to put this scene to bed?  Then, if you’ll have it, you can take me home and put me to bed – for a nap.  Yep, you’ve drained the lizard.  We have a day and a half to play before I have to be back here to finish up.  Shooting should be complete in a couple weeks and in the can.  What do you say, pretty?”
I thought I could use the time to clean up (and hunt the nether tissues that went somewhere?).  “How long do you think you’ll be smacking your dead lizard with your beloved,” I teased the naked god of long legs.  He was in the small shower trying to de-jiz himself.
“Makeup should take very little time, if I’m not too crusty,” he laughed as I made a semi-sickened and thoroughly disgusted face at him, “and we’ll run through it in robes, then film it until we get it right enough to cut together and be edited to perfection.  Maybe an hour and a half.  Her Highness won’t put up with it for too long.”  He exited the shower and hugged me, using me like a soft towel and kissed me briefly before taking a real towel to dry his dick.
“Sure, I’ll hang,” I said, moving toward the shower, “Go get her.  Fake fuck her like she’s never been fake fucked before.  Make me proud.”
He had his soft robe on and flip-flops (slides).  As he stepped toward the door, he turned toward me, grabbed his package and plaintively declared, “My cock is in a coma, counselor.”
“He will die happy.  We shall always remember him as the fine, upstanding fucker he was.  Don’t fret; I’ll give him CPR later, that’s Consequential Prick Rehabilitation.  I’ve had training.”  I giggled with him as he went out the door.
I was soon clean and refreshed from the shower and went on a detritus hunt for evidence of our unintentional public display of affection.  After I had tidied up a bit, I donned my casual clothes and stretched out to wait for the actor.  I must have slept almost at once.  I didn’t finish explaining to myself why I was exercising my patience so with the fucker.  I must have been too tired of that repetitious conversation with myself to stay awake for the concluded reason – he’ll be gone soon enough; you gotta get it while it’s here.  My phone rang.
Big Dug said, “Girlfriend, are you asleep in your briefs?”
“No, I’m dressed,” I giggled.  “I’m with Alex at the studio.  No, I’m not technically with Alex.  He’s fake fucking his beautiful co-star and I’m waiting in his trailer.”
“Why?  I have known forever that you wait for no man, nor woman,” Big Dug mused.
“I was lamenting that very thing to myself before I nodded off.  He is very tactilely talented, and he says the movie is nearly finished, well his part anyway.  He’ll be gone soon.  He’s a fuckin’ actor and you all but pushed me into his bed – well, you pushed me to pull him into my bed.  There.  It’s all your fault,” I teased my best friend in the world. 
I was going to tell the story now.  “Ol’ Alex wanted to fuck before his scene this afternoon so he wouldn’t get a hardon so she wouldn’t get mad or cry or complain or something, but mainly so he wouldn’t look bad.  So, I acquiesced, never one to turn down such a nice piece.  I bet you hear about it – we were caught in here inflagrante delicto.  Some movie chick thought Alex was dead and everybody ran to look.  It was really funny.”
“I see.  That’s why you’re waiting for him – he’s got a big dick.  You are such a size queen.”  Big Dug had a keen grasp of the obvious.
“Takes one to know one.  You know, he’s uncut and – entertaining.”  I said with my best Marilyn Monroe breathiness.  I would have continued singing Alex’s physical praises, but Big Dug interrupted.
“Hush.  He’s your piece.  I called you to invite you and your hung hunk to dinner tomorrow night.  Lots of wine and heavy hors d’oeuvres.  Just friends, you know them all.  I thought you might want to show off your celebrity boyfriend, fangirl.  Anyway, we haven’t seen each other much since you’ve been on your back during your off time.”
“That would be fun, but I’ll have to ask Alex.  He will not be prodded, and I don’t like to tase him too often.  He’s not as young as he used to be.”  Just then Alex burst through the door looking wrung out.  “Speak of the devil,” I said into the phone.  He took in the scene, plopped into a chair, ran his hand through his hair and asked, “Who you talkin’ to, counselor?”
“Big Dug wants us to come to dinner tomorrow night.  OK with you?  What happened to you?”  I went to pat him comfortingly.  Alex took the phone from me and said into it, “Thanks Big Dug.  That sounds fine.”  He ended the call and pulled me into his lap.
Alex kissed my neck and whispered, “I think she sucked the life out of me.  If fucking wasn’t my chosen hobby, I might believe her when she said I had no idea how to please a woman.”
I kissed him, cuddled him, assured him he was the greatest lover since Casanova as I don’t fake anything because I’m not an actor (he chuckled at that).  I looked at those tired blue eyes of his and spat, “Whatever the fuck she’s on, she needs to up the dosage.  We’ll all cry over her good-looking corpse.  What a goddamn gem she is.  And you got to fake fuck her.  Yay.  Hopefully your lifetime achievement award won’t be based on your performance with her.  As an actor, you are far more than an extraordinarily handsome fake fuck (I teased him with a gentle kiss).  Here put something on and I’ll take you to dinner at one of my favorite special places.  Have I cussed her enough for you, Sweetie?”
Alex nodded and arose from the chair.  I looked at his cock and it seemed none the worse for wear.  I gave it a quick peck for luck (far better than a rabbit’s foot).  Alex threw clothes on and looked like a million dollars in seconds, stuffed some clothes in a bag, grabbed my briefcase, grinned at me and said, “OK, food then CPR.”
We left the lot for two whole nights together!
Alex told me about the fake fucking on film over dinner at the Pleasant Peasant, an intimate restaurant downtown, with comfortable ambience, impeccable service, and food fine enough to challenge a world renown chef.  The wine was poured and after the appetizer Alex began to perk up.
“I don’t know if our fun fuck was such a good idea.  I mean, it was good, it just didn’t leave me where I thought it would for the shoot.  I couldn’t look at her without thinking I wouldn’t fuck her with somebody else’s dick.  I tried to picture you in her place, but then I wanted to be free and enjoy myself pleasuring you.  Can’t have that attitude with such definite choreography.  I thought I should picture one of our tamer sessions so I could go through the motions inspired by your remembered responses.  That wouldn’t work either because she was being properly British and hardly had a passionate response to anything we’d rehearsed.  Then I got your pretty face in my mind and thought about kissing you and how you smile at me.  Worked like a charm.  I made her have the best fake orgasm she’ll ever not have.  She complained right enough, but we got through it and the director assured me it would be another love scene that will make the audience moist, for either of us.”
I couldn’t help but be charmed by his rehashing of the trauma, although I doubted that I once crossed his mind.  I gave him my most understanding face until the end when I couldn’t hold it in any longer.  I snorted, delicately of course, and took his hand, kissed his knuckles and then licked the back of his big paw, “Buck the fuck up, Skarsgård.  There’s a lot of suffering in this life, but I think you’ve come through the worst of it still intact (he giggled at my joking dick reference).  The night is young.  We’ve got a lot of sleeping to do.”  I think if he could have reached me, he would have kissed me sweetly, grateful that I wasn’t expecting another mean piece as he was known to sling.
Alex was quiet on the short drive home.  I caught him looking at me a time or two as we passed under streetlights.  Oh, my stars and garters, he was such a fucking actor, and not near as inscrutable as he thought he was being – or as deep or thoughtful or sensitive as he pretended.  But he was tall and pretty and so not boring.  I admitted to myself that I enjoyed him in short bursts, and that I surely would never live with a steady diet of thespian.  Two moody cats in touch with their felinity were enough to have to cajole into acting right.
We went right up to bed with little conversation.  Alex apparently felt at home.  He must be used to quickly acclimating to new accommodations, traveling as he does.  He had brought with him the few personal accoutrements necessary for his comfort.  “You’ve given up Roas’n’ear’s toothbrush then?”  I teased him as he was walking around naked turning down the bed.
“He was kind of giving me the evil eye over it.  You’ll have to get him a new one.”  Alex replied as if we had the time-infinite ease with each other of Lucy and Ricky Richardo.  I thought to myself as I puttered around in my hideous t-shirt – Ricky, you got some ‘splainin’ to do.  I knew that as familiar as he acted, there wouldn’t be too many more nights together.  I was accepting of the fact.
Alex asked, “You comin’ to bed, counselor?”  As I stepped to do that very thing, I saw Alex comfortable on the pillows with Roas’n’ear curled on his chest and Ormolu curled along his inside leg.  The elusive feline had decided he would do as a source for warmth after all.  Had I not had both feet in reality, I believe I would’ve teared up and wanted to discuss whether or not a “spinster” should wear white at her wedding and if “people” would know that we fucked like rabbits.  I threw that silliness out of my brain and noticed that just the sight of Alex in my bed made me sleepier and more relaxed than any pill on the market ever could do.
He pulled back the covers for me and cuddled me up on his shoulder.  He turned toward me a few degrees, dislodging the cats (who didn’t move far), and looked into my eyes, tracing his fingertips along my nose, cheek, neck and lower to my breastbone as the oversized t-shirt allowed.  “Why are you so consistently nice to me?  You’ve asked me for nothing other than what any person deserves.  You know eventually I’ll be leaving Atlanta.  Why have you made me love you?”  Perhaps the first question was sincere; the rest of it was delivered like lines from a script.  Of course, he didn’t love me, nor I him.  I liked him alright in spite of himself.  I chose to ignore most of the speech and responded to the primary question.
“It never hurts me to be kind.  My parents taught me that.  I suppose I nurture by nature although there are certainly times that I take up my sword and fight rather than turning the other cheek, unless someone is inclined to thoroughly kiss my ass.  Now stop it with the “l” word.  We may have attained some level of friendship and you just don’t know what that feels like.  Trust is earned and your payday is not today.”
Alex just nodded in acceptance, perhaps not having played that scene to its end before and cuddled me up after a very thorough good night kiss.  I sank into his warmth and slept with Ormolu curled at my head, purring with the whisper of Alex’s breath, relaxed and even.
It was daylight when I awoke to Alex kissing my shoulder and gently pressing his hand down my back to between my thighs.  He was so soft and sweet after a good night’s sleep.  I had no desire to resist him.  I turned toward him, and he nuzzled my cheek with his morning stubble, making me giggle and twine my arms around him, pulling his hardon toward my own arousal.  His cock found its way and we kissed as our eyes closed again at the pleasure of waking to the insistent thrusting of our hips against each other, drowsy with slumber but anxious for the release we sought together.  We were so easy in unison.  The swell of the wave would crest in us as one, our bodies played the same lullaby in harmony.  Alex whispered, “Come on, sleepy girl,” as I felt him buck hard against me and his gentle groans brought my own sighs of rapture as I clung to him, holding him close, breathing his name.
After a time, Alex moved off me onto his side and put his fingers to my lips.  I kissed them and reached to caress his stubbly cheek.  Alex sighed, “Jamesy, that felt like love to me.”
I replied softly, “Looks like love, feels like love, smells like love.  Glad we didn’t step in it.”
He looked like I’d slapped him.  I kissed him until he smiled.  “Sweetie don’t ponder it.  It is only right now.  We may see each other again; we may not.  I will say that I have loved this time with you.  It will not be repeated, and I will keep it as a treasure.”
Alex mumbled, “Fucking voice of reason.”  He leaned over and rubbed my nose with his playfully, “Care for a shower?  I don’t think I’m done with you yet, counselor.”
Alex pulled me out of bed like a favorite doll and took off my sleep shirt in one motion.  We made our way to the shower, luxuriating in the warm waterfall like cats in the sunshine, and cleaned all our crevices.  Alex pulled me to him under the rain head and kissed me urgently until I was as wet inside as out.  He pushed me against the warm tiled wall and knelt before me, holding me firmly and placing my foot on his bent knee.  He used his lips and tongue to pleasure me as I have never before experienced (except when he did it when we met in June).  He licked every part of my tingling labia, concentrating on my clit that he sucked between his lips and tongued unmercifully.  He kept at it and used his fingers inside me for something to clasp onto as I screamed in excruciating ecstasy and came so violently that Alex stood up to brace me.  He kept his fingers moving inside me, unwilling to leave any bit of my orgasm unfelt.  He held me close as I limply leaned against him, feeling my heart race.
Alex kissed my forehead and declared, “And that’s how it’s done.”  I gasped for breath, laughed like a loon, and nipped his nipple (since it was in my face).
“C’mon and help me make your breakfast, Ass,” I said as we reached for towels and dried each other as habit.  We dressed hurriedly, but Alex put on my hideous sleep shirt and threw me one of his.  “Trade?”  He winked at me and ran for the stairs.
As I chased him at a leisurely pace, I paused at the foot of the stairs and flipped on my music that for years had been a background for my life.  The mix of me included everything from 40s jazz standards, the Beatles, 70s pop and disco, 80s & 90s hits, show tunes, to some new dance music and smooth jazz.  I would add to my mix whenever I thought of it.  I found the tunes brought good memories, gave me backup for my singing, got me going in the mornings and relaxed me at night.  I wanted to think that Alex would hear something that might stick in his mind happily if and when he ever thought of me after our abridged romance.
I came into the kitchen to see Alex before the open refrigerator, leaning on the door.  “Little girl, don’t you keep your coffee in the fridge?  Hey, what are you playing?”  His ears had pricked up at the music wafting from the system of speakers throughout the house.  I explained it, ending with, “If something plays you don’t like, just wait about three minutes for something better hopefully, but anyway different.  It’s a complex mix for a complex woman.”
“Who’s still a little girl,” Alex said as he hugged me so tight, I thought he was going to squeeze me into literally little.  I decided to let him drag me into his rose-colored fantasy for today.  He made the coffee while I made biscuits (as my mama had taught me, like every other southern girl had learned at their mothers’ elbows) to go with scrambled eggs and kippers.  I’d picked up the taste for them when I studied at Oxford.  I knew Alex had spent considerable time in England for one reason or another and I figured they wouldn’t be alien to him – and everybody likes buttermilk biscuits.  It was a nice breakfast even with the nearly overcooked eggs from Alex trying to find my ticklish spot while the eggs were on the burner. 
As we ate, I asked what he’d like to do today.  The sun was bright, but the air was very cold to my delicate thermostat.  Of course, Alex thought it was warm out, but he acknowledged my proclivities toward the temperatures of hell with a chuckle.  He was very touchy/feely this morning.  He didn’t seem to want to be away from me for a moment.  I would indulge him.  I suggested that I light the fire and we could read or talk or dance or otherwise entertain ourselves together.  Alex was looking at me like I was Madonna (either one) and his mama and the whore of Babylon all at once.  I imagined I was privy to his “process,” and he intended to play the role of “my lover, my Romeo, my heart’s desire” to the hilt.  So be it.  I like to watch a man work.
We read cuddled up on the couch, pausing for a kiss every time Alex turned a page.  We put some liqueur in our coffee and subsequently napped for a while, intertwined like eels.  Alex put together a snack for lunch that was tasty and so consumed at once.  I commented that if we were going to live this way, we would have to work off some of these calories and asked if Alex could fling a frisky fuck later.  Alex choked on his water.  “You are such a reserved gentlewoman; I’ll see what I can do.”
Peggy Lee singing Lou Alter’s I Love the Way You’re Breaking My Heart* began to play and I helped Peggy sing it to Alex as a most seductive torch singer would single out that special man in the night club audience.  Alex laughingly played his part until I whispered, “This is your song, lover, although you’re gonna ruin it, it’s heaven while you’re doin’ it.”  Alex began to back-pedal apologetically.  I hushed him with a kiss, “Hell, let’s play while we can.  We don’t have so much time left to pretend, and you are the most fun I’ve had in a ‘coon’s age (no one knows how long that is, but racoons must live long time).  Let’s enjoy a little more honeymoon.”
Alex looked at me like I had given him the moon.  He foxtrotted me around a little, holding me like a treasure he would keep forever.  We ended the dance on the rug in front of the fireplace, where Alex made love to me.  He gave me every pleasure.  He attended to every part of me as if he were going off to war and needed to remember every nuance of me loving him.  Goddamn it, I was in the deep end with him now.  He would be completely mine and I his until tomorrow.  Hell, I never contemplated a honeymoon.  I had considered my life choices and made a happy life for myself without matrimony.  We knew our lives could not take the same path, but we would enjoy our pretense.  Alex gave an Oscar-winning performance.
*"I Love the Way You're Breaking My Heart" I love the way you're breaking my heart It's terribly, terribly, terribly, terribly thrilling I love the way you're breaking my heart Although you're gonna ruin it It's heaven while you're doin' it I love the way I feel when we kiss You're terribly, terribly, terribly irresistible Sigh to me and lie to me You really know how, it's gonna hurt tomorrow But it feels so good now So darling, just keep playing your part Take your time and really finish the things that you start 'Cause I love the way you're breaking my heart.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Alex is the Norse God of Long Legs (only not naked here)
@rockifresa @m-f1 @trueblood825 @beakvp @howaboutboth1
7 notes · View notes
paperpeachy · 6 months
Note
i hope your last tag wasn't sarcastic because i for one would really like to hear more details about how mimi and the bleck gang sounded in the original dialogue (i don't know where to find this stuff and there's always been misinformation abound in the fanbase)
OMG...! omg ok straightens jacket. fixes hair. WELL IN THAT CASE.......!!!
i used to sit down and translate random pm lines all the time back in da day, but i have no idea where i jotted them all down but i will try scrawling a few things i remember off the top of my head... i am going to start off strong w dimentio, i think a lot of ppl already know he speaks in a fairly feminine-way-for-a-man, with ♡'s and ~'s n all... he also has lil variations of referring to the cast (eg: L-rin, mademoiselle peach. he drops this habit by the end of the game, simply calling them by name) generally polite, mixed w some french. there is also this infamous line that i see a lot of both jpn fans/lpers going ?!?! at:
Tumblr media Tumblr media
「フフフ…キミはボクだけのものだ…ルイージ! だから一緒に…」
^ for anyone who wants to play arnd w google translate lawll. in eng, he simply says, 'i have you now…luigi!!' or something. but here i think he's saying 'hehehe, you belong only to me…luigi! so, let's do this together'. i've watched lpers be like 'what?? does he like luigi/whoaaa yandere...' and his fanwiki is tagged under 'ホモ疑惑' so.....make of that what u will....yaoi wins <3
-
mimi uses 'atashi' to refer to herself, somewhat casual/feminine, speaks in third person in front of the count, and switches to an exaggerated kansai dialect when angered. basically the punk anime boy voice (the english trope equivalent would usually b a brooklyn or texan accent)
((i think the best examples i can think of that fit this archetype are aquarius from fairy tail(speaks in kansai when berating lucy, but speaks all cutesy in front of her bf), or keima's mum from twgok (speaks in a fairly pleasant way, switches to kansai when angered bc of her past of being involved in a biker gang.) maybe a better known one would be celestia ludenberg's whole situation, but I'm not sure if hers is kansai <--going off topic))
for perspective, like i mentioned, tape speaks in the exact same way. they even repeat similar crass phrases: " カクゴしとけや~!!" (which i think means 'be prepared/to die' IDK IN ALL HONESTY but they sound v similar in audio. which i think is fun ovo)
Tumblr media Tumblr media
her fanwiki brings up 'burriko' in re: to all that. it's a term for women who put on a childish act 'in front of men', but have a completely different personality in other settings. which i think is rlly inch resting.. the wiki page for this term calls this 'a set of tools employed to mask the self...' so i think it rlly adds an extra layer to the whole 'mimi acts fake to get what she wants' thing. slay honestly
Tumblr media
i'll try making a separate post of other small things i discovered...like, i know something mimi says to set peach off is calling her 'oba san' which i thought was a lil hysterical. anyway disclaimer im not a jpn speaker so i may not be the most reliable but ! this is just for fun anyway ! im rlly glad ur interested anon and i hope this was insightful to u !!!
10 notes · View notes
sicksweetcreamy · 1 year
Text
HEROINES GAME VOL 3 SUMMARY
Tumblr media
A cruel tale of great beauty! Heroines Game is a game in which heroines from fairy tales kill each other! Red participates in the game to resurrect her grandmother, but the Little Mermaid kills her out of jealousy. Alice of Hearts becomes the Heroine, and we finally discover her story... The trial of Alice will open: What is her crime and what will be her punishment?!
A casual summary of Heroines Game Volume 3. Summary of Vol 1: [X] Summary of Vol 2: [X]
NEWS: Heroines Game has been officially translated into English! (eBook only though) If you've liked what you've read, please go and support the author by purchasing the eBooks online.
