#and then it’d fade to purples and hues of blue

[toherlover]

it’s 2:30am in nyc and i just heard THUNDER. i missed that soft rumble so much:,) i was ticked i couldn’t fall asleep but then i heard that and suddenly its like i stayed awake for a reason

#not the cracking ones #the quiet ones #the ones that just echo lightly #it reminds me of summer #and my childhood #the 3pm storm that would roll in every afternoon and my family would sit on the porch and watch the dark clouds move in #we would just watch the storm #and it would clear by sunset #and then the sky would just melt #and the birds would come and watch too #a sepia filter was placed over the world #and the reflections! the reflection of the sky off the canal! #the pinks! the oranges! the yellows! #the heat! #and then it’d fade to purples and hues of blue #the first few stars would come out #my dad and i would bike to the beach or sit on the dock to watch the stars #sometimes i’d sneak out and weave my bike through the garages side door #swim in the dark ocean #feel so little #still see the distant dim strobes of lightening and the occasional soft hum of thunder #anyways i miss home #and my dad #my island #my porch #the soft thunder #elle talks

[wormholxtreme]

@soullesstrouble said: ' i just think you formed a bad relationship. ' // from magus when we are here simping and all 🤣

That was the understatement of the century. But how could things with Adam be bad when everything felt right with him every time they were together. Yeah, there was something profoundly depressing that her love life now was subjected to the whims of one Adam Warlock but at least she knew where she stood with him. All the guesswork of what he was planning, plotting, of his true feelings for her never entered her mind. When he was home he was hers and hers alone and when he wasn't she had a slew of other people in her life to keep her content. It may not have been the romantic storybook ending one read as a little girl, but most of the world's thoughts on love were unattainable to begin with. This system worked for her and Adam. It could keep working until the end of time.

That is until Adam sat across from her now. The plush setting area in his space craft was homey, no doubt to help Kaylee feel at ease. He’d set the drinks on the table in front of them, watching her every move as she sat, one leg bent under her comfortably. She probably should have felt nervous, knowing how dangerous he was, knowing that she had made the deal to accompany him for the safety of the other and all of Earth. She couldn’t help but feel at ease in his presence though, he was Adam. No, not Adam. Adam…adjacent? Though Kaylee had a feeling if she said that Magus would not have appreciated it. It was a struggle to keep all of his words straight in her head. The problem with a Warlock was time was not linear, and neither was his other half's storytelling.

“So you are Adam but from the future come back to stop me from doing something heroically stupid?” Kay was trying to put the pieces together, it didn't all make the most sense to her yet. But the moment the sperm donor's name for her child left Magus's mouth Kaylee nodded in agreement. “I would burn that mother fucker down to ash if I could.” She said darkly. The years removed from the incident at least eased some of her pain but her bitterness remained intact much like the scars across her abdomen. She felt the surge of power rush through her veins, the lightning marks flashing on her skin in a faint glow. The mere mention of him sent a dark purple hue in her eyes. She shook her head, that glow fading from her skin, her eyes clearing out to a sky blue after a storm. It’d been eight years. Eight years of waiting for the Titan to dare to make a move. Eight years of living her life between Adam’s visits. Eight years of feeling like the storm of losing Sophie would drown her. Eight years of healing.

Kaylee's head tilted curiously. “I don’t think it’s bad. We have a system.” she tried to explain as matter-of-factly as possible. The truth was, as much as their system worked, it was only an appeasement. Kaylee had all but given up on her life being anything more than it was. She was a mother, a hero, a friend, a daughter, a sister. All of these labels and they each brought with them a certain joy and contentment but that storybook love? The kind that people watched movies and read poetry for? Kaylee learned long ago the closest thing she would get to that were the small moments of reprieve with Adam when he graced her with his presence. Even then she had to keep herself in check. It was far too easy to give herself over to him fully, to give him every ounce of her love and soul. She didn’t know how to love any other way. So she chose to love him in whatever capacity he could accept. And it worked. She knew there was no one in the universe that would care for her heart the way Adam would. If she was going to be blemished by love regardless, at least this way, she knew the only person that might get hurt in the process was herself. And Adam…Adam was worth the pain.

She sighed, propping her elbow up on the back of the couch, resting her chin in her hand. “You know, as cordial as we’re being now, I’m not going to help you with universal domination right? Been there. Done that. It’s not my cup of tea.”

#soullesstrouble #[character thread; kaylee danvers stark] #((XD Kaylee just casually talking it up with Magus is such a funny image in my head okay and I love it))

[laketaj24]

Serotonin III

A/N: Hey! Here’s the final part!!! I hope you enjoy it! I am working on three requests for Mr. Baker and Part 2 to The Business! My taglists and requests are open! Let me know what you think! Happy Reading!

Pairing: Colson Baker X Reader

Warnings: Language, Nudity, Lowkey Pettiness, Smut, orgasm denial

Inspo Song: Acting Like That : Yungblud ft. MGK, Travis Barker

Serotonin Masterlist,  MY MASTERLIST

Meg: I can’t believe you left me at the club! I was joking with your petty ass!

Colson: you said if I wanted her, go get her. I did

Meg: so you really are choosing her over me?

Meg: hello?

Meg: I know god damn well you getting my texts, you asshole

Meg: Colson.

Colson: who is this?

Meg: real funny

Colson: what you want?

Meg: Are you still coming tonight?

The hours  passed since he left seemed like seconds; maybe you’d fucked up. Overreacted by busting his phone up and making him go.

Shit.

The fact that he left his phone left meant Colson knew you’d fucked it up this time. You tossed the phone on the couch and stared up at the ceiling, and to make matters worst, you couldn’t even text and say come back because you had the phone. You’d fucked up.

Guilt played a weird role in your relationship, making Colson feel guilt, easy as pie. He did shit all the time, and even when he didn’t, his little ass found reasons for him to still feel some guilt. Guilt rarely rested on your shoulders, but here tonight, it rested heavily on your shoulders. You stare down at the text messages, there were several avenues you could take to resolve the issue. The first was just say you were sorry; apologies meant a lot. But a text wouldn’t do; for starters, it wouldn’t do because you had his phone. He wouldn’t see it. Secondly, Colson would eat the texted apology and spit it out in your face if you did that to him. Your arguments had been more than toxic in the past, and you may or may not have told him text apologies were trash. The only actual resolution was to drive over to the house and do it face to face. Unfortunately, that would not be an easy feat either.

You dressed quickly, taking one of his out of the box outside your bedroom. You slide on his purple EST sweatsuit. His aroma still lingered even though it’d been washed. The musky scent of his earthy Cologne intertwined with his weed because the man smoked enough for his whole team. It was a scent you’d grown accustomed to, felt like home, even sliding back into his clothes.

The drive over usual took forty minutes, traffic and all, but today it lasted ten, or it felt like ten, and no matter how many times you rehearsed your apology, it still tasted like dirt when you said it.

“Colson, I overreacted.” You braced a smile in your rearview mirror and then leaned into the steering wheel. “Colson, you’re gonna forgive me because you’re a fucking cheater.” You growled and slammed your fist into the passenger’s seat. “Colson- I am sorry I broke your phone. I will go with you to buy another one.” You laughed and reached for the vape filled with the THC vape. It’d be best to be high talking to him. The vape hits smooth, the fruity flavor hitting your tongue before your lungs, and then a plume of smoke fills the car as you exhale. Fuck.

The knock on your window scares you, but only a little as Slim waves. He points down, signaling you to roll the window down. You do, and the plume leaves with the small gust of wind the fresh air brings. “What are you doing out here Y/N? It’s three in the morning?”

“Shit.” You glance at the fluorescent blue digits on the clock. “Damnit.”

“Yeah, you good?” Slim smirks knowing the answer.

“Yes, I’m fine.”

“I can go get him.”

“No,” you said quickly. “I’ll come in a few.”

“bet, I’m gonna lock this gate.” He laughed as he walked away.

He faded from your view, and you slinked down in your seat, regathering what you were planning once more. Ten minutes passed, and you hit the vape four more times, feeling your body relax and the tension dissipates. It was time; either he forgave you, or you would just sleep in the car until he did. Every light in the house was on, upstairs and down; they never slept at night. They just slept until the next afternoon and started the party all over again. It's the one reason you refused to live with him; your sleep schedule would be fucked.

You stand at the grand doors and knock a few times, hoping they hear you over the loud ass music that played in the room over. It stopped abruptly after a few seconds, and you could hear his long strides headed to the door.

“If you don’t have food, go back home.” Colson’s playful voice came from the other side.

“I-,” You chuckled. “I don’t have food; everything was closed.”

“When I apologized to you, I had fucking food. Go get food and come back. The pizza place on Simmons is open until five.”

“Colson, please.”

“You can call Door Dash or whoever, but the entry fee is food.” The music started back, Dopeman – lyrics raged from the door, and your mouth dropped.

This fucking asshole had audacity and some fucking nerve, You banged against the door, but this time the music did not stop. He was being serious, a food fucking entry fee. Fuck him! Ten minutes passed, and he did not budge. The music continued, and you swore you could hear actual drums being played inside.

Fine. He wanted food; you’d bring him food. It was hard to strip in the back of a car, but you did. You stripped out of your clothes and grabbed the one pair of heels that never left your car. You called them fuck me heels, but it wasn’t because you were trying to get fucked. They were six inches and incredibly hard to walk in; you hated them. The most said was usually FUCK ME, when you wore them. If Colson wanted to be an ass, you’d level the playing field. You liked putting on a show too. You laid on your horn for a minute, knowing it would get his attention, clicked the headlights to your car, and stepped out into the crisp air of the night. He didn’t have too many neighbors but now was their opportunity if they wanted to see you naked. You stood bare ass in front of your car awaiting the jealous Colson. You knew well to show his face, and like clockwork, he arrived.

“What the fuck are you doing!” He yelled, charging from the house. “Y/N.”

“You said to bring food. Well, come eat.”

“You’re not fucking cute.” Colson snapped as he slid out of his jacket. He quickly wrapped your body in the black leather jacket and tossed you over his shoulder. “Fucking spoiled ass. You could have just went and got the motherfucking pizza.”

“It’s late.”

“I know what time it is,” He hissed. Colson entered the house, eyeing his friends. “Don’t even look at her.” He warned as he carried you up the steps; his hand came down on your ass with each step until you two finally reached his bedroom. Colson tossed you onto the plush black comforter and stood in front of you, “Why are you here?”

“You left your phone.” The line seemed innocent enough, but there was little innocence behind it.

“You broke it.” His confused look makes you laugh; cupping your mouth, he smacks. “Don’t come over here tryna laugh at you throwing shit at me Y/N.”

“I thought-.”

“I know what you thought.” He pointed at you, “So don’t try to sugarcoat it. You thought I was dicking  you down and then going back to her. Then you read them messages and realized you were a whole asshole.” He stated matter of fact.

“So, you’re not gonna let me talk.”

“Did you let me talk before you tossed me out? Why are you here anyway? It’s four in the morning. ”

“I couldn’t sleep.” You attempted to kick off the heels, and he grabbed your foot, stopping you from sliding it off.

“That guilty conscience is heavy, huh??” He cracked a smile and shook his head. “Leave them on.”

“You won.” You whispered. “I fucked up,” the omission tumbled from your lips unwillingly.

“Was that an apology?” Colson teased.

“I’m not saying it again.”

“Oh, you gone say that and more.” He laughed. “Sorry, ass apology.”

“Col-,” You giggled, “I’m tired. Can I apologize tomorrow, please?”

He kneeled in front of you, rubbing his hands up your legs, his touch ignited something in you, even if you were sleepy. “Oh and the next day too, shit, I’m never gonna let you live this shit down. So you can apologize all the fuck you want, but you’re not going to sleep right now. I haven’t had you in my bed in months. I wanna fuck you to sleep.”

“ I’m halfway there.” You smiled lazily at him, raking your fingers through his hair. “We have all tomorrow for make-up sex.”

“You the only person that’s doing the making up.” He reminded playfully.

“So you’ve said.”

Sleep found you minutes after you snuggled into his lean frame; you missed sleeping glued to Colson no matter how hot he felt. He nestled into you as well, pulling you against his chest, tracing his long fingers down the line of your back, humming tunes to an unwritten song when he thought you were sleeping. He didn’t sleep much tonight didn’t prove any different as the hues magenta cut across the once dark sky outside the window.

“Morning came fast.” You mumbled.

“It’s been three hours.” He whispered. “Shit, You still tired I can see it in you. You don’t have to get up.” He pulled the cover over your body and sighed. “I gotta be somewhere at eleven.” Colson groaned. “I’m gone cancel that shit.”

“No, do what you said you were going to do. Get some sleep.” You climbed out of bed, pulling drapes closed and bringing darkness back into the room. “It’s no point in missing money.” You said his words back to him.

“Yeah, whatever.” He watched you, his tongue between his teeth. “I really thought you were not coming over here tonight. I was tryna find ways to apologize to you for shit I didn’t do. It’s already fucked up when I have to apologize for this shit I did do.”  Colson adjusted his pillow and waited for you to return to the bed.

“I know I fucked up, damn.” The walk of shame was generally when you’d fucked a one-night stand, but right now, it was walking back to the bed to face him. “I get really pissy when it comes to you. Like—I wanna fight.” You cut a smile and sunk back into the bed, this time angling yourself to face him.

“Why fight me? I didn’t send the text?” He pulled you towards him and rolled himself on you. The weight was comfortable and one you’d craved. “Huh?” Colson exhaled before he leaned down and took your nipple in his mouth. He held the small nub between his two teeth, tugging a little before he began to suck.

“You’re gonna be tired.”

“Man fuck that interview.” He whispered before diverting his attention to the other nipple and repeating the same actions. You were already wet for him; one look could get you ready. Eager for him, you wrapped your legs around his waist, grinding your pussy against his boxers. He could make the foreplay lasts as long as the sex, and you both had things to do later. There was no time for the slow sex; you damn near wanted to be punished – but he wasn’t in that mode.

Colson pushed his boxers down and lifted your waist from the bed, putting you in the perfect angle to take him but instead of slamming into you as you desired, he teased. He stroked the length of his cock down the line of your pussy, soaking himself in you before finding his way to your entrance and stopping.

“Stop playing.”

“I want that apology.” Colson smiled, looking down at you.

Your pussy jumped with anticipation. “I’m sorry.”

“Fake ass apology,” He pushed an inch into you and then pulled out. “Make it real.” He whispered.

You groaned, frustrated, slapping his chest in a tantrum. “I said I was fucking sorry.”

“Mean ass apology--,” he shook his head. “That’s how you wanna play, let’s fucking play.” Colson slammed into you, and your mouth opened in pleasure. His pace was intense, knocking the breath out of you with each stroke, but you didn’t want to breathe; you wanted to cum all over him. “Say that shit as you mean it.”

“I said-,” You scratched down his back halfway, and he pins your hands above your head, thrusting into your harder and faster. “Oh,”  Tremors take over, rocketing through your body. “Yes,” You buckled against him. “Yes.”

“Yeah, keep saying yes.” He pulled out of you, slapping three fingers to your clit. “I bet you won’t cum.”

Your eyes snapped open. “I’m sorry.”

Another slap to your clit, and the pleasure had faded just a small tinge of pain, and he started to fuck you once more, long strokes, hitting your g-spot each time. “I don’t believe that shit; this pussy is just greedy. You wanna cum, you ain’t sorry.” He whispered.

“I am sorry.” You whined as your body climbed back up to the precipice of a release. “Baby, I’m so sorry.” Your swollen clit throbbed, one stroke away from cumming, and he stopped slapping your clit again, bringing pain that made you cry out. “I am sorry.” You cried. “I should not have thrown your phone.” You mewled. “I should have talked to you.” You pleaded. “Believed all that shit you said.”

“Why?”

“I don't know, let me cum.” You pulled at the one hand that had secured both of your wrists. “Please, daddy.” The lustful tone made him smile.

“You can call me daddy all the fuck you want… you ain’t getting what you want yet.” You rolled your hips, coaxing the movement from him, and he shook his head. “Stop being a fucking brat.” He warned. “Just tell me why you’re sorry.”

“Because I want to be with you.” You admitted. “I love you.”

He grinned. “You better mean that shit too.” Colson started back fucking you slow, releasing your hands but making sure he was in control. You flooded with relief feeling him give in to you, gripping your hips to meet his thrusts, all while burying his face in your neck to nip his favorite spots on your body. This is what you had wanted all along, to be with the man who’d somehow drove you insane but simultaneously become an innate piece of your life that brought you a balance you didn’t know you needed. He was, in a way, as your serotonin.

 A/N: I know I described my Meg in this fic, but just a lil disclaimer she is not Megan Fox lol I realized that could be confusing.

Taglist: @taytayize123 @ctrlszn​ @supernaturalvikingwhore​ @jae-writes-fanfiction​ @bigsisbria​ @placeoffreedom​ @kyla-queen​​ @missdforever​​ @gottatoxicattitude​​ @bang-kim-bap​​ @msreshel​​ @blowmymbackout​​ @titty-teetee​​ @strawberry-skyes​​ @mauvecherie​​ @savageiz​​ @luci-her​​ @littlelovebug98​ @babyboy-cody​​ @hellshedevil​​ @daddyavesxx​​ @crystalbaby12 @jeonsblackgf​​ @fangirl199812 @thatonegrl-1 @isyoongi​​ @lifeisabitchandsoareyou​​ @cartoonlover101​ @therandomthoughtsofmsparker​​ @bowwowzer @fandomfic-galore​​ @mayaslifeinabox​​ @lasren​​  @szaplsdrop @heavenly1927​​ @mvrylee​​ @canyoubuymetoast​​ @littlelovebug98​

#mgk #machine gun kelly #machine gun kelly fic #machine gun kelly fanfiction #machine gun kelly x reader #machine gun kelly x black reeader #colson baker #colson baker fics #colson baker x reader #colson x reader #colson baker x black reader #laketa j writes

[marvels-writings]

Piece of Your Heart

Natasha Romanoff Masterlist

Requested by Anon: Hi would you mind terribly writing a established R/Nat fic where R was fighting Thanos with Tony and Nat thinks she got dusted because obviously Nat has heard nothing from her but really she’s been on that ship with Tony the whole time? I love your writing and I’d love reading something like that it’d make me so emotional 💖

Word Count: 2.2k (longish and an amazing mix of angst and fluff)

A/N: Damn I loved writing this, and I wrote it to a particular song so it ended up revolving around dancing more than I thought it would. It’s really good though and I hope you like it as much as I do!!

Dull white light shone down; music blanketed the room, feet shuffled across the marble floor. Reflections played in the mirrors, all showing the same image. The image of a woman with bright red hair, dancing alone, trying to fill the piece of her heart she lost.

Natasha moved elegantly across the floor, twirling and twisting where she saw necessary. She made a perfect pirouette across the floor. Shifting her weight across the pointe shoes, the redhead moved to the other side of the room with ease. Another perfect pirouette as she waited for something she knew wouldn't happen.

Strange, pirouettes are always perfect. There's never the chance for it to be flawed, for there to be a mistake. Stumbling wasn't an option for her, falling a pleasure denied. Yet, her feet faltered, losing her balance as she caught herself on the metal bar.

Staring at herself in the mirror, she saw the redness of her eyes matching her hair, the dark circles underneath her eyes. Her face, devoid of any emotion except for loss. Ignoring everything she could, she moved back to the center of the room, dancing once again.

It wasn't right without you. The room was a little too big, the music a little too quiet, Natasha's heart too empty. You'd always joked that you held a piece of her heart and she a part of yours. Never did she think the joke might be more real.