Chapter 13: The Story of Rapunzel The Little Mermaid has just killed Red and Prince Charming is shocked. LM repeatedly confesses her love to Charming, and the word "love" sets him off... and it is revealed that Prince Charming... was actually Rapunzel, with the Hair of Resentment, in disguise! And this is her story...
Kidnapped as a baby by a witch, raised in a tower, a prince ascends the tower and confesses his love, only to use her and leave despite promising to one day return. This happens again and again, with other different princes, until she realizes nobody had ever truly loved her. Hatred arose in her, and she would now kill any person who dared to ascend the tower.
Since there was no Prince Charming who would truly love her, she decided herself she would become one. But.... there were no maidens for her to save, and she was incapable of becoming a kind and fair prince either. So the only thing she can do, is kill. After all, they are participating in a killing game, and both her and LM have a talent for it, no?
Chapter 14: The Return of the Queen Rapunzel entangles LM with her hair, and then stabs her with her sword, but it just phases through LM since she's water-based. "Humans are the cruelest...!" and she screams, disorienting Rapunzel. But LM's song of hatred won't work on her, because Rapunzel is the embodiment of hatred, and she stabs her hairs into LM's tongue, and drains her of her vitality, until she crumbles into parts.
Rapu walks over to Red, and she's actually still alive! But it would be better to die like than be inevitably defiled, so she goes to strangle Red to death... But then a guillotine falls and chops off a huge chunk of her hair. Alice has escaped, and she's in her Queen mode, led to Rapu and Red by Puss in Boots. She declares that Red is her prey, and the bells toll, signifying the end of this round. Rapunzel walks off, looking forward to the next round.
Alice stands over Red, remarking how the positions have changed since her first match. She should be furious she didn't make it to the end, but stories are always cruel, and Alice prepares to off Red, as Red sheds one final tear before a peaceful expression falls on her face.
And then Wolf jumps out and rips her body apart. Okay, not like complete dismemberment, but he violently rips out Red's heart from her chest. Alice prepares to decapitate him, but he then offers to make a trade.
Chapter 15: The Wolf Pact A deal you say? That's it! Let's make a deal! A deal...like the deal you made with Red? Flashback to Red's past. She asks Wolf to guide her in the forbidden forest, to an odd place in its depths that grants wishes. She wants to revive her granny, and once her wish is fulfilled, he will have the right to devour her. But Rapunzel killed Red before that happened, so the treaty was nullified. He asks Alice to make a deal with him, and he can make her dreams reality. Alice laughs and asks if he knows what her wish is, and he obviously wouldn't know what it is. Alice's dream is to become a top idol! And then... but what comes after? She stumbles and Wolf asks what's wrong, she hasn't said a word. Could it be she can't say it out loud? And she's unable to utter the words.
Then Cat emerges from the heart hole in her chest and steals Red's heart from Wolf and runs off. Queen Alice de-transforms back into regular Alice, and Wolf realizing it's the cat that lets her do that, jumps into Alice's heart hole, and she transforms back into Queen mode. Puss in Boots witnesses this all and how the two have now joined forces.
The two chase after, and find the rest of the Heroines asleep at Tea Time, taking place in a rose garden. They're the last to arrive, and the last slice of cake is waiting for Alice. She eats it, and surprise, surprise. Alice has been chosen as the Heroine of the next game.
Chapter 16: Welcome to the World of Alice The scenery morphs into an Alice in Wonderland themed world. The only way for the Heroine to win is to avoid being killed. Fight or flee, it's her story after all. By the time the ending bells toll, will she still be left standing?
Everybody will be coming for Alice, so she has to do is wait for them on her throne.
Meanwhile, Puss has picked her restraints, but not Match Girl's, betraying her and leaving her to rot. We never hear from her again. Puss will survive by allying with the strong.
Puss finds Alice with her sense of smell and claims to not be an enemy, having protected her from Match Girl the last game, which Wolf rightfully calls her out for as being a lie. Puss wants to swear allegiance to Alice, and she is reminded of Rina swearing to be her ally and admirer of her conviction to make it as an idol.
She sentences Puss in Boots: GUILTY.
We cut to Snow White and Cinderella, trapped in a room with no exit and only a single capped bottle. They suggest the other to drink, and then start throwing hands, and attacking the walls as well. But they haven't left a mark. Snow White reads the label of the bottle, and Cinderella reads it out loud. "The 'link'..?"
Puss in Boots has been decapitated and killed. Wolf admonishes her for being too hasty, but Alice justifies it as condemning another criminal. That is all. Chapter 17: The Cheers of Tragedy Snow and Cinderella throw hands. Snow pockets the bottle in between her bosom and pulls out her poison apple, filling the room with a poison gas, but is then interrupted by the Cat barging into the scene and scampering around. It leaps into a gap between books of fairy tales on a bookshelf and Cinderella grabs at it, getting sucked into the gap as well. Snow voluntarily jumps in too.
Snow finds a circus tent and walks in. The art style changes into a Tim Burton-eque art style. The Wonder Princesses are performing on stage to a crowd of mascot-type bears.
Snow finds Cindy and they question their changed appearances. Alice is firing a fellow idol, and claiming to not need a heart if she wants to be the best. Anthro-Cat Rina says she's being a little harsh.
A fellow idol in a rabbit mask claims to agree with Alice's ideals, and holds her hand, we'll become the best together. But when she's alone, she takes off her mask revealing herself to be a snake, posting Alice hate on social media on her smartphone. Fellow members take off their rabbit masks, revealing predator faces and join in on spreading hate.
The mascot bear fans fall in and take of their mascot costumes, revealing themselves to be actual ferocious bears, screaming for Alice to quit. The other idols drag Alice out onto the stage.
She only wanted to become an idol... She is an idol, she is! The atmosphere heats up and Snow and Cindy depart as the tent catches on fire and burns down. The game is based on the stories of the Heroines, and this is Alice's story.
Chapter 18: The Orphans' House Alice gives Wolf permission to eat Puss in Boot's corpse, but she also won't get up from her chair, and Wolf can't reach since he's residing in her heart cavity. Her attitude's changed completely, he thinks. He also has a question that's been on his mind for a while, and asks Alice: "Who's the real you, between the one you are now and the one who's so scared? "...I'm... Alice." And they leave it at that.
We cut to Sleeping Beauty, remarking that she fell asleep again, and that the forest she's in is so nice. She still appears to be asleep, but the eye headpiece on her head looks around and spots a chipmunk holding a bottle. Her vines race towards it and rips it apart from the bottle. "The 'dream'...?". the tag on it says, and somebody comes up and smacks her. She yelps but does not wake up. The surroundings transform into an orphanage, and she asks who the person who hit her is, and where she now is.
The person is the Duchess and they're in the orphanage. She yells at her to get up and drops The Cat on her lap, telling her to take care of them. The Cat transforms into two crying babies, who the Duchess hits, telling Sleeping Beauty to get to shut up. The two babies transform into two children, and a scene begins to play.
Child Alice is crying because she got beaten up by people who didn't want to see her orphan face, and Child Rina comforts her. She reads Alice the story of Cinderella, and tells Alice she was abandoned because she's actually a princess, just like in the fairy tales. Alice takes this to heart.
She gets beaten up by other kids but doesn't defend herself because she's a princess. Her shoes are dirtied and people talk badly about her, but she studies hard, because if she makes an effort, she will be happy.
Teen Alice is out and about, when she's approached by a recruiter. She brushes him off, but then he asks if she would like to become a princess, and she hears him out. He's an idol recruiter, and when Alice tells Rina about it, she promises to support her.
Sleeping Beauty, watching it all, remarks that they're stupid. "Not all princess are happy!" and she impales them with her vines. The mirage fades and The Cat smirks. She impales the cat too, but it's also a mirage. Snow and Cinderella are being led by the Cat to somewhere, and Maid Maleen wakes up at the Mad Hatter's tea party, with the Cat snoozing in front of her.
Chapter 19: The Tea of Those Who Want to Die Maleen is surprised to wake up at a tea party, after having already partaken in teatime. Mad Hatter, who looks like Alice, waits silently. Maleen gets bored and asks... him(?) to tell her something interesting.
Once there was a princess locked up in a tower because she fell in love. Nobody came to rescue her, and death was her salvation.
Seems you know me well... then are you going to be the one with the heart to end my life? Hatter wouldn't mind doing so, because gathered here are those who want to die. Cat is curled up around a bottle with the tag, "desperation". The March Hare, Alice in a rabbit costume, says everything here is poisoned, and Maleen excitedly eats a tea cake and passes out.
Alice holed herself up in her room for days, afraid of the growing criticisms against her. Rina knocks, saying she'll always support her and that Alice hasn't done anything wrong. A princess wouldn't give up from something like this!
That's the phrase that gets Alice to open the door, and she agrees. She's an idol, and they'll fight together.
Maleen wakes up and eats another cake, and passes out again.
Alice continues her idol duties, but she's called to the manager's office. We don't hear what he tells her, but it's not good news.
Maleen wakes up and eats another cake, desperate to die.
The Wonder Princesses are performing, and Alice makes an announcement. She's leaving the group, and quitting showbiz altogether. This comes a surprise to everybody, including Rina. Alice wanted to become a super idol, and was willing to do anything for it, and she hurt many people along the way. But... Tell me big sis, if I can't become a princess, doesn't that just mean I was some common orphan all along?
She can't accept that reality, and she takes out a bottle, the same style of every bottle the Heroines have been finding, and drinks from it. She collapses and instantly dies. Rina rushes onto stage and screams.
Maleen wakes up, and the Hatter and March Hare have turned into skeletons. That was Alice, for sure... so does that mean Alice is already dead? The Cat runs off with the bottle, and Maleen chases after, in hopes that it contains poison for her to drink.
Alice is sitting on her throne when the ceiling roof falls down on her. She jumps out of the way, and Rapunzel has found her, rather quickly as well. But it works out for them. Wolf charges and entangles her, and Rapunzel scowls, Red's body hasn't even cooled and he's already changed his heart...
A flashback to Red's corpse, and Wolf retorts it's so that he can kill her. But can he, Rapunzel asks? And tears him to shreds with her hair. Alice was going to let Wolf deal with Rapunzel, but since he can't, she'll have to step in and condemn this criminal
But you think you have the right? Because you too lie about who you are, Rapunzel states!
Chapter 20: The False Heroine Cinderella catches the cat, but it slips away. Her, Snow, Slee, and Maleen have all been led to the same location: a dilapidated stadium. Alice and Rapunzel tussle, and Rapunzel says Alice isn't Alice at all. Alice is about to kill Rapunzel but the Cat pushes away Alice's scythe's blade with its paws.
Rapunzel regales the tale of two sisters, Rina the older and Alice the younger. Alice took her own life but Rina could not accept it. "If I hadn't said all that to her... it's all my fault... I don't deserve... to live." And Rina drank the rest of the poison Alice failed to drink. Carrying Alice on her back, Rina's soul wandered and arrived at a large door. The rabbit guard informed her, this is where the Heroines Game takes place, a fight for true happiness. But only Heroines may participate. So who are you? And Rina states, I... am Alice.
That's right, Rapunzel lectures. You condemned others when you don't even have the right to be here at all! And Lepus pops up, and agrees. A criminal disturbing a sacred battle, RinAlice must be judged! But she won't go down so easily. She's fighting for her dreams.
The Final Chapter: The Story of Alice Lepus sentences her the death penalty. Rabbit guards surround her, but Wolf interrupts. Rina did all of it for her sister, to save somebody she cares for, and Wolf also... did the same. So RinAlice has good reason to be here, because she's like him. But Wolf no longer has a place in Heroine's Game, and he gets vertically Danganronpa-style dragged into the shadow realm on a hook. With her heart chamber empty, Queen Alice de-transforms into regular Alice.
Everybody begins to grill RinAlice. What was the point of saving her, asks Cinderella. She was cruel to everybody, says Snow. She died for stupid reasons, says Maleen. She never would have been able to become a princess. You gave her false hope and she was crushed, says Slee. RinAlice refuses, she's Alice. But it's all her fault Alice believed she had to be a heroine or else she'd have been a common orphan all along, Cinderella says. RinAlice can't take it anymore, and gives in. She only did it because she wanted Alice to be happy. It's the only thing she ever wanted. Lepus approves this as a statement of admission. RinAlice is Rina, and she will serve her sentence. RinAlice is dragged up, but the chain is grabbed and stopped... by Wolf?! He was able to return because somebody gave him back Red's heart. The Cat also shows up, and jumps into RinAlice's arms and slobbers on her face. RinAlice is confused, and Wolf has to spell it all out for her. The cat that's been by her side the entire time... is Alice.
RinAlice denies it at first, but Cat nuzzles against her face, like the forehead bumps they would do and she feels Alice's presence. She apologizes for having lied, she must be angry at her and its all her fault Alice died. Rina doesn't have a heart, but she'll bring Alice back to life, she swears.
AliCat shakes its head, and then rips out its own heart out of its chest, surprising RinAlice. AliCat crams it into RinAlice's heart cavity, and she hears Alice's voice. "Big sis Rina... I'm giving you my heart. I'm not mad at all. Thank you for everything. This is my wish, for you to keep on living, and doing what's best for yourself. I'll always be with you and taking care of you.", and AliCat fades away.
RinAlice comes to terms with it. Then, Alice is dead... Lepus thanks RinAlice for her words, and that Alice can finally rest in peace. But Rina must still serve her sentence, and will now be handed a punishment even worse than death....
We cut back to a indie venue in modern day Japan, amateur idols are having a concert, a poster says. Rina's not sure how much time has passed since then, and that she came to, backstage. This is the story of her punishment, after sacrificing everything, she chose hell over death. "Your group is up next!" "Okay!"
Here, we're in hell. In a race that will never end... but... "My name is... Alice!" Rina is an idol, following in Alice's footsteps and taking on her name as well.
So this is how the story of Alice ends, Lepus remarks. I can't wait to meet the next Heroines....
HEROINES GAME - Fin
6 notes · View notes
seconds-not-decades · 2 years
Text
Time and Chase
Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Fem! OC
Author's Note: Hello and welcome. This is a major throwback but we are kicking off my TUA series of fics all the way from season one so that this story actually makes sense. Or about as much sense as it can be. I will be posting daily. *Please note that I am well aware that Elliot Page portrays Viktor, but due to season one being before his transition, that is why his character is still Vanya. I am not deadnaming him and I sincerely hope I don't come across as such. I will transition when I write season three.*
Warnings: mentions of blood, injuries, cursing, and violence.
Previous | Next
Tumblr media
Changes
~ * ~
On the first day of October, 1989, forty-three women around the world simultaneously gave birth. None of the women showed any prior signs of pregnancy. Sir Reginald Hargreeves, eccentric billionaire and playboy adventurer, made it his personal mission to find and adopt as many of these children as possible.
He got seven of them.
~ * ~
The car screeched and lurched in front of the Academy. Luther got out with Allison in his arms and Five had Karina.
"Come on! Let's go!" Five told his siblings.
"I don't think she's breathing," Luther panicked as they all ran inside the house.
"If we don't get her upstairs, she'll die," Klaus added.
Diego went to retrieve Grace and Pogo while the others burst into the infirmary. The three joined them as Luther put Allison on one examination table and Five put Karina on another.
"She's suffered a severe laceration to her larynx," Grace examined Allison and then checked Karina. "She has a concussion and a laceration to her shoulder." She went to Allison's side again. "One of you will need to give blood to Allison. Luckily Karina hasn't suffered as much loss."
"I will," all the boys answered in unison.
"I will," Luther spoke. "I'm doing it. For Allison."
"I've got Rina if she does end up needing it," Five was applying pressure to her shoulder.
"I'm afraid that's not possible, dear boys," Pogo stepped forward, eyeing Luther first. "Your blood is more compatible with mine." He looked at Five. "And your blood type wouldn't be compatible with Mrs. Hargreeves, I am afraid."
Grace began picking up surgical tools to prepare for the procedure on Allison first.
"Hey, don't sweat it. I…I got this, big guy. I…I love needles," Klaus volunteered casually. He went over to Grace with his arm out and he patted it. "And of course I'll save my sweetest, bestest sister-in-law if the occasion arises."
"Master Klaus," Pogo cut in. "Your blood is…? How shall I say this? Too polluted."
"Move," Diego switched with Klaus.
"Yeah," Luther nodded.
Five took a breath. "Go on."
"I'll do it for both of them," Diego took one look at the needle Grace had before he whimpered and his eyes rolled up to the back of his head as he fainted.
"Whoa!" Klaus winced.
Pogo was unfazed as he nodded to Grace. "Stick him."
~ * ~
Karina groaned as she started to wake up. Her head was pounding and her shoulder felt incredibly sore, tightly wrapped with a bandage. She rubbed her eyes with her good arm, blinking to clear her vision. She slowly and groggily sat up, taking in her surroundings. Next to her, the table was empty.
"Hello?" she hoarsely called out.
Karina grimaced as she got down from the table. The whole house felt eerily quiet.
"Five?" she tentatively said. "Hello? Is anyone home?"
She wandered around the house a bit more, seeing a door was open. She heard voices and ended up descending down to find herself in a giant concrete, soundproof chamber. Luther, Klaus, and Diego were deep in discussion while Vanya was locked away, screaming and banging on the door.
"You locked up our sister because you think she has powers," Diego accused.
"No, I know she does. Pogo told me," Luther argued. "He's always known, and so did Dad."
"Why would they hide this from us? I mean, am I the only one that didn't know this place existed?"
"He hid so much from us," Klaus breathed out.
"He hid it because he was afraid…of her," Luther stepped forward.
"Oh, that's ridiculous," Klaus dismissed him.
"Is it? Dad's lied about everything else, why is this so far-fetched?" Luther pointed out.
"If you're right, then maybe she's the one who killed Peabody," Diego added.
"And cut Allison's throat and knocked out Karina," Luther finished.
"She didn't knock me out. Harold did," Karina cut in.
The three jumped and turned to see her there.
"You're up. Shouldn't you be with Five?" Luther asked.
"This looks more important to me. Why did you lock Vanya up like she's some circus freak?"
"For safety. She has powers and she hurt people with them!"
"Whoa, no!" Klaus threw up his hands. "Let's…I ju-sorry, just, let's go back, all right? This is Vanya we're talking about. Our sister. The one who always cried when we stepped on ants as kids!"
"Yeah, I know. I know it's difficult to accept-" Luther said, turning away from Karina.
"It's not difficult to accept, it's impossible to accept!" Klaus exclaimed.
"No, he's right. We can't keep her locked up without proof," Diego pointed out.
"Wh-What more proof do you need?" Luther remarked. "Karina is right there! Ask her!"
"That's not fair to me or to Vanya. You can't expect me to explain your sister, because I had no clue she had powers until recently so don't you dare throw me under the bus for it," Karina bit out.
"She's got a point, Luther. Why don't we just open the door and ask Vanya?" Klaus suggested.
"No, she's not goin' anywhere," Luther shot him down.
"No, even if you're right-which I am still not totally convinced you are-she needs our help, and we can't do that if she's locked in a cage," Diego whirled to face him.
"Yeah, and for all we know, she might be struggling with this new power. I mean, it must be scary," Klaus continued.
"Terrifying, really, to discover that you can do something that you never thought you could do!" Karina stepped further into the room.
"Look, if what Pogo told me is even half true, then she is not just a danger to us," Luther snapped.
Everyone turned to see Allison slowly approach. She was confused to see the group.
"Allison, what are you doing down here?" Luther sighed. "You should be in bed. As should Karina."
"You don't get to decide what I should or shouldn't do," Karina snapped as Allison scribbled something down.
"Let her go," her note said.
"I can't do that. She hurt you," Luther shook his head.
She scribbled down another note and held it up. "My fault."
"I'm sorry, but she's staying put. Just until we know what we're dealing with," Luther told her.
"And what happens after that? You're planning on keeping her down here still?" Karina raised an eyebrow.
Luther shot her a silencing glare.
She scoffed incredulously. "Unbelievable. You are unbelievable. I can't believe you would do this to your own sister."
"Is this really any of your concern?"
"You know what? Screw you. You all fight it out," Karina snapped and stormed out.
She was aggravated already and she had no clue where Five was. Nor, to be honest, did she feel like looking for him. He probably thought she was still unconscious.
She went into his room, noticing that Delores was gone.
"Oh…" Karina realized that he probably went to go return her.
She sighed, sinking onto the bed. She didn't even get to say goodbye, how rude. She laid down and shut her eyes, wanting nothing more to just fall asleep and wake up in a better place.
A loud, sudden thud jolted Karina awake and she inhaled sharply, looking around before realizing who was free from her little prison.
"Oh, shit," she leapt to her feet and raced out the door.
~ * ~
16 notes · View notes
wemadeemc0c0a · 2 years
Text
Secrets of Dumbledore Queenie thoughts...and others
This post is mostly focusing on Queenie since she’s my muse. But also general thoughts. Below the line. Contains spoilers
first: THANK FUCKING GOD SHE WENT BACK AND THEY GOT THEIR HAPPY ENDING. I WAS PREPARED TO RIOT ABOUT THAT
Anywhoooooo
I am disappointed how casually open Queenie’s legilimency is. But you can see how uncomfortable she is with it (which is why I always headcanoned that she wouldn’t want it out in the open). I also like that we see how immediately she regretted her decision. How she’s back to herself kind of, more so seeing clearly the truth behind the pretty lies Grindelwald sold her. AND IT MAKES ME THINK I WAS RIGHT ABOUT HER BEING INFLUENCED.
I would have liked more of a resolution for her joining him. Some kind of addressing of that. But ultimately aside from crossing the flames, she doesn’t do anything wrong in that time...Like she’s not doing anything harmful that anyone there isn’t aware of...ya know? And she’s clearly protecting anyone who is against him, case in point telling Credence she doesn’t tell Grindewald everything, and obviously she protected Yusef. 
SPEAKING OF.....the look, the EMOTION when Grindelwald offered to take Yusef’s memories of Leta, it makes me wonder if he tried to offer the same to her for Tina or Jacob. But also she could never imagine accepting that offer. And she knew he did it for the same reason she was continuing to help Grindelwald. They’d die if they didn’t.
HER TEARS AT THE DINNER. And her face when Grindelwald said “Go to him.” You know she instantly thought it was Jacob. Then she realized he meant Credence and she had to force herself not to look at Jacob, not to respond to the thoughts he’s sending to her. And then her using her wand to help protect him in the one moment she could. UGH I LOVE IT.
also, when she grabs Jacob’s hand and pulls him aside to convince him to leave. I LOVE THAT SCENE. She’s trying to be all serious and protective and Jacob is all casual and love sick. And the whole “I don’t love you anymore” and “Queenie Goldstein you are the worst liar in the world.” PURE GOLD. The way he just knew that was the moment. Only for Vinda and company to ruin a perfect good moment. 
I somehow knew someone would restrain her while using the crucio curse on Jacob. It’s a scene that like....was gonna happen. But still Grindelwald is a monster. You can use that spell on a lot of muggles. NOT JACOB. He’s innocent. The fact that Queenie didn’t have her wand at that point and had to beg for someone else to help. Heartbreaking. Also the way Dumbledore apologizes to Jacob that he had to endure it and Jacob is all “it’s no big deal. We got Queenie back.” as if that was everyone’s goal not just his xD So cute.
I will say I’m pissed that we don’t get one single Sisterly interaction with Tina and Queenie. not one. Not since the first movie. That’s gross and wrong on every level. Why does Tina do the hug to hand hold with Lallie (Not that i don’t love her. I DO. BUT like.......who the fuck is she to Tina that they do the thing Tina and Queenie did in the first movie???) I demand more Tina and Queenie moments if by chance the series is continued. 
I also demand more Tina too. That was bullshit.
Meanwhile, Newt who doesn’t like hus embracing Jacob is the best. Jacob almost became Rapunzel with that frying pan. Beautiful.
AND THE WEDDING WAS SO CUTE AND HAPPY. The pure joy was just amazing. And so sweet.
Also ships i now have because I am a shipwhore:
1) Bunty and Aberforth. Don’t ask. I can’t explain beyond they shared a look and I went “ooh I could see it” xD
2) Lallie and Theseus. It could have potential for sure. 
3) Jacob and Lallie. Don’t get me wrong, I will die for Jaqueenie always. But I think they had a fun dynamic.
4) Queenie and Newt. I never thought I’d live to see the day i shipped it. BUUUT it technically started to worm into my brain after seeing an old interview from the first movie about Queenie being about to read the Occamy. And then the parts where she’s talking to him, it kind of could just look like their wedding. So in a universe where there was never potential for Newtina, they’d be really cute.
0 notes
looooooooomis · 3 years
Text
FINAL GIRL | FIVE
Tumblr media
You were his final girl.  And there was no chance in hell that anyone or anything was going to mess that up.
p a r t   five  |  t h e  c a b i n (part I)
masterlist here
pairing: Billy Loomis x f!reader word count:  5.6k (I’M SORRY I GOT CARRIED AWAY) warnings: s m u t (18 +!!!!!)
A/N: after 8 months of MIA, SHE’S BACK BABY!!! this is part 1 of 2 of our fav couple being at the cabin x next chapter will have soft moments I promise lmao 
You should have been paying more attention.
If you’d been paying more attention, you wouldn’t have had five sets of eyes currently watching your every move, waiting for an answer you didn’t have. Why had you thought it was a good idea to stay up as late as you had packing your overnight bag for the cabin? If you had gone to bed at a reasonable hour, you wouldn’t have been as braindead as you currently were and, if you hadn’t been braindead, you wouldn’t have wound up in whatever ring of hell you were currently stuck in as your friends stared at you as though you’d grown a second head.
You pleaded with your tongue to say anything, pleaded for your brain to register a decent enough lie to make this uncomfortable silence end but nothing came out of your mouth. Only a pathetic hum and a gusto of forced laughter.
You wanted to die.
It should have been an easy enough answer to what was an even easier question. One that you’d practiced answering for the last two days and yet, as the moment for the lie came and went, you were left scrambling like a fucking moron.
You didn’t dare look at Billy as Sid curled into his side knowing if you managed to catch his coffee-coloured stare, you’d only be met with something between terror and amusement as you royally shit the bed. So, instead, you did the next best thing. You replayed the question over and over again in your head until you were driven mad.
‘Are you up for a movie this weekend?’
It was a simple enough question, one you’d managed to decline easily enough but, as Tatum frowned and asked the one question you were expecting to hear, your mind went blank.
‘Why? What are you doing?’
The answer you were supposed to say: I have to babysit my cousin in Santa Rosa all weekend. The answer they got? Silence. Pure, awkward as fuck, silence.
“Earth to Y/N,” Tatum laughed, brows furrowing. “Are you alive?”
“Sorry,” you huffed out a quiet laugh and shook your head, “I barely slept last night, I’m braindead.”
While it wasn’t a lie, you were still on edge. You’d think after months of sneaking around with the asshole sitting in front of you that you would have chilled out a little more but not today. Maybe it was the nerves of a full weekend away with Billy Loomis as his girlfriend hosted a fucking movie night sans her boyfriend and best friend – but something was making you stumble over what should have been second nature to you.
“You feeling okay?” Sid, the angel she was, asked with a small frown. Your stomach twisted in the familiar way it always did when your sweet friend showed concern. Concern which you most definitely didn’t deserve. “You seem…off.”
It would have been so easy to confess your dark little twisted affair with Billy right then and there. To just open your mouth and let the truth of everything you’d been doing behind her back play out. But you knew it would break her heart and, more than that, you were a fucking coward.
“I’m fine, Sid,” you smacked on a small smile and leaned into your locker. You had one more class until you were home free. Free of your friends’ inquiring eyes, free of Biology, free of Woodsboro. If you managed to get through this incredibly uncomfortable moment. “And I would if I could, trust me. I have to babysit my little cousin in Santa Rosa.” You feigned disappointment with a small frown. You could see Stu’s lips tug up in mild amusement out of the corner of your eye. “She’s nine, so if I don’t come back on Monday, know that she annoyed me to death.”
Randy scoffed and casually threw his arm around your neck. “Every day I’m thankful I don’t have any snot-nosed kids in my family. Losing my weekend to babysit? I’d rather rot.”
Despite your guilt, you managed a small smile as you looked across at him. “I think the kid would rather you rot, too. You’d be a terrible babysitter.”
“She’s right,” Tatum smirked, “you’d show the kid one of your weirdo movies where a girl with big tits is running helplessly away from her killer. It’d scar the kid for life.”
“Or,” Randy mused, “prepare them for the real world. Put some hair on their chest and all that shit.”
“Furthering my point, Meeks, you’d be a shit babysitter.” You laughed. “But, yeah, I’ll be suffering at the hands of a nine-year-old, so you guys have fun without me.”
“How about you, lover boy?” Tatum asked, looking across at Billy. “Will you be joining us this weekend?”
You should have averted your eyes. Should have done anything besides wait, with bated breath, to see what Billy would say. Slowly, those brown eyes tapered over towards you just briefly before looking at Tatum. With a casual shrug of his shoulders, Billy shook his head and leaned into Sid. “Can’t,” he merely said, “I’m going up north with my dad. He wants to get some of his affairs in order or something, I don’t know.” He ran a hand through his hair. “All I know is I was promised free beer if I helped him. So, I’m helping him.”
If Sid caught onto his lie, her face didn’t betray her once. And, as she looked up at her boyfriend with doting eyes, you couldn’t help but feel that pang of shame slice into your gut once again. She believed him. She always believed him. Believed you. Regardless of how good it felt to have Billy, that shame of knowing just who it was unwittingly hurting in the process never dissipated.
“You sure you guys won’t need help?” Sid asked, further digging that knife of shame into your chest. “Besides this movie, I’ve got nothing else going on this weekend.”
“Real nice,” Randy teased. “She’d rather watch Billy’s dad punch away at a fucking calculator then sit down with her nearest and dearest.”
Billy ignored Randy entirely as he glanced down at the brunette. “I’m sure,” he affirmed, giving her a quick squeeze. “Enjoy the movie night. I’ll be there for the next one.”
He lied so effortlessly, so casually, that it should have unnerved you. But it didn’t. Because for as good of a liar Billy Loomis was, you were right here with him. This dangerous little game the two of you were playing was becoming second nature to you and for as much as it pained you to see Sidney get lied to, you couldn’t help yourself.
You loved Billy. Billy loved you. Right person, wrong time. Only rather than wait like you knew you should have, Billy’s glow was much too enthralling to miss. You were both moths to each other’s’ flames and no amount of guilt or shame was strong enough to outweigh the otherworldly affliction the two of you had for one another.
The bell signifying your final class rung out, snapping you out of your brief reverie as you blinked and focused on pushing Randy off of you. “Want to drive me to the bus station?” You asked him. “I don’t want to drive all the way to Santa Rosa, so I bought a bus ticket.”
“Tonight?” Randy considered it briefly before shrugging. “Sure, I guess. I’ve got a shift tonight at seven, though. When’s your bus leave?”
“Six thirty,” you lied, mainly doing this so that should anyone drive by your house this weekend and see your car still neatly parked in your driveway, they wouldn’t bat an eye. “I owe you.”
“Yeah, you do,” Randy agreed. “And, lucky for you, I accept a lot of different payment options.” He wriggled his brows, earning a playful smack from you and an annoyed glare from Billy. Thankfully, Randy didn’t catch onto the latter. “Pick you up at six?”
You nodded. “Perfect.”
With your eyes flickering to Billy’s once more, you managed to shoot everyone a quick smile before disappearing down the hall towards Biology. Just how you’d managed to dance your way out of what could have been an incredibly awkward moment, you didn’t know. But as you felt that weighty stare of Billy’s on your back as you walked away, there was an air of excitement that swallowed you whole.
No matter how much guilt you felt, no matter how sick it made you to see Sidney get hurt, even if she didn’t quite know about just yet, there was a much larger part of you that couldn’t wait to get Billy alone.
Because for the first time in the seven months since you’d started this torrid little affair, you were finally getting Billy all to yourself. No prying eyes, no secret kisses, no having to hide every part of your relationship with the man. None of that.
This weekend, it was you and it was Billy.
And you couldn’t fucking wait.
»»-------------¤-------------««
Randy, being the superstar he was, had dropped you off at the station a little after six-fifteen and by six-thirty-two, just around the time the actual bus was leaving for Santa Rosa, you were scrambling into Billy’s car with a wild grin on your face.
Just how the pair of you had managed to pull it off, especially given your brain lapse earlier in the day, was beyond you. But, as Billy tore off down the main street leading to the freeway, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of freedom engulf you the farther and farther you got from town.
It was exhilarating.
And, as you glanced at Billy, who couldn’t have looked more like a movie star with his dark locks blowing with the wind cascading in through his open window, you couldn’t help but reach across the divide to gently squeeze his jean-clad thigh.
“Thank you,” you found yourself muttering and as those brown eyes met yours, you couldn’t help but grin. “For your stupid key proposal. In hindsight, it was very sweet.”
The dimple in Billy’s cheek deepened as his own grin grew. “Glad you let me steal you away?”
You loosened your seatbelt momentarily and leaned across to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Very glad.” You made a move to pull away but stopped when he gently grabbed your chin with the hand not holding the wheel. “What—”
The kiss, while dangerously stupid, was short and sweet but the emotion behind it, the genuine happiness that exuded out of Billy in those few seconds was palpable. “I really do fucking love you, you know that?”
“You’ve mentioned it,” you hummed and slinked back into your seat. When his large hand found your thigh, he gave it a firm squeeze that sent shockwaves throughout your whole body.
“Not going to say it back?” He teased, giving you a sidelong glance as he drew nearer to the freeway.
“I’d rather show it.” Rather than put your seatbelt back on, you shimmed in your seat and leaned into him as your fingers scraped along his thighs towards the button of his jeans. “Eyes on the road, Loomis.”
Easier said than done, Billy thought, torn between watching the road and watching you unzip his jeans. Raising his ass out of the seat just long enough to allow you to tug his pants down his thighs, the second Billy saw yours eyes light up as his now somewhat erect cock sprung free of his jeans, keeping his eyes on the road seemed impossible. But, the second he saw that pretty mouth of yours perk up in anticipation, it was game over. “Are you trying to get us killed?”
A low chuckle escaped your lips as you began to pump his length with your hand. “Focus on the road, Billy.”
“You say that like it’s easy.” Not being able to keep his hands off of you, he reached for your nipple and gave it a pinch through your shirt. “Take your shirt off, baby.”
“Shut up and drive.” You chided him, shimming in your seat so that you were on your knees leaning over the console. His cock was rock hard now and, as you ran your tongue alongside his length, from the base of it all the way up to coax your tongue along the precum that had gathered along his head, you felt him shiver beneath you.
“Fuck,” he hissed, tangling his fingers through your hair. You were too fucking good with that mouth of yours.
Still pumping the base of his cock with one hand, you swirled your tongue along the tip of his dick again before taking that perfectly girthy cock in your mouth. His grip tightened on your hair and your eyes watered as he pushed your head down to fully take the length of him inside of your mouth. He heard you gag on him but even as his grip eased up, you continued your pursuit of deepthroating him.
His breathing was shallow as he felt your hot mouth all over him. Between the sounds of your wet mouth taking him in and the occasional gag as you choked on his length, Billy was in heaven.
But having you this close as you fucked him with your mouth whilst still fully clothed was killing him. He needed to feel you. He wanted to feel your juices on his fingers and running down those perfect fucking thighs as he fingerfucked you. He wanted to hear you moan, feel you moan on his cock as he made you feel as good as you were making him feel.
He wanted all of you, needed all of you.  
Trying his damnedest not to shut his eyes as your mouth brought him closer to the edge, he reached beneath you to work on your own zipper but when that proved to be impossible, a frustrated growl tore out of his lips. “Undo your pants.” He hissed through bared teeth.
You hummed against his dick which nearly sent him into the other land of traffic. “No,” you purred, “I want to make you feel good.”
With one hand on the wheel and the other now gliding up and down your back as you fucked him with your mouth, Billy couldn’t help but buck into your mouth as you began to massage his balls. He was going to bust and soon if he wasn’t careful.
You were too fucking good and he was too fucking in love with you not to get lost in the way you made him feel.
“Touch yourself, at least,” he breathed out, desperate to see that pretty cunt. “Please, baby.”
Not granting him the satisfaction, you simply dug your nails into his thighs and moaned onto his cock and the sensation of it alone was almost enough to make him come down your throat. It seemed to slither around his cock, making him twitch and buck into your mouth.
But it was the second you moaned out his name as you swirled your wet mouth along the head of his dick one final time, swallowing back his precum with a contented hum, that Billy blew his loud inside of your mouth.
For a good five seconds, he didn’t care if he crashed the goddamn car as he watched you swallow his seed. He was bucking into your mouth, his breathing was ragged, as you guzzled him back and, as you finally released his cock with a pop, Billy almost lost it.
With a devilish grin, you simply wiped a finger along the edge of your lips and leaned back into your seat with a satisfied glimmer in your eyes. You knew you’d be in for it once he got his hands on you at the cabin, but for now, as you watched him lamely try and pull his jeans up his body to cover his slowly softening cock, you couldn’t help but laugh.
“What’s the matter, Billy?” You teased, fastening your seatbelt back up. “You look a little rattled.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he simpered, not bothering with the zipper or button of his jeans. Instead, he reached across the divide and grabbed for your hand as he ghosted his lips across your knuckles. “Just wait until we get to the cabin.”
With your suspicions confirmed, you couldn’t help but beam across at him as you drove further and further away from Woodsboro. That was definitely a threat and good god were you excited for its execution.
»»-------------¤-------------««
By the time you’d pulled into the Loomis family cabin, it was pitch black outside.
The moon was too high in the sky and only a sliver of its light poked through the tall pine trees that surrounded the small house but, even with the low light surrounding you, the shadows that danced along the lake was enough to bring out a small smile as you quietly made your way out of the car. You didn’t need full sun to see the beauty surrounding you and the smell of the fresh air mixed with the spice of pine made any ounce of nerves filter out of you.
You were happy.
Unreservedly so.
Glancing across the roof towards Billy, he seemed almost distracted as he looked around at the familiar surroundings. You couldn’t quite tell if he was feeling as happy as you were in those brief moments, but you couldn’t quite blame him for that. The cabin held a lot of memories within it, many of which you knew included his mother. Where you felt freed and excited, you could tell the weight of his current whereabouts was heavy on his shoulders.
“Hey,” you muttered, slicing into the quietude around you. Walking around the front of the car, those brown eyes found yours as you circled your arms around his middle. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” he assured, but his voice was low and distant. All the same, however, his strong arms enveloped you as he kissed your hairline. “Lost in a memory, I guess.”
You nodded into the crook of his neck but said nothing. He needed time to decompress, to familiarize himself with a house he hadn’t been in since his mother left. So, you’d give him that time.
For what must have been minutes, the two of you simply stood at the helm of porch holding onto one another. It wasn’t until Billy placed another quick kiss to your forehead that you felt his arms slowly fall only to grasp your hand in his own. “Come on,” he hummed. His grip on your hand was firm as he walked up the steps leading to the wrap around porch and as he stuck the key inside of the lock and opened the front door, the smell of cedar surrounded you.
The cabin was gorgeous. Wooden slats covered every square inch of the small house and a small fireplace sat at the front of the house with a worn-in couch and chair facing it. It was obvious nobody had come to visit for quite some time judging by the dust lining most of the countertops and shelving units, but you didn’t care.
To you, it was perfect.
Your own little oasis with the boy you loved without any sort of outside interruption.
You released his hand to take a brief look around the small living space but you could feel his eyes on you with every step you took. You knew he was looking to get even with you after your little stunt in the car, but you also knew that he hadn’t quite been expecting the swell of emotions to hit him upon driving up to the cabin. So, you continued to wander around the cabin to both grant him the space he may or may not have needed and, simply, to snoop around.
There were family pictures lining the tables and one in particular made you smile as you caught sight of a young Billy swinging from a tire swing. With a quiet laugh, you picked the frame up and surveyed it with a fond smile on your lips. “Cute,” you remarked, looking across to catch his stare. “A little model, eh?”
Billy watched you carefully place the frame down on the table before continuing on with your self-guided tour. No matter how hard he tried, regardless of the bittersweet memories swirling around inside of his brain, he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. Not that he ever really could, but there was an ease rolling off of you tonight, coming off of you in waves, that drew him in.
“I’ve been thinking about this all week, you know that?” He remarked, leaning against the back of the couch as he watched you pick up another picture frame. “Just me and you. Out here alone in the woods for an entire weekend.”
“Sounds like a scary movie when you put it that way,” you goaded with a wink. “Or a really niche porno.”
“Why not a bit of both?” His molasses coloured eyes glimmered mischievously as you walked up to him and stepped between his legs. The second you were close, he pulled you flush against his chest and kissed the tip of your nose as he pushed your hair back and away from your face. “Both could be fun.”