She faltered again, losing her balance without you to catch her. Sighing, she picked herself back up, trying to be the perfect pirouette they trained her to be. Her feet always fell to the side, refusing to keep balance. Reaching down, she slipped off the pointe shoes before trying again.

The cold floor served as a mild shock as she continued. She let go of being perfect; she was letting herself be flawed again, letting herself feel her loss. Her hips swayed in a broken rhythm, shuffling imperfectly across the floor. It wasn't how they trained her.

It wasn't perfect, not near it. It was how Natasha danced with you, throwing herself away to feel you.

Her skin remembered the way your hands rested on her waist, your fingers tapping a steady beat on her ribs. Her feet recalled the way you danced without rhythm, letting the music take control instead. She remembered how you hummed the tune of the song, the notes vibrating through you. She remembered the sweet nothings you whispered to her, words she'd die to hear again.

Wanting desperately to feel your presence, even the ghost of your touch, she reached out her arms, pretending they were around her as she swayed from side to side. Her eyes fluttered shut, seeing you rather than the darkness of her eyelids.

The way your eyes crinkled when you smiled, the lines on your face as you lit up in a bright grin. The way the light always hit your face in just the right way, making you look like an angel. Maybe you were an angel, one that she couldn't be sure was truly gone.

Natasha had almost begged you not to go after Tony. She should've known she could never convince you out of saving someone. If only you were here to save her now. She didn't know if you were dusted, gone like the rest of her family, or just lost in space, waiting to be whole again.

For now, part of her was whole again. She could almost feel your breath across her neck as you rested your head on her shoulder. You felt so near to her, even if it was just for a blissful few seconds. Natasha let her eyes remain shut, dancing by herself, clinging onto to ghost of you.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Soft music played from your earbuds, enveloping you in a dream of their own rather than your nightmarish reality. The beat reminded you of dancing slowly with someone you loved. You leaned back in one of the seats, letting your eyes flutter shut as you absorbed yourself into another daydream.

Everything about her came back to you when you closed your eyes. It was almost a nightmare to keep them open, to keep yourself occupied in an awful place without her. The ship was so devoid of color, filled with dull blue and purple hues rather than the bright red you craved oh so desperately.

Curling into yourself, you pulled the jacket around your shoulders tighter, trying to keep any warmth you could. It was colder when you were daydreaming rather than working. Maybe remembering what you might have lost can take away from what you have.

Now, you didn't have much. A crashing ship with a billionaire from Earth and one of the daughters of Thanos. At least everything would be over tomorrow. No more crushing daydreams of the past, no more hopeful dreams of Natasha being with you.

You heard Tony record another message for Pepper in a different part of the ship. Pulling out your earbuds with a sigh, you decided to do the same. Looking around to make sure the words you only intended for her, you took out a piece of your suit.

Never had you meant for it to function in this way. Never did you think it would record a dying message. With a sigh and a heavy heart, you propped it in front of you and set it to scan you. It was going to take a hologram, to record not only your words but also your movements.

Taking another minute, you pulled your hair back into a ponytail, trying to look better for her. Leaning back in the chair, you let out another sigh as it beeped. Now that you were about to record your words, you didn't know what to say.

Should you tell her you're sorry? It would be a lie to say that; you wanted to help your family, you don't regret that. You regret leaving her alone, but not leaving. Biting your lip, you started speaking in a vain hope that the right words would come to you.

"Hey Tasha," You began, breathing in and looking away from the hologram. "If and hopefully when you find this recording, please don't show it to anyone else."

Chuckling, you turned towards the recorder again. Now, you didn't know what to say to Natasha. You tried to imagine that she was here, sitting in front of you, waiting. Instead of her apprehension, all you could see was her beauty. It all made you only miss her more.

"I miss you. So damn much Tasha." You continued, running a hand through your ponytail. "I always dreamt of going to space, but now that I'm here."

"It's so lonely without you here."

The void of space stared back at you when you turned away. It taunted you, keeping you away from whom you wanted most. Letting you stare into the emptiness of it instead of the fullness of your dreams. Tearing your eyes away; you turned back to the recorder.

"I thought that if I left, we could have that happy ending when I come back." You continued, trying desperately to put into words what you felt. "But now, I don't know if we're ever going to have that ending."

Your eyes fluttered shut, letting you into a surreal daydream; the house you'd imagined buying lined the inside of your eyelids. Natasha joined you on the large patio set, her arms around your waist as you looked outside. Maybe you had children. They would be running around the front yard, calling out to you while your wife whispered sweet nothings.

It all faded into silence as you took another step into reality. The silence surrounded you, taking away any hope, any dreams you might have ever had. Taking the last step into this dreaded nightmare, you fell back into this reality.

"Tony and Nebula are here with me," you croaked, trying to change the topic. Bringing yourself back, you took another deep breath as your dreams faded back into the void you'd been staring. You began talking about them instead; everything they were trying to do, letting it distract you for a treasured few moments.

It helped, just for a bit. A minute passed while you talked about them, stopping with a loud sigh. You bit your lip, clawing through your memories for something, anything else to talk about. All you saw was her.

"I wish I could dance with you," You whispered, biting your lip tightly. The familiar sting of tears came to your eyes at the memory. You shook your head, clearing yourself of it, adamant not to cry. Leaning forward, you tapped on the recorder.

"If and when this is all over," You whispered, offering a timid smile. The memory came back to you again, this time you didn't stop it. You paused, letting all of your emotions wash over you.

The timid, lovesick smile as your hands slid around her waist, pulling her closer to you. Her warm breath fanning across your face as you leaned your foreheads together. The tingle of her eyelashes fluttering against yours. Her whispers of love and adoration as you swayed slowly, dancing.

"I'll always be dreaming of dancing with you."

The recording stopped, your fingers pressing the small red button. Pulling away from it, you leaned back in the chair again, tugging your jacket tighter around you. The cold seeped back into you, leaking into your bones, making you shiver.

Sighing, you curled further into yourself, forcing yourself to sleep. Maybe if you weren't awake, it would be over faster. It wasn't, you kept clearing your mind of your dreams just to fall asleep. Eventually, you were, oblivious to the world around you.

That was until a rumbling brought you back.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

The same rumbling sounded where Natasha was dancing. Her motions stopped at the sound, looking outside the window hopefully. Nothing was there, just the same pitch-black she had grown accustomed to. A glow emanated from above it, casting everything in a light golden tint.

Her feet pounded the floor as she rushed out the door, towards the glow. The sound was accompanied by feet following her, rushing as much as she was. Steve and Pepper rushed behind her. All for the small sliver of hope that someone else survived the snap and made it home.

It's strange how hope is always associated with light. It's as if Natasha had wandered in the dark, stumbling her way through till hope showed her the way out. You can never truly find anything in the darkness without the slightest shred of hope, of light.

The light was what she ran towards, staring up at the glowing ship as it touched down on the grass outside the compound. Her heart thudded in her chest, watching as the ship's doors opened. Three sets of feet appeared, walking and stumbling down the steps.

Tony leaned against a blue woman, staggering slowly down the steps. His bones are shown through his tank top, cuts on his face bleeding. His eyes were dull, glancing around the compound, lighting up only when they stumbled across Pepper.

Steve ran up to him, helping him off and talking to him. But all she could see was you, stumbling out of the ship by yourself.

Your hand clung desperately to the railing, not wanting help but needing it anyway. The t-shirt you wore was a few sizes too big, your skin had lost some of its tone, your hair messy and in a ponytail. It was still you, you who had promised her a happy ending.

Natasha ran up to you, breathing erratic, heartbeat pounding in her ears as she wrapped her arms around you. Her breath hit your neck, followed by hot tears on your shirt. Your arms wrapped around her tightly, your face tucked into the crook of her neck, breathing her in.

The redhead shook in fear, scared she was going to let go of you again, scared you were going to disappear. She was terrified you were going to leave her dancing alone in the dark again, without even the dream of you to keep her warm.

But there you were, your skin warm to the touch as her fingers sneaked up your shirt. Your skin against her palms, warm as you moved with every breath. You were there, the light she needed to see.

You clung onto her as tightly, using all your strength to keep her close. Everything about her was so warm, so full that you were sure you could never feel empty again. Your hands stroked the length of her back, providing whatever reassurance you could muster.

Natasha held you close, pulling her head away to look at you. Your face was gaunt, your eyes hollow, but full of so much love and longing, for her. Your hand slipped from her shoulders, resting above her collarbone as you wiped the tears off of her face.

Smiling to yourself, you swayed from side to side, dancing with her. Natasha pulled away slowly, looking at you in curiosity as you rested her forehead against hers. Her hands around your waist kept you up, moving slowly on the grass. The exhaustion would take over you soon, but she wanted to keep this moment a little longer.

Heaven couldn't hold a candle to this, to how whole you felt around each other. It was truly as if a piece of your heart resided with each other. It would tear you apart to be away from each other. But for now, maybe even forever, you could dance.

A/N: Tell me what you think!! Reblogs and comments are amazing!!

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[lovedbz1]

Okay, one thing I don’t understand about the Jekyll And Hyde fandom in general is that everyone just accepts that the chemical is this neon green color?  Which, I get it, it looks cool, we gotta love that mad scientist green look, real Re-Animator vibes ya know?  But in the book the colors are  Red to Dark purple after adding a powder, so we can assume the powder had some blue hues. The from Dark Purple it “faded into” a Watery Green. Watery green is a a more blue green, which, sort of makes sense. If we have a Dark Purple, it is most likely Violet, which has a lot of blue in it compared to red, then we add some yellow to the mix to make green, it’d be a watery green.  I even tried this out on my art program with my color mixing tool and a proper color wheel so the colors would be accurate

#the strange case of dr. jekyll and mr. hyde #dr. jekyll and mr. hyde #jekyll and hyde

[the-magic-lava-lamp]

Harvest Moon

Summary: {A light sequel to: Unforgettable}  They laughed, sort of sadly. The full night sky enriched them with gentle peace, strengthened by the soft light of the stars. The temperature dropped considerably since Sam had initially come out. But he didn’t mind the nice chill, it braced his skin and left him with tingling goosebumps. It reminded Sam how real the moment actually was. Paying less attention to the hearty sloshes of water, Sam picked up his radio.

Ships: SamBucky 

Word Count: 5,285

The light from the orange sunset flushed Sam Wilson’s cheeks, encouraging the spread of an internally hot blush. Color blossomed under his soft complexion with all the grace of the water rings rippling under the rocks skipping on the lake. Though the sweat was just beginning to puddle in his palms and drip down his temple, Sam was only focused on the fevered senses of comfort which had been deep-rooted in his chest since arriving back home. 

The babbling waters had called him out to the docks just the same as they did when he was small. And following that nostalgia, Sam felt the ghost of supper on the stove. Turns out his fucked up Avengers mind could still remind himself to be home before the porcelain plates hit the table. No longer his Mama--but Sarah who would be annoyed with him and that was perhaps more threatening. He thought as his tiny radio played on. 

AJ and Cass had fallen asleep with the gentle nudge of a fuzzy re-run of ‘Whose Line is it Anyway?’ and the promise of a hot meal when they awoke. Sam’s absence would be noticed very soon.

‘Sittin' in the mornin' sun

I'll be sittin' when the evenin' comes

Watching the ships roll in

Then I watch 'em roll away again, yeah

I'm sittin' on the dock of the bay

Watchin' the tide roll away, ooh

I'm just sittin' on the dock of the bay

Wastin' time…’

He swiped salty sweat from his brow and found himself dwelling on the evening, wanting to change the direction of the souring sun. No matter what, Sam always began to mourn the day at around 5 p.m. Everyday could’ve been better. The threat of night’s permanent closure and the bearer of nightmares fermented him with anxiety. He was working on that issue with his therapist. 

‘Now I'm just gon' sit, at the dock of the bay

Watchin' the tide roll away, ooh yeah

Sittin' on the dock of the bay

Wastin' time…’

Otis began the famed whistling as Sam leaned back on his hands, palms flat on the warm dock. He felt the movement just before a voice began whistling along behind him. It chirped delicately in Sam’s ear, until the song faded and with it--

Sam turned--Bucky Barnes sing-along.

Bucky grinned, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Nice to see you so…” He craned his neck and squinted his eyes. “Lazy.” Even he looked a bit confused by the word choice. 

“Thanks…” Sam chuckled. 

“I just mean--” Buck paused, scratching down from his chin to his neck. Sam saw that he did that often enough to earn patches of grainy red skin under his facial hair. 

Sam smirked, pulling his left thigh up and around from the edge. His eyes simmered Bucky’s blush. 

“Have you ever had the time to laze around?” Bucky asked, amazed at his own wondering. “To sit and watch the sun on the water?” He gestured frantically outward. “You’ve been a busy guy...not that I helped you with that any…”

Sam shook his head. “Nah, man. Tracking your ass for Steve reaped some rewards.” He gestured for the man to rest his old bones down next to him and Bucky hesitantly took the offer. His knees cracked with sharp pops all the way down. 

“No old man jokes, I swear-” 

Sam held up his hands. “I wasn’t planning on it, Bucky.” He glanced at Steve’s old friend and for a moment, couldn’t believe the man of history books and horror stories was ‘sun-setting’ in Sam’s home-town. The orange light caressed his face in the same eerie way it’d done way back at Tony’s funeral.

“Thanks for letting me stay-” Bucky went to rub his chin again. “Not quite separate vacations but…” He chuckled, fading off. It was subconscious, the way Bucky led in with no follow through. He wanted Sam to be the one to initiate the conversation. 

But Sam bit his tongue. He deserved to hear what Bucky had to say without having to pull it out himself. 

Bucky turned with those doe eyes, tired but with enough energy left to admire his partner. “I hurt you....” He frowned, bitter with himself. “I know that and I’m damn sorry, Sam.” His voice was crisp and steady but his eyes wavered. 

Sam sighed, eyes back on the water. “We were getting somewhere, man. And you just…” He flicked his hand out. “Disappeared on me.” He paused. 

“I shouldn’t have left you...especially at such an ambiguous time for us.” Bucky stumbled slightly on his words. 

Sam took a long blink, remembering the ‘unforgettable’  feeling of being held again. “I’m more hurt by the fact that I got nothing but radio silence from you-” He swallowed. “Past that-” He glanced at Bucky “Thing we had just started. I thought we’d reached a point where we could communicate.” He shrugged with muted emotion. “We were friends.” He added with a slight question in his voice. He watched Bucky’s eyes flicker with guilt.

“If you had given me a heads up, maybe. That’s all.” Sam patted his thigh. “I can understand needing space. I understand that even answering texts can be difficult as hell when your mind feels sick. I’ve been there, Buck. Shit’s hard.” He felt a dark twist in his stomach and tried not to dwell in his own memories. “I don’t hold this against you. I know you’re a good guy.” Sam made sure Bucky looked him in the eye for that particular sentiment. “But you should know how I felt about it. Whatever relationship we end up having; Friends, co-workers, partners-” He flicked his fingers. “I’d hope you’d think about how your decisions affect me.” 

They held the next silence for a few minutes, Bucky seemingly taking in what he’d said. “For me, it was like I blinked and you were gone with the wind. I didn’t know how you were doing for months--if you were even okay. But then, out of the blue, you come back and you’re pissed about something that wasn’t about you.” Sam shrugged, feeling a bit lighter for every word he’d been simmering on for weeks. 

Bucky grimaced, looking extremely pained. “I’m really sorry, Sam.” He repeated himself with genuine regret. The light around them bled darker. “I let a lot of my intrusive thoughts control me.” He hissed at his own words but quickly moved on. “Part of me let it happen because I’m not sure I could handle a competent hand on the wheel. I’ve lived as the...Winter Soldier longer than Bucky, you know-? And Holy shit that’s something I try not to perceive.” He turned, hoping he wasn’t over-sharing. “It’s terrifying to think it’s just in my nature...being destructive. I’m always nervous-” He paused again. “Not that I’m going to hurt someone--but the feeling that I need to will bleed back into me…” His voice faded off again as he picked at a loose string on his jeans. 

“This is something you’re talking about in therapy, right?” Sam quirked his brow, needing the answer to be yes but the distant pain in his head reminded him that he dodged plenty of shit from his therapist. 

Bucky nodded and before Sam could speak again, asked the question he’d been aching to for months. “I want to go back to you-”

“Of course you do.” Sam chuckled. 

Bucky rolled his eyes. “How have you been, really?” 

Sam thought for a minute. “Working myself to death, mostly.” He laughed, though it didn’t sound happy at all. “Been seeing Sarah and the boys as much as I can…” 

The sky purpled, darkness bleeding into the orange hues. The stars would soon be visible and Bucky was almost positive Sam would now push the question off, neglecting the details. For as much as he complains that Bucky doesn’t talk about himself enough, Sam often avoids voicing his own feelings. 

“Sarah was swamped and anxious, despite what she says-” 

“And what were you feeling, Samuel?” Bucky playfully tapped his friend’s knee with a smug grin. 

Sam rolled his eyes but grinned slightly at the familiar teasing. He wasn’t sure how to put his thoughts into words so he turned back to the water. “Thought a lot about the soul stone, actually.” The sentence rolled casually off his tongue but did nothing to relieve the stress it’d been causing him. 

Bucky tried to remain stoic but a glint of concern shined over his eyes. The infinity stone felt somehow personal between them. Though nobody had memories of their time dusted, Sam and Bucky came out with a new sense of intimacy for each other. It was as if something happened in those 5 years, which felt like only a brief nap to them and in that blip, they’d connected. Falling together was comfortingly natural after that. 

“My last thought before I...dusted, was ‘Maybe I’ll get to see Riley.’ ” Sam whizzed his palm in the air, voice breaking slightly and definitely against his will. 

Bucky’s heart twitched. They’d gone dancing in the evening after Tony Stark’s funeral. It was the most blissful Bucky’d ever been and he’d spent the night in Sam’s hotel room doing the most talking he’d ever spoken. Nothing physical happened nor did either man think of it, they were too busy soaking up all the information they could get from the other before the night ended. They could truly get to know each other for the first time. 

Bucky went on about his family, as much as he could remember anyway. Sam talked of his parents; Paul and Darlene and eventually trailed his way to Riley. 

Sam halted his next thought for a few minutes because it was damn hard to illustrate. “I know we weren’t actually dead-” He rolled his lips together “Or maybe we were, still not clear on all that.” He sighed into another little laugh. “But I just want a few more minutes with him...you know?” 

Bucky nodded, giving him a ‘go on’ expression. 

“I guess our souls were floating around in the stone but--” He broke off, looking down at the water. “For five years, Both our names were on gravestones and in all that time, I couldn’t just see or feel him one time?” Fists now clenched into tight fists. His body language was horrifyingly angry, contrasting the deep despair that was the expression on his face. He was almost sure that none of his words made sense, they’d been jumbling around in him for months like a virus and to be regurgitated so suddenly felt...messy. 

The radio, which Sam had long forgotten about, continued to roll-out soft volume static above glimpses of songs. “Fuck, Sam--” Bucky squinted towards the sky, taking in the brief glance into Sam’s head. “I know exactly what you mean…” He turned quickly, admiring Sam’s presence as his adoration for the man thumped like the heart-beat in his chest. “I always figured I’d never get that peace with my family...but I always assumed it’d be for some iteration of Hell.” He rubbed his palm against his neck and laughed. 

Sam elbowed him lightly, forcing Bucky to find his words again. 

“Knowing--through you and how I feel about you--” Bucky gestured between them. “That I had a mellow...impermanent afterlife(?) yet still didn’t get to see my family...well it feels like I was cheated.” He shrugged.