You grinned. “I’m down for anything,” you shrugged. “So long as you promise to take me on an actual date tomorrow. We’re not just fucking like bunnies inside of the cabin all weekend.”
“Heaven forbid,” he leaned in and gave you a slow, torturous kiss.
“I’m serious, Billy,” you moaned.
Pulling away from your mouth, Billy nudged his nose against yours and nodded. “The entire population in Bumfuck, California will know you’re my girl by the end of the weekend,” he avowed, skimming his hands down to your ass to give it a firm squeeze. “I promise.”
“Oh, yeah?” You hummed, kissing him again.
His calloused hands slipped beneath your shirt and scraped up your side. “Yeah.” Digging his hips into yours, he gave you one last kiss before nodding towards the bedroom. “Take your clothes off.”
You giggled as he slapped your ass to steer you down the narrow hallway. “And if I don’t?”
“I’ll rip them off of you,” he simply said, “so either they remain in one piece or I ruin your outfit.”
You glanced down at your jeans and tank before frowning. You looked cute tonight and you’d be damned if the bastard ripped them. So, being the good girl you were, you held his stare and slowly slinked out of your clothes. His eyes seemed so much darker as he watched you strip and the small smirk he wore slowly fell into a hungry thin line as you then perched yourself on the edge of the bed, completely nude.
“You just going to stand there looking pretty or are you going to do something about this?” You slipped your fingers between your thighs and ran your fingers along your swollen clit. A low moan slipped out of your lips at the sensation. “I’m already so wet for you, Billy.”
Slowly, Billy stepped towards you and undid his belt. Leaning down, he kissed you, hard, and steered you backwards on the bed beneath you until your head reached the soft pillows. You could feel his cock straining against his jeans but rather than grant himself any sort of reprieve, you watched him gently grasp your hands and raise them above your head only to wrap his belt around your wrists.
In the blink of an eye, you were tied to the bedposts.
“Is this payback for the car blowie?” You laughed, looking up at your restrained wrists. “If it is, I can’t say I’m mad about it.”
“You wanted something between a horror movie and a niche porno, remember?” He hummed against your skin, placing sloppy kisses along the vein that ran along your neck as he pinched your nipple. “God, you’re fucking perfect. You know that?”
He bit down on your collarbone, kissing his way down your chest until his warm mouth wrapped around your nipple. You could feel his teeth slither along your breast as his tongue lapped expertly on the sensitive bud. You hissed, arching into his mouth as your wrists, on instinct, fought for freedom. “Hardly.”
His eyes met yours as he slowly released your nipple. You were in nothing, of course, but he was still fully clothed, and you hated him for it. You hungrily eyed the bulge in his jeans as he propped himself up on his arm, letting his other hand glide up your chest and neck until it cupped your cheek. His nose brushed against yours, nudging it up to allow his lips to hover just over yours. Close enough that you could almost taste them, but much too far away to satisfy the hunger you had for the man.
“I love you,” he whispered, thumb stroking the apple of your cheek as his warm, brown eyes swallowed you up. “You know that, right?”
“Yes,” you swallowed hard and tilted your head up just enough to finally catch his lips. But, just as quickly as it happened, the man pulled away and let his hand begin to roam down your body. His mouth was at your ear now, nibbling at your earlobe as his hot breath slithered against your neck. You shivered. “I love you, too.”
His voice was gruff in your ear. “I’d kill for you,” his hand continued its journey down your throat, brushing past your nipple, down the length of your stomach until reaching the small smattering of hair along your mound. He was careful to keep his hands from dipping any lower, tormenting you as best to his ability, which just about killed you, if you were being honest. “You know that?”
Bucking your hips up, you nearly growled at the lack of attention you were receiving. You were soaked and touch-starved for him. His fingers, his mouth, the erection currently poking into your thigh, anything. “I wouldn’t ask you to do that,” you managed a quiet laugh. “But I appreciate it.”
His teeth bit down on your neck again. “But, I would. I’d do anything for you, sweetheart.”
His hand slipped further down to your sopping cunt and as he slowly slipped his fingers through your wet folds, the moan he got in return nearly killed him. “Billy,” you whispered desperately. It felt as though you were going to die if you didn’t feel him inside of you. “Please.”
His lips hovered over yours and on instinct, you caught his bottom lip between your teeth and bucked your hips against his hand. He snarled as you bit down on his lip but as the metallic taste of blood met his tongue, it was as though Billy was transcending. His pace on your clit quickened but it was still too slow for you and he knew it. He was torturing you, killing you, and he was enjoying every second of it. Struggling against the belt, your struggle was all for naught as it didn’t so much as move an inch.
“You’d love me, no matter what, right?” He asked, slipping one of his fingers inside of you as he kissed his way down to your chest. Lapping at your nipple, Billy was gentle at first before biting down hard enough to draw blood. Tit for Tat.
“Yes,” you moaned. Your entire body was on fire as his fingers brought you closer to the edge. “But I’d love you even more if you fucked me. You’re killing me, Loomis.”
Licking up the small trail of blood off of your tits, Billy hummed against your nipple and added another finger inside of your pussy. He’d fuck you soon but right now, he needed to feel your entire body light up the way it always had when he drove you into that fit of madness. You were a woman unhinged in the bedroom, he knew as much, and he knew exactly how to get that animal inside of you out.
“You’re so fucking wet,” he admired, reaching his hand up to coat your tit in your own slick. When it was sufficiently wet, he licked your juices off of your breast and growled. God, you tasted so fucking good. “You’re my girl, Y/N, you’re always going to be my girl, right?”
You looked up at him as those words fell from his lips. His brown hair hung down his forehead, his neck red from the strain of having to watch you writhe beneath him without doing a damned thing about it. But what struck you was the look of vulnerability in those brown eyes. That longing, far-away look as his eyes searched yours.
He wanted nothing more than to hear you say that you wanted him. Needed him. Just as much as he needed you.
“Always,” the answer tumbled out of your lips before you so much as thought twice. “I’m your girl, Billy.”
His mouth caught yours in a bruising kiss. Finally, his pace quickened inside of you as met your throbbing core with his dept fingers. With his thumb circling your clit, he dipped two fingers inside of you and grinned against your mouth as you let out a low, desperate moan.
It happened so fast after that. One moment, you were the one tied up on the bed and the next, he’d released you, stripped himself naked, and managed to flip you over so that you were the one on top of him, straddling his waist. Pulling away from you mouth, Billy’s eyes darkened as he saw that familiar glimmer in your eyes. That animalistic side of you was out in full force now.
“Get up here.” He demanded.
You smirked and leaned across him so that your lips hovered over his. “Why would I want to do that?”
He leaned up, the veins in his neck swelled against his neck as he caught your bottom lip between his teeth. “Get. Up. Here.”
Releasing your lip, Billy watched you smirk and crawl up the remainder of his body until your pussy was less than an inch away from his mouth. Grabbing onto the metal of the headboard you’d just been tied up to, you gasped as Billy’s tongue slid into your folds. Finding your clit instantly, you moaned and allowed your eyes to fall shut as you reached down to play with your hardened nipples.
Fuck, what Billy could do with his mouth should have been illegal.
He sucked and lapped at your clit as you rocked back and forth against his mouth. His fingers dug into your hips, so much so that you knew there would be bruises in the morning but, blinded by the pleasure between your thighs, you couldn’t care less.  
The moans that were coming out of you were raw and guttural and, as you played with your own tits, envisioning his hands being the ones to squeeze and nip on the swollen buds of your nipples, you saw stars.
“Fuck,” you moaned out, “Billy, baby, fuck.”
He pulled your hips further down so that you were sitting on his face. Not just hovering but sitting on that perfect mouth of his as he held you in place. You knew it must have been hard for him to breathe but he was adamant and as his tongue continued its assault on your throbbing cunt, you came devastatingly hard and incredibly loud.
Stars danced behind your eyes as you continued to ride out your orgasm. When you couldn’t take another second of Billy’s skilled tongue, you climbed off of him only to feel his large hands take hold of your hips again.
Swinging you around so that you were on your back and he was the one hovering over you, Billy wasted no time in slipping his rock-hard erection into your soaking pussy.
He was thrusting hard and the sounds of your juices squelching with every thrust of his cock would have been off-putting if it hadn’t been for the raw, primal need coursing off of the pair of you in waves. He was kissing your lips and biting them and suckling your neck as he continued to rail into you with all of passion in the world. You weren’t sure you’d ever seen him this riled up and you had to admit it was inherently sexy seeing him so affected by you.
Not surprising in the least, it didn’t take him long to come. You’d riled him up to the point of no return in the car and, as you felt him come inside of you, you all but laughed when he dramatically crashed on the bed beside you.
Sweat glistened over every inch of body and the sheen of your juices was still on his lips as he kissed you. This kiss was slow, methodical. Sweet. And you felt yourself fall even harder for the man as he broke the kiss and gently brushed your hair away from your now damp forehead.
Wrapping one arm around your chest, Billy held you against him as he propped himself against the headboard. You were both naked and sweating and while a shower was something you both definitely needed, neither of you found yourselves all too willing to move out of the other’s embrace.
“Is it hard being back here?” You asked, listening to his heart beating in his chest.
“For a second, maybe,” he admitted, soothing your hair down. “Not now.”
“What’s changed?” You asked with a small smile. “The sex was that good, huh?”
A quiet chuckle shook his chest as he kissed the top of your head. “I think horror meets niche porn is my new favourite genre.”
Kissing his naked chest, you grinned into his body. “Same.”
1K notes · View notes
kyberphilosopher · 3 years
Text
Smile
Word Count: 3467 Requested: yes. Based off ‘505′ Warnings: strong hints to sexual disposition. Spoilers if you squint.
Tumblr media
“I’d probably still adore you with your hands around my neck... I did last time I checked.” -Arctic Monkeys, ‘505′.
.✫*゚・゚。.★.*。・゚✫*.
With hoarse breath and unwavering eyes, you look up to the stars as you speak. “So, you’re really going to do it then?”
“I have to,” you hear him say. His voice has gotten far more mature and calm since the first time you’d heard him speak. Still angry and determined, but in an intelligent, adult way. Eren is a more capable person now. The only thing left to do is wait and see if that’s a good thing, or a bad thing. 
“What do you think are the chances of winning?” you question. A shooting star whizzes across the sky at that very moment, and it’s gone before you can think of a wish. 
You turn around to face him, but his eyes are already on you. Once upon a time, Eren’s eyes were emerald and teal and deep. Now they’re paler. They are cold and steady as a byproduct of who he’s become. It’s hard not to wonder what he’s thinking about when he looks at you like this, especially since he’s become harder to read over the years.
At first, Eren was one of the most insufferable people you’d ever met. He acted out so often, it was hard to see him as another person of intelligent life. You mostly just minded your business through your cadet years, usually hanging around Reiner, who was also difficult to see as intelligent life. Sometimes you and Eren would argue, but it was never passionate. You just had different world views. 
Things got better when you found out what Eren really was. Since you hadn’t made top ten, you could only choose between the Garrison Regiment, or the Scout Regiment. And with Eren’s newly discovered power showing the promise of hope, you decided on the Scouts. He liked that. 
After that, it was hard not to mature at the same time as he. Eren often blamed himself for the death and carnage that surrounded the regiment. You were solely responsible for the passing of your best friend. And after everything that happened with the government, almost dying at Shiganshina- you knew you couldn’t stand this much longer. With your relationship with Eren still budding in its early and steamy stages, he was the only one you told of your desertion. You abandoned the corps, finding a small, abandoned farm within wall Maria to hide out in. 
Eren was too tired and sick of everything to think you were being cowardly. He wanted to leave too. Maybe come with you. But Eren had plans in the works that he couldn’t leave alone. He visited you less and less. Luckily you never made a fuss. 
And now Eren wants to end the world, to save the world. How does he expect you to react to this?
“I just thought I should see you,” Eren replies. You know he’s deflecting your question. You’re not stupid. 
You nod slowly, blinking as you think. “Am I going to die?”
Your companion crosses his arms calmly. “Yes,” he tells you. 
There it is. 
“You know I can’t support you in this, right?” you tell Eren, equally as calm. 
He only replies after a moment, also in deep thought. “I know.”
You look back up to the sky, sighing out through your nose. “Why did you come, Eren? Did you want me to tell you that I think you’re doing the right thing? Or was it because you need to let out some anger? I wonder.”
“I did want to see you.”
“Do you still?”
Silence. 
“Yes.”
“And I suppose there’s nothing I can do to change your mind?”
“No.”
The stars are glittering with pastel hues, like a rainbow, or kaleidoscope. Each one is a different size, bordering on different shapes, all fusing and melting together like your idea of heaven. You can barely even see the midnight color of the sky through all them. It is beautiful, but it’s also bitter. Everything is bitter, here. 
“I didn’t make myself any dinner yet,” you say. “Couldn’t think of anything.”
.✫*゚・゚。.★.*。・゚✫*.
When she was alive, Eren’s mother would make a soup for the family. It was creamy, hot, filled with meat and cheese at the bottom. Eren never liked soup, but he did love that dish. She was always sure to make extra for him, so that he could enjoy it for several days. And although it wasn’t until after she was gone that Eren realized he rarely ever thanked her for it, it was still one of the warmest memories Eren had. 
He fills your wooden bowl with it, being awfully generous. He knows that even though you haven’t eaten much in the last few years, you too had grown fond of the soup. He knows no matter how slowly you force it down, you are enjoying it. It burns the roof of your mouth every time, but you’ve never cared. All that matters is the creamy sauce, and the cow cooked to perfection. 
You stare at the fireplace beside you, flames cackling and licking upward. Eren sets the bowl in front of you, and takes the seat on the other side. You know he sets his long hair behind his shoulders. You’re already prepared. From your pocket, you produce a stretchy brown hair tie on the verge of snapping, handing it to him. 
“Thanks,” he says, even though this routine has happened however many times he’s seen you. 
“You’re welcome.”
The soup is as amazing as usual. You’re willing to bet Eren makes it even better than his mother did, but you dare not say it aloud. It’s creamy, perfectly seasoned. It goes down your throat, still steaming. 
“Does Mikasa know about this?” you question, taking one more delicious bite. 
“No. None of them do,” Eren answers. “Armin will figure it out soon.”
“You want me to kill ‘em?”
Eren shakes his head. To a lot of people, this would be taken as a joke. But this is nowhere near it. Your tone is too casual, too low for it to be humor of any kind. And the way the man across from you reacts- he’s thinking the same thing. 
“No.”
“How are they, then?”
Eren thinks as he takes another bite, the warmth creeping up his chest sweetly. “They’re alright for now. I don’t know for how much longer. I can’t see everything.”
“Can you see who’s next?”
He squints at his bowl as if he were angry, but his eyebrows barely move. “Sasha.” 
Sasha. She was always a good presence to have around. While she seemed like the type of person who would annoy you, it was hard to hate her. And you admired her keen intuition anyway. 
“Will you give her something for me?”
Eren nods. Then you both go back to eating for a few seconds, basking in the orange glow from the flames. 
“How are things here?” he questions after a minute. 
“The same,” you tell him. “I think the cow might die soon.”
Some people might reply with condolences, or sympathy. But your lover does not, and you do not expect him to. “I’ll get you a new one,” he says flatly, almost like a promise. You nod once.
Despite the atmosphere which can only be described as bitter, you’re glad to see Eren again. You’re glad that he’s alive, and as alright as he can be. The bed is always colder without him, heated up only by your lingering fingers that you pretend are his every other night. Whenever he leaves an article of clothing behind, usually on purpose, you hold off on washing it so it can smell like him for you as long as possible. Then there are the hair ties you keep either in your pocket or on your wrist, specifically for him. The razors in your cabinet he often didn’t even bother using. 
Even with the sullen demeanor that had managed to overtake both of you, there was at least one thing you cared about in the world still. Maybe it wasn’t the most conventional kind of caring, or the healthiest coping mechanism. But it was still caring. And all that you cared about was him. 
You knew you weren’t Eren’s first priority. You were probably second, or third. It didn’t bother you. Eren’s head was one of the first things lost when the truth was presented to him. It came back coldly and sternly, in contrast to how previously hot and impatient it had been. But by then your head had also grown colder and sterner. In simpler terms, Eren did care for you. He did love you. But he would consider letting you die if it meant achieving what he set out to do, and you knew this. 
Across the table, Eren lifts his head to look up at you as he chews slowly. The burning meal slides down his throat easily, albeit painfully. It doesn’t even register with him, his piercing eyes slowly gaining a glint from the fire light. 
You meet his eyes after a few seconds, feeling them on you. You don’t say a word, don’t even give a questioning look. You just hold him patiently, which is something the two of you find yourself doing often. 
“You can’t stop it,” Eren speaks, looking you dead in the eyes with a steady gaze. There is love behind his eyes, far behind the anger, but you can tell from the tone of voice he is trying to tell you something as if it were an order. Your lips part slightly from the intensity radiating from your lover, who doesn’t move a muscle. “You’ll be free soon.” 
.✫*゚・゚。.★.*。・゚✫*.
Dinner ends. Eren helps clean up the dishes for you and goes to get water from your well so you can clean easier. You already know from the way his thumb brushed against your own when you took the bowls that you’ll likely be bent over the sink in a few minutes, which you don’t mind, but you wonder if he’ll be willing to be softer than usual as an apology for what he’d said earlier. 
He’d meant to scare you. You’re intelligent enough to figure that out. Even though you don’t scare easy, and you didn’t even give an extreme reaction, the look in Eren’s eyes had made your heart drop to your stomach. Sometimes you forget that Eren sees everything. Then he says something like that to remind you in the most memorable way. 
The wooden door opens and closes behind you. Boots scuff the ground for a few seconds, drawing closer and closer as something in you sparks with anticipation, as it always does. A pail of water hits the surface beside you, partially sloshing over the sides, shining silver in the moonlight from the tall window in front of you. Finally, ultra hot hands slide around your waist and push gently but tightly against where your ribs diverge. 
A jaw leans down on your right shoulder, chin poking against your collarbone. Locks of hair brush against your own, just as the hand on the left runs across your side to finally put a small band in your pocket. 
“I did miss you,” Eren’s low voice seemingly growls, his chest rumbling softly against your back. 
“I was thinking about you,” you admit with monotone, knowing your lover can read through it like as easily as a knife slices through skin. 
“I hope I didn’t worry you,” he says, though you can also read through his own tone. He probably didn’t care about worrying you. He definitely doesn’t still. 
“You didn’t.”
You place a both bowls in the sink, running your fingers over the dirty spoons. Eren’s orbs follow your movement. You can feel his chin change positions ever so slightly in the coming seconds. 
“Can you pass me the rag?” you ask, eyes focused on a piece of food on the spoon that doesn’t even exist. 
In response, Eren doesn’t pass you anything. Only his right hand gives you any kind of acknowledgement, passing from on your ribs to down lower. His fingertips skin over the erogenous zone under the waistband of your undergarments. 
“I worried about you,” Eren murmurs boldly. The hot fingertips pass under the cloth finally, pricks of stubble on his jaw scratching your neck and shoulder as he shifts. “I wanted you to be okay.” His left hand raises to grasp the breast above it. Slowly at first, then firmly, like a warning. Everything is a warning with him. 
Your head lulls back uncontrollably. The back of your hair matts up as it rolls against his own shoulder. 
“I said you worried me,” your partner grumbles. “Did you hear me?”
“No,” you lie lowly, refusing to let your voice shake despite the shiver in your throat. 
“Mm,” Eren hums in condescending understanding. A force presses against your core, which has turned burning hot and ice cold at the same time. The force pulls away, a string of something smooth and slimy following it that makes a sound draw from your lips. It’s high pitched, weak, and unstoppable. You’d be embarrassed if you weren’t so associated with Eren. 
His hand gives your breast a firm squeeze, soreness blossoming from the center. Your back arches quickly and returns lax against him, though now something pokes against your bottom that makes your eyes pop open with a new alertness. Eren’s hand gives you no time again. From your chest, it flies to your throat, holding it back with soft strictness as the other finally dips into the hot pool between your hips. 
“I worried about you.”
A strangled groan releases from between your lips again, this time fully carried up through the air. To Eren, it must sound like nothing more than music, or background noise. 
Thick cylinders pump inside you to the knuckle. They feel better than your own. They always have. 