“I don’t think your soul’s going anywhere bad, Buck. Don’t know what happens after we’re gone for good but you’re not ditching me again.” He drifted off, feeling a sudden unbearable disappointment. “Nat’ll be there too.” 

Bucky took in a breath, enjoying the tickling static of Sam’s hand. “Riley too, don’t worry about that, ok?” He tapped Sam’s hand. “I think, when we go back into the weeds and the dirt--”

“That’s a tender way of putting it, Bucky.” Sam blinked, trying not to put himself in an internal coffin because he was significantly chilled now. 

Bucky smiled. “I think we get the peace of nothing. Just a return to nature with the souls of those we loved.” He rubbed his finger into the corner of his eye like a grandpa and sighed. “I’ve seen and experienced a lot of the Heaven/Hell folklore in my life and I’m not crazy about it, Sam” He wagged his finger and Sam pushed him slightly with a nice feeling of content. 

“We can only comfort ourselves, nothing greater will do it for us. So we write ourselves a multitude of fiction that may, or may not, ease us into accepting death.” Sam bumped their elbows together and eyed a distant bird as it darted across and just above the water. 

“I’m glad whatever it was that happened between us in that stone, happened.” Bucky added sheepishly. Turning to look at his partner under the increasingly vivid stars, Bucky hiccupped as a huge wave of affection hit him. “Cause I really like you, Sam.” 

"But don't discredit yourself. It wasn't just the stone that magically brought us together--" Bucky lightly pushed Sam's bicep. "I-...I can't begin to explain how much it means to me that you made an effort to be my friend...even during the last few months of me ghosting you and not listening to you about the shield. You didn't have to do that." 

Somewhere supper was threatening to get cold and Sarah was playing their meals with a concerned frown, Sam just knew that sister of his too well. He hoped to scrap together just a bit more time. "What can I say?" He smiled "I like you too. People need people, Buck. I wasn't gonna sit back and let you cut yourself off." 

Bucky laid back on the dock, laying his palm flat to his chest. He repeated the phrase over and over in his head. 'People need people.' "Goes both ways, you know Sam?" He spoke with deep confidence but continued to laze on the dock, trying to find an angle where the sun was blocked and he could stare up at Sam. “Meaning, I hope you’ve been letting Sarah help you out...and seeing your therapist.”  

Sam gently smacked his hand atop Bucky’s like a comforting beat of thunder. “Giving my best effort.” He nodded thoughtfully. 

Bucky fluttered his eyes with the pace of his heart. “This is the first time I’ve seen you so...still, Wilson.” 

Sam tossed his head back and laughed, knowing Bucky had hit the nail on the head with that one. The back of his neck cooled as he watched the slates of wood under them pale. The glimmers of tired orange light died and vapid pastel-white tones took their place, nestled in the cracks. Part of him wanted to disagree though he hadn’t the spirit. “I don’t like relaxing because it gives me too much time inside myself.” 

Bucky nodded, encouraging Sam to go on. Fearing the man would never pick it up again if he suddenly decided to close himself off again. 

“There’s too much to do...I feel like I don’t deserve it.” Sam shrugged, a clear illustration of his frustration. He’d definitely pulled this thread a few million times in his life. 

“Don’t deserve it?” Bucky sat up just a little, resting on his forearms, he slanted his head as if the adoring smile was just too heavy. “C’mon Doll--” He cut himself off a bit too late. 

“Slipping back into old habits, huh?” Sam rolled his eyes but waved a dismissive hand. “You’re cute.” He teased, shoving the guy gently. 

Bucky played along, pretending Sam had used enough of that strength of his to knock him back onto the dock. “I think now is a great time for a few days off Sam.” 

The man hummed, thinking about the public...what they expected of their new ‘Captain America’ and what the flicker of the new spot-light in his favor revealed about those who loved Steve for all the wrong reasons. Knowing, as a black man, he’d have to go above and beyond all those assumptions just to garner the same amount of respect they gave Steve. The anger he felt from that was righteous but god forbid he show any sense of hurt because then he’d just be labeled ‘ungrateful’ and ‘giving people grief’. He rubbed under his eye with a longing sigh. “I can’t really afford that right now, Buck.” 

His body shivered as he tried to push away the intrusive images; Walker slamming into the man over and over without hesitation, thick puddles of blood covering his shield, carrying Karli’s lifeless body over an audience where half of the people celebrated her death...perceiving and exploiting her as another ‘super-villain’. 

“Hey.” Bucky softly sat up and pulled Sam’s elbow until their eyes met. “I’ve been told I’m a great listener.” He didn’t pull away, instead hesitantly he curled his hand around Sam’s arm. His fingers pressed dimples into Sam’s skin. Bucky nestled there and his friend exhaled a little, unclenching his body. 

“It’s daunting.” He nodded to himself before tipping his chin to face Bucky. “A bucket doesn’t hold a tidal wave but that’s all I got.” He shrugged, noticing Bucky’s quirked brow. “Something my dad used to say...meaning there’s too much to say so I gotta give you a shitty summary, you know?” He shook his head. 

“I know I’m one to talk but try using more words...buzz-words if you have to.” Bucky looked momentarily proud of his modern vocabulary and squeezed Sam’s arm tighter. 

Sam chuckled. “Let’s say...nerve-wrecking.” He added, bumping his elbow into Bucky’s side. “With all that’s happened...I’m worried--” He landed on a word he felt comfortable with. “Being Captain America...it’s heavy on my shoulders, man. I know I can do it, I trust myself when it comes down to the wire. I hold myself to my standards.” He trailed off again, listening to distant sounds of kids skipping rocks across the water. “I know where this job’s going to take me and I’m ok with that, glad to do it.” He looked back at Bucky with determined eyes. 

“I’m not concerned with my fate.” Another deep breath racked his body, he wasn’t used to being so utterly serious with his current company. “I think about how it ended for Tony and I worry about the kid--” 

Bucky nodded, He’d only briefly been aware of Stark’s ‘surrogate’ son and spoke a handful of words to him at the funeral, Sam and Wanda at his side. 

Sam rubbed his neck with his free hand, feeling intense pressure all over his body. All his limbs tingled as if they were asleep. He’d not realized the true extent of how much this had been eating away at him. Speaking of eating, dinner was for sure cold by now…“Met his Aunt at the funeral.” She’d been proud of her boy but behind her eyes lived guttural fear, Sam knew that much. “I’m thinking about Rhodey because I sure as hell know the pain of losing your best friend.” 

Bucky tightened his grip on Sam even further. He’d lost Steve so many times but the time had come for the permanent end and by then...well had they even felt like best friends anymore? 

“I can’t even figure out what’s going on with Wanda.” Sam clicked his tongue with a bitter chuckle. “Girl’s doing her best to stay off the grid and I can’t imagine that’s good for her. I know Torres can handle himself but I wonder if I should be helping him more. Not to mention Bruce. What the hell is his mental state right now?” He added with a confused wave of his hand. “I’m even worrying about Scott!” Sam rubbed at his eyebrow and sighed. “This is all beside Sarah and the kids, who I’m constantly thinking about.” He laughed, voice strained and tired. 

Bucky waited a few seconds, just to make sure Sam had finished. In that short moment, his heart swelled for him. “You’re a good person, Sam. But you’re only one man.” He shook him just a little bit. “Truthfully, You’ll always be concerned for them. It’s just in your nature. Don’t fight the intrusive thoughts...accept their presence and remember you’ve got a team.” Bucky trailed off, going over what he’d just said again in his head. 

Sam’s shoulders sank with another deep sigh. “Thanks, Buck.” He swiped his hand down his face and noticed how much lighter he felt. 

Bucky responded physically. He tugged Sam down with him as he laid back on the dock, shoulders bumping together harmoniously which sent chills through Bucky’s entire body. The good kind...maybe the amazing kind. Hell, they tingled under his skin just about every moment he spent with Sam. That deeply buried fear that he might spend the rest of his life making himself excruciatingly uncomfortable in his own body, trapped under his skin which was always crawling,  faded from the realm of possibility each time Sam’s presence flushed Bucky with comfortable jitters. 

“You’re getting good taste, by the way-”

Bucky only squinted at him, still half in deep thought. So Sam started Otis’s whistling again and watched his friend realize what he was talking about. His nose scrunched up while he nodded. 

“How do you decide what to listen to?” Sam turned, they were nearly nose-to-nose. “I mean, how do you narrow it down when you’ve got decades to catch up on?” Sam’s mind flickered through artists like a jukebox--which was 1 thing he’d always wanted to buy, a real old school one. 

Bucky shifted his jaw, making an eerie click, a precursor to his amused grin. “I made a list of artists I remember liking before…” He waved his hand, turning slightly to watch the dewey clouds cover the moon. “And the periods in-and-out of being frozen...I have a list of what I remember by decade-” He chuckled. 

Sam sat up on his forearms. “I’d like to see these lists. The record set-up in Sarah’s living room is not a decoration, you know? It’s almost as great as mine back in D.C.” He grinned, thinking about the days, so far gone now. Mama and Sarah dancing around the kitchen. 

“It really faded off during the 80’s.” Bucky pushed up to level himself next to Sam. “And not that I’ve had much time, mind you--” he laughed. “But from there, I just follow what I’m fond of like family trees and consider the few recommendations I’ve collected.” He trailed off, starting to do the Otis whistle again. 

Sam let him follow through to the end, anticipating the tender connotations of the song to come after this day ended. “Out of all these decades...who are your favorite artists? Just curious.” Sam grinned. The answer to this question spoke loudly about a person, in his opinion. 

Bucky looked thoughtfully content with the question, grin cocking a bit to the right as he held out his fist above him. “I’d have to say...Ella-” He flicked out a thumb, no last name necessary. Sam knew that woman like the back of his hand. 

“Nat King Cole-” Bucky softened his eyes, searching again for that unforgettable memory in Sam, and smiling when the expression was reciprocated in his eyes which shimmered like sunlight through the trees. “Roy Orbison.” Two more metal fingers curled down. “John Denver and Billy Joel.” He let his hand fall back to his chest, satisfied for only a few seconds. “But I really love Judy Garland too.” 

“So you like the mellow ballads--” He hummed. “Slow and kinda sad, huh?” Sam bumped his arm lightly. It made good sense to him. Bucky enjoyed the peace which came effortlessly from lone singer-songwriters. His five--or rather six--showed a natural progression. 

“What about you?” Bucky asked, in a calm tone of voice though his eyes read eager. 

“Marvin Gaye, Sam Cooke, The Drifters…” Sam paused, really thinking over his picks. “Earth Wind and Fire, Linda Ronstadt and since you got a bonus...Billie Holiday.” Sam rested his palm flat on his chest, content to feel the steady beating that let him know he was still alive. A rich sense of comfort rushed over him as if a fresh load of laundry had just been dropped on his still body. There’d been too many days in his life where that buried thumping was only a reminder of non-stop existence, like a neverending rollercoaster. Installing him with dread, guilt and panic. He was glad to find those days fewer and farther between. 

“You make me feel like I’m livin’ in a Drifters song, Doll.” Bucky was only half teasing, for he was speaking a genuine thought but wasn’t sure how welcome it’d be.

“I like that one.” Sam hummed, turning his cheek once more toward the man beside him. “Tell me how you really feel.” He hiked himself up fully to return to his seated position, legs dangling over the side and casting faint shadows of foot-steps on the water. 

Bucky paused with concern, not sure he understood the reply before he processed it fully. He wanted to smirk but the sentiment out-weighed the amusement. He sat up too, pulling one knee up to rest an arm over while the other dangled next to Sam’s. “I got it bad, Sam.” He made their wandering eyes meet. 

“Me too.” Sam nodded with that dazzling grin. “You’re under my skin, what can I say?” He shook his head and tried to let his smile fade, finding he couldn’t. 

“If they weren’t gone...I’d be buggin’ you to meet my family.” Bucky ignored the twist in his gut because Sam’s reactions were his comfort. “Though who’s to say how they’d feel about the….” He trailed off and Sam nodded. “You being a fella part of it--”

“A fella of color, too.” Sam added with a bit of a smirk. 

“Fuck.” Bucky cursed quietly and playfully tugged Sam’s hand. They curled their fingers together in an exquisitely natural way. “They loved me…” His face stilled with longing. “I’d like to think--But maybe it’s best not to go down that road. I don’t believe I turned out how they’d wanted anyway.” He chuckled, pitfully. 

Sam tightened their grip on each other for a minute. “I know what you mean.” He bumped their folded hands onto Bucky’s thigh. “I’m always wondering what my parents would think of all this…” He flicked his free hand. “My career?” He almost wanted to laugh with astonished pride. Never had he expected to grow up to be a superhero. “Riley too.” He felt there was more to say but his mouth fell shut. 

“Just a way to hurt ourselves, I guess.” Bucky shrugged. “And we sure as Hell love to do that.” 

They laughed, sort of sadly. The full night sky enriched them with gentle peace, strengthened by the soft light of the stars. The temperature dropped considerably since Sam had initially come out. But he didn’t mind the nice chill, it braced his skin and left him with tingling goosebumps. It reminded Sam how real the moment actually was. Paying less attention to the hearty sloshes of water, Sam picked up his radio. 

‘Come a little bit closer

Hear what I have to say

Just like children sleepin'

We could dream this night away…’

He might have heard the song before, couldn’t be sure, and if he was alone he might have continued flipping stations just in case an older favorite was slipping through his fingers. But Bucky began to hum with the tune. 

‘But there's a full moon risin'

Let's go dancin' in the light

We know where the music's playin'

Let's go out and feel the night…’

Sam gathered himself up from the creaky dock, stretching his body little by little and watching Bucky’s wandering eyes. He gently held out his hands which was enough of a sign for Bucky to happily grab them and pull himself up. 

Sam shoved the radio in his pocket with a smile and though Bucky was more than just pleased to see him so jovial, he also felt a flicker of nervousness. “Man...for the first time in a while, I feel lucky as Hell.” 

‘Because I'm still in love with you

I want to see you dance again

Because I'm still in love with you

On this harvest moon…’

Sam raised his brow and initiated the first few dance steps with his partner hardly noticing the movement at all. “How’s that?” 

“I’m lucky to be in love with someone I like so much.” Bucky puffed out a relaxed sigh with his words and finally leaned into the dancing with real vigor. “Sam, I’ve never wanted to spend my life with someone as badly as I do with you.” 

Wind whistled past their shoulders but Sam felt perfectly warm. He let Bucky take the lead and allowed himself to be spun. The cool light of the moon acted as a highlighter, beams of translucent white caressed the shape of Sam’s body. Following the curve of his hips and sliding down the length of his legs. “Growing old with you...becoming a cranky old man couple, that sounds like fun.” He spoke as if he hadn’t had true fun in years which was probably true. 

A bush fondly bloomed under Bucky’s skin. Behind his fluttering eyelashes, Bucky indulged for once in his life. To drink in all that was this man in front of him. 

However Sam’s eyes were now focused on a cupped hand, which had somehow slipped from Bucky’s, where a yellow toned light would flicker every few seconds. Whenever the yellow light skimmed his face, he would grin with pure joy. 

“You never caught a firefly before, Sam?” Bucky asked in jest, with a huff of amused laughter. 

Sam gently guided the bug into Bucky’s face.

“Oh, fuck! You asshole” Bucky scrunched up his nose and swatted dramatically at his nose. “I change my mind, cancel my idea. Gonna crawl back into the absolute hole that is my apartment--” He playfully backed away from his friend. 

Before Bucky could slip the last inch of his skin from Sam’s hand, the man used the full strength of his extended arm to fiercely pull him back and into his chest. Like a damn professional dancer. “I’ve been seeing myself from grief’s eyes for too damn long. Think I’m ready to take control of my own life. I want to be with you.” He playfully grinned. “What about you?”

Bucky glowed in Sam’s arms. “For a long time, I lost my sense of self…” He scratched behind his ear. “But never my fuckin’ point of view.” His voice broke just a little. “I had to see and feel every horrendous thing the Winter Soldier did. “I’ll bear the consequences for the rest of my life and I accept that.” He shook his head. “But I’m ready to accept happiness too. I really want to be with you, Sam.” 

Sam nodded, content as he’d ever been. “I think we should get our dinner before Sarah comes to drag us by our ears.”

Bucky pressed a sweet kiss, full of longing and fulfillment. “Yeah, that’s probably for the best.” He laughed, taking Sam’s arm and pulling him down the dock with a spring in both their steps. 

‘But now it's gettin' late

And the moon is climbin' high

I want to celebrate

See it shinin' in your eye’

 ‘Because I'm still in love with you

I want to see you dance again

Because I'm still in love with you

On this harvest moon’

#sambucky #is this good? #idk #i feel too awful to focus #sam wilson #Bucky Barnes #winterfalcon #the falcon and the winter soldier #sarah wilson #my fanfiction #tell me what you think #Marvel Comics #marvel #MCU #marvel fanfiction

[yunhohoe]

Pairing: Mingi x Reader

Warnings: Smoking; Swearing; guns and violence and injury; just some pretty intense moments in general;  y/n’s boyfriend is super toxic and unhealthy; fingering; nipple play; unprotected sex; main character death. (Kindly let me know if I missed anything you think should be added)

Genre: ANGST; Smut

Rating: M

Word count: 11k

Summary:  Jobs like this were never easy.  Your boyfriend Blue was an asshole and you didn’t particularly like your work. But, Blue’s best friend Mingi who always tagged along always made the moments more enjoyable.                   One day a job gone wrong sends the two of you to eachothers arms.

a/n: Hiii this is my first ever Ateez fic please go easy on meee.  If there are confusing parts it is likely going to make sense in the end! This is a story with a twist :)

You were rudely pulled from your sleep by a persistent ringing of your cell phone.

Your hand shot to where it sat next to your pillow.  Grabbing it and seeing that it was your boyfriend calling you groaned and quickly swiped to send it straight to voicemail.

Talking to Blue first thing in the morning had always been a pain, he always had something to complain about, usually involving something that you’d done the day before.

You got out of bed and made your way to the shower, your phone buzzed in your hand at least five times and you did your best to ignore it.  You knew it was Blue spamming question marks or asking why you aren’t picking up.

You let your phone buzz the entire time you showered, almost purposefully taking your time, you knew you had time.  He wasn’t coming to pick you up until 9:00.

You let your hands run all over your body as you rinsed off your favorite body wash, taking in the moment before you had to start a day that had been giving you anxiety for a long time.

When you’d been told a year ago that you’d be given an opportunity to be a part of this program you almost didn’t believe it to be real.  

Even though Blue would be there, (despite him being your pick of partner you really couldn’t stand the guy) you said yes.  

You said yes for one reason.

Song Mingi.

Blue’s best friend.

Yes.  You knew it was wrong that you had always had the biggest crush on your boyfriend's best friend but he was everything Blue wasn’t in all the best ways.

Blue was a coward.  Not in the way of getting scared of spiders or ghosts or things.  But in the way you knew he’d throw anyone under the bus to save himself if needed, even you.

Mingi was never a coward, while you’d seen him let out a cute scream at a spider or two, you had trusted him with your life.  You would trust him with anything.

And it’d been far too long since you’d seen that face…

So you agreed, and here you were, putting on your red lipstick in the mirror.  You only wore red lipstick on special occasions and this was definitely to be one.  

----------

Once you had gotten ready head to toe in your best you walked out the front door of your apartment building and made your way to the bustling front where taxis were leaving as fast as they arrived.

This city definitely didn’t ever stop.

It had always been going going going…

Just like you.  Since the day you were born you’d kept pushing forward at a relentless pace, and here you were, staying in one of the most luxurious apartments in the city, paying for it with money you made.