It feels good. Full. Tight and fast and like the inside of you is quivering under the weight of something that you can’t see or hear. Eren is like a blanket supporting you from falling over, keeping you upright with his grip and his fingers buried inside of you. Prodding every angle, every spot. Not necessarily romantically, but still lovingly. He has always had this goal during intimacy. Nothing matters but communicating to you just how close he wants to be. 
“Eren,” you choke, a dribble of spit sliding from the corner of your lips. 
“Again,” he hisses in response. His fingers hit a tight spot, making every muscle in your body clench at the same time. 
You don’t say another word, your mouth hanging partially open as you focus on everything around you. And it’s all Eren Jaeger. His smell, his growls, his voice, his breathing, his chest, his muscles, his hair, his anger, his bitterness, his intelligence, his determination. It’s overwhelming. It reminds you of getting swept in one of those waves at the ocean he described to you. He’s yours. No- more likely, you’re his. End of story. 
“I said again.”
“Eren,” you moan.  
His head nuzzles into your neck comfortingly, his fingers pushing faster and harder. You can feel how warm you are, never mind how slick. And the way your own body holds around his digits every time he pulls away is enough to make you all the more warm and slick. 
But then...
What is he doing?
He had said “you’ll be free soon”. And yet, here he is, gripping you tightly as he forces you into the corner of submitting. And yes, it is hot. It arouses you as it always has. But something about it makes your stomach turn into a knot of unpleasantness, in contrast to the other one of liquid pleasure. 
“Eren,” you strain, squirming against him. 
Eren speeds up again. A grunt falls from his own mouth from his own power, and you know he’s getting off almost as much as you are. It doesn’t stop feeling good. Feeling euphoric. 
It’s getting rougher. Rougher and harder and faster, more intense. 
“Eren.”
Another gruff moan from him. 
“Eren! Stop! Stop!”
Eren’s palm softens away at once. It lifts away, his eyes opening and his hand stilling inside of you. He watches you shake as you gaze up to the ceiling, wide eyed. Your thighs sputter, entire body twitching. You didn’t cum. 
His eyes trail over you. You’ve worked up a steady sweat glistening and glowing, shivering and shaking and quaking because of him in the best way. You’re his. His partner, his friend, his ally he knows for a fact he can rely on.
“C-can we... Eren...” 
.✫*゚・゚。.★.*。・゚✫*.
Drips of water dribbling down Eren’s temple. One of your hands are threaded in his brunette locks, holding them back so you can have an uninterrupted view. The other hand is dabbing cloth against his forehead and hairline, bathing him softly. 
He’d gone a while without bathing again. You could tell. Eren’s eyes are glued to yours, deep teal memorizing all the flecks in your own as if he hadn’t a million times over. 
Eren loves you. Dearly. He’d travel all seven hours and forty five minutes just to tell you that. He doesn’t know what made you stop earlier. He doesn’t ask. But he’s not mad. Overall, Eren understands that it doesn’t matter what you asked to stop for. You give the word, he obeys. Not because he has to, but because he loves you. 
Still, he knows something is wrong. You don’t show it. You’re steady, calm, mature, apathetic as always. But in the pit of Eren’s stomach, something brews. A warm, strange feeling of intuition and omniscience. 
“You look very pretty today,” Eren ventures, wondering only of your response. “Did I tell you that?”
Your eyes squint. “Thank you,” you reply back. 
The cloth continues to rub against his skin, cleaning something that probably doesn’t even exist. Dirt, maybe. Eren’s stopped taking care of his skin in the past few years. 
“You’re welcome.”
Your eyes squint again. This time, they gloss over with sharp wetness like glass. The eyebrows crease like a break, your bottom lip trembling as you suck it between your teeth. 
He doesn’t know what he was expecting. But your lover wasn’t expecting this. 
Eren hates when you cry. He can remember the first time he’d seen it, but not the most recent. You didn’t cry often- you were strong. Crying over something as useless and flimsy as emotions didn’t seem worth it. So what was this for? What were you about to make Eren break down inside over?
Your hand falls limply from his forehead. Shoulders hunch over in defeat, staring down at the floor as your hair covers over your face. And then the sniffles come, choked out coughs like sobs. 
Eren can see the lightest of bruises he’d left on you from earlier, but you’d never had a problem with it before. No, it was something else. But what?
Silent, your teeth grit together as you wince, tears streaming down your face inexplicably. 
“Earlier w-when you,” you gulp, snot beginning to form, “when you- I did worry a-about you. I- I don’t know why I didn’t...”
You stumble forward. Eren stands from your bath tub to catch you as you slump against him tiredly. 
“I hate it when you go.”
Eren switches positions with you, pushing you down to sit on the edge of the tub. He takes the wet rag from your hand and holds your shoulder back so he can have a good look at you. Then the cloth dabs against your own forehead, just as you had done to him. 
“I hate it here,” you sigh, a single tear drop blurring your vision as it falls finally. 
Your lover moves the cloth from your head to your cheeks, smearing the wetness into your skin and away. They moisten and dry, your eyes red and shiny. Eren tilts your head up under your jaw, creasing his brows and using the towel to clean closer to your eyes. 
“If it helps,” he says, looking straight into your eyes, “you’re crying, but I still think you look pretty.”
You’d be lying if you said that didn’t help even a little, because you love him. 
A soft smile creeps to your lips, your hands dropping in between your thighs. 
.✫*゚・゚。.★.*。・゚✫*.
No I didn’t reread this lmfao enjoy. Hope I did you justice anon
4K notes · View notes
starshipsofstarlord · 3 years
Text
There was a Girl...
Pairing | Jace Wayland x reader
Summary | When Clary becomes a shadowhunter, she notices how cold and ruthless Jace is. Every one seems to relate to his pain, not resonating at quite the same level. They’re all mourning nevertheless.
Warnings | Mentions of death, brief smut (handjob), angst, heartbreak, unrequited feelings (for Clary)
Requested ✖️
Quick link to my masterlist, if you’re interested in reading more of my crap 😬
Tumblr media
Opening your eyes, you awoke to Jace's chest, his blonde hair falling over his face. You preferred how it looked when it was a little bit scruffy instead of slicked back, and you reached for one of the hanging strands. They were like seams of gold, reflecting from the light that hid within him.
Most people had the wrong perspective on the young man, they only saw a well skilled shadow hunter. But they ignored the smart and witty, yet simultaneously charming person that he was underneath all of his runes. His parabatai Alec was familiar with the set of abilities that his brother figure had, and all that he would accomplish. People thought, because of Jace’s distorted, and confusing past, that he was just another warrior to serve whatever institute that he was sent to.
But in fact, he was not. His duty would always be, to put his family and friends first. He liked to put you on the top of the list, but you always felt the need to scrap that idea, claiming that you could not be his priority from start to finish. It was as though you knew what you future held for you, and how indeed, he could not manage to protect every person that he cared about. The prospect was a great responsibility, far too much for one shadow hunter, even if they be among the best of their kind.
To put such a weight on your own shoulders was defiantly cruel, it would always end in failure, no matter what was done to prevent said downfall. There was never a possibility of saving everyone, that was insanity. The monsters had to kill, in order for you all to remain outside of Idris, and continue on with your heaven sent duty.
“Jace?” You could tell he was awake from how he smiled at the sound of your voice. “Come on.” It was an attempt to encourage him, but you were quick to realise that it wasn’t working. He didn’t like mornings all that much, for good reason too, after all you were shadowhunters.
“Jace.” Your voice became louder and clearer, up to the point where it no longer sounded like your own. He looked away from the screen, to see the new girl watching him. She had an expectant glaze to her green eyes, which were much different from the shield that was covering his own. His pools were surrounded by a shadow of grief, pulling down the entirety of his face to the point where it looked as though he no longer wanted to live.
And that wasn’t entirely incorrect, he struggled at life, often never finding a moment of happiness, and if he did, then he would paint a smile upon his face and wear it to satisfy everyone else around. He had tried to cope with the loss that burdened his heart so gravely, yet nothing made it feel okay. You’d want him to move on, whether it be to lose his vengeful esteem concerning your passing, or find someone else to confide in late at night, to stay up with talking as his head rested upon the pillow, that he needed to wash, so it didn’t smell like you.
Or even, if not to share a bed with this new person, your overall plan as you sat with the angels above would be to find some kind of peace. But that appeared to be the last thing that he wanted as he digitally scoured the city of New York for monsters to uncover, and kill. If he couldn’t protect you, the love of his life, then he would settle for doing so with humans, after all, that had been the way that you had gone. The job had been your passion, yet simultaneously your downfall, and he’d be fine if one of these days he failed to tackle a beast, and it got to him first.
“Clary.” He greeted her, wanting to remove a dangerous monster from the streets by decapitating it. In memory, he would use your favourite blade, spilling blood upon its glowing stake to keep your legacy continuing, although, it did not do much but serve to release Jace’s frustrations. It was a day in which he wanted to speak to nobody, have nobody following him, nor asking him mundane questions about what it meant to be a shadowhunter. Hell, he didn’t even know! To him, the lifestyle was nothing more than accommodated anguish, though, he had been told not to promote it using those words, otherwise, there wouldn’t exactly be many people lining up to join the adverse fight.
And one of the people that he had in mind concerning excitement over a dire and ‘exciting’ lifestyle was Clary. She was naive, and whilst she didn’t know everything, today wasn’t particularly the day in which he wished to explain it to her. It, being predominantly anything. Whilst he had managed to be nice to her during the first few days, it was out of courtesy, considering Alec had an instant distaste towards the wide eyed redhead; he wasn’t sure why, but he supposed that Clary could see a detail of himself that was hidden from the others.
However, even through Jace’s welcoming exterior, was in pain. The feeling tormented him, denying him a break from the patronising pressure, leaving him to hold blame to nobody but himself. The hurt was cemented into his eyes, reflecting as he watched all other tragedies with a stone cold expressions, them hardly affecting him, because he had and was experiencing the worst routine of torture that was possible to him. He had watched you die, and nothing could take those horrific memories from him, no matter how much he wanted them gone.
That was the last time that he saw you. When you passed in his arms, a large wound in your abdomen pouring out with blood, drowning his desperate hands as he tried his utmost to put pressure on the life threatening injury. He wanted to save you but he didn’t know how, his training had always claimed that killing the monsters was more important than saving the life of a shadowhunter from an unknown bloodline. There had been nothing to prepare him for that day in the field, he was a fighter, and taught to be so, not a healer; he wasn’t a medic, he was just a warrior. “What do you want?” Blatantly fell from his round lips as he cast an eye towards the newbie, unimpressed by her timing, or her presence at all.
Clearly, she hadn’t received the memo to leave him be, especially today out of all the rest. Alec, having the personalised intel as to why Jace was emitting a solitary rut understood why he wished to be alone, and respected the space, granting him as much time to himself as he wanted. And whilst Alec was your friend also, he could feel the deep longing that was stabbing his parabatai in the chest, and it killed him too. Your death had been so unexpected, and now without you, there was a void within the institute. And the archer felt as though Clary was trying to fill it, and he saw that as nothing more than disrespect, though she was probably ignorant to the history that wandered the halls.
Her face revelled back at his tone, but nevertheless she continued on with her prying. “I was wondering if I could join you on the hunt, I’m getting better, Izzy even said so.” Jace refrained from rolling his eyes, and contained the feeling that was trying to burst out of his chest. It was anger, directed at everyone that was still alive, including himself. There was no fairness in it, to say that he was sad was an understatement, he was eternally devastated, the death of you had broken him, crumbled him into a figure that he no longer recognised.
“No, you can’t Clary.” He dismissed her, walking away, and going to grab his seraph so that he could hunt this sucker down, and bring upon the same kind of pain to its family as its kind had down to him. God, did you look badass as you swung it, and the thought alone had tears resonating in his unmatched eyes, thinking of how it was the last relic that remained of you.
Walking casually into the armoury, Jace had his hands prized in the depths of his pockets, as his expert and quick fleeting eyes focalised on you, and the weapon within your hold. Your body leant in harmony with the blade, the sound of it woosh-img in the air satisfying to all that could hear; that being only you and the Wayland boy.
“Can i not train in peace?” You groaned, lowering the blade whence you realised that you were being watched. The eyes trailed up your side where your shirt had ridden up, raking over the rune that you had drew upon your skin only this morning. A light laugh fell from Jace’s lips as he stalked forward, taking your seraph out of your hand, and going to lob it upon the ground, but the stern look in your eyes stopped him. Instead, against his nature, he placed it down as though it were made of glass, and rose to stand before you once more.
“Not when you look that good.” The blonde retorted with a sly smirk, sliding his hands up the sides of your hips, finding absolute solace in the feel of your skin. He could be against you forever, and he would not complain, so long as it did last for such a time. “Makes me want to do things to you y/n y/l/n. Terrible things. What would the heads think?” He asked, in reference to those that were in charge of the institute.
Stifling down remarked laughter at his sensually intended words, you raised your forefinger to the space above his brows, and poked him with enough pressure, so that he would pay attention to the notion. “That you’re not thinking with your own.” You went to cross your arms, but instead, Jace grabbed them, moving down to cast his hand over your own.
“Oh, I’m not.” The shadowhunter confirmed, placing your hand upon the crotch of his sweats, applying enough force behind his grip so that you could feel him twitching. “I am indeed having thoughts from elsewhere, would you like to see my sweet?” Licking your lips, you nodded, watching as he peeled the layer away, wrapping your hand around his base, and giving him a few jerks, feeling his pulse race through his cock.
“Tell me more about what you’re thinking my love.” You bit your bottom lip, fluttering your eyelashes up at him, only to reverberate a groan from the blonde male. He panted as your pace quickened, and he was almost certain that he was going to spray his jizz all over the floor if you did not uphold your sexual administrations. His head leant back, as pleasured sounds broke through the clenching of his teeth.
And then, it all stopped as a voice, dressed in absolute disgust, written over with unmotivated shock, interrupted your little exchange. “Really guys, this is a gym, not your damned bedroom. The two of you really are disgusting!” It was Alec, and he cringed at the fact that he had seen his best friend’s cock being stroked in your grasp. Yeah, he wasn’t going to be training today, or at least, not in the asserted place for it.
“Clary.” Izzy called her name, wearing a short lived smile. Whence she studied the expression of the redhead, she was quick to pay attention to the disappointment upon her face. There was confusion laddered in her skin, masking it with creased that made her look worried all at the same time. “What happened?” The Lightwood woman asked concerned, bracing a hand upon said girl’s shoulder.
“Jace snapped at me.” The newcomer informed her, frowning at the prospect, and then after all that, he had stormed off, as though she didn’t even matter. She felt well and truly rejected, like a newspaper that had been tossed in the street, and ending up in a horrible puddle. “I thought he might have liked me, but his attitude says otherwise.”
Izzy twitched her nose; she knew what day it was. There was no way to break it to Clary easy that Jace had no amorous emotions towards her, and so instead of being blunt with the new resident at the institute, she decided to tell the woman a story. “There was a girl...” she began, knowing that after all was explained, that Clary would understand.
1K notes · View notes
helaintoloki · 3 years
Text
Everybody Loves Somebody
pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader
warnings: slight language, themes of insecurity, angst, pining, slow burn (kinda?), eventual fluff, over 5k words in length
notes: it’s finally finished! this took forever but I swear I put my entire soul into making this as perfect as it could be. I’ve never used this format before in my writing and it was challenging but also super fun so hopefully you guys like it :) (also yes the title and the fic somewhat is inspired by the Dean Martin song)
summary: Thrown into a blind date against his will, Bucky does his best to prepare in the days leading up to Saturday night, a feat that proves to be much more difficult than expected thanks to his neighbor across the hall.
Tumblr media
Sunday
Three quick raps on the apartment door force Bucky to kick back the covers and sluggishly rise from his spot on the floor. He’s exhausted, but his recognition of the evenly spaced knocks on the wooden frame has him feeling compelled to answer, and so he does. Too tired to notice the television is still droning on in the background, Bucky idly wraps his discarded blanket around his form to shield his vibranium arm before opening the door to greet the old man standing on the other side.
“Rough night, huh?” Yori greets with a knowing smile.
“Something like that,” he replies with a tired, lopsided grin. “What are you doing here so early?”
“I set you up on a date,” the man says casually, as if setting Bucky up on dates without his knowledge and against his will is a common every day occurrence, and it is. “Saturday evening at six.”
“What— A date? Yori—“
“She’s a nice girl, very pretty. I think you’ll like her.”
“Now hang on a minute,” Bucky tries to interject, but Yori is already halfway down the hall before the super soldier can get another word in.
“You’re meeting her at the Italian place down the street!” Yori calls behind him. “She likes sunflowers!”
The old man’s shouts are sure to have woken up the entire fourth floor by now, but Bucky is too busy trying to process the jumble of information that has been thrust upon him so suddenly and so early in the morning to care. The last date Yori had sent him on had ended in disaster; Bucky wasn’t ready to get back out on the field, a stable relationship wasn’t in the cards for him. Surely no one in their right mind would stick around once they found out the truth about the man, and if they did it would only be a matter of time before the constant nightmares and extra baggage that came with dating the ex-Hydra assassin sent them running for the hills. But Yori meant well, Bucky knew that, and he also knew he owed the man more than he could ever give him in return, so if sitting through another painfully uncomfortable date would make him happy, then Bucky would just have to suck it up, put on the nicest shirt he owned, and charm his way through another awkward dinner.
“Sunflowers,” he grumbles to himself, quietly shutting the door before returning to his spot on the cold hardwood floor.
Monday
Monday mornings are gym mornings, early workouts that start at five and end at seven. He promptly returns to the apartment building at seven thirty, eight if he stops for breakfast, then goes to check the mail before heading back to the comfort of his sheltered apartment. He doesn’t receive much other than grocery coupons and an odd letter from the government every now and then, but he’s been told that a routine is good, it’s healthy, so on Monday mornings at seven thirty—or eight— Bucky pulls out his keys and opens his assigned metal box with a sense of indifference.
It’s eight o’clock on this particular morning, and with a half finished cup of coffee in hand the soldier opens the little metal compartment to find nothing other than stray specks of dust and the tiniest of spiderwebs in the top right corner of the box. It’s a familiar sight, but Bucky has learned not to let it bother him by now. Remember James, it has nothing to do with you, his therapist always said. You have to learn not to take things personally.
“It has nothing to do with me,” Bucky murmurs quietly before finally shutting his mailbox with a sigh. Coffee cup discarded in the nearby trash can, Bucky turns to make his trek towards the elevator only to stop dead in his tracks at the sight of a beautifully familiar face.
Your name is y/n, you live on the fourth floor, and for someone reason you’re always covered in glitter. You’re on your way out the door, art supplies held clumsily in your grasp just begging to jump free from your hold, and despite the rush you seem to be in you still greet the man with a polite smile.
“Good morning,” you chime, honey coated voice filled with warmth and kindness for the stranger. Bucky simply gives you a halfhearted smile in return, watching you walk out the door and wishing he could just muster up the courage to speak to you.
You won the soldier’s heart the day you knocked on his door to drop off a “welcome to the neighborhood” casserole. It had only been his second day in his new apartment, and while he knew some of the other tenants were weary of the mysterious man with the thousand yard stare who had decided to call the building a home, you never once seemed to bat an eye at Bucky or his closed off nature. He had been a little short with you upon your first meeting, his anxiety coming off as annoyance, but still you wore that same kind smile of yours and assured him that if he ever needed anything you’d be happy to help. You were a kind person with a big heart, and Bucky didn’t want to chance snuffing out one of the few lights left in the world, so he let you be. Admiring you from afar was all he let himself have of you, and that was it.
Though, Bucky would be lying if he said you didn’t come across his mind every once in a while. He wondered what you were like, what music you listened to, how you liked your eggs in the morning, if you were an old soul or young at heart, if you’d ever let yourself fall into in the arms of a broken man and help pick up the pieces. It was a pipe dream, but sometimes a friendly smile from you in the morning was enough to get Bucky through an entire day. He hadn’t been with anyone in years, and while he didn’t think he was ready to get back out on the dating scene just yet he knew that if you asked him to he’d take the plunge in a heartbeat. You were an angel, and Bucky would never be able to bring himself to taint you with his touch.
Monday mornings are workout mornings, but they’re also mornings with you.
Tuesday
On Tuesday afternoons Bucky often finds himself in the company of Yori, ensuring the old man stays out of trouble and going out of his way to make sure his newest friend has a nice day out on the town. It isn’t much, and it never will be, but it’s enough for now, at least until Bucky can find the courage to tell the father just what exactly happened to his son on that fateful night. But until then, sushi for lunch will have to do.