Well…

“Are we doing this or not y/n? Did you go fucking deaf overnight?”

Blue.

You sighed and turned to see him yelling at you from the driver's seat of his flashy car.

It was a bright shade of teal, four seater car with purple coloring misted over it in spots almost too subtle to see.  When the sun caught the paint the right way it lit up with the glitter mixed in and could get almost blinding.  Inside was a blue haired man that never ceased to turn heads.  It was much like the way you dressed head to toe in glamorous jewelry, your bright red shorts that matched your lipstick were far too short and shifted many glances their way.

You’d really missed dressing up this much.  You only ever did when you were going to a job, it probably wasn’t the smartest idea to draw attention to yourself in your line of work. (though it had come in handy as a distraction a few times.)

But, you couldn’t help it, and neither could Blue.  Maybe that's why despite all of the toxicity in your relationship you stayed together.  You hung well on eachothers arms.

You hopped into the driver's seat and were instantly pulled into a sloppy wet kiss with an intruding tongue.  You did your best not to gag and gave him a fake but believable smile as you pulled away.

“You’re making us late.” He grumbled and put his car into drive, he sped up so fast the wheels of the car skidded on the pavement and you were off.

You had to admit, while this was far from your first gig you could never escape the heavy beating of your heart that kicked in once you were on your way.

The interior of Blue’s car was just as extra as him.  All black leather with blue lights places perfectly throughout the car to light it up in a cool hue.  The deep blue reflected off Blue’s short but scruffy turquoise blue hair, giving it some more depth than it had when he was out of the car.

He did seem cooler when he drove..

Maybe that's another reason why despite his constant harsh words you were drawn to him.

You met him on a job where he was the driver, and the two of you had been tangled up with each other on and off ever since.

The car skidded to a stop and you felt your seatbelt click to halt you from falling too far forward.

You turned to Blue to glare at him for his rough driving but he wasn’t looking at you.  He had a giant smile on his face as he waved almost childishly out the window.

Now realizing where you were you sucked in a silent gasp and quickly tugged down the mirror on the visor above you to make sure your hair and makeup were still alright.

You wiped a little bit of lipstick that Blue had smudged under your lips and shoved the visor back up as if nothing had happened.

You took in a deep breath this time, your heart pounding out of your chest, you swore it might actually give you a heart attack.

The bubbling warmness was coming up from your stomach to your throat until you couldn’t stop yourself from saying his name.  

“Mingi!” you yelled out of the car window to him.

The tall man approaching your car silently now ducked down a bit to meet your eyes and gave you his signature body melting smile and a tiny wave that he kept close to his body.

Unlike you and Blue, Mingi wasn’t flashy.  He was still friendly, and certainly could turn heads in his own way.  

But it was almost like he knew he didn’t need to try.   You wished you could feel more confident to be like that, effortlessly attractive, the kind of hot that makes you turn heads even when…

“You look like that's what you rolled out of bed wearing!” Blue scolded Mingi as he hopped into the back seat.

“Wow, I’m already being attacked? I’ve been here two seconds.” Mingi dramatically feigned being deeply offended.  

Though, he likely *was* wearing what he woke up in.  The man was in grey plaid pajama like sweatpants and an oversized plain black hoodie, his hair that had been dyed bright red at one point was now a pale and faded orange and he looked like he needed a couple extra hours of sleep.

But god.  Was he the most perfect sight on the eyes.  Even Blue, despite his asshole personality couldn’t help but love the man in a way you’d never seen him love anyone, even you.

They’d been best friends since grade school and when you started dating Blue you’d realized they were a package deal.

It always blew your mind how such polar opposite people could become friends.  Mingi was kind where Blue was cruel, and Mingi was strong where Blue was weak.

You couldn’t help but kick yourself for sitting in the front seat that day years ago with Blue instead of getting in the backseat with Mingi.

Damn him and his flashy hair, and damn you and your addiction to shiny things, despite how poisonous they might be.

“You look just fine Mingi.” You giggled.

“Thank you.” He lifted his chin up jokingly and smugly.  You chuckled and tried your hardest not to study his adorable features and make it obvious that you had some feelings here…

How could such polar opposite people become best friends?

Maybe they weren’t totally opposite, because they did share one thing in common, the same thing that you also had in common with them.

“So where did the app say to meet up?”

*Crimson Rexcruit*

The app each of you had on your phones.

The app you had met them through.

“There's supposed to be two more meeting us at the City Bank.” Blue mumbled off the last bit.

“Wait…” you felt maybe due to the mumbling you’d misheard.

Mingi as well had a confused expression on his face, leaning forward to put his head closer to the front seat.

“I’m sorry.  Did you say City Bank? As in the largest bank in the city.  As in the most guarded bank in the city?” He questioned his friend.

Blue simply nodded.

You felt your blood turn to ice and you were stiff in your seat.

“Um...Blue...That's not in our grade?” Your voice was almost a squeak.

The way the app worked was you had to have someone else with a high enough grade on the app to vouch for you.  Once you had that you could unlock parts of the app that allowed you to take low level jobs with low pay until you got enough good reviews to move higher.  You and your group had always hovered around the level of small gas station robberies, usually when no one was there, or only one attendant.  

Mingi usually went in with whoever the app told you to meet up with.  Blue was your getaway driver, and you were the lookout and distraction if needed.

It had always worked smoothly,it required little planning, and had almost become routine.

This bank robbery was jumping quite a few levels above what you were used to.

“It is now.” He said shortly, not taking his eyes off the road as he drove.

When you join a ‘Crew’ through the app you are required to appoint a leader, and your leader was Blue.  The leader would get a lot of details about your jobs that the other crew members wouldn’t, it was to help with deniability and keeping information from getting around.  But, damn did it get annoying when Blue kept things from you.

You rolled down your window a crack, remembering that Blue always kept a pack of cigarettes in his center console of his car.  You went to grab for one and it was slammed shut almost pinching the tips of your fingers inside.

You yelped out a high pitched gasp and held your hand close to your chest.

Blue still looked at the road but one hand had left the steering wheel and was holding the console lid shut.

“Thought you quit.” He snapped.

You looked back to Mingi who was silent but obviously trying his hardest not to get involved, shifting his gaze out the window as if he couldn’t hear the two of you. He wasn’t one to get nervous or stand down.  To anyone but Blue that is.  

It was unfortunate because you knew that Mingi was the only one Blue would listen to.

“Well you’re really making me want one.” you said coldly, pissed off for a few reasons now.

“Oh well.  There's not many left anyways and you always smoke two in a row for some reason.” He seemed to mock you for your habit.

“She can have one of mine.” Mingi offered from the back.  Apparently now not pretending he wasn’t listening to the entire conversation.

“Thank you Mingi.” You sang smiling at him, unbuckling and turning all the way around in your seat so that your ass was almost poking against the windshield.

Blue cussed under his breath and seemed to debate on pushing you back into your seat.

You leaned into the backseat, opening your mouth with a slight smirk on your face, pleased that Blue wasn’t getting his way this time.

Mingi seemed to part his lips slightly along with you, staring at the space between yours.

His eyes locked onto the way your tongue slightly rolled behind your teeth as you waited for him to stop fumbling his fingers over the pack he was pulling out of his hoodie pocket and put the cigarette in your mouth.

His eyes only darted down for a quick second as he pulled one out, they were back to your lips like a magnet as he reached his hand out to place the cigarette between your lips.  

You felt a place in the not too far back of your mind wish that instead of pulling his hand back away after that he’d let it linger, let a finger trail the border of your lips, tracing the red to memorize with his fingers the way he was with his eyes.

But, instead he quickly pulled away and relaxed back into his seat.  He smiled a thin toothless smile at you, as if to say ‘our transaction here is done now.’

Which it was.

That didn’t make it less frustrating though. You didn’t huff though.  You were used to bottling it all up, and you’d come to terms long ago with the fact that Mingi would never be yours.

Blue was who you had chosen, and he did have things about him that were positives to being his.

He was richer than Mingi.  Being the leader came with an extra cut of the pay each job since he would be the one to get the highest charges if caught.  It was fair, and none of you had ever argued it.

Blue was good in bed.  Not that you didn’t imagine Mingi to be either…

But, you couldn’t really complain there.  He liked to toss you around, and you liked to be tossed around.

You settled back into your seat and caught Blue giving you a sulky glance.  You pretended not to notice and instead of addressing what would likely turn into a fight, you grabbed the lighter set in the cupholder.  You lit your cigarette, tossing the lighter back into the cupholder without care, causing it to bounce down back out and down onto the floor.

Not caring to pick it up either you rolled down your window a bit more, letting the breeze carry the smoke out of the car.

Why was your heart still beating so fast? You knew how these jobs went, you knew how this job would go.  Right?

It was quiet for a long time.  

Blue usually liked to turn up his music and get hyped up before a job, so you took to just staring out the window as you smoked.

You caught a glimpse of mingi in the car’s rear view mirror.  He was looking at you.

Instead of looking away from being caught staring, he stuck out his tongue goofily.  You chuckled and coughed a bit on the hit you had been taking in.

Cute.  

He was always so cute.

More seconds passed, or was it minutes?

You didn’t remember the drive to the bank taking this long…

-------

Finally your car was parked by a side door that you were told would be left unlocked for your crew and the two solo Crimson Rexruit users.

They came in a second car and were to assist Mingi with the robbery and they would take the money to the client that put the job out.  

Your team never dealt with transporting the money, your money always promptly got distributed by your job title and deposited into your accounts by the app after the client received their money.

“Okay. I’ll go stand out and wait for the-” Mingi started.

“Wait.” Blue cut him off.  Uncharacteristically he gulped, and his hands fidgeted on the steering wheel, though he’d already parked the car.  He took a deep breath in and chuckled.

“So I’m actually going in with you this time.  We need four for the job inside and they’d only hire five people.” Blue explained, then turned to you. “You’re gonna have to drive.”

“Excuse me?”

Though it was your thoughts exactly, it was Mingi’s voice that spoke.

Blue turned around as much as he could in his seat to face his best friend.

“She can do this and be look out.  It’ll be fine.” though nothing in Blue’s nervous tone made you feel like everything was fine.  Blue never went in...and this was going to be his first job inside?  

“We all already have enough money to live the rest of our lives happily.” your hand shot out to Blue’s leg.  “You know we don’t *have* to do this…” you tried to reason with him.  You knew it was a lost cause, but you couldn’t help but try.

Once Blue had something on his mind there was no way anyone could stop him.  Except maybe…

“Mingi?” you whipped your head around to face him, hoping that he could yell some sense into his friend.

“I-...” He seemed to debate in his mind for a while.  “If it's what the app told him…” he shrugged “We’ll be fine.” he gave another thin unsure smile.

You sighed.  It was worth a shot.

“Okay.”

Blue and Mingi got out of the car and you moved over into the driver's seat, adjusting it for yourself and rolling the window down all the way while they spoke with the other men that had just arrived.

Your boyfriend walked over to the window and pulled you into another cringeworthy kiss.  

“I’ll be back in no time baby.” he winked at you. You smiled, looking him up and down before he walked away.

He really was something else.  While you didn’t particularly like him much, you never would wish harm on him.  Your stomach had already been in knots before you had learned he’d be going in as well.  It was almost impossible to handle the feeling that came after.

Mingi next walked over to you, bending down and resting his elbows on the ledge of the open window.

“I’ll look after him.” Mingi smiled. “Won’t take my eyes off him.”

You nodded, “I know you’ll look after him.” of course he will.  As much as Blue loved Mingi, Mingi loved him right back.  

His eyes narrowed into a different expression, and he started to almost speak but instead shut his lips tightly, as if to completely block any words from slipping out.  Mingi pulled out another cigarette from his pack, surprising you and causing you to jump a bit as he boldly just placed it between your lips.

“You never had your second one.” He chuckled

You exhaled a breath you hadn’t even realized you’d been holding in.  It almost caused the cigarette to fall from your lips to your lap.

“Oh yeah.” You muttered, the stick between your lips muffling your words, “s’been a while.”

He then smiled with a nod and stood up, patting the top of the car before starting to walk away.

“Mingi!” You yelled out. The unlit cigarette not saved from its fall this time.

He instantly spun back around and raised his eyebrows.

“Yeah y/n?”

He spoke your name so beautifully.  So clearly like cool water hitting your throat on a hot day.

You almost forgot what you were going to say, smiling goofily for a moment as a smile grew on his face in return.

“You stay safe too.” you spoke.

He chuckled and nodded, sticking his hands in his hoodie pocket.  

“I will, don’t worry.” he winked.  

You felt your heart flutter just before it sank. He pulled a gun from his hoodie pocket to show you.  Flashing it just for a moment before returning it and leaving his hands into stay.

He smirked and returned to where Blue and the other men were talking.

Mingi never carried a gun…

He hadn’t known this job would be different…

Why the *fuck* did he have a gun?

————-

You waited for far too long.  The unlit cigarette sitting under your lap motionless.  Just like you.

Your hands were gripped on the steering wheel so tightly your fingers hurt.  But it was the only thing distracting you from what you knew what was to come.

Any second the door they all went in would open and you’d need to make sure your foot was on the pedal as fast as you could to get your crew out of there.

It was just taking so long.

Did it really take that long?

The anxiety was getting too much to handle and you remembered the cigarette in your lap.  

Your hands were so shakey you could barely bring it to your lips, but it made it there in time.

You went to grab for the lighter in the cup holder and upon your hand only hitting plastic you remembered you’d dropped it on the floor on the passenger seat.

You leaned over to rummage around, not seeing it anywhere and figuring it must’ve gone under the seat you started to go to move it back…

And at that moment the sound of the metal door being swung open echoed out in the alley you were parked in with a loud bang, causing you to jump up and hit your head on the underside of the dashboard.

You quickly say up in a panic.

After that was only the sound of footsteps hitting the pavement as fast as they could.

The passenger side door was flung open and a panicked Mingi hopped inside.

In his arms was a giant duffle bag, and on his hands was…

“Mingi is that blood?” Your jaw hung open.

“Fucking drive y/n.” he hissed in a stern tone you’d never before that day heard from him.

“B-Blue?” You stuttered out your lower lip trembling.

“DRIVE!” he screamed, slamming a hand on the dashboard so loudly that your foot smashed onto the gas without you even meaning to.   The car jerked forward and you just kept going.

It seemed like your body had decided from here on out to autopilot.  

Everything seemed like it was moving forward faster than it ever had in your life.  This city certainly moved fast but the distance between you and wherever Blue was right now was growing faster.

You didn’t seem to be running from anyone so once you got a few blocks over you started going the speed limit and tried your best to blend into traffic in Blue’s flashy car while a bloody Mingi sat wide eyed and silent beside you.  

He was trying to take deep breaths to calm himself down but seemed to be struggled to get one out without it getting caught in his throat.

You drove and drove for what felt like an hour, pulling into the driveway of a house a few towns over you’d stayed at a few times with Blue on vacation.  He didn’t own it or anything, yet the keys did happen to be on Blue’s keychain.  He’d managed to snag himself a print of it the last time you’d stayed there.

For some reason it was the place your body had just brought you to.

And you felt then that it was lucky it had.  There were no cars parked out front and all of the lights were turned off.  It looked extremely vacant.

You parked and rushed over to Mingi’s side of the car, opening his door frantically.

“Are you hurt?”

He was clutching the duffle bag tightly, lightly knocking his head against it while muttering.

“Mingi!” you spoke quietly but sternly.

He shook his head against the bag. His bloodied fingers that were locked intertwined with each other had now dried and likely smeared blood onto the bag as well.

“Then we gotta get into the house and find something to cover up this car.” You grabbed him by the arm trying to prompt him to get out of the car.

He was reluctant at first but after a few tugs nodded and let you help him out of the car.

You walked him to the door of the house, looking around double checking if you were followed.

It seemed to be in the clear, and the house was fairly secluded, probably a half mile either way before you’d see another house.  Yet, with Blue’s very stand out choice of ride, it was still better safe than sorry to find something to cover it up.

That was step two.

Step one was to get Mingi inside.

After missing the keyhole a few times you finally got the door unlocked and Mingi (without your assistance, and despite you trying to reach out to help him) stumbled over to a couch in the first room the entrance led to.  He almost fell into it, the duffle bag still clutched tightly in his arms.

“You stay there.” Your voice was scratchy, as if you’d been screaming, had you screamed at some point?

Mingi didn’t respond, eyes held shut and he laid down onto his side.

It seemed like that was him agreeing so you nodded and took to searching the house for some sort of blanket or tarp.

You found a large cover in the bathroom of the home and made your way out to the front lawn with it, glancing back to make sure Mingi was still resting on the couch.  He was, exactly how you’d left him.

As you pulled the sheet over the car you noticed a bit of blood on the dashboard where Mingi’s hand had hit.  

It was not a sight you’d ever expected to see.  It was obviously something that everyone who did the things you did had to consider at some point…

But when it actually happened it made you realize you had never *really* thought through the consequences of what your Crew was doing.

The realness of the danger was a lot different than the rush and thrill of getting away with it.  There wasn’t anything sexy about this moment, not like all the other times where the adrenaline had you and Blue ripping each other's clothes off the minute you walked into the door after a job.

Blue...

No.  This felt more like being sick, every kind of sick you’d ever felt all at once.  

You hurried to finish getting the car covered and sped back into the house.

“Mingi?” you called out to the man still motionless on the couch.

He remained silent, squeezing the bag closer to his chest.

“Mingi where's Blue?” You walked over to him, kneeling down next to him.  

He winced at his friend's name, shook his head, and rolled over away from you.

As always, no one tells you anything.  Even when it could be life or death.

This time you decided to make a huff.  It was immature of you but you weren’t quite in control of your emotions.

You stood up and ripped the duffle bag from his arms, tossing it across the room.

Almost in the same moment, as if to replace the loss of the duffle bag, Mingi’s arm shot out at you.  His hand to your waist pulling you down, causing you to lose balance and topple onto the couch on top of him.

He shifted himself to make room for the two of you and brought you in tightly, even tighter than he’d been holding that bag.  

Now he started to sob.

You’d never seen Mingi cry, let alone anyone cry with such a raw and rough outpouring of emotion.

His hands now started to scramble across your back, his full body shaking as he sobbed, and your hands running through his hair until the two of you drifted off to an unintentional sleep.

-------

You couldn’t help but notice the way every curve of Mingi’s body was pressed up against you when you woke up a couple hours later.

His pajama pants not  leaving much of a barrier between himself and the shorts you were wearing as he shifted his front closer to you.

As much as you wanted to press back into him…

As much as you could…

The (even) bigger situation here set in.

You sat up, almost knocking him off the couch onto the floor.

“Hm?” He mumbled at you.

“Mingi wake up.” you shook his shoulder.

As if he’d for a moment completely forgotten the events of earlier, and only saw what he thought must’ve been a dream.  A dream where you had fallen asleep next to him.  Maybe a dream he’d had many times, since he smiled fondly, and almost with a hint of familiarity.

That faded all too quickly though as the sleepiness lifted its fog on his brain.

His eyes no longer held any light, it drained instantly and he shot off the couch.  Stumbling clumsily back.  

“Fuck.” Wide eyed he pulled the gun out of his pocket.  

“I’d had that pressed against me this whole time!?” you almost screamed at him.

“The safety is…” He fumbled it over in his hands. “On...now…” he winced.

“Fuck Mingi.” you muttered, standing up and walking over to him. “Please put that thing somewhere...not here.”

He nodded with no hesitation and walked into the kitchen, putting it in one of the drawers.

When he returned he sat on the couch with his hands on his elbows and his mouth pressed firmly into his hands.

“Tell me what happened Mingi.” you sat down next to him, putting a hand on the fabric of his sweater over his bicep, feeling him flex slightly at your touch. “Please” you pleaded.

He nodded and moved his hands, sighing and shaking his head.

“It was a set up...but not for us.” He sucked a deep breath in slightly starting to tremble “  Once we were almost out of there Blue got a text.  Not from the client but from the app.  The message told him we had an option...If we killed the two solo partners we’d get their share of the money. I-” he paused “I don’t get why but Blue instantly seemed on board he just...lit up.” Mingi waved his hand over his face. “Fuck. Fuck y/n.  He wasn’t acting himself I swear.”

He was now pleading to you almost.  

“Okay…” you started to play with the hem of your shorts as you prompted him to continue.

“Y/n...he was gonna do it. He...did. Do it..” he cocked his head to the side biting down on his lip and whimpering slightly.

You sucked in.  You had known that was coming next.  You really had.

In a question of whether Blue would be capable of something like that, (while Mingi seemed to think it was out of character for him) your answer would have always been yes.  Yes he could, and yes he did.

“He took my gun out of my hands almost instantly y/n...and it was so quick.” tears now started to pool in his eyes.  He cleared his throat and took another breath. “Um...yeah.  He shot them.  Just...like that.” he blinked a few times.

“Oh…” was all you could manage to reply. It was quiet for a bit until Mingi started muttering something under his breath.  He was starting to rock back and forward slightly where he sat.

“So you left him behind?” you asked.

“Ah.” His voice cracked. “I didn’t mean to.  Everything was just so...fast.” he muttered, standing up and leaving the room in a hurry.

You pursed your lips together, not following him right away.  Sitting with that thought again.

Blue had killed the two other partners.  Blue had killed two people.  

It wasn’t the kind of feeling that would ever be shaken.  Even sixty years from now this memory would be one of the last on your mind.

You let yourself cry a moment.  Finally.

You cried for Blue and what he’d done.  You cried for the people he’d killed and their loved ones, and those right now expecting them home.

“y/n?” Mingi’s voice called from the other room.  

“Not now Mingi.” you choked out, your emotions slowly gaining momentum.

Fluffy orange hair poked around the corner of the room, he was in the kitchen now peeking around into the living room area you sat in.

“Tea?” He wiggled a box he must’ve found in the closet, he was putting on a fake smile, it could’ve been more for himself than you,  but it helped.

You nodded, wiping the wetness from your eyes with the back of your hand.

He returned not too much later with two green mugs in his hand, setting them down on a table beside the couch.

Mingi then sat down hard next to you, shaking the couch a bit and chuckling at his clumsiness.

You smiled slightly and reached out for one of the mugs that was on the other side of him.

He caught your arm gently wrapping his fingers around your wrist and holding you for a moment, looking into your eyes with ones filled to the brim with pain.

“Um.  The tea is still pretty hot.  I wouldn’t” he explained himself, giving you your arm back.

You looked over to the steam rolling off the top of the mug.

This isn’t fun.

Why did you do this?

What was the point of any of this?

Why did you choose this…

You debated screaming out for an escape.  You knew the words you could say…

But you weren’t ready yet.  Not yet.

And then there it was.

Your reminder and reason for doing this.

Mingi smiled your way.  Maybe a bit forced still, but a completely body melting smile.

You instantly rested your head on his shoulder, wishing you could do more than that in this moment.  Begging your body to let you do more than just gently rest your head on his shoulder.

Your hand could easily move out to his knee and trail up his leg...

But not yet. As much as you knew it would help the two of you.  As much as you were 99% sure right now in this moment you both wanted more than just your head on his shoulder, it wouldn’t be right.  Not right now.

Your eyes did flash to the clock hanging on the wall for the first time in a while.  It was only 5pm.  It seemed like a week had passed since this morning.

You let more seconds pass with your head on Mingi’s shoulder, there wasn’t much else you could do.

-------------

A few hours later Mingi was cooking you both dinner. There wasn’t much in the cabinets that hadn't expired.  No one had been here for a while.

Yet he swore he could whip something up with what he could find.

You’d chuckled and agreed to let him try while you laid out and read magazines on the couch, admiring the bright red toenail polish on your toes and wiggling your feet lost in the moment...forgetting the moment.

Until a loud clatter of pans snapped you out of it.

You jumped off the couch and ran to the kitchen to find Mingi on the floor holding his hand with a pained look on his face.

“Oh my god!” you ran over to him, crouching down and pulling his hand from being held to his chest to where you could see. “You’ve burned yourself.  Here…” you stood and started to pull him up by his good arm.

“I’ve got it y/n” he hissed.  Standing up on his own and turning the faucet on.

“It didn’t look too bad. It should feel better really soon” you tried to comfort him.  A pot of half boiled noodles and water was splattered all over the floor.

“Y/n I’m so sorry…” He muttered.

“It’s just pasta.” You shrugged.

That didn’t seem to be what he was talking about.  But he simply just said, “Yeah”

“Let me wrap your hand up at least.” You figured there had to be a first aid kit somewhere in the house.

He nodded and sighed, looking down at his hand and shaking his head.

You’d never seen him so out of sorts.  Though who wouldn’t be after what he said he saw.

You wondered how he could’ve burned his hand that badly on a pot that definitely had a long handle.

It hurt to think on that curiosity for too long.   You were pretty sure the answer was one you wouldn’t like hearing.  

There was some gauze in a bathroom closet thankfully, though not much it seemed enough to wrap his hand.

You walked back out to the kitchen to see it empty.  Peeking around the corner to where the living room was you saw Mingi sitting on the couch poking at his burn with his other hand.

“Leave that alone.” You snapped.  It startled him, yet when he saw you his face softened and his body seemed to relax into the couch.

“Sorry.” he muttered.

“Here.” You sat down next to him.  You didn’t mean to sit so close, but when you sat the couch seemed to slide you close to him, assisting your body’s efforts to be as near as possible to this man.  

The side of your leg was now completely pressed against his.  It didn’t seem to miss his attention either.  

When you looked at his face there was the softest smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.  You almost involuntarily gulped at how undeniably sexy his expression was.  How completely enchanting sitting this close to him was…

“H-hand.” you mumbled, holding your own hand out.

You felt the soft fabric of his hoodie now brushing against your shoulder as he moved even closer putting his hand palm up in yours.

The burn looked a bit worse than it had earlier, but seemed like it would heal alright on its own.  You couldn’t risk taking him to a hospital anyways.

Slowly you took the roll of gauze and while gently holding his hand up you started to carefully wrap it around.

You almost zoned out into your task, making sure that you were doing it just right, diligently keeping your eyes on his hand.  Well...until you were almost done and your eyes accidentally wandered up from the burn in the center of his hand to his fingers.  It seemed to take your eyes longer than you realized to study them all the way up to the tip.  Maybe you were trying to picture the feeling…

You slowly shifted your gaze up to Mingi and realized that his eyes had been locked on your face this entire time.  He’d been studying you study his hands, his lips starting to quiver as he watched you purse yours in concentration.   It’d almost seemed that he’d found it attractive the way you had been so focused on taking care of him.

Now that you were face to face you were hit with a slight embarrassment for being so close.  His face being only inches from your own.

You started to pull back from him, but his lips quickly parted and he let out a small noise in protest.

Time seemed to still.  

Maybe it had.

Maybe you were being blessed with a few more seconds to linger on that cute pout on his face.

On the way his hair was still so messy from sleeping earlier.  On the way that despite the pain in both of your eyes, despite the hurt that you’d always carry from this day...you wanted nothing more in this moment than him.

Finally.

You leaned forward to him, finally pressing a soft kiss on to his lips.  His body completely tensed up in surprise.  He held both his hand away from you as if something horrible would happen if he touched you.

Quickly you pulled back, thinking you must’ve misread the moment.

“Oh.” You brought your hand to your lips and tugged at your lower one a bit embarrassed.

“y/n.” Mingi spoke in a pained tone.

Your eyes had dropped down to your lap and you didn’t quite feel like looking back up at him.

“y/n.” this time he whispered.  That time was for him, almost like your name would soothe whatever it was he was feeling in this moment.

You jumped when you felt his fingers on your face.  He had his good hand now gently tucked under your chin, coaxing your face over to look at him.

“I’m not a good person.  I’m no better than…” he seemed to plead this at you, then let go of your chin with a sigh.

It made no sense to you.  How could he think he was a bad person.  How could he even think to start to compare himself to Blue like that.

You shook your head.

“You could never be like him Mingi.  He *killed* people.” you shuddered. “I-” you paused. “I’m sorry I kissed you.  You’re going through a lot, we both are.”

His eyes suddenly widened and now both his hands were on your face.

“No!” he almost shouted. “Fuck.”

You were being held now close enough that you could just ever so slightly lean forward and brush your lips against his again.

“I shouldn’t do this.”  He whispered, you could feel the soft breath of his voice against your skin.  

You closed your eyes for a moment and felt a warm wave wash over you.  He was so perfect and beautiful, and he was hurting so badly.

You had no idea what was really going on inside of him.  If you did maybe you wouldn’t be doing this.  Maybe you would’ve agreed.  But, then again, when the morals were put aside, neither of you could deny that not only did you both want this but…

“Mingi please.  You have no idea how many years I’ve wanted you, and I know you want me too.” you finally felt the words you’d carried for a long time lift from your chest, they were a weight gone that you’d always thought you’d die with.

He froze again, processing likely.  His lips muttered something silently.  You figured he was thinking on how he also had been ready to die with the thoughts he’d kept of you.   Like you, he had probably decided that he would settle for the small glances and giggles, and the miniscule flirtatious exchanges that Blue had always seemed to let slide.

Neither of you had ever thought anything would come of this.

But, neither of you had ever wanted anything more.

It was Mingi’s turn to put his lips to yours.  

All the air in your body seemed to leave as he almost pounced on you, pressing your back to the couch and roughly hooking one of your legs around his waist.

You were swirling with the feelings of arousal and surprise.  You felt a throb between your legs.  Yes.  If you could have anything in the world it would be this.

It would be him.

The way his pillowy lips moved against yours contrasted so starkly in comparison to Blue’s sloppy uncontrolled kisses.  Mingi kissed you like he was tasting his favorite food, savouring each moment and letting you melt into his mouth.

You had a hand tangled in his hair, his scruffy orange locks gave you quite a good handful to grip onto and you pulled his head to the side, putting your lips to the soft skin of his neck and parting your lips to suck.

He growled out at the feeling and started to grind himself against you.  Through the thin fabric of his pants you could feel the throbbing length of his cock start to grow against your leg.

He continued to hump into you, pressing you into the couch as he did and moving himself so that you could grind yourself against his leg in return.

You gasped out almost instantly when you felt his muscular thighs press into you.  You began to reflexively roll your hips against him, hoping to find some relief to the now aching need growing.

When your lips had left his neck, they gifted him with a beautiful purple mark on his skin.   You smiled at your artwork and gave it a quick peck.  

Mingi chuckled and brought his lips back to yours, giving you some more perfectly placed kisses.

He then winced and let out a hiss.  He’d started to move his injured hand down to where your bodies were still moving against each other desperately.  In the heat of the moment he’d forgotten his injury.  Shaking his head at himself he bit his lower lip and moved himself so that he could get his good hand between your legs.

He pressed two fingers against the outside of your shorts and rubbed a few times, giving you a mischievous smile as he noticed your eyes start to roll back at his touch.

He walked his fingers up to the button of your shorts, not taking long with getting it undone and unzipping them in one firm pull.

Mingi leaned down and nipped at your lower lip causing you to squeak and giggle.  His eyes sparkled back down at you,

He then moved himself to the side to get his hand in a better position, have his fingers start to tickle and play at the hem of your panties.

You felt a warm shiver bring goosebumps to the top of your skin.  You smiled up at him in amazement at his affect on you.

He also didn’t miss the effect he was having as he started to slide his fingers below that line.

It felt like a lifetime of waiting.

This.

The thing that had made it worth pushing through those jobs.  That made you keep building and growing even after everything you’d been through in your life.  

Him.

The person who held your heart so tightly when he hadn’t even known it, his eyes that held so many captured memories of you.  

Whether it was letting his eyes linger too long on the way smoke would fall from your lips as you’d stand lookout smoking your second cigarette.  The first one was always on the way there for the nerves of getting to the job.  

You snapped back to the moment when Mingi’s finger pressed firmly on your clit and started to circle.

You moaned out a soft hum and let your head fall back into the couch.  

Mingi hummed back a pleasure filled soft groan in a response to your noises, and moved his finger down to gather some of the now dripping wetness from your entrance and bring it back up to your clit, swirling it around in circles coating you in your own wetness.

Your hips bucked up into his hand, but he pressed you back down firmly.

“Stay still baby.  Let me.” He ordered, his hand now flat and held heavy to keep you from moving. “Are you gonna stay still?” he started the ever so slightly wiggle his fingers.  The small movement causing you to want nothing more to jerk your hips up again, but you obeyed.  You wanted nothing more than to please him now that you finally had him.

“Yes!” You desperately gasped out.

Mingi’s eyes were wild and while there were pained memories behind them, in the front, in this moment was lust.  You could see glazed over and excited eyes hungrily scanning and making their way from where his hand was in your shorts, and where your lips parted as you moaned for him.  

He pushed you further and further towards the high he was taking you to.  Taking turns between dipping his fingers into your soaking hole and bringing them back up to flick over your clit at a relentless pace.

“I-I’m close.” You gasped out.

He dropped his forehead to yours, and gave you a few encouraging pecks on the cheek.

“Please.” he moaned, begging to feel you cum under his fingers.

You felt him pick up his pace, his fingers rubbing against you now just where you needed them.

You bit down on your lip and tossed your head back, moaning and uttering out a mix of swears and Mingi’s name.

“Damn…” He whispered, his fingers still on you, now just slowly sliding over your sensitive nub as you twitched under him.  He gradually slowed his pace until he was lifting his hand out from your shorts, letting you come down from your orgasm.

You felt pure bliss and happiness.  There was nothing in the world besides Song Mingi.

He was now standing up and lifting his hoodie quickly up over his head.

You’d actually never seen him shirtless.  You’d always wondered and imagined…

When his shirt would slip up occasionally and you’d catch a glimpse you swore you’d get so light headed you’d end up on the floor.

So this?  For him to be standing in front of you, taking his shirt off and almost presenting himself to you with a cocky smirk.

You were lucky you were already laying down.

He tossed his hoodie and the shirt under it off to the side, now standing in front of you in only his pants that  hung far too low on his hips.

His tongue darted out quickly to wet his lower lip.

“Yeah?” He looked down at himself then back up to you.

As if he needed to ask.  How could you not find him sexy.  Every inch of him he’d revealed seemed to be just as effortlessly sexy as the rest of him.  You wouldn’t have expected anything less, but that definitely didn’t stop it from taking your breath away.

“Fuck yes.” you nodded in approval, giving him an obvious look up and down.

“Yeah, I thought so.” he smiled as he hopped back on top of you on the couch.

He slipped his hand back into your pants for a moment and rubbed you a little more, collecting some of your wetness on his fingers and bringing it up to your lips.

“Open.” he whispered his command, his eyes were heavy lidded and almost in a trance now staring at your lips with unwavering attention.

You parted them just enough for him to push his two fingers inside.  He slid them on your tongue and you closed your lips tightly around them, flicking your tongue along as you took your lips from the base of his fingers up to the tip.

He took a sharp breath in that caught in his throat, and he moved his hips needily against you hoping to find some relief for his very apparent hardness pressed to your center now.

“I want you Mingi.  I’ve always wanted you.” You spoke as he sat back on his heels on the couch to pull your shorts and panties off.  He held one of your legs up after your clothes had been tossed aside and rested it on his shoulder.  

He pressed the gentlest kiss you’d ever felt right above your ankle, then trailed his lips all the way down your leg, making you shudder and tremble at every touch.

“Mingi…” you moaned out when his lips hovered near your still dripping lips between your legs.  He didn’t stay there though, he kept moving himself up, pulling up your shirt as he left more kisses on your skin.

Your stomach twitched, getting slightly ticklish at the feeling as he kissed near your sides.  

Pulling up the fabric of your shirt further left him now with another barrier still as he reached your bra.

His hands made a quick job of unhooking your bra and fully tossing the rest of your clothes aside.  His burn still wrapped but the pain apparently ignored and pushed aside by his want.

He excitedly breathed out a “There.” and dove his head down taking one of your nipples into his  mouth and flicking the tip of his tongue.

“Fuck!” You hissed out, your hands shooting to his hair and holding him close to you.

“Sensitive nipples baby?” He pulled his mouth off you just slightly to speak.

“Mmm.” Was your only reply, and you tried to push his head back down onto you, needing to feel him more.  He delivered exactly what you wanted with a breathy chuckle, making your nipple back into his mouth, his good hand was on your other breast, now taking that nipple between two fingers and lightly pinching.

You yelped out and squirmed with pleasure under his touch.  

“Fuck me already Mingi!” you almost growled, grabbing his hair and pulling his head off of you and facing you.

You didn’t think you could take another second without feeling him inside of you.  

His hand left your tits and scurried to the hem of his pants at your order. His eyes were excited and surprised at your intensity, but he seemed to be extremely turned on by it, and started to comply with your request right away.

He seemed to sigh with relief as he pulled his pants down and let his cock spring free.  He took himself in his hand and moved a few shallow pumps around the base of his shaft before moving to position himself at your hole.

“I’ve imagined this so many times…” he whispered, pausing and moving the head of his cock up and down against you.  Your hips seemed to move up towards him on their own power, hearing that like you he’d imagined this moment over and over was music to your ears.

“Fuck me now Mingiiii” you whined out.

Finally he lowered his head to rest next to yours, burying himself in your neck and burying his cock fully into you in the same motion.

You gasped out at the sudden feeling.  

He didn’t wait long before moving.  Your walls clenched around him as he picked up his pace and your nails were scraping against his back before you knew it.

You hooked both of your legs around his waist giving him a position to move deeper inside of you.  He took what you gave him and started to pound into you at a pace that had you unable to hold back your moans, they had now turned almost to screams of pleasure.

Mingi made his own beautiful noises, grunts and groans that you’d be committing to memory forever.

You wished that this moment could last forever..

But, as he started to roll his hips into you now at the most desperate and careless pace so far, you knew he was close to his finish.

“y/n…” he whined out needily before biting down on your shoulder and thrusting himself into a few more rough times.

You could feel the warmness of his cum filling you up as he stilled.  He gasped out a soft “F-fuck” as his cock twitched and emptied every last drop that you were milking out of him, slowly moving your hips while he reveled in the moment of his orgasm.

He pulled out of you and rolled to his side next to you, clutching you tightly and bringing you to his chest.  His eyes shut and he was muttering something too quiet to hear against the top of your head.

He looked so peaceful, and happy, like a man who’d never been touched by all the cruel things that this world had to offer.   Like a Mingi that you wished could stay with you for the rest of your life.

Like the Mingi you wished that he really was.

The second cigarette was while you stood waiting, it was for the nerves of Mingi’s safety.

Every time that goofy smiling man went into one of the buildings your crew was told to show at, you feared for his life.

You’d never asked him or Blue why they got onto Crimson Rexcruit.  It was sort of customary not to ask.  They’d never asked you why you joined.

You wouldn’t have minded if they did.  It was pretty simple for you.  You wanted money, and you didn’t really have many skills, but you craved shiny things.