He makes his usual trek to the man’s apartment, stomach already beginning to rumble at the prospect of a nice crunch roll, but Bucky’s hunger is soon replaced with nerves at the sight of the woman standing in Yori’s doorway.
You look pretty today, hair haphazardly styled in your rush out the door this morning, colorful stains of dry paint adoring your hands that clutch a bundle of books close to your chest, and a dangly pair of earrings that glint underneath the sunlight pouring through the hallway windows. There’s a smile on your face as you nod along to something Yori says that doesn’t quite register in the soldier’s jumbled thoughts, and the two of you are both too engrossed to notice his lingering presence standing just a few feet away.
“Thank you so much for lending me these. The kids keep me on my toes and I haven’t had any time to settle down with a good book so these were perfect,” you utter gratefully, handing off the pile of poetry books to Yori’s awaiting hands. Names of authors that Bucky doesn’t recognize catch his eye, just as his friend finally catches his presence.
“Of course. I have more if you’re ever interested,” he says before finally addressing the elephant in the hallway. “James, there you are. I was starting to think you wouldn’t make it.”
Bucky stiffens at the sound of his name, heat immediately crawling up his neck as you turn to him with a friendly smile. Clearing his throat, he steps forward and musters up a meager grin in return.
“Like I’d ever miss Tuesday lunch,” he jokes, a nervous chuckle falling past his lips.
“I guess I better get going. Thank you again, Yori,” you chime with a grateful smile. Then, with your attention turned to Bucky, “Have a nice lunch, James.”
“Thank you...” he trails quietly, mentally kicking himself for his stiff demeanor and wishing he could be less pathetic in your presence just once. Just once and he’d die a happy man.
You leave with a polite smile, turning down the hallway and out of Bucky’s grasp once again. Yori elbows his side.
“She’s single, you know.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Bucky replies with a wry chuckle. “You have me set up with one girl already.”
“Right,” Yori notes thoughtfully with a knowing smile and a mischievous glint in his eyes that Bucky can’t quite decipher. “I think you’re going to have a nice time on your date.”
“We’ll see,” is all he says in reply, your smile the only thing on his mind as the two men head out for the day.
Wednesday
Bucky has grown to love rainy days, days in which he can remain tucked away in the warmth and comfort of his own home with a relaxing mug of hot chocolate in one hand and some piece of pop culture media he has yet to catch up with in the other. Today’s pick is a book titled The Outsiders, and Bucky chooses to sit upon the windowsill to read the novel.
Gentle drops of rain trail down the glass window, pattering soothingly in a way that makes Bucky fear he may fall asleep. He sets the book aside with a tired sigh and glances out the window with his warm cheek pressed against the cool surface; the city is quiet and the streets nearly empty, and this makes it easier to spot you.
It’s almost as if you’ve been popping up out of nowhere lately, but Bucky never seems to mind. Watch from afar, that was the deal he made with himself, so who was he to complain if you made the task easier for him? He could never have you the way he wanted to because he doubted you’d ever want an unstable old man like him, and even if you did he’d be no good for you. He knew girls like you back in his day, girls with stars in their eyes and hearts on their sleeves, girls who’d melt in his arms whenever he so much as smiled at them. And yet you weren’t like any girl he’d ever seen; you were an enigma and he wanted nothing more than to spend all of eternity deciphering the mystery of you. But he couldn’t, because he shouldn’t, so he didn’t.
Despite the gloomy gray skies hanging above you there’s a serene smile on your face as you stop to admire the pots of sunflowers outside the building, reminding Bucky he has to buy some for his date on Saturday. God, he was dreading it. Bucky was sure whatever girl Yori picked for him would be nice enough, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t sometimes wish it were you he’d be taking out for a night on the town. A guy can dream, right?
You retreat into a nearby coffee shop when the rain begins to fall harder, and as Bucky turns to his own warm drink he finds that the mug is now cold. Book discarded, he rises from his spot on the windowsill and drowsily drags himself into the kitchen for another cup.
For a moment he thinks sunflowers might surely bring about his demise, and the passing thought brings the smallest of smiles to his face. Only time will tell.
Thursday
“How are you feeling about your date on Saturday?”
The woman stares at him expectantly, pristine notepad resting casually in her lap, pen in hand as a warning, eyebrows raised at the man as he stares down contemplatively at the stitching of his leather gloves. What should be a comforting environment instead only seems to put him on edge, and as the seconds tick by on the clock hung crookedly above the doorway her pen only seems to get closer to the blank page below her. Shoulders sagging, Bucky can only offer a small sigh in response.
“I can’t say I feel too great about it,” he finally says, the tension in his shoulders alleviating slightly as she finally puts the pen down.
“And why’s that?” Doctor Raynor prods curiously.
“I just don’t really think I’m all that ready for a relationship. What person wants to be with someone as screwed up as me?”
“The right person will,” Christina comforts. Your smiling face flashes briefly in his mind in response and he shifts in discomfort— the doctor notices. “But I don’t think you’re telling me the full story here, James. I suspect there’s something else that’s holding you back. Or maybe someone.”
“That obvious, huh?” Bucky retorts with a wry smile.
“Who’s the lucky person?”
“Her name’s y/n,” he says, your name falling past his lips in the softest tone Dr. Raynor has ever heard from him before. “I don’t know her all that well, but she lives in my apartment building so I see her around a lot. She’s... she’s really pretty.”
“Well, what is it about y/n that you like?”
Geez, where do I even begin?
“I don’t know,” Bucky shrugs, picking absently at a loose seam on the end of his shirt, “I guess I like how friendly she is. Every time I see her she’s always smiling, she always says good morning to everyone and lends a hand wherever she can. It’s like she goes out of her way to be nice to me, and I’m not really used to that but it’s a nice feeling. The first time I met her she never even flinched, she wasn’t scared like other people usually are, and even when I blew her off she still made it clear that I was welcome and if I needed a friend she’d be there. That’s the kind of person she is.”
“Did you take her up on that offer?” The woman asks, but by the look on her face Bucky is sure she already knows the answer.
“No...”
“James, we’ve talked about this,” Christina says firmly, “you have to stop closing yourself off from the people around you. Making a friend could really help you, especially if this girl is truly as nice as you say she is.”
“She is,” he reiterates firmly, “and that’s why I can’t be her friend.”
The doctor’s brows furrow with piqued interest at his admission, legs shifting underneath her as she gets comfortable in preparation for what will most likely be a heavy confession. “Can you elaborate for me?” She says. Bucky sighs.
“After everything that’s happened, and everything the world has been through, it just gets harder and harder to find some sort of light in the dark. So when you finally do find it, it’s like you have to do everything in your power to make sure it never goes out.”
“So y/n is a light?” Raynor reaffirms.
“For so many people,” Bucky nods, “and if I try to put myself in the picture I’ll only bring her down. There’s no future with me, and she deserves better than that.”
“How do you know that if you never put yourself out there?” The doctor asks softly, silently stunned by the heavy confession Bucky has entrusted her with; it’s the most he’s ever opened up before.
Pieces of the past dart through his mind, and in the midst of all the heartache and the chaos he sees Yori, the one friendship he’s been able to successfully maintain since his period of healing. The memory of the man is pleasant for a moment, until Bucky is reminded of the basis of their friendship and how one single confession will tear down everything they’ve built together. It doesn’t matter what kind of man he is now or how much control he has over his own life, the Winter Soldier will always have the final say, and nothing will ever change that. Finally, he speaks.
“I just do.”
Friday
“Crap.”
The softly uttered curse sounds from across the hallway and alerts Bucky of his struggling neighbor’s presence. Purse slipping off your shoulder and heavy groceries spilling from your arms, you struggle to maneuver your key into the lock of your front door all while the heat of embarrassment engulfs your body in a suffocating hold. You’re not as put together as you usually are, your belongings in disarray and eyes full of exhaustion rivaling that of his own, your usually meticulously picked clothing replaced by joggers and an old college sweatshirt that’s three sizes too big on you, and yet Bucky still finds himself frozen in your presence.
Don’t just stand there, help her you idiot, his mind screams at him, the soldier harshly swallowing down his nerves before taking shaky steps towards you. An orange slips out of the brown paper bag and rolls towards his feet, and Bucky takes it as his in into a conversation.
“Need some help?” He asks with a crooked smile, one that softens at the look of distress clear in your eyes as you meet his gaze.
“That’s the understatement of the year,” you breathe out before offering a meager smile of your own. “Some help would be great, thank you.”
Bucky takes the heavier bags of groceries from your aching arms and returns the orange to its rightful place, allowing you the chance to take your keys and unlock the door. You don’t spare him another glance as you walk in, leaving it open as a silent invitation for him to let himself in. Bucky swallows nervously but wordlessly follows behind; he’s never been in a woman’s apartment before, and the fact that it’s yours makes the experience all the more nerve wracking.
Your apartment is small but personalized, decorated with little knickknacks and houseplants and old family portraits that Bucky does his best not to stare at in fear of being rude, and the vanilla scented candle that burns on the coffee table makes him feel all the more welcome. You drop your purse by the couch with a tired sigh before directing your attention to the man who stands awkwardly in your living room. His hulking figure makes your apartment seem tiny, oddly comforting in a way, but you hold back your giggles and merely guide him to your kitchen.
“You can set them on the counter,” you say with a passive wave before reaching into one of the cabinets for a glass cup. “Can I get you anything to drink?”
“No, thank you,” the man says politely as he settles the heavy bags down on the marble surface; as much as he’d like to sit and spend the evening with you, he can’t stay long, or more like he won’t allow himself to stay long. Your movements are clumsy as you down your glass of water, and Bucky looks away flustered as little droplets begin to escape the corners of your lips and dribble down your neck. “I hope I’m not overstepping by asking this, but are you alright? You seem a bit... flustered.”
“Is it that obvious?” You joke quietly, your smile barely reaching your eyes as you fidget with the sleeves of your sweater.
“I’m sorry,” Bucky begins to say in fear of overstepping, but you merely shake your head in response.
“I’m just a little stressed out. The kids always keep me on my toes, especially now that there’s more of them, and it’s been hard trying to get some of them to readjust.”
“Kids?” He repeats with furrowed brows. He can’t recall ever seeing you with any children, and there’s no sign of any living with you in your apartment. A genuine laugh leaves your lips this time at his response and Bucky tenses uncomfortably. Did he say something wrong?
“I’m a kindergarten teacher,” you explain with a smile, and everything clicks in Bucky’s mind then. That would explain the constant paint stains and trails of glitter left in your wake, the arts and crafts supplies and stacks of drawings you seem to carry with you everywhere. And here he thought your heart couldn’t get any bigger than it already was— were you even real?
“The effects of the blip have been really difficult for them. It’s hard having to come back to school and see that all your old friends are now five grades ahead of you. I know everyone has been impacted in some way by what happened, but it’s harder for the younger ones to understand. I’m doing my best to make the transition back to normalcy easier for them, but some days are harder than others, you know?”
“Sounds rough,” is all Bucky can manage to say, swallowing his emotions back harshly.
“Yeah,” you sigh quietly, rubbing away the clear exhaustion in your eyes, “but I’m trying my best.”
“Sometimes that’s all you can do.”
You smile then, a genuine smile, one that makes Bucky weak in the knees, and suddenly it’s as if all the weight has been lifted off of your shoulders.
“I really needed to hear that,” you utter softly, “thank you.”
“What are neighbors for?” Bucky jokes lamely, but you must like his sense of humor for you let out the quietest of giggles.
“You’re sweet. I like talking with you, but I won’t keep you any longer. I’m sure you’re a busy guy.”
“Not really,” he shrugs with a crooked smile, “I just had some errands to run before tomorrow.”
“What’s tomorrow?” You ask curiously, brows raising with interest as Bucky awkwardly looks down at your hardwood floor.
“I’ve got a date.”
“Huh, no kidding. Me too,” you smile, and in response Bucky’s heart slowly begins to sink to his stomach. Yori had said you were single, but only an idiot would believe that someone like you could stay that way for long. Maybe if he had taken the doctor’s advice sooner he could be the one you’re seeing instead of the lucky guy that beat him to it.
“I should get going... I’ll see you around.”
“Thank you again for the help, and good luck on your date,” you say with an encouraging smile. Bucky swallows harshly in response, a look of longing in his eyes that he hides well with a meager quirk of his lips.
“You too,” he murmurs in response, casting you once last glance before showing himself out. The lock clicks behind him, and Bucky trudges back to his own empty apartment.
Saturday
The dining patio of the Italian restaurant is pleasantly empty, but the quiet stillness does little to help soothe Bucky’s nerves as he waits for the arrival of his date. He probably should have asked Yori what she looked like, what her name was and what she’d be wearing so he’d know what to expect, but the old man had been adamant on keeping the identity of his date a surprise.
“It’ll be better that way,” he had said, “trust me.”
The bouquet of sunflowers sits before him on the table almost tauntingly, their bright colors and sweet scent sending his senses into overdrive. He almost resented them, but then he thought of your smiling face through the window and the tension from his shoulders began to dissipate— if you could be strong and put on a brave face despite all the bad things that had happened in the world, then so could he.
“James?” A meek voice calls quietly, pulling the man from his thoughts. His blue eyes widen in surprise at the sight of the woman standing before him and he swallows anxiously.
“Y/n?” Bucky replies, quickly rising from his seat and cringing at the way in which the legs of the chair scrape harshly across the floor with his sudden movements. Here he thought you couldn’t get any more beautiful, and here you were proving him wrong with your cute little outfit and styled hair and charming smile. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m here for my date,” you explain with a sheepish smile. Bucky deflates— not only would he have to suffer through his own painfully awkward date, but he’d also have to sit and watch you get swept off your feet by someone else all in the same night.
“Oh... well, who’s the lucky guy?”
“That’s the thing,” you say with a nervous laugh, “I think you are.”
“Me?” Bucky repeats flabbergasted. “What do you mean?”
“Well, Yori was the one who said I should try dating again. He thought it would be good for me to spend some time with other adults since I’m always with my students, and when I said I didn’t really know anyone he told me he’d take care of it for me. All he told me was to come to this restaurant Saturday at six and look for the man with sunflowers,” you summarize before gesturing to the bouquet on the table, “and you’re the only one here with sunflowers so...”
A disbelieving laugh leaves Bucky then at the realization, and he isn’t sure whether he should jump for joy or wait for the ground below to swallow him whole. Finally he had a chance to spend time with the girl who had taken over his thoughts and occupied every available space in his heart, and yet he couldn’t help but feel terrified. A date was a big step up from neighborly conversation in your apartment, and all of Bucky’s hopes of developing something more with you were riding on this one date. Yori knew exactly what he was doing by setting the two of you up, and Bucky had no choice but to be grateful for the man who had bestowed upon him the chance to finally win you over.
“If this is too awkward for you we can just skip this whole date—“
“No, it’s not awkward at all,” Bucky is quick to interject. “I mean, this whole thing is certainly a surprise but it’s a good one. It’s an honor to be your blind date.”
He flashes a charming smile that makes you weak in the knees, and he knows then that he’s back in the game— who would have guessed he’d be able to dust off his old moves with such ease? He had to if he wanted any kind of chance at winning you over.
“In that case, why don’t we get out of here? This restaurant is a little stuffy,” you note with a small chuckle, your nerves slowly beginning to dwindle.
“Alright, what do you have in mind?”
The nightlife atmosphere of the plaza square is surprisingly much more comfortable compared to the dining patio, and Bucky considers himself the luckiest man alive to be able to witness firsthand the way your eyes seem to sparkle with the light of the starry sky. A nighttime stroll is right up Bucky’s alley, and you both fall into a comfortable step as you talk about whatever topic seems to come to mind. You speak of your students, about how much their smiling little faces have helped you get through the toughest times, how there’s a stray cat who calls the dumpsters behind your apartment building a home and waits for your arrival on trash days because you always bring the feline a special treat. Alpine, you had named it, and Bucky adored that greatly.
The details are vague but you enjoy the stories he tells you of his childhood and the way his whole face seems to light up at the mere mention of his mother and sister; that look dwindles slightly when he speaks of his old best friend, but you pretend not to notice. As a younger man Bucky worked at the docks before serving time in the army, though he fails to mention where he’d been stationed, and now he works for the government. You feel almost giddy to be learning so much about the man you once believed would rather prefer solitude over your company, and as the night drags on and the conversation begins to dwindle you almost wish you could reverse the clock and do it all over again.
“Thank you,” Bucky says after a moment of silence, prompting you to halt your steps and raise a brow curiously at your counterpart.
"What for?"
“Taking a chance on a guy like me,” he smiles faintly while offering you a sheepish shrug of his shoulders. “I haven’t really done anything like this in a while, and the idea of putting myself back out there scared me shitless, but you just make things so much easier. I guess what I’m trying to say is when I’m with you everything comes naturally, and I really appreciate that.”
“Oh,” you utter softly, a sheepish smile of your own gracing your lips as you turn away to admire the scenery around you. It isn’t until now that you notice you’ve stopped before the fountain, the arches of water flowing overhead illuminated by the fluorescent lights below them. A nervous fluttering occupies your stomach and when you finally meet Bucky’s gaze you feel as if nothing else in the entire world mattress other than the two of you in this moment. “Well, if it makes you feel any better I’m kind of in the same boat, so that just means we can figure this out as we go. Together.”
“I like that,” Bucky affirms with a nod, a look that can only be described as lovestruck taking over his features. Nerves overcome you then as you clutch your bouquet of flowers to your chest, heart thrumming rapidly in your rib cage as Bucky steps closer. The glove that had once shielded his right hand from the cold is now missing as he gently cups your cheek and encompasses you with his warmth. His palm is calloused and rough but comforting all the same, and it takes everything in your power not to melt like putty in his grasp.
“Is this okay?” He murmurs quietly as if raising his voice any higher will ruin the moment.
“Yeah,” you breathe shakily, swallowing back your nerves, “it’s okay.”
Your softly uttered words of confirmation are all Bucky needs to hear before dipping down and gently brushing his lips against your own. His movements are hesitant for only a moment, and it is only once he’s sure you are comfortable and secure that he moves in for more. Your lips are soft against his own, plush and warm and so sweet, and as your eyes begin to flutter shut and the forgotten sunflowers slip out of your grasp you drape your arms securely across his shoulders at the same moment in which his left hand joins his right in cupping your face as if you were a precious jewel in need of the upmost care.
Nothing exists when you are in each other’s arms, you are safe and sound in your own little world, and as you part to take a breath Bucky realizes then that one kiss is all he needs to know that you are the one he’s been waiting for all his life.
And by god, if you aren’t more than worth the wait.
476 notes · View notes
from-the-clouds · 3 years
Text
Kiss Me More (Part IIII) - Zemo/Reader
Tumblr media
Masterlist | Part One | Part Two | Part Three | 
Summary: Reader ponders the decision they made after meeting Zemo in Riga. Series now complete!
Words: 5.2k
Warnings: Kissing, marijuana & alcohol abuse, heavy angst & depression, small reference to suicide, implied casual sex, yearning
A/N (also check out A/N at end when finished reading): This is it, everyone! I was going to end this completely differently originally, but after some thinking --  and some light peer pressure from ya’ll, I did something a little different. I did fight with this part the most out of all of them, so I hope it’s still good. Please enjoy. And thank you for all the love on this series, it’s been so fun to write! Also I was listening to this song while writing this.
---
The incessant buzz of her alarm clock jolted her out of her dreamless sleep. Fumbling in the dark, she slapped the top of it, hitting the snooze button and looking at the interface with bleary eyes. 
4:00 A.M. It stared, indifferent, back at her tired face. 
She groaned, squeezing her eyes shut and lamenting, bargaining, half expecting the clock to turn back time when she opened her eyes again. Unfortunately, it did not. With a huff, she threw back the covers and stretched, disturbing the orange cat that slept in the empty spot next to her where her husband used to lay. 
Snorting, the cat lifted its head to look at her as she climbed out of bed before curling back up in a ball where her feet had been. 
“Don’t mind me, just getting ready for work so I can feed us,” she said, grumpily, then in a moment of repentance, affectionately scratching her behind the ears. 
She had always been a night owl, so she didn’t think it would be possible to ever get used to waking this early. No human was meant to function at this time. It was the one part of the job she hated most. The rest of it was manageable, though it was still work. 
Setting about her morning routine, she showered, made coffee, and donned her uniform. Eating a day-old bagel and nursing her coffee on her tiny balcony, she looked out over the darkened horizon. It was far too early to even enjoy a sunrise. 
There was a saying, time heals all wounds. After her husband died, she’d heard it a lot. It was a saying she had come to find true. But it’d been well over a year since she’d left Helmut, alone in that swanky hotel room, and it still hurt like it was yesterday. 
“I understand,” he’d murmured, and she felt the ghost of his kiss on her forehead, arms around her waist, even now. She shivered, not from the chill of the morning air.
She’d left her old life behind, all of it. Sam and Bucky, too, about a month after their time in Riga. She couldn’t look them in the eyes after what she’d done.
But, she was proud of what they’d accomplished. They’d defeated the Flag Smashers. Bucky seemed happier, more at peace. Sam had accepted his role as the new Captain America. John Walker seemed to have faded into irrelevancy. All the loose ends had been tied up in a pretty little bow.
Except for hers.
Which is why she moved, sold all the stuff in her tiny NYC apartment, and packed her car full with what she couldn’t bear to part with, some photos and momentos from a different lifetime. Her car didn’t stop until she hit the Atlantic Ocean, on an island just south of Charleston. All but undiscovered by tourists, the residents in the sleepy beach town kept to themselves, and she could go about her life in peace, undisturbed. 
She couldn’t just run away from her problems, that was why she’d left Zemo. It seemed counterintuitive, but in her mind, it made sense. The problems would catch up to her, like they always had. The dissatisfaction she had with her life, with herself, was always going to return. And she knew she had to be alone to deal to face it head on. Like a wounded animal, crawling into the woods, there were only two ways things could end here; either she’d heal and come out stronger, or eventually she’d die. And so far, the healing part wasn’t going great. 
Each day was a matter of convincing herself that she’d made the right choice. Especially now, as her eyes burned, fighting to stay open against the inviting embrace of sleep. 
Despite it being dark outside, the bakery was bustling already when she walked in the service entrance. It smelled amazing, as always. Sweet and warm, a cacophony of aromas, baking bread, fresh coffee, sugar.
She set about the usual preparations to open up, packaging orders for the regulars, sweeping the floor, wiping down countertops. Once the place was open, she didn’t have to work the register, as she prepared batches of dough in the back for proofing, to be baked the next day. 
Before, she’d been a terrible cook, but she’d grown comfortable in the kitchen after learning to bake. There was something satisfying about working with her hands, at this point she’d memorized all the recipes and the work became second nature to her. Now, she always had fresh bread and pastries in her kitchen, although they were the slightly disformed, ones the shop owners deemed too ugly for the glass display cases. Daylight was cherished, even if she barely saw it inside the shop. Because while she was awake, busy with work, her thoughts remained pleasant.
At night it was the hardest. Things got quiet, lonely. When she got home, she poured herself a drink. Cheap whiskey, the kind that came in a plastic bottle and burned on it’s way down. She had never been much of a drinker before, she was now. Her thoughts were more manageable after a drink. Especially because she was usually thinking of Helmut. 
It was often that she wondered what he may be doing, and those thoughts usually ended with the image of him lying in the sun, poolside, on some island in the Pacific Ocean, drinking expensive champagne with a supermodel. It wasn’t a particularly comforting thought to her, and yet she was plagued by some variation of it every night. 
Sometimes, she’d humor herself, and imagine what they might be doing had she decided to stay with him. Unfortunately, thinking of that was more upsetting. She wanted it, selfishly, though she wasn’t willing to admit it.
When she was younger, it had been so easy to block out the pain, to just press forward, no matter what. Much to her dismay, it didn’t get easier as she got older. Years of watching those she loved in pain, years of being in pain had taken a toll on her resilience. She wasn’t the strong woman she once was, she was weak.
That night, one drink had turned into two, into three. Wallowing in her own self-pity had become second-nature, she felt like Hamlet, lamenting her circumstances, a constant turmoil monologuing in her brain. But this night felt particularly worse, for some reason. 
For the record, she had been doing better. But she was all-too-familiar with how grief worked, pulling her back down the dark side of the mountain, where she was forced to fight her demons over and over again. At some point, they were going to win.
It was a funny thing. Despite the loss of her husband, who she had loved dearly, his death had been easier to accept. Final. She couldn’t bring him back. Helmut on the other hand, was still out there, an open wound that could never fully heal.
Before she knew it, she was four drinks in, at her bedside table, fumbling through the bottom drawer, until she found what she was looking for.
Back on her couch, she stared at the card in her hand, the hastily written phone number on it, an international line. Helmut had given it to her, the day she left, stuck it in her purse while she wasn’t looking. She didn’t discover it until she had returned home.
It had been months since she last did this, pulled the card out of its hidden place in her drawer, placed it on the coffee table in front of her next to her phone, and considered dialing it. It had been a frequent occurrence when she first moved here, when she couldn’t find a job and spent most of her mornings either hungover, or stumbling home from rendezvous with men whose names she wouldn’t remember, and she wouldn’t care to, because there was only one man she really wanted. She could only hope he’d be as close as one call away. But she never called. 
I mean really, he’d probably moved on by this point. If she was going to call, she should have done it months ago, when there was more of a chance that he’d give a fuck. 
She considered this a setback. But she’d made her way halfway through the cheap bottle of whiskey, it was the drunkest she’d been in ages and she was curious. She didn’t know whose number it was, who’d be on the other end of the line, and never knew why Helmut would want her to have it to begin with.  
At this point, she wasn’t capable of good decision making. In general, it hadn’t always been her strong suit. So why did doing the right thing matter now? It didn’t, she decided. 
Taking a swig of whiskey straight from the bottle, she ensured she wouldn’t remember what happened next, at least not clearly. 
The phone rang twice before someone picked up. “Hello?” she didn’t recognize the sound of the man on the other end of the line immediately, so she didn’t answer. All she had wanted to do was maybe hear Helmut’s voice, he didn’t even need to know it was her that was calling. 
“Hello?” the man repeated, and she realized it wasn’t completely unfamiliar. The grandfatherly, comforting tone wasn’t her former lover, but someone close to him. And she supposed that wasn’t terrible.
“Is this Oeznik?” she asked. 
“It is,” he said after some hesitation. “May I ask who’s speaking?”
Truthfully, she was shocked she’d allowed herself to go this far. This was a bad idea. If she stopped now she could get off without doing any real damage. But just as she was about to hang up, she heard her name, muffled, on the other end of the line. 
“H-How do you know it’s me?” She raised the phone back to her ear. 
“I thought you sounded familiar,” Oeznik chuckled, low and soft. “Helmut told me you might call.”
“He did?” she squeaked. “Yes, although it was awhile ago. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I uh….I….well….” she managed. “I guess I just….I guess I wanted to see how he was doing.”  Her words flowed together like the liquor she was drinking, she knew she sounded drunk.
“Good, since we last spoke,” he said. “I don’t hear from him much these days...maybe every couple months. As you might imagine, he’s trying to keep a low profile for the time being.”
She nodded. Perhaps Zemo was as lonely as she was, hidden away in some cabin in the middle of nowhere. Though she had to imagine it looked much nicer than her current place, and maybe he had better company than a portly orange cat that begrudgingly liked him. “I understand.”
“How have you been?” he asked.
It sounded stupid, but she realized it was the first time someone had asked her that. Sincerely. Checked up on her. Even if she was the one who had dialed the number in the first place.
“I’m good,” her voice cracked. “Just keeping busy.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” he said. “Helmut always had such nice things to say about you.”
“Really?” she couldn’t stop herself. 
“Of course, would you like me to let him know you called?” 
“No, no...I wouldn’t want to bother him,” she choked on her words, something catching in her throat.
“Are you sure you’re alright, dear?”
“I’m okay, I just….” she felt tears prick at the back of her eyes, lowering her voice, since she didn’t think her normal register would come out as anything other than a whine. “I think I made a horrible mistake.”
“What’s the matter? What did you do?”
She shook her head, shaking the tears loose and now they were lining her lashes, threatening to spill over. However, she managed to make the next words she spoke come out clearly. “Nothing, I just...it’s really stupid, I really shouldn’t have called.”
He sighed on the other end of the line, and she felt like, despite her attempt at staying calm, he could still see that she wasn’t somehow. “It seemed Helmut was awfully sweet on you,” Oeznik’s words next came hesitantly, calculated. “I shouldn’t be telling you this, but he told me if you ever called, to help you with whatever you might need, no matter the ask.”
Oh God, what had she done? A sob left her, one she couldn’t control, and she clapped her hand over her mouth to stifle any more. Her tears were flowing freely now, tracking down her cheeks and along her chin. She wiped at them clumsily, clearing her throat. 
“That’s very kind of him, but you can’t help me. I’m so sorry to bother you, please just forget I even called,” she forced a smile on her face so that hopefully he could hear it. “Goodbye.”
She hung up, horrified, and within seconds had deleted the call log from her phone. She’d been thoughtful enough not to memorize the number, and the lighter she used whenever she smoked sat in front of her. Without a second though, she burned the card, watching the paper blacken and disintegrate, until it was all but a pile of soot on her Wal-Mart coffee table. It was a fair punishment, and ensured she’d never get the chance to embarrass herself like that again. 
And then she cried, sobbed into a pillow next to her, until her tears ran dry and she wore herself out, falling asleep on the couch alone. When she’d wake the next morning, the only evidence of her actions would be a throbbing headache and a dead phone. 
She wouldn’t remember the call.
----
Life went on, as it always did. It had been about a month, and since that night she grew more indifferent, remembered how to ignore heartbreak. For now, she was stuck in her purgatory, waking up before the sun and falling asleep before it set, smoking joints, drinking cheap liquor, and going on the occasional date with people who she didn’t really like, tourists who would leave after a week and wanted temporary company. 
Despite everything, she partly believed things were getting better. Maybe they weren’t, but the possibility that someday they would seemed feasible. And that was enough, for now. 
On her days off, she’d walk to the beach and lay on a blanket, reading a book until the sun dipped below the horizon and lit up the sky in hues of pinks and purples. She found a record player at an antique store and began collecting vinyls, listening to obscure artists whose albums she found in the $1 bin. It wasn’t so bad. Life wasn’t so bad. 
She took a shower after work. Tomorrow was her off day, and she wasn’t sure what she had planned besides maybe watching a movie and getting stoned. Maybe she’d try going to the beach. The weather was getting warmer, and she could even go swimming if the water wasn’t too cold. 
Exhausted from her day of work, she laid down in her bed, still in her robe, her hair wrapped in a towel around her head. The sun was setting outside, the windchimes she’d hung outside slowly clanging together, birds singing in the warm spring air. Her cat hopped on the bed, offered an affectionate trill and curled up at her side, purring, in a rare display of affection. A cool breeze drifted through the open window. And for the first time in over a year, she felt content. Closing her eyes, she savored the moment, committed it to memory, so she could recall it the next time she was drunk-crying in front of her TV. 
She fell asleep slowly, so slowly that when she woke, startled by something in her kitchen clattering to the floor, it felt like she hadn’t even been sleeping at all. The clock next to her red 11:31 p.m. and it was pitch dark outside, the cool breeze from before had grown stronger and her bedroom curtains were billowing, wind whistling loudly through the apartment. Her cat had left her side, and she frowned, shivering in the sudden cold.
Pulling the towel off her head, she made her way over to the window with the intention to close it, sleepily, lazily, until she heard something else. A creak in the floorboard. A heavy footstep in her kitchen. That wasn’t just her cat. 
Some kind of muscle memory was ignited then, an ancient instinct that called to her from a different lifetime. Darting across the room, the gun she kept was in her hand, stealthily pulled from its hiding spot beneath her mattress. Truth be told, she never thought she would’ve needed it. Anyone looking for her would be smart enough to kill her in her sleep, not be so foolish as to wake her first with their heavy footsteps. 
A dark silhouette stalked through her kitchen, moving slowly. It was a man, she assumed, based on his broader figure, and lack of coordination. In her experience, women were often stealthier without trying. He took another step, the floor creaking below him, shuffling on bargain linoleum. 
Staying low, she crept forward, ducking stealthily behind furniture, avoiding the spots on the floor she knew made noise. It didn’t appear the intruder had a weapon, in fact, it seemed he was bumbling about, searching for something. A burglar, and a bad one at that. An island full of vacation homes owned by rich doctors and they thought they’d find valuables in her shitty apartment?
It wasn’t until she was standing directly behind him, gun aimed at his head, that she finally spoke up. 
“I believe you’ve come to the wrong place,” she said flatly. “Whatever you’re looking for, it’d be in your best interest to leave empty-handed.”
Her eyes were still adjusting to the dark, but the intruder froze, arms slowly raising in defeat, empty-handed, as he turned around to face her. In the dingy room, she couldn’t make out any of his features, could only see that he was clad in all black.
“Unfortunately, liebling, that wasn’t my intention.” 
She would’ve recognized that voice anywhere, though the endearment he’d used was enough to clue her in. Hitting the lightswitch with her free hand, she was face to face with the man she’d spent the past year trying to purge from her memory, Helmut Zemo. 
Her gut twisted, her mind raced, but the only thing currently bubbling up, over the surface of every other emotion was the pure, seething rage left behind in the wake of fearing for her life.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” she stepped towards him, gun still raised, fuming. 
“Hey, hey!” he staggered backwards, hands raised, eyes averted. 
“I thought you were a fucking robber!” she hissed. “I thought you were here to kill me!”
“Lower your voice,” he scolded. “You’re going to wake your neighbors.”
Taking a deep breath, she realized she still had her gun trained on him and she lowered it, clicking the safety and discarding the weapon on the countertop. “What the fuck?” she asked. “What the hell is wrong with you? What the fuck are you doing here?”
“I didn’t know you had such a mouth on you,” he smirked, but she wasn’t finished, and she glowered at him. 
“You broke into my apartment!” she growled.
“I had to be sure I was in the right place.”
“Yeah? You couldn’t have knocked first?”
He nodded, eyes trailing down to her hands, which were trembling, she hadn’t even realized. He seemed to understand what he’d done then, and she flexed her fingers, eyes locking with his. “I suppose...you may be right,” he said, surrendering.
She felt the rage subsiding as she took in his appearance. He looked not so different from the last time she’d seen him, except a fair amount of stubble covered his jawline in a short beard. He was still devastatingly handsome. Zemo’s dark eyes, filled with longing, drank her in, tilting his head as his gaze shifted to her lips. It was like she could read his mind, she knew what he wanted, what he was thinking. And her body was going to betray her if he kept it up.
Despite everything, she was still upset. Upset and embarrassed, as the light was doing an unflattering expose of her tiny, cluttered apartment, full of mismatched furniture and water-damaged wallpaper that her landlord refused to replace. It probably gave the prison cells that Helmut had spent years in a run for their money, and was in stark contrast to every other aspect of his life.
“What’s this?” he asked, gesturing to the empty liquor bottles on her countertop, stowed in her trash can. “Have you been drinking?”
“Not tonight,” she quipped, on guard. Had to be. As much as some old instinct told her to throw herself into his arms, press her lips to the underside of his jaw, and let him envelope her in the comfort of his embrace, she knew she couldn’t.
“Hmm,” he brushed past her, frowning, looking disappointed, as he made his way to her living room. 
“How did you find me?” she asked, eyeing him wearily.
“I’m a wanted man, I trace every call that comes into my estate,” he said over his shoulder. 
Helmut was taking inventory of the cramped space, staring at the photos she’d hung in a collage on the wall behind her couch, with a few watercolors painted by her late husband. One in particular, that he was focused on now, was from her wedding. Of all the memories she chose to hang, this one was her fondest, her former partner was all dark curly hair falling into deep blue eyes, and she was the portrait of a blushing bride, wearing a dopey love-drunk smile, gazing at him, ignoring the camera. 
“You looked so beautiful on your wedding day,” he said, turning over his shoulder to look at her. He was so out of place here, standing in her living room, for a moment she thought he might be a hallucination, some physical manifestation of the heartbreak she’d experienced. “Although that doesn’t surprise me.”
She flushed, suddenly self-conscious in her thin black robe and still-damp hair. It occurred to her that she wasn’t looking her best, which made this whole situation that much more disconcerting. However, the compliment disarmed her slightly, and the anger she felt began to dissipate, slowly. She was going to offer him something to drink until her cat, who had been absent through the chaos, suddenly jumped up on the back of the couch and promptly hissed at him in an attempt to defend her territory.
“Pumpkin, be nice,” she said, although it was mostly to placate Helmut. Pumpkin never listened to her. 
Helmut let her sniff his hand, and she was stunned when the cat rubbed her face against it. Of course, Pumpkin would like him of all people. That made sense. Then again, she supposed it made them not so different. He turned away to look at the rest of the room. “I see you haven’t kicked that bad habit you told me about,” he gestured at the ashtray full of roaches on the coffee table. 
“Did you just come to my place to insult me?” she asked, putting her hands on her lips and feigning confidence. She could’ve rolled over and cried and told him how much she missed him, how many nights she’d spent crying over him, and while all of it was true, she felt indignation was the better option for her self-preservation.
“That’s a good question,” Helmut turned to face her now, hands in the pockets of the leather jacket he was wearing. Completely inappropriate for the weather here, but he didn’t seem to notice, or care. “Why do you think I’m here?” he asked.
She shrugged, feigning indifference. “I don’t know, but you shouldn’t be.”
He snorted, his frustration evident, and she saw a glimpse of the man that so many feared, the side that had earned him his dangerous reputation, that had him locked away in a high-security prison for nearly a decade. “I didn’t come all this way for nothing, draga, we’re going to have it out.”
“Fine,” she said, lacing as much venom as she could into her words to prepare herself. “Then get on with it.”
He stared her down, and the expression her wore startled her, something sparkled in his eyes, mischief, relief maybe? It was insulting. Like he didn’t take her seriously. But there was something else there, too, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on, but it was wiped from his visage before it registered.
The tension in the room dissipated slightly when Zemo sat on the arm of the worn couch she’d bought from a yard sale, and she winced. “I spoke to Oeznik the other day,” he said flatly, snorting, eyes focused on a stain on one of the rugs she owned. “He told me he had the pleasure of speaking to a friend of mine about a month ago.”
Frowning, she tilted her head, her eyes meeting Helmut’s. Something in her brain sparked a memory she’d once dismissed as a dream after a particularly bad night of drinking.
“He was concerned, you see, because this friend didn’t seem to be in the best state of mind,” Helmut rose from the arm of the couch, stalking forward slowly, and she couldn’t move backwards, not even if she wanted to, as he could pin her easily against the front door. His voice grew louder, faster as he went on. “He said she was crying, slurring her words, he told me he thought maybe she might be-” Helmut cut himself off abruptly and closed his eyes, clenching one of his fists, a look of distress on his face as he took in a terse breath. “I won’t finish that thought, but you’re a smart girl, you can imagine what I’m getting at.”
Swallowing hard, the phone call came back to her in pieces, the tears, sobbing on the phone to a man she hardly knew. It was the night she finally admitted to herself she’d made a mistake, even though she’d already known it, deep down when she left him in the hotel room. 
“Please forgive me for breaking in tonight,” Helmut said. “But I couldn’t bear the thought of you not answering the door, I needed to see with my own eyes that you were okay.”
Exhaling through her nose, she looked at the floor. “It’s not like that. I had too much to drink.” she said, keeping her voice as steady as possible. “It was just a bad night.”
“Then tell me, what was the horrible mistake you made?” he asked, stepping closer. He was close to her, now. So close. And his proximity made everything more difficult.
God, if only she could remember exactly what she’d said, the only thing that came to her were the emotions, desperation, sadness, grief. It was all too much, and he was threatening to bring them all back to destroy her again. 
“I shouldn’t have called,” she said, shaking her head. “And I’m sorry. What do you want me to say? What do you want from me?”
“What do I want from you?” He asked, tilting his head, his eyebrows pulling together. “Do you have any idea how worried I was? How hard it was to sit on a plane when all I wanted to do was be here? With you?” His hand rose to cup her cheek, stopping just short of her face when she flinched away from his touch.
“Please stop,” she managed, the burn of tears behind her eyes almost menacing. The last thing she needed was to cry in front of him. “You’re undoing everything.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” he asked. 
“You’re….you’re here,” she murmured weakly, wetness seeping, glossing over her pupils. “I only have so much capacity for pain right now, if you touch me now, you’ll ruin everything.”
No one ever had this kind of hold on her, she’d never bent her rules to appease anyone else, and she’d gone toe to toe with super soldiers. He was just a man, and yet, he terrified her. 
“You really want me to leave?”
She couldn’t answer, but one tear escaped, sliding down her cheekbone, and she sniffled. 