Blue seemed to fall into the same boat as you, he loved all of the flashy and pretty things that came with the money crime brought in, and all of his talents aligned well with this line of work.

Mingi though you never understood.  

Why would such a sweet, well mannered and kind person take up a life of stealing and...whatever else it was he did that you didn’t want to think about when he went into jobs.

You didn’t like to watch in on him, keeping your eyes to the outside, making sure you could tip the crew off if things seemed off or cops were on their way.

That didn’t mean you weren’t curious, curious about the man that Mingi turned into that would get him to force a cashier to hand over their entire store’s safe.

Did he scream? You’d never heard him scream…

Not before today that was.

Did he threaten them?

Did he always bring that gun…

“Mingi?” you asked softly to the man nuzzling his head against you.  You reached out to play with a few strands of his hair.

“Yes?” he mumbled into you.

*Ask him why he brought the gun…*

“Where do you think Blue is…”

Mingi’s body tensed up, he stopped nuzzling against you.

“I-” he bit down hard on his lower lip and shut his eyes. “Can’t we just have this moment?”

*of course we can.  Please let's stop this and just have this moment*

“No...I need to know Mingi.” your voice spoke.

He slowly sat up, pulling himself back into his pants.  You sat up with him, tugging a knit blanket that was hanging from the back of the couch and wrapping yourself in it.  It was itchy against your skin, but you’d shivered the moment Mingi’s touch left you.

“Y/n…” His hands were balled into tight fists, you were scared he might break a finger.

*Tell him it's okay.  Tell him he doesn’t need to worry about this right now.*

“Please Mingi, tell me what happened...all of it.” your voice spoke sternly.

Mingi’s head snapped right to you, and he let the words just fly out.

“I shot him.  He’s dead, I shot him.” his tone was emotionless but his hands were shaking so hard…

*reach out and grab him*

“You...what…” your voice was wavering now.

“I went to grab the gun from him after he shot the two men...I- it happened so fast...we were both screaming...I was telling him to give it to me and somehow we got on the ground…” now he was falling apart, choking on every word. “He had the gun pointed to my fucking head.  He had his finger on the fucking trigger and he said ‘They told me I could kill all of you and walk out of here, you owe me your life asshole’ he screamed it and...I wasn’t even thinking.” He buried his hands in his hair and tugged down hard. “Damnit.” he muttered “I turned it on him, then I grabbed it and fucking turned it on him...and just...shot…”

You were like a statue in place, your blood might have even stopped flowing, your heart definitely stopped beating.

That...didn’t sound like Mingi.

Mingi would’ve thrown away the gun.

“Wh-” You trembled, not able to bring out anything more.

“You don’t understand what it's like when you’re in there y/n.” he sucked in a wavering breath, trying to collect himself but speaking in a raspy voice. “It’s like you’re in survival mode...things in your brain work a bit differently...um” he shook his head, “that's not an excuse.  Fuck. Fuck” Mingi grabbed a television remote from the table next to him and threw it at the wall angrily, it hit and split into a few pieces, the batteries flying across the other side of the room.

‘ *Hold him. Please.  Let me reach out and hold him* ‘

“I can’t even look at you…” your voice muttered.

‘ *no…let me look at him a little longer* ‘

“I feel like I’m gonna be sick…” your voice spoke again.

Everything was spinning and you couldn’t bring yourself to look at anything but your hands in your lap.

‘ *not yet, not yet,* ‘

“Y/n. I’m so...fucking sorry.  Dammit he was my best friend. How do you think I feel?” his broken voice rang in your ears, yet you still didn’t look up at him.

A loud clock started to tick in your ears, it thumped louder than your heart was beating in your chest.

‘ *not yet, please not yet,* ‘

If you could do anything to turn back time…

To change things, to make this moment anything but what it was…

‘ *Tell him you love him.* ‘

Louder than everything you’d heard today was the knock on the door, and the voice that yelled out.

“Police! Open up! You’re surrounded!”

You turned to face Mingi in horror, watching as he snapped into action running to the kitchen and grabbing the gun from the drawer he’d stashed it in.

“Mingi wait you don’t have to-” You gasped out, grabbing his arm as he rushed frantically back into the living room with you.

He looked crazed, an opposite man to the one cuddled to your side only moments ago.

*Ask him why he brought the gun*

He nervously fumbled with the safety on the gun and then turned to you.

“Get the fuck in the other room.” He was serious and stern, his eyes were pleading.

‘*Let me stay with him. Please. Please.*’

The voice outside the door yelled out again.

“We’re coming in!” It boomed out in warning.

“I said GO!” Mingi screamed, his whole body shaking with the force of his words.

There was a crash of something hitting the front door.

You had your eyes on Mingi, and he had his wide nervous eyes on the door as he raised his gun, held it out in front of him towards where the noise had come from.

And time stood still.

The world went quiet. All except for a sob that ripped through your throat as you fell to your knees.

“PLEASE!” you screamed out.  Finally the voice that had been in your head begging to be let out was speaking.  “Mingi I love you!”

He was still frozen, holding the gun out in front of him.  In front of him the door was hung in mid air, it had been busted through by the police and you could see the start of a leg that had begun to push its way into the house before everything stopped.

“Let me tell him I love him.” your hands were pressed to the floor grasping at nothing as you sobbed.

A voice echoed in the room.

“You know we can only let you do things that were in your memories.”

“I know...but can’t we try?” you pleaded, staring at the ceiling, not quite sure where to direct your attention.

“No,  It's impossible.” it spoke in monotone.

You took one last look at the beautiful troubled man in front of you, studying every last image, photographing his eyes, his lips, his hands, even though they were clutching that gun.

The gun that you will never even at your dying breath be able to figure out why he had on him that day.

You’d hoped to also find a bit of clarity here for that.

But, like it had been all your life, it would stay a mystery to you.

It seemed like you’d only blinked and you were back in a blindingly white room.  

The beeping of monitors clicked everywhere around you.

“Hello y/n.  Welcome back.” The voice from inside the room spoke to you.  It belonged to a man in a white coat who stood over you now.  

He reached down to your arm and started to check the chords and tubes you were hooked up to.

Your arm…

You looked down to see the wrinkled and aged skin that had seen many many years after that day, but had never forgotten what it felt like to touch Mingi.

Mingi had died that day, almost seconds after that last moment you saw him. The police had seen the gun in his hands and there was no hesitation.

You had cowered on the ground beside him, holding him as long as you could.. It had taken two officers to pull you off of his body.

“I’m sorry that It didn’t get to be everything you wanted…” The doctor spoke, his hand hovering over a blue button.  “Are you still ready?”

Was it everything you wanted?

No...not quite.

But life never really was.  That didn’t make the good parts any less enjoyable.

“Yes. I’m ready.  I got to see his face one last time.”

The doctor nodded, “You’ve had a hell of a life y/n.”

You felt a warm smile grow on your face and you shut your eyes, relaxing back into your bed.

Mingi’s body melting smile flashed one last time in your mind.

“Yeah, I really have.”

#ateez #ateez x reader #mingi x reader #mingi smut #ateez smut #mingi angst #ateez angst #ateez fanfic #mingi fanfic #mingi x you #ateez x you #mingi

[infinites-chaser]

dark night fireworks | mlqc | lucien/mc | dreams and memory

spoilers for ch.13 and somewhat inspired by ch.16

warning for drinking and vague + non-explicit sexual content

“Lucien,” you whisper, as if speaking his name aloud will somehow make it real.

It doesn’t matter, you tell yourself. The only thing that matters is this moment. This moment a million times over. And what’s a moment in a dream if you make yourself believe it’s true?

‘oh, love, even if I wake up and it all disappears and becomes a mess

oh, love, I’ll wait for this night again’

xii.

Once, when you were young, you caught a butterfly, trapping its delicate wings between your hands. Most of your childhood memories have faded to sepia and tones of grey, but this you remember in vivid color. It comes to you now in fragments, like a painting ripped to shreds: The butterfly's wings, bright yellow blurs that tickle your palms. Your father's horror. The warm wind, his panicked scolding, and the wide blue sky.

You remember him telling you that trapped things, once let go, are never the same after. He told you catching the butterfly crushed its wings, and it would never fly straight again. You cried, you think, as you often did, and opened your hands.

You can't remember the rest. Did the butterfly emerge from your finger prison, its cocoon? Did it fly away? Did it fly straight and true?

Memory is reconstructive. If you reach for the pieces enough times, your mind will build its own answer.

But, now, the truth: the butterfly was already dead. It had been dead since you first snatched it from where it danced in the golden spring sky.

When you laid your palms flat, the butterfly's bright wings had stirred once and then fell still. You cried. To this day, you're still not sure why you don't remember this, your Schrodinger's butterfly. In your hands, it had become a lesson from your father, something with the possibility of being not quite dead. In your memory, it becomes immortal, that butterfly you remember entrapping but can never vividly picture flying free.

i.

The bar is not pink, as its name, The Peony Pavilion, might suggest. Its walls are a deep purple that fades upward to dark blue, then a black which stretches across the ceiling, uninterrupted save by tiny pinpricks of light. The floor, by contrast, is a softly glowing grey, carpeted and plush, muffling even the heaviest of footfalls of more intoxicated customers or louder, untrained personnel.

It is crowded normally, seats filled with patrons, troubled dreamers, and drunks. On busy nights, a spiraling chandelier will descend from the endless ceiling, shimmering with the colors of sunset: yellow, pink, and white. The air will still-- the frequent visitors know what’s coming, they tell their newer compatriots to be quiet, to wait.

A woman will unfold herself from a crouched position in the half-light, hair like unbound midnight, her dress a pure sparkling white. On cue, the patrons will clap and cheer, but she will gaze past them all, her eyes worlds away, caught up in a vision only she can see. She'll sweep a bow. They'll all fall silent.

The clock will strike twelve, and the lights of the chandelier will dim to a shade of purple, a twilight hue a few hours softer than the color of the walls.

The woman will open her mouth and begin to sing.

But not tonight.

Tonight, the bar’s doors are closed. Only the bartender stands behind the counter. All seats sit empty, save two.

xi.

He catches your attention from across the bar. (It’s easy. You’re the only two inside.)

One stolen glance and you're lost in his eyes again, like a moth to a dark flame. You're reminded, briefly, of the sleepless nights you once spent following him through the city, a lonely journey down moonlit alleys, into the cinema, into bars. They're nights from a time you know you can't return to, a time you, even after everything, still hold dear.

You read about the primacy effect one time in a psychology textbook, following along for a few pages over his shoulder before you stifled a yawn. He’d marked the page and closed the book, and turned to caress the top of your head with a gentle smile.

The study those pages had described surfaces in your mind now, as he raises his glass and drinks, dark eyes never leaving yours. The scientists had split their participants into two groups, and given them the same list of traits in different orders, one presenting a fictional man with his flaws first and strengths last, the other, the reverse. They'd then asked each group for their impression of the man.

Despite being given the exact same listed traits, they had opposite responses. The first, remembering most clearly his flaws, thought him a terrible person. The second saw him simply as human, and sympathized with those natural flaws.

At the time, you hadn't understood it. You couldn't think of how it related, out of the study and academia, back to everyday life. Of course now, you do. You're in his experiment. (You're in the second group, presented strengths first, flaws last.)

You can't help but continue to stare, your traitorous heart twisting with endlessly conflicting feelings at the sight of slim fingers you still remember holding, and the elegant panes of his face that you’ll never forget.

ii.

He'd explained primacy again, after you'd watched Memento, a movie he'd called one of his favorites. You don't know anymore if that was true. You don't think you know a single true thing about him. But still, you remember it. His words. The movie. The Polaroid. Don’t believe his lies.

The movie starts centered around the main character, and it’s intensely subjective, he’d said. We see him and his world through his eyes. We learn the details of the plot along with him, even as he forgets, and by the time the movie tells us he’s not as good of a person as we’d like to remember and we finally step out of his head and question his character, it’s too late. We're back at the start. A beginning at the end, an ending at the beginning.

The movie’s a bit like those classic math puzzles, he had said, and had chuckled at your groan. We begin with two trains going in opposite directions towards each other: one from the past, in black-and-white, going forward, one, in color, from the present going back, and they meet somewhere in the grey in between, at the start of the movie. Only, we’re introduced to his positive perception of his present self first.

So we call the movie’s arguable villain hero, up until the movie’s end. Just as you would like to think of him not as Ares, as a villain, up until this dream ends.

xi.

You know you’re dreaming when you blink, and he’s gone from the shadowy corner only to reappear right next to you, your name on his lips with a smile.

“Lucien,” you whisper, as if speaking his name aloud will somehow make the moment real. As if a dream could ever become reality.

It doesn’t matter, you tell yourself. The only thing that matters is this moment. This moment a million times over. And what’s a moment in a dream if you make yourself believe it’s true?

He raises his glass to your lips, a silent invitation.

You meet those dark eyes. You drink.

(A different movie, but. You fall. He's your totem, your ever-spinning top. You wait for the kick.)

iii.

The world shifts and swirls around you. Only he stays steady, awash in a sea of sunset colors and midnight starry lights. You take his hand, your anchor, and he lets you.

Your dress is a soft purple now. Now, you say, since you think it used to be pink, and before that, white. (If the bartender would speak, she'd tell you it looks like the chandelier: dripping in crystals, iridescent, reminiscent of the fading day, the coming night.)

x.

There's an invisible glass wall between you and him. (You don't remember Ares. You don't remember why.)

You press up against it, and it shatters.

iv.

He calls your name, and you surface, dizzy, from your daze.

"Why did you come here?" He asks. His hand's hovering, almost reaching, on the verge of taking your glass away or perhaps tucking an escaped strand of hair behind your ear.

"Why do I do things? Why does anyone do anything?"

You're definitely a little drunk.

"What I do isn't meaningless just because there are things I don't remember," you say, and what you mean is things you've made me forget.

"The world doesn't just disappear when you close your eyes, does it?"

"Memento," he notes with that same gentle, enigmatic smile. "Touché."

Then, musing, quieter:

"So, you remember that night."

"I remember everything."

(You both know that's a lie.)

ix.

(a tangent.)

Once, you asked, waking from the middle of a nightmare to a starless night:

"Daddy, why do I forget so many things?"

Your father held you close without a word. (You weren't expecting an answer.)

Now, you think it suits you, being a girl cut loose in time.

v.

Your head hurts.

You'd ask the bartender for a glass of ice water, but the silent, white-clad woman's gone. In her places stands a gleaming door. Behind the door lies silver stairs.

Your temples throb again, and you think, fresh air. He takes your hand, and you let him. You pass through the doorway together.

viii.

(another tangent.)

A question without a proper answer: what does it mean to forget?

You searched it on the internet for Miracle Finder, found Wikipedia pages on the different types of memory and how your brain wires them all. Each article was long, convoluted, and a little pretentious.

(You gave up.)

Spoiler alert: neuroscientists still don't know.

You asked Lucien. He doesn't, either.

(The beginning of the hypothesis of an answer, buried in words about synapse strengthening and weakening: forgetting is just another word for loss.)

A better question, but one you'll never get a proper answer for: when your memory of someone is erased with Evol, which part of the brain is it affecting? What neural connections are lost, overwritten by the unnatural?

After all, Evol goes beyond the explainable, but it'd be wrong to say it doesn't affect those circuits at all.

A quick lesson that Lucien will never teach you: memory loss isn't like what you see in the movies.

There's many types of memory. You already know the first two: short-term and long-term. The temporary. The eroding. (outside these two-- the already lost)

(Memento's different. In it, he's lost the ability to make new long-term memories. Not quite memory loss. More like he can't feel time.)

Within the eroding are two subtypes: explicit, and implicit, or conscious and unconscious.

First, within explicit:

Semantic memory, our memory of general facts. It's how we familiarize ourselves with the world. (The sky is blue. Grass is green. The city the company headquarters are in is Loveland City.) A knock on the head to important bits involved here, and you won't remember the name of the president or how many cents add up to a dollar, but you'll still remember your childhood.

Episodic memory, the memory of our personal experiences. Many people argue this is the memory that makes you you. Say the amnesia-inducing Evol removes this. You forget an important event (a dream, a nightmare where he was Ares and you still called on him for protection, and he came, he saved you).

There, you say. Question answered. Problem solved.

But wait. The lesson's not over yet. There's still implicit. The unconscious part of your memory. (Freud's favorite.)

Implicit memory contains multitudes. (We'll just focus on a few.)

The important bits: implicit memory stores the memories necessary to learn. Procedural memory covers skills.

Then there's association, and key to association are your emotions. (You'll remember things that make you happy, make you angry, make you sad. You just won't remember why.)

Lastly, priming, also known as pattern completion. (If a puzzle was put in front of you, you'd be able to solve it, if you had before.)

Long story short, memory loss by Evol, if scientific, doesn't wipe them all out. Let's say it just wipes episodic. No more memory of the event. No more memory of the event itself. Let's say the emotions remain. Let's say you're still primed. But we digress.

(Lesson over.)

vi.

You race up the stairs, past pipes, through smoke, and burst onto the roof, giddy, flushed, his hand in yours the whole way. In the night air, your dress shimmers and darkens to a midnight blue, just a touch shy of the black of the silk of his suit.

The roof is wide open and empty, save for a delicate floating canopy of fairy lights. Beyond the rosy glow, vivid colors of fireworks shatter bright against the velvet curtain of night.

He pauses at the sight of the fireworks, the city far below, and you stagger back against him, one hand raised to the sky, laughing, drunk. Neither of you notice when the silver stairway disappears.

You loop your arms around his neck and stare up into his eyes. At first, the light doesn’t reflect off of them and you almost freeze, but he clasps a hand to the small of your back and draws you closer. When you blink up at him again, the dark of his gaze is warmed by the shine of the veil of lights.

“Where are the stars?”

“Shall I go and fetch them for you?”

Before you can respond, he leans in and catches the swell of your lips between his, dark eyes closed.

The first kiss is gentle and teasing, like his words. The second kiss is yours when he pulls back for air and you follow him. The third devours you.

His hands move in opposite directions; one floating up to cup your cheek and draw you in further with a caress, the other creeping down your back, leaving a trail of fire, aroused nerves, in its wake. It settles on the back of one of your thighs, and grips rough, possessive, hard and--

you gasp a single word between stolen breaths,

Lucien.

His name burns stronger than any alcohol on your lips, on his, it consumes you both, and you're glad of it, you're content to go up in flames. Your hands move to match his, to mark him as your own. You think this is perhaps what fireworks feel like, the moment before the end.

(You explode. It's not as pretty as a fireworks display.)

You arch your back against him and you suddenly remember the butterfly, those vivid splinters from your childhood so small they could hardly be called memories. You are not certain of much anymore but you are certain of this: You are his Schrodinger's butterfly, dancing futilely, dead in the palms of his hands.

He pulls away, panting, and you want to, but this time you do not follow. You don't move at all. Trapped things, you hear your father say, voice shaking, the butterfly long gone, once let go, are never the same after.

Your mind doesn't remember, but something in your heart does: this has happened before. He's altered your memory so many times, but you still can't remember to forget him.

(Emotional memory, and now. Priming. Some part of you sees the same pattern fall into place.)

His hand, cold against your flushed cheek moves to cover your eyes, and you know: you won't remember the ending of this, either. You don't try to stop him.

"Go back to sleep. Forget this nightmare."

His voice comes, silky smooth and soft. Sad, you want to think, though you know it can't be.

"What if I wake up, and this isn’t a dream? What if that's the nightmare?"

"Then find your way back here. I'll be waiting."

You close your eyes under his cool fingers, and wake to warm sheets.

In your dream, he's still smiling. You're sure of it.

xx.

You're waiting for someone. Someone's waiting for you. (You aren't sure which it is. You aren't sure who.)

The butterfly's wings flutter in your small child hands, light yellow heartbeats tickling your fingers. The sky is grey. A chill wind blows. Your father is silent, frozen and smiling. Gone.

You remember (or at least you tell yourself you do):

When you opened your palms, the butterfly flew straight. It flew true.

#mlqc #mlqc lucien #mlqc fanfic #mr love queen's choice #mlqc xu mo #val writes #this one is. super trippy and pretentious and i love it but it also makes -1 sense #also completely based on the aesthetic of sunmi's pporappimpam ieofklsjsl #minirant but i h8 tumblr for not having proper paragraph breaks i wanted to do smth cool with the numbering instead but uh. i cant count so #the reason the vii is missing is bc i can't count not bc it's deep or anything

[electrickissposts]

Shades of pink and orange blending with blues of the sky, with the sun slowly sinking away stood teh and ohaew watching the sunset by the beach.

"teh.." calls ohaew softly.

"hmm ?" teh responds, still watching the sunset.

"the town is going to play yongjian at the open air theatre on sunday, for it's 20th anniversary," says ohaew.

"Oh yeah, I heard about it through p'hoon" says teh, turning to look at ohaew.

"So, I was wondering...if you'd like to watch it with me ?" asks ohaew, shyly.

there's a long pause, teh is looking at ohaew, eyebrows slightly raised, a look of shock? amusement? dislike ? ohaew couldn't figure it out, it didn't look like a positive sign, so he quickly added,

"Ugh, it's okay if you don't want to ! we've watched it like a thousand times already, it'd be boring and ugh you must be busy with– "

"I'd like that," says teh, cutting ohaew off "I'm sorry for the pause, I was just surprised but YES, let's go and watch yongjian on sunday. Together." he says while holding ohaew's hands and smiling at him.

Ohaew feels giddy with happiness, his heart beating so fast, he was sure teh could hear it. He smiles back at teh and says "okay! so it's decided, I'll get the tickets for us."

Ohaew can't seem to stop smiling. He feels the warmth radiating from where his hands have locked with teh's, a sweet sense of satisfaction settling in. They stand there silently, holding hands, watching the last of the orange-red hues fade into the purple.

"So, it's going to be our first date huh" says teh suddenly, looking back at ohaew, his smile blinding "I'm excited," and ohaew is totally at a loss of words so he does what he thinks will calm his heart, he hugs teh, burying his face in teh's neck, holding him for dear life.

"I know you're blushing," teases teh.

"Stop it," ohaew mumbles, he feels teh laughing at him silently.

"I love you," says teh, after a while. Ohaew pulls himself back slowly, looks teh in the eyes and he smiles, because he too loves him back.

#i told sunset about you #tehohaew

[jasperwhitcock]

02. DISTRACTIONS

i’ve decided to continue with the au of bella as a vampire & edward as a human inspired by a post from @bellasredchevy, so here’s another installment (you can read the first chapter here). if anyone has thoughts on if it’d be more preferable for me to post this fanfic on wattpad/fanfiction.net/another website rather than posting it on tumblr, let me know :-) if not, i’ll continue to post here & figure out some tag to make it easier to find!

The boys had left for a hunting trip, so I found myself falling victim to what Alice liked to call a “sleepover”. It was a ridiculous name for this kind of occasion. An unfortunate part of what we were consequently lost us the ability to sleep and thus, dream. I had found this to be something I considered an advantage when I was first changed. I had so much extra time I could devote to reading! Unfortunately, the excitement didn’t last very long. I still enjoyed the benefits of all the ample time, but I did miss the creativity of my subconscious that allowed me to live in other worlds unrestricted by the more sentient, aware parts of my mind. I missed escapism.

I even missed the nightmares at times. I had been such a vivid dreamer.

Additionally, it was even further ridiculous to refer to this as a sleepover when we spent every night together. Without the sleep and the ‘over’ aspect of spending the night away from home, this was definitely the worst sleepover I’d been to in the course of my existence.

Although, as a bonding time amongst the women of the Olympic Coven, with the exception of some of Alice’s ideas for activities, I enjoyed this kind of night very much. I’d have gone with the boys to hunt if I had any intention of returning to school tomorrow. I’d owe them an explanation when they returned as for the tension that filled the car as we drove home from school. I hated to be the center of attention, so I was appreciative when Alice and Rosalie agreed to keep the horrific encounter a secret for now. I didn’t want the scrutiny of their concern nor the dramatics of the situation.

I was lucky that they had plans with Carlisle. Rosalie was able to convince Emmett and Jasper to begin their night early by allowing us to drop them off at the hospital – much to the dismay of my bulkier brother who had spent his day eagerly anticipating our rematch. My other sister easily dismissed their suspicion of our motives. Nobody questioned Alice twice. I was glad to have more time to mull over what to say to Carlisle. As much as I wanted his guidance, if I could put off growing the audience to my moment of weakness for another couple of hours, I’d gladly take the distraction of Alice braiding my hair into a long plait down my back while she blasted music in the garage where Rosalie worked.

Typically when we had nights like these, we each selected an activity to do together. Alice made the choice  – unfortunately for me – to sort through all of our closets and rid them of items she no longer deemed wearable. With the exception of a few favorites, we rarely wore the same things twice, so it seemed like a waste of time. That is until I realized that this was all just a ruse to chastise me for the items of clothing she stocked in my closet that I didn’t wear. My small, voyeuristic sister was pleased with Rosalie and Esme, creating a nice, substantial pile of clothing to donate, whereas my closet ended up acquiring even more clothing than before. I was far too moody to care to protest.

Esme arranged for the four of us to paint together while some french movie played in the background. As an added challenge, she had Alice describe a vision to us, and we all attempted to capture the image on our canvases. Rosalie simply wanted our company as she continued her ongoing project of restoring yet another classic car that she’d eventually gift as an item for a charity auction. My activity of choice usually was the same: I’d select a book for us to read, and we’d have a book club to conclude the night once we’d all finished.

Tonight, however, I wasn’t feeling entirely up for it. Although I definitely wouldn’t mind the fictional escape away from Forks, I didn’t have it in me to sincerely participate in the conversation that would follow.

I wanted to move beyond the events of this afternoon already. As much as it disconcerted me, I didn’t want to be so severely consumed. I was growing irritated with the feelings of disappointment that preoccupied me. I had taken my ease in this life for granted.

Although I knew it wasn’t his fault, I found myself becoming frustrated with the Masen kid. When I began to see eyes materializing in the green brush strokes of the trees of my painting, I unintentionally destroyed my canvas. Something about the perplexity in his shockingly perceptive irises and the intelligence that marked his thick eyebrows when they pulled together was inexplicably haunting me. The irony of feeling haunted when I was the undead creature was not lost on me.

“I’ll grab you another one, dear,” Esme soothed, exchanging worried glances with Rosalie and Alice before disappearing to bring me another large square of coarse, woven white fabric to vandalize.

When the lyrics of the song Alice sang along to as Esme handed Rosalie the tools she needed began to creep into my head and develop new meanings I didn’t want to hear, I abruptly sprang from the driver's seat of Rose’s convertible and ran from the garage. I wanted to unravel in peace.

I stopped when I reached the large, grey stones of the riverbank.

The forest was peaceful. It was nearly dawn; a pale, purple-grey tinted light cloaked the scenery before me, the orange and pink hues of the morning sun that should fade into the navy-black of the night sky were hidden behind a thick layer of rain clouds. The water of the river flowed sinuously by as some birds sang far in the distance. The greenery was enveloped in the fallen rain of the night, droplets of water clinging stunningly to every blade of grass, every needle of pine of the lush vegetation like crystals and diamonds. A cold mist intimately caressed the river, enveloping the landscape in a fresh haze. I could now see the vision Alice described a few hours prior come to life. Here I stood now, quietly, amongst the skyline of trees in daybreak.

I closed my eyes to the muted beauty of this morning, indifferent to the ephemerality of the moment. How many mornings had I seen like this? They were all already cemented in my infallible mind. I breathed in, the cold air whistling deliciously down my throat. On my tongue I could taste the minty, rain-kissed evergreens, the warm streams of blood pumping the tiny, fluttering heartbeats of the smallest animals, the earthy, sweet brooks leading back to the river. The wind softly stroked the sparkling spring water, and as I focused on the faint whisper of an insect’s fluttering wings, I heard the lithe, recognizable stride of my adopted mother approaching. With her came new scents and sounds – white gardenia, freshly baked bread, honey, peach blossoms, a whisper of lush silk, a hiss of air, a gentle nuzzling of fast footsteps on glossy moss.

She arrived by my side but said nothing, joining me in my silent reverie.

“You have nothing to say?” I asked after we stood there for some time, Esme watching what I assumed was the faint hint of the sun rising beyond the clouds, lifting the overcast view into lighter shades of blue-grey. I could feel the slight difference in temperature against my skin.

“Is there something you wish for me to say, sweetheart?” Esme asked gently.

I finally opened my eyes, turning to meet her topaz eyes full of love and patience.

“Not really,” I half-smiled, feeling guilty.

Her beautiful mouth widened into a smile, lighting up her heart-shaped face. She seemed to find some humor in my honesty, letting out a peal of laughter that frightened some distant creatures into silence at the unexpected sound of bells. Her caramel-colored waves of hair shook lightly with the motion.

“Oh, my Bella.” Instantaneously, I was enveloped in her warm, velvet arms. “It is absolutely valid to feel such despondency, but we must celebrate that we are not mourning the loss of another life! For that, I am very proud of you. And I’ve been so relieved that in this life you’ve never had to grieve the mistakes that even I have made...but we would never feel differently towards you if you had. Nor do we feel differently that you’re experiencing a struggle much more strenuous than before.”

She paused before continuing more fervently, “it makes you no less strong, and you will have the strength to resist...I believe that with all my heart. Please don’t feel so disappointed with yourself. You must give yourself some credit and patience and forgiveness. It pains me to see you so cheerless!”

“I’m sorry I seem so...down,” I sighed, resting my head dejectedly on her shoulder. “I guess, to be frank, it just...sucks to feel like I don’t have the super sense of self control that I thought I did. I’m beginning to feel bad for Jasper now,” I snorted bitterly.

She laughed again at my colloquial choice of words.

“Perhaps you owe him an apology. You and your brother have given him an awful lot of trouble for how he struggles,” my mother accused me teasingly, stroking my hair just as my sisters had. The comfort was nice, but I also felt irrationally remorseful to have any need for it.

“Yeah, maybe I do,” I frowned, thinking of having to put aside my pride.

She pulled away to hold me at arm’s length, cautiously studying my face.

After a moment, she pulled me against her again in another embrace.

“I will leave you alone now. It seems you would benefit from some more time by yourself to think without your sisters’ futile attempts to distract you.”

I could tell she was smiling from the way the words left her mouth. “But I won’t allow you to wallow in pity forever.”

Esme released me from the hug and reappeared four yards away from me, the expression on her perfect face stern. “So take the time you need to process how you’re feeling. But only be alone if you need to be. Don’t let yourself be lonely. That’s very important...You know where we will be.”

With that, she was gone.

I couldn’t understand why I was so inconsolable. Of course, I valued her words and the sentiment. My family’s understanding and support were wonderful to have, but I couldn’t shake the upheaval the boy’s blood had wreaked on my thoughts. It seemed to me a cruel joke, that after all these years of so naturally adjusting to this life, I now experienced the true, macabre consequences of this form. Would I have traded the ease that had accompanied me until now if it meant I’d never have experienced a magnetism as strong as the sweet scent that lingered just beneath the Masen boy’s frail skin? Would I have chosen to struggle more the entirety of my existence if it meant I’d have avoided the ferocity of that moment in my suddenly not so banal biology class? Maybe I would have.

This must be some kind of punishment from some god somewhere. Why else would I experience such effortlessness only to be met with an unendurable, unassailable call to reject everything good about my existence? I never gave much thought to religion in either of my lives. I suppose that after I’d been changed, it’d seem like a far more interesting subject because what could be the implications of an existence such as mine? Did my being a monster provide more validity to the existence of a god? If mythological evil creatures plagued the earth, then couldn’t a supernatural deity who created the universe exist as well? Or did my being a monster provide evidence that there was no god – because who could create such a despicable creature?

It had been far more evocative a topic to Carlisle who had spent much of his life after his transformation pondering these questions, but in all truthfulness, it never bothered me much. I adjusted well to this life. I understood why I was changed and didn’t long for my humanity the way some of my other family members did. Of course, I hated the risk I posed to human life, but my conscience felt clear as my record remained clean. I never endured any self loathing for what I was.

Only now did I question myself. Only now did I wrestle with the ramifications of my immortality. Only now did I feel in its entirety – I had experienced strong desires for human blood before but never like this – the true shame of lusting for the end to someone’s precious life. Only now did I truly feel like the monster I was.

I was finally recognizing the wrongness within me.

I was mistaken to feel resentful and angry with the human boy. He did not make me this way. I had always been this way. I had just been blind to the fact for all these years. I had been naive.

He was entirely innocent and deserving of the life he would live. One where his future would not be stolen in a high school biology classroom as his body emptied. One where he would graduate and go on to better schools. One where he would have a successful job in something he was interested in that provided him with purpose. One where he would meet someone smart and kind. One where he would marry, have a family, and grow old surrounded by his progeny.

I suddenly experienced a strange sensation. A feeling I hadn’t felt in years – jealousy. Though I’d never envied a human before, I envied the possibilities this boy had. I never mourned the choices that were no longer available to me. I graduated countless times. I held countless jobs. I felt fulfilled in providing to the world with our philanthropy and loving my family. In that, I found purpose. I didn’t care to have children.

But did I care to experience romantic love?

I loved romance, but I never minded that it was unattainable to me beyond the pages of a novel. I’d met other vampires, but were the odds in my favor to find a soulmate amongst such a rare kind? I didn’t think so, and I was fine with that. I was happy in my solitude. At times, I was the odd one out in my coupled-off family, but I had often felt like the odd one out in my previous life. It wasn’t a new experience, so I never cared. But in thinking of this human boy’s life, free of monsters, free of me, I came to the realization that unlike myself, he could have anyone he wanted. He was not bound by anything other than maybe his own inhibitions. He had the luxury of choice in every aspect of his life but also in love. He had simply the luxury of love itself.

Why were these thoughts coming to me now? I had so much time to ponder my existence, and suddenly this encounter had me incomprehensibly considering inessential things.

I take back my previous feelings about the boy’s innocence. He is stupid and culpable. He’s inspiring stupidity in me.

He’s very fortunate that I have a conscience. I could just as easily murder him in irritation of the havoc his existence is inflicting on my life.

I refocused my thoughts on the scenery before me, longing for the previous morning where I watched the verdant motion of the trees outside the car window after Emmett’s silly destruction of the novel I still had yet to fix. Somehow, it seemed like a long time ago.

In that memory, I eventually found a small moment of peace again.

No painted eyes could haunt me here.

And yet, I was left with a sense of uneasiness, feeling as if my life thus far had been a long exposition, and I had just encountered the inciting incident. I was feeling – though I’d been irrevocably altered once before – as if something would soon change me forever.

we all know stubborn bella wouldn’t yeet herself to alaska like edward’s dramatic ass. hope y’all enjoy hehe <3

#twilight fanfiction #twilight renaissance #twilight au #twilight saga #the twilight saga #bella swan #edward cullen #jasperwhitcock #esme cullen #alice cullen #rosalie hale #vampire #equinoxjw

[inspirationdivine]

Perchance To Dream || Lydia and Jared

Timing: During the POTW Parties: @themidnightfarmer @inspirationdivine Summary: When Jared’s glamour fails, he seeks out a safe place to hide and reflect

He’d never had so much trouble keeping himself in check. Jared was usually very disciplined with his glamour, it was firm even while he was asleep most nights even. But it seemed exhaustion was unlike any other external factor, and he found himself actually having to concentrate hard on keeping his appearance ‘normal’ as he went about his shopping. He was slipping, he felt himself slipping before he caught his reflection in a window as he passed by, he was losing control and his skin was fading out of it’s fake hue. It was only a matter of minutes before he’d lost it, and with how brutal his natural appearance could be, he needed to get home fast. He cursed having walked into town. Of all days to have decided not to have the safety of a closed vehicle. There was a bubbling panic in his stomach as he passed yet another dark window, able to see his eyes shifting from blue to purple. “Fuck.” and he took off running. He didn't think about where he was going, but when he arrived at the gates of Lydia's home he felt saved. He sprint into the gate and around the garden out of sight of any prying eyes. Or he would have had he not been tackled to the ground.

Lydia was completely unaware of the situation happening just outside her garden. She had a backlog of emails as long as her that she was busy with, and a kitten toying with her left hand, keeping her distracted as she tried to type. “Hey! Gentle,” she scolded the tabby cat when she was bitten a little too hard. Just then, O walked in urgently, speaking fast. “We have neutralised a threat in the garden. Tall male individual with grey skin, purple eyes, please advise.” They were watching her carefully, in case she began to panic. Lydia started at the zombie for a long moment, before putting the pieces together. “Oh! That’s Jared! Tell Jeremiah to let him go!” She told O, standing up and picking up Niamh as she followed O out to the garden, where Jeremiah did indeed have Jared in a head lock and pinned to the ground. “It’s alright! He is a friend!”

He was still trying so incredibly hard to get his glamour under check that his skin rippled like an awfully colour blind chameleon. Jared, despite this, sat completely still. He hardly even moved his chest to breathe as he was locked and held into the grass. As soon as he was released however, he rolled backwards and out of the reach of his captor to look up and find Lydia with his eyes. Grass stained and dirty now, but he still managed an exhausted smile when he found her. “I uh...didn’t call again I guess?” he said quietly hoping for a joke but really just regretting forgetting that she might have taken steps far beyond anything he’d known about before the mushrooming had happened. In fact it felt silly now that he had insisted Cap stay with her considering the small animal yawned as he emerged from a hedge to greet him only now. 

“No, you didn’t. Fortunately, I like you anyway,” Lydia laughed, giving him a careful, warm hug, careful to avoid the grass stains as she did so. “It’s good to see you.” Lydia turned to smile at the little distant Raiju that she had grown rather fond of seeing loitering in the corners. Jared had been right, she had appreciated its companionship, and had barely noticed it was there. “Someone, at least, has been anxious for a visit. Why don’t you come inside? It’s been a while, and I’ve missed you. It also looks like your glamour is having some issues.”

Jared accepted the hug with as much enthusiasm as his tired and slightly sore form could muster, he kept the smile on his face just for her as well. The nymph spared the security team a glance and then looked down to offer Cap a scratch behind the ear for all his good work guarding, even if Lydia had much more qualified people on hand now. He was happy to move away from the very intimidating team that were slowly dispersing around them from the threat he’d posed moments ago. He definitely didn’t want to not have Lydia's favour coming over unannounced; he decided in that moment, from now on he’d text (or he’d try to remember to call but there were never any promises). Following her inside he informed her “That’s why I sprinted over, I was planning on coming to visit this week, and then I sort of got trapped and I figured….you were the safest place to go since I was having so much trouble.” He waved a hand however and added “But it’s uh...no big deal I guess...how have you been. Feeling good with all your new security in place?”

“I completely understand. Jared, you are eternally welcome, and I shall ensure that everyone is quite aware of this in the future, regardless of what face you decide to wear next time.” Lydia walked over into her kitchen. “Can I get you anything to drink, or to eat?” The busywork of getting out her glasses made it easier to answer the question. The last few days and the blood weighed heavy on her mind. Her back had healed in a week with as many ups as downs. “I adopted a cat! Niamh, who is floating around in the garden somewhere. My wing has healed. Not everything is quite as it should be, but I can hardly complain. Things are good.”