“I’m not the one who did this to you,” his thumb, swiped along her face gently, wiping it away. He’d touched her, just barely, and she was reeling. 
“I know,” she stuttered, gasping. “I know it was me, but I thought I was doing the right thing.”
“You are so stubborn.” His expression softened as he looked upon her, his thumb tracing underneath her jaw, tilting her head upwards to look at him. Malleable, she obliged. “I’ve thought about you everyday since the night we spent together. You’ve plagued me. That can’t be a coincidence. Are you really happier this way? You must be honest with me.”
She shook her head, blinking out fresh tears. “No, I’m not. I just thought...by the time I realized I made the wrong choice, you’d have moved on. People like us don’t get to be happy.”
“Says who?”
How could she refuse him anymore? This would continue to go on until she gave in. And from the beginning, she wanted to give in. There was no use in fighting the inevitable. The small point of contact -- his hand on her chin -- radiated impressive warmth, and she could feel every part of herself being attracted to him, quelling some ache deep within her. 
Reaching up, she clutched at Helmut’s palm, which didn’t last long, because he pulled her into his arms, nestling her head underneath his chin. She melted into his embrace, finding solace in the warmth of his solid frame. 
“Come home with me,” he coaxed softly. 
“I will,” she murmured, surrendering to the comfort of his presence. “But you have to let me bring Pumpkin.”
He chuckled, warm and amiable, the vibration of his chest echoing in her own. “Of course, you’ll bring Pumpkin,” he murmured into her hair. Oh, how she had missed hearing him laugh. They could’ve stayed that way for hours, and she would’ve been content, but he pulled away, hands on either side of her face as he studied her.
Unable to hold back any longer, she leaned in to kiss him. It was chaste at first, all the memories of her last night with him came flooding back quickly when he parted his lips to deepen the kiss, but she didn’t want that quite yet, just needed a moment to process this. The simple comfort of being held by him, kissed by him, was more than enough for now. He’d been waiting for this, she could assume in the way that he responded, pulling her impossibly close so she was engulfed in him.
Her stomach flipped, a warmth blossoming in her chest as he pulled away, their foreheads touching. “Oh, I missed you,” she sighed, shivering as his beard tickled her neck, his mouth on her sensitive skin.
“And I, you,” he murmured. His eyes studied her, carefully, up close, and for the first time since meeting him, she really let him see her, teary-eyed and vulnerable.
She would never let him go again. 
---
A/N: So here we are! I know it’s been a ride, but I’m really excited for these two. However, I don’t feel like I’m done writing for Zemo yet. If ya’ll have any headcanons, thoughts, questions, requests, etc, feel free to drop them in my ask box or shoot me a DM. I’d love to talk more about him. I also would be down to write more oneshots based around this series, because I am sort of like….okay, they obviously have a connection, but they don’t know that much about each other, and I may or may not have a light future already mapped out for them. I might do an epilogue at some point even. But if you have anything you’d like to add, let me know!
Taglist: @juice-1981  @sapphiredreamer26  @tatooineisdry  @marvelsvision @spookycereal-s @trelaney @fireghost-x @booksarekindaneat  @thunderingbats  @felicityofbakerstreet @takacsgram @mischiefmanaged71 @fanfictionedagain @merelyhooper @gyllord @mundaytuesday @friday18eo  @lovegood7553  @adara-wolfhart @a-djarin @farawaywasteland @sky-writes-stuff @fuckinglittlekitten @katyasrussianaccent @agent-jbarnes  @neoarchipelago @pattispunk @kpopnena @purebloodwitch @spookyconsultingcriminal @msmarvelwrites @professorrw @lazyradeecal @captainrexstan @notyourfuckingbusinesss @felicityofbakerstreet @unlikekiana @maeday-18 @friendly-letters @fandom-lover-4 @meefal @queenfairyfangirl @gogomonbebelf @scullys-alienpussy @the-multiverse-approach @sky-writes-stuff @safiakillspop @eggofhumiliation @originalcollectorsaladsstuff @archangelproperty @friday18eo @jayden-rose-leon @actuallyanita @mayhemmachine @kermuddgen @zadiewrites @pach-inks @theokatz @reichelhache @autumnsoidier @mischief-siriusly-managed @danaaeaa @joey-motorola @singlemomslayer @stevesbestgirl @dinna-fashh @popriskra @xaanyhs @adorable-punk-superheroes​
434 notes · View notes
helloalycia · 3 years
Text
Tumblr media
overstepping [one] // jane banner (Wind River)
Tumblr media
summary: after getting several voicemails from your colleague and best friend with her asking for your backup, you attempt to call her back, only to get no answer.
warning/s: mentions of rape, murder and injuries.
author’s note: this is a two parter because i finally watched Wind River and it broke my heart but also lizzie was v cute and i felt the need to write this, hope you like it x
part two | masterlist | wattpad
Tumblr media
"C'mon, work you stupid phone," I complained for the millionth time, before standing on the chair to get a better signal.
When I saw the bars in the corner of the screen increase, a grin appeared on my lips. I loved my parents, but the fact that they lived in a remote cabin in Tennessee with zero signal was not my favourite thing.
When the bars remained, my phone decided to actually be helpful and receive all the messages, calls and voicemails I missed. I did a brief flick through, noticing nothing was too important that couldn't wait for me to return to work. As an FBI agent, I rarely got time off. And now that I had taken a two month vacation to spend with my parents, I was adamant on enjoying it, even if I was missing work a smidge.
Next were the calls, which I noticed were mostly from my colleague and close friend, Jane Banner. I furrowed my brows, realising she'd left me several voicemails, too, which was strange since she knew I was on a break from work. What could be so important?
I sighed, glancing down at my uncomfortable position standing on the chair and leaning above the wardrobe. It was the only place in the house with decent signal and the only other place that wasn’t in the middle of nowhere was twenty minutes out. Telling myself I'd just listen to one voicemail to make sure everything was okay, I played the earliest message.
"Hey, Y/N. I'm sorry, I know you're on a break, but I just had to talk to you," it began, and Jane sounded troubled. "I was in Vegas, as you know, but I've been called out to a reservation in Wyoming where this poor girl was–" She paused, releasing a shaky breath. "She was raped and left to die out in the cold. I thought I could send in another team to take a look – y'know, usual protocol. But the coroner won't rule it a homicide and you know what that means."
I swallowed hard, knowing exactly what that meant. If it wasn't ruled a homicide, no backup would come and we had to move onto the next case. But if this girl was raped and left to die, the rapist was still out there and wasn't getting caught by the FBI.
"I can't just leave it and go," Jane continued quietly, with that recognisable passion for her job evident in her voice. "I have to do what I can. But I... I can't do this alone. It's not like other cases, Y/N. It's different out here. And there's only so much their police department can do. I know you're on a break, but I was hoping that, maybe, you could come out here and help me? It's the Wind River Indian Reservation. That's it, I guess. Bye."
The message ended and I found myself chewing on my lower lip anxiously, unable to think about anything other than Jane now. She'd worried me with that one voicemail alone – I couldn't imagine what the others said.
She was usually so good at dealing with cases, but this seemed different. She sounded shaken up, attempting to put on a brave face by the sounds of it. What was so different about this case? She didn't need me. She was capable.
Curiosity got the better of me and I played the second message, ignoring the discomfort in my arms as I stretched to maintain the signal. It was left a day after the first one.
"Hey, so I just remembered that you said you don't get much signal up there with your parents," she began apologetically. "I don't mean to– shit, it's so cold..." There was a pause, a noise in the background, then she continued, "Sorry, just turning up the heating. Anyway, I was saying. I don't mean to intrude on your break. I just– I'm hoping you'll find signal and hear this because I could really use your help. I think we've got a lead on who may have done it. It was hectic today. Really could've used that backup."
She chuckled dryly at her attempt at a joke, but all I felt was guilt. She sounded exhausted within a day of being there.
"I hope you get this," she finished with a sigh. "I should go. Got a busy day tomorrow. Hope you're doing okay. Bye."
I wasted no time in playing the next message. Three days into her case.
"I don't know why I keep sending these," she began with a hoarse voice, and my heart clenched at the sound of it. "You clearly aren't getting them in time. But it's easier talking to you like this than not at all."
It went quiet, so quiet that I thought she may have finished and forgot to hang up. But then she spoke up again, a whimper escaping her lips.
"It's so hard," she admitted. "We've covered worse cases, but this one... everything about it makes me uncomfortable. Something doesn't feel right. I've got a lead – we think it might be the boyfriend who did it and we're gonna see him tomorrow. But I don't know."
I frowned, squeezing my phone tightly because I didn't recognise the girl speaking as my friend. This girl sounded broken and I wondered what she could have discovered that made her like this.
"I've got the police department with me for backup," she said with a sniffle. "And Cory, he's a hunter whose been helping me with the case. They're all gonna be with me tomorrow. But I wish you were here, too. You always make things easier."
The lump in my throat wouldn't disappear no matter how many times I swallowed it. She made things easier, too. Always. And all I wanted to was be by her side and be there for her like she always was for me.
"Sorry about this," she said with a watery laugh, and I could imagine the embarrassed smile on her face as she did. "I sound like such an idiot. Never mind these messages. Just enjoy your break. I shouldn't be worrying you like this. See you when you get back."
The message ended and I checked to see if there were anymore, but to my disappointment, there wasn't. That message was from a few days ago and she hadn't sent anything since which was concerning in itself.
Trying not to panic for no reason, I called Jane. Hopefully everything was okay and I was being stupid. She was a fully-trained FBI agent. She could take care of herself. Right?
The call rang and rang, but nobody picked up. One missed call. No biggie. She probably heard it and couldn't find her phone or something. So, I tried again.
More ringing and no answer. Okay, no big deal. Just try again.
Another call and no answer. The chewing on my lip became more intense. Why the hell wasn't she picking up? Was she still working the case?
I waited an hour, trying again at ten minute intervals, unable to fight my concern. But there was no answer every time and I realised that I couldn't sit and wait for her to call back. Not after how she sounded in those voicemails.
No, I had to go there. She needed backup.
Wyoming was way colder than I could have prepared for.
I mean, technically, I prepared for nothing. I bid my parents a goodbye, threw some random clothes in a bag and caught the next plane over there. I tried for Jane's phone constantly, knowing she was never one to ignore me for this long, but there was no point. She wasn't answering, which could only mean so much.
When I reached the reservation, I had no idea where anything was or what I was looking for exactly. I just knew that as soon as the taxi dropped me off in the centre of town, I didn't know where to go.
There were a lot of locals hanging around, so my first port of call was to ask them if they'd seen Jane around – or Agent Banner, as she may have introduced herself. I showed them a picture of her on my phone, described her with vivid detail, but they just stared at me like I was crazy. I was starting to believe I was at one point, until I stopped by the convenience store.
As worried as I was for Jane's whereabouts, the chill in my bones was real. Especially my hands, which I was certain would fall off any minute. So, I decided to buy some gloves and also ask the cashier if he'd seen Jane around or heard anything of her. Whilst I was doing that, a customer caught my attention, probably having overheard my conversation.
"Did you say Jane Banner?" he asked with a quirked brow, interrupting my purchase. "The FBI lady, right?"
I nodded quickly, facing him. "Yes, that's her! D'you know where she is?"
He nodded casually. "Yeah, she's in the hospital. That big shootout that happened a few days ago, right?"
My stomach dropped. "The what?"
"The shootout," he repeated, not aware of the concern in my face. "At the drill site. A bunch of officers were killed and the FBI lady was one of the only one left standing." He tutted as he shook his head. "Very lucky that one."
A shootout? The hospital? Only one left standing? No wonder she hadn't been answering her calls.
"Can you– do you–" I stopped, clearing my throat and trying to stop freaking out. "Which hospital?"
After getting the address from him, I caught a taxi to the only hospital in town and prayed to God that Jane was okay. The one thing she'd asked for was backup and I couldn't even give her that. If I'd just looked at my messages sooner... fuck.
Getting past the front desk and to Jane's room was no issue at all. A quick flash of my FBI badge was enough for the receptionist to give me the details and wave me through. My heart was constricting in my chest the longer it took. What if it was really bad? What if that customer's intel was outdated and Jane was– no. I couldn't afford to think like that.
Upon finding Jane's room, I spotted an older man leaving through the door, being careful to close it behind him. I didn't recognise him at all.
"Excuse me," I called, earning his attention. "Is that Jane Banner's room you just came from?"
He seemed surprised, glancing over his shoulder to make sure I was speaking to him, before nodding. "Yes. Sorry, who are you?"
I pulled my badge from my pocket and showed him, though I doubted anyone would take me seriously when my eyes were watering at thought of Jane being severely injured.
"I'm her friend," I said, swallowing down the lump in my throat before lowering my badge.
"Oh, you're the backup that didn't come," he said with realisation.
My eyes flickered to the floor guiltily. He wasn't exactly wrong.
"I didn't mean it like that," he added quickly. "Sorry, I didn't mean to upset you."
I shook my head, lifting my eyes to meet his. "It's okay. I should've... I should've been here." It went quiet as he didn't know what to say, so I looked to him halfheartedly. "I assume you're from the police department, one of the ones who helped Jane."
"Not exactly," he said, before putting out his hand for me to shake. "Name's Cory. I'm a hunter by trade."
Returning his handshake, I recalled Jane's voicemail. "Oh, yeah, she mentioned you... thank you for helping her out."
When I couldn’t, I added in my head.
He offered me a small smile and I couldn't find it in myself to return it. I must have looked like shit, since he gave me a pitiful gaze.
"You want me to catch you up before you go in?" he asked, nodding to Jane's door. "She's okay by the way."
I nodded, sucking up a breath. My nerves were eating away at me the longer I didn't see Jane – half of me was terrified of what I'd find, and the other half was afraid she'd be upset or angry because I left her to it, even when she pleaded for my help.
Cory and I took a seat down the hall and he proceeded to explain about the case and how they found the guy who raped that poor girl. The shootout was the worst bit, making me shiver with discomfort. Apparently, Jane had gotten blasted with a shotgun, puncturing her torso and neck despite the vest she wore. All of the officers with her were killed and by the sounds of it, Jane almost was, too. But Cory managed to take out the criminals and the rapist himself. When he was finished telling me, I had no words.
"She's a bit shaken up, but her surgery went well," Cory reassured with a short nod. "Does she know you're coming?"
I shook my head, voice thick with emotion. "She wouldn't answer her phone. I guess I know why now."
Cory nodded, rubbing the back of his neck before sparing me a consoling glance. "She talked about you a lot. I think it'll cheer her up seeing you. You should go."
My eyes met his, teary and stinging with unshed tears. "Thank you so much."
He shrugged bashfully, but he didn't realise all that he'd done. I gave him a small, tight smile before standing up with a sigh. No point dwelling anymore – I had to see her.
Pushing my selfish feelings aside, I sucked it up and approached Jane's room. She would either want to punch me or not, but either way, I had to see if she was okay. And so, when I opened the door slightly, heart racing in my chest, said heart jumped in my throat at the sight of her.
She was laying on the bed with wires stuck in her and, only from what I could see, bandages were covering the side of her neck. I thought she was sleeping at first, but then her head tilted towards the door curiously, and bright blue eyes widened with disbelief.
"Y/N?" she asked, raising her eyebrows. "What are you– how did you get here?"
I closed the door behind me and hesitantly approached her bedside, unable to stop my eyes from soaking in the sight of her. She looked so feeble and vulnerable and unlike how I saw her last. Then, Cory's words came back to me and I began to imagine the worst scenario of her getting shot, blood seeping from her wounds, the life draining from her eyes...
"Y/N," she called, and I looked to her startlingly, hoping I didn't look as troubled as I felt.
"Sorry," I said, clearing my throat. "I, er– the messages. Voicemail. I heard them and tried calling you back, but..."
She pursed her lips, exhaling with a wince and looking up at the ceiling, as if suddenly remembering she left messages in the first place.
"I'm sorry I didn't come sooner," I said quietly, guilt seeping back in.
"No, no, don't be," she said, and I just about noticed the pink dusting her cheeks. "It's not your fault. I shouldn't have interrupted your vacation like that. I know you said you wanted a break and–"
"Jane, no, don't even say that," I cut her off, reaching for her hand in an instant. She looked my way, eyes flickering between mine nervously. I squeezed her hand gently and said, "I should have been here. You needed me and I– I didn't come. Maybe if I had, this could have ended differently."
She tried to smile, but I could see the discomfort in her eyes. "It's not that bad, honestly. It just looks bad."
I pressed my lips together, eyes falling to the bandage on her neck. Even though it was big and covered her wound, I could still make out the bruising around it from the impact of the shell. I didn't imagine the torso wound looking any different, and that thought alone made me regret leaving her alone. It was very much as bad as it looked; I knew that and she knew that.
Her lips trembled as she avoided my eyes, her own tearing up. I pushed away my guilt momentarily and changed the subject.
"So, I met Cory. He seems like a great guy."
She didn't say anything as she seemed lost in thought. Either that or she was trying not to cry in front of me. I hoped it wasn't the latter, since the last thing I wanted was to make her feel uncomfortable.
"You know," I said, when she wouldn't speak, "I'm pretty sure I told you to stay safe before I left for my vacation."
At my poor attempt to lighten the mood, she cracked a small, tight smile, but a smile nonetheless, and my racing heart slowed down momentarily.
"I'm glad you're okay," I said, now that I had her attention again, and she looked my way with a softened expression. "Kind of okay. But you know... okay."
Thankfully, she knew what I meant and her hand tightened around mine.
"I'm glad you came," she returned, and I couldn't look away even if I tried. She was always able to trap me with a single gaze.
With a tug of her hand, she motioned for me to sit on the edge of her bed, so I did. And then she began to ask me about my vacation, what I'd been up to this past month, how my parents were... basically anything and everything except for the case. And it was understandable, since she was reminded of it all the time. If I could be a form of escapism for her, so be it. It was the least I could do.
We spoke for hours until the nurse came in to let me know visiting hours were over and I'd have to come back tomorrow. With a regretful sigh, I got up from my seat on her bedside and stretched my limbs.
"Where are you staying?" she asked, a slight frown on her lips.
I smiled awkwardly, realising I didn't think that far ahead. "I'm not gonna lie, I don't know. I came straight here. There's gotta be a hotel or something in this town, right?"
She nodded and flicked her hand to the shelves on the other side of the room. "You should stay in my room in the inn. Key's in my bag over there."
"Oh, I don't have to do that–"
"Y/N, it's not like I'm going to be staying there anytime soon," she cut me off, smiling halfheartedly. "Please."
I chewed on my lip and nodded, giving in. When I grabbed her keys from her bag, I stopped by her bedside and gave her a supportive smile.
"I'll back first thing in the morning, if you don't mind," I said, and she finally gave me a smile that reached her eyes.
"I'd like that."
I nodded, resting a hand on hers and squeezing comfortingly. "Goodnight."
Though I knew Jane was okay, I still couldn't stop myself from thinking about her all night. The sight of her wounds and the broken expression on her face was enough to keep me awake. And the guilt that came with it all... why couldn't I have just picked up my damn phone?
As promised, I returned to Jane's hospital room the next morning, this time bringing some breakfast snacks from the hospital cafeteria since I knew the food would be much better than whatever they were serving her. Judging by the content expression on her face when I gave it to her, I was right.
When she finished eating, she was able to sit up slightly and move over on her bed, urging for me to join her and watch some TV with her. There was no way I was going to turn down that offer, so I slid next to her and kept a packet of sliced apples between us as we watched whatever was playing on the TV.
About halfway through watching, she spoke up randomly, taking me by surprise.
"When are you leaving?"
I tore my gaze from the screen and realised she was staring at me with intense green eyes.
"When you're well enough to," I answered truthfully.
She looked down to her hands. "You don't have to stay with me. You can go."
I studied her profile, knowing it was the wrong time to appreciate how stunning she looked even when she was makeup-free, sporting a bed head and tired.
"Do you want me to go?" I asked softly, afraid I may have overstepped.
She was quick to shake her head slightly, finally lifting her gaze to meet mine with glossy ones. "No."
I nodded, trying very hard not to smile, cleared my throat and grabbed her hand. "Then I'm not leaving. I'll be right here until you get better and I can take you home."
A ragged breath escaped her lips as she nodded in response. We both looked back to the TV and I noticed she didn't let go of my hand, her fingers warm to the touch and giving me goosebumps at the contact. But I wouldn't have had it any other way.
299 notes · View notes