She was so wonderful, Jared was so pleased to have met someone who was so kind to him even when he’d potentially scared her. What with the breaking and entering of her proprietary after she’d had a VERY bad experience and all. “Uh yeah sure I’ll have some water or something.” he smiled, as he listened to her update him on how she was getting on he let the rest of his glamour fall away. Lydia wouldn’t mind, and it’d help him concentrate on her words more than his exhaustion. “You’re all healed up!! I was really hoping for you to recover, I was telling my kids about you the other night. Can’t wait to tell them you’re doing well.” he grinned. He wanted to give her a hug in delight but wasn’t sure the reception he’d get so instead bounced on the balls of his feet. “And a cat is a great companion, Niamh is a great name.” 

Lydia busied herself with picking out a nice crystal glass for him, getting a lemon from the fridge and cutting a slice of lemon to drop in beside the ice before pouring him the water. When she turned back, he looked as he should, beautiful in his abject inhumanity. “You were telling your kids? What, like bedtime stories for the puppy bonedoggles? Jared, you are the most adorable vicious creatures nymph I’ve ever met,” Lydia laughed, enthused by juist his presence. It washed away the blood and guilt on her conscience as she turned to hand him his glass. “She’s wonderful. Not quite as colourful as your kids, but great all the same. So, what’s up with your glamour?”

“They like to hear stories, they respond well to names they can put faces to, so yeah...I told the bonedoggle pups about you last night.” Jared maybe would have been a little defensive if she hadn’t laughed along with her words. Instead he beamed at her. “Not that they’re pups anymore, they’re young but growing fast.” He took the glass and immediately took a long drink. His hand catching the drips that had escaped the edges of his lips before he spoke again. “I’m real tired I guess? Not being doing too well the last few weeks, but it’ll get better. As soon as I can get some good sleep I’m sure it’ll get better… hopefully.”

“That’s… disarmingly cute. If I hadn’t met them, I wouldn’t believe they were even the littlest bit dangerous, you know,” Lydia smiled right back at him. “Really? How big are they now?” He drank so fast Lydia raised her eyebrows, pouring herself a glass of whiskey to go with his glass of water, before turning her attention back to him. “Has something happened?” Lydia asked gently, leading him over to the sitting room couch, so that they could sit side by side, her wings tucked away at her side. “Do you want to talk about it?” He could tell her anything, but Lydia wasn’t about to pry. That said, maybe if he was so tired by it all so much so that he was losing control of his glamour, maybe it was time to start talking about it.

“Oh well they are cute Lydia come on, they’re little faces are to die for….although they’re definitely not as cuddly as normal puppies I’ll give you that.” Jared joked lightly. He gulped down the water and then excitedly put the glass down so that he could hold his hands out to show her how big the pups had gotten. “Almost ready for their second trip for bones.” The words held pride he knew she might not understand, but he felt he could be himself about his kids with her, even if she didn’t fully agree she wouldn’t shoot him down. SItting down heavily on the couch he leaned back and fought off a yawn and the ache in his bones settled in. “Oh I just… didn’t have a very good time with the mushrooms this year, and then...sleepwalking, I can’t seem to get any rest...nightmares you know in amongst it all.” He shrugged at her and smiled despite his words. “I’m sure it’ll work itself out, I have hope at least right? Can’t be bad all the time can it?”

“The first time we met they were going to eat me!” Lydia protested with a laugh, her eyes widening with surprise as he gestured how big they were. “They’ve grown so fast! I assume that’s wonderful news!” Lydia smiled as he lit up with pride, his eyes bright and wonderful. “Sleepwalking? Is that new?” Lydia asked, her brows knitted as he talked. “Do you still feel bad about the human you killed?” Lydia asked softly, without any judgement. He had seemed cut up about it, in the same way Deirdre had been about Emma, in the same way Lydia’s stomach churned when she thought about what had happened a few days ago with Dot.

“They were not!” He protested in return but focused more firmly on the warm feeling in his gut as she enthused with him. It’d been a while since he’d been able to gush about his kids, just through sheer circumstance, and it was refreshing to have someone to allow him to indulge. Jared nodded slowly, he’d been trying to think of Ronald less and less, but it hadn’t been going exactly to plan. “I never meant to see him again, but I guess I fudged the words when I made him promise not to tell anyone. Forgot to add that he shouldn’t come back either… I… I fed him to the kids… I wish… I hadn’t had to and he’d just stayed away from us like I’d hoped. I wasn’t even in the right mind. It was like a bad trip and all of a sudden I was awake and it was all too apparent that I’d done something irreversible you know?” He wasn’t looking for sympathy, he wasn’t even sure if he was making sense. But the nymph knew that Lydia wouldn’t mind, or at least he hoped. She was so wonderful but he’d understand if she didn’t want to hear it all. He looked up at her from where he’d slouched in the cushions, like she’d have the answers, but he knew that was a lot to ask someone. “I’ve always been a bad shot too, the mushrooms gave me focus where I didn’t want it.”

Lydia shifted where she sat so she could touch his shoulder. There wasn’t more she could offer him really, other than the comfort of just being heard. Sometimes, that was enough. Sometimes, it was impossible to help in any other way.  “You did do something irreversible, but so did he,” Lydia began softly, trying to listen carefully. Well, if she had known he fed human corpses to his kids, that would have been useful a couple days ago. Not that that was the point now. “Even if he wasn’t promise bound to stay away, he wasn’t welcome and he knew it. Humans are far from my favourite, but they have basic modicums of intelligence no less than ours. He came irregardless, to take something from you. Or do you think it was something else that brought him there?”

Jared let his head droop to the side and his body lean into her comforting touch. “I don’t really know why he was there, but I can’t imagine it was with good intentions. I know people got all muddled up while they were there, the stray sod got a little bit out of control and all while I wasn’t really focused. But he’d have had to get there first.” he hadn’t really considered Ronalds intent on the farm, he’d been too shaken by having shot him. But now that he thought about it, he’d do anything for his kids...and if Ronald really had come back for them and not just shown up by accident like he’d feared, then he was a little less regretful. “I suppose if it was him or one of my kids I’d glad it was him…” he allows the words to escape his lips and then he grimaces. “Preferably no shots would have been fired while I wasn’t awake but I guess that’ how it was, can’t really do much now you know?” He spared her a pained smile, trying to mask the ill feeling swirling behind his eyes. “I feel like I should feel worse? But also I’m too tired to really think all that deep anyway, sleepwalking takes it outta you apparently.” he chuckled weakly. 

As he leant into her touch, Lydia wrapped her arm around his shoulders sideways. It was hardly the most comfortable of positions considering their egregious height difference, but it was comforting to have him so close. “So he was confused once he was there, but that doesn’t mean he hadn’t had nefarious intentions before, whatever that looked like,” Lydia spoke quietly, gently. Clearly, obviously feeding him a biased world view, but sometimes that was what was needed, especially when Jared was so painfully biased against himself. He saw himself as the automatic villain, the cruel creature of the night, who had lost his way on the mushrooms. In Lydia’s humble opinion, it was as if the mushrooms had shown him the way, had made his aim true. The mushrooms had allowed him to react decisively, rather than risking any of Jared’s kids. “No, you can’t do much, but you are still permitted to feel. There is no should when it comes to emotion, only what is.” She gently traced patterns back and forth on his arm. “Sleepwalking? How long has that been going on?”

He felt a little touch deprived at that moment. Jared hadn’t realized how much he’d withdrawn these last few weeks and he hadn’t really felt he would be allowed to reach out considering what he’d done. He’d even stopped himself from giving Lydia a hug earlier. And yet here she was offering him comfort despite what the mushrooms had done to him. He shifted to lean into her, fully letting her ease his mind without question. He wanted to be told he wasn’t terrible, so he was willing to believe her blindly. “Yeah, he couldn’t have shown up by accident.” he decided. “I’m not sure, it could have been going on for ages and I wouldn’t have noticed at first.” he said, “I didn’t realize for far too long that Things had been moved, chores had already been done. But then it got worse, I woke up walking into the lake the other day...that wasn’t so fun. I heard other people are also sleepwalking so… it’s not mushrooms, I thought at first it was but I don’t think it is now.”

He melted into her arms like giraffe shaped putty, and Lydia shifted to accommodate him, so that he had as much space and warmth as he needed. “No, he intended to be there,” Lydia agreed encouragingly, hoping that the guilt would slowly melt away. “He was only human.” She reminded him. But as Jared explained more deeply about his sleepwalking, Lydia’s brows bent in a frown. “You were doing chores in your sleep? That’s almost helpful.” Lydia joked lightly, but she could see that he was entirely shaken by the entire situation, so she held him closer. “Other people? People you know or strangers? That’s… seriously disconcerting. I wish I knew how to help. Do you need anything?”

The nymph stifled a yawn, feeling incredibly safe and warm by Lydia's side, especially with the stress of keeping his glamour steady not buzzing on his skin. “Only human.” Jared repeated back to her, her outlook on species didn’t fully compute with his own ideology, but he supposed if it had to have been anyone, a human like Ron deserved to go the most. “Almost.” he chuckled in agreement. “Except I’d been doing things twice and I don’t really have the cash for extra of anything at the moment. Also the kids didn’t really enjoy whatever they could feel over our connection, got a few bites for being unresponsive.” he waved a hand dismissively at the bites however, he got nibbled all the time it didn’t mean much, he was just more upset that his kids had felt unrest at his state. “A few strangers, but some people I know as well. There doesn’t seem to be a system to it, it’s all just random. Oh god no Lydia it’s okay, it’s just a bit...unsettling I guess? You’re not sleepwalking or anything?”

Only human, Lydia echoed in her mind, because he wasn’t the only one reassuring himself of such things. She pushed that thought aside, unable to bear it right now, not when Jared needed her here. “Oh, Jared, if you ever need money, you need but ask.” She offered gently, but her eyes widened sharply as he described his kids’ reactions. “They bit you? Jared, are you alright?” Sure, he described them as sweet little things, but Lydia remembered the teeth on those Bonedoggles. A nibble was not just a nibble, no matter what Jared said. “That is disturbing,” Lydia agreed softly, making a mental note to ask about it to others, who might know more about dream disturbances. “No, I still haven’t been sleeping too well generally, since the attack, but I haven’t been sleepwalking.” Lydia dropped her cheek against the top of his head, taking his hand with the one not wrapped around his shoulders and squeezing his hand. “If there’s anything I can do for you, you can always ask. I am here for you.” 

“Don’t offer me money. I'm not a very good investment, I don’t tend to ever have enough to pay it back in anywhere near a timely manner.” Jared mumbled in response. He waved a hand, less enthusiastically than before stifling yet another yawn. “They have teeth, anything with teeth can bite, it's normal.” he hummed. At that point his eyes started to close, he was fighting a losing battle. He heard nothing else she’d said, missing her comment of not being able to sleep herself completely. His own selfish exhaustion had decided to flaunt it’s willingness for rest in her face. He’d fallen asleep in her arms.

“That doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt,” Lydia replied. “But if you insist-” She looked down at him, and he didn’t look back up at her. His eyelashes were pressed closed, casting spidery shadows on his cheeks. He breathed quietly and slowly. Here, in her arms, he would not wander anywhere. He could rest safely here. His weight too, was the first weight pressing down on her all week that soothed rather than suffocated. Lydia’s eyes stretched to the raiju, lurking in the corner of the room, Cap watching Jared curiously. “Come here then,” she murmured, and the pile of two became three. 

#wickedswriting #para #chatzy #jared

[crescent-quill-writings]

Midnight Meetings on the Reef

Fandom: Hamilton - Miranda

Words: 2422

Relationship: Hercules Mulligan/Thomas Jefferson

Additional tags: Mermaid AU, Fluff, Loneliness, Mermaid!Thomas Jefferson, Sailor!Hercules Mulligan, Bioluminescence, Hercules gets a bioluminescent boyfriend

Summary: Hercules Mulligan is a sailor living a simple life yet always wanting something more than what he has. So, when he receives a map that would supposedly lead him to a great treasure hidden in a distant reef, of course, he follows the path it lays out for him. Even though he gets lost along the way, he still ends up finding the treasure... Or more like the treasure finds him. 

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As the sun began to sink below the horizon it painted calm waters with flame-like reds and tinted the skies with bright pinks. These fading golden rays created a near-perfect silhouette of a small sailboat and the man on board as it slowly drifted across the glassy surface of the water, disturbing its smooth surface with the ripples of its wake and scattering a school of silvery fish in the reef below. The sailor was a giant of a man, standing right around 7 feet tall with broad shoulders and rugged features. He was almost as gorgeous as the scene around him, but he was much too distracted with pacing back and forth across the deck and trying to make sense of the old parchment in his hands. 

"So... If I did this right and this is the reef and back there was the sandbar then the archipelago should be just ahead of us?" He mutters to himself, suddenly stopping on the bow of the ship and looking up and around him. His eyes were bright with excitement, but it slowly faded into a dull realization when he was met with the sight of the infinite horizon of the uninterrupted ocean. "... I guess that's what I get for trusting an old coot in a bar with a map and fancy fairytale after a couple of pints." He then grumbles, pinching the bridge of his nose and muttering a series of colourful curses under his breath before he crumpled the paper into a ball and tossed it overboard. "Useless piece of junk..."

Rightfully upset with himself, the sailor pulled a flask from his pocket and took a swig of the amber liquid inside. Sitting back on a crate pushed against the mast he watched, or moreso glared at the setting sun as the sky shifted from pink to red, to purple, and then finally to black as night fell upon the reef. He continued to stare up at the stars as they began to poke through the dark canvas of the sky before he sighed and stood, capping his flask and placing it in his pocket again.

"Time to turn in so we can figure this shit out in the morning." He mutters, fumbling with a match for a moment so he could light an oil lamp and hang it up above his head so he at least wasn't stumbling around in the dark as he tied everything down and dropped anchor for the night. Just as he took a rope in his hands and began to hoist the sails a ripple of movement and a flash of something bright and pink from beneath the waves caught his attention. "The hell...?" He murmurs, letting the rope fall from his hands and the sails fall slack as he took a step towards the water. For a moment the sailor thought it was some figment of his buzzed imagination and was about to turn back to the ropes before the light darted by again and pulled something beneath the water with a 'sploosh'. "The fuck?!" He exclaimed, rushing to the edge of his little sailboat and leaning over to peer into the water, looking for the light again.

"Was that a fish...? A glowing fish?" He knew about bioluminescence, having heard stories from other sailors and seen a few photos too, but even that didn't make sense. He'd heard of the algae that dotted the waves and beaches like stars and the freaky deep-sea fish that used light to lure in their prey, but nothing like what he was seeing now. Nothing he knew of was such a rich pink in colour like what he was seeing, and none of it could move so fast either. Again the sailor questioned if it was just in his imagination as he took out his flask, uncapping it quickly and taking a whiff to see if its contents had gone bad (if that was something that whiskey could do) before there was a sudden loud splash as his back was drenched with seawater and the small flame of his lamp extinguished. The water was still calm, so something had to have caused it.

"Shit, fuck--!!" The sailor exclaims, fumbling for a harpoon in the darkness and rushing for the other side of his little sailboat, ready for a fight and looking for the threat only for his weapon to fall from his hand and clatter against the deck. Now without the interruption of firelight, the world beneath the water was able to reveal itself to the sailor. Fear turned to shock and shock turned to awe as he watched the seagrass glow an azure blue, swaying anemones lighting up with scarlet hues, the forest of coral shine with shades of teal, indigo, and orange, and the schools of neon pink and blue fish that darted in and out from the nooks and crannies of the world beneath the waves. Nearly entranced by the other-worldly sight in front of him the sailor had forgotten about the earlier perceived threat and the streak of pink light he had first seen until--

"What the fuck!!" He exclaims, leaping back from the edge as his gaze locks on a human face poking out of the water and the curious indigo eyes looking back at him.

"I believe this is yours... You should be more careful." It spoke, its voice low yet smooth like a honeyed melody that made the sailor's knees go weak. He was stuck in a sort of shocked silence that he didn't notice the face had lifted an arm out of the water and was holding up a sodden grey lump that looked to be whatever was left of the map he had thrown out earlier.

"Oh, uh, thanks..." The sailor murmurs. He didn't know why he was so calm as he stepped forwards and kneeled down at the edge of the boat so he could reach for the ruined ball of paper, but he couldn't help the gasp that escaped him as he finally got a good look at what had approached him.

It had the head and the upper body of a human man and quite an attractive one at that with chiselled features and hair made up of long dark curls that looked well kept and soft despite being submerged in saltwater all day. As strange as it was to see a man living in the water, this was not what made the sailor gasp. Instead, his gaze locked on the 'man's tail. It was over twice the length of his torso and was crowned with a large and elegantly flowing fluke. Every scale was perfectly overlayed with each other and glowed with a rich pink hue in shifting intervals and levels to create a nearly hypnotic display of patterns as his tail swayed steadily to keep him in place against the light currents.

"Holy shit... You're a- You're a mermaid!" The sailor murmured, voice barely above a whisper as his fingers brush against the aquatic humanoid's as he takes back the ruined map.

"That I am, yes. You're quite the observant sailor, hm?" The merman replies with a warm chuckle, a sound that nearly makes the human melt as he rises further out of the water to rest his arms on the edge of the boat before he notices the harpoon and frowns, "I'm sorry if I startled you earlier, I just wanted to put out your light. This place can't thrive properly when there's something bright like that around, you see. I promise I mean you no harm, though, and thank you for not attacking me yet." He adds with a small sigh before smiling with sharpened teeth up at the sailor.

"Yeah, no, it's okay. No harm no foul and all that, I get it. This place is beautiful... You're beautiful..." He replied, only realizing what he had said as the merman laughs again and the sailor's face flushes with heat. "Uh- My name's Hercules Mulligan, though you can just call me Hercules or Herc. Do you have a name?"

"It's nice to meet you, Hercules. You're quite handsome yourself, especially for a human... My name is Thomas, at least, that's what I believe it translates to in your tongue." The merman earns a quiet 'likewise' in response from Hercules as silence falls on the pair. Thomas' expression was serene yet amused as he watched Hercules with those same curious indigo eyes, chuckling again as he catches him staring at his tail again. "It's alright, you can look... as long as you don't mind if I do the same, that is... I don't get many visitors out here, you see, especially not ones as kind as you." He watched the sailor blink quickly in response before he chuckled quietly and rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment. Thomas found himself enjoying the sound and wanting to hear it some more. "Is there a reason why you've travelled all the way out here on your lonesome, Captain?"

"No, not really..." Hercules replies with a sigh and a shake of his head, looking out across the dark horizon for a moment and taking in a deep breath. "Just heard some stories and got a map, I guess I thought it'd be like going on an adventure of my own if I found treasure or something like that. Pretty sure I got lost along the way, not that this place isn't nice... Just not what I expected, I guess." He explains, and the merman laughs in a melodious sound that made Hercules' breath catch in his throat before he slips into the water and began to swam lazy circles on his back around the sailboat.

"Even if you did get lost I think you've done pretty well. This place isn't easy to find, after all, and it's not every day you get to meet a merman either." Thomas grinned at the way the sailor scrambled to stand and paced across the deck to follow him, finding it cute how enamoured he had become as he stops by the bow of the ship.

"Yeah, I guess you're right... Meeting you could be a kind of treasure in itself." Hercules replied with a small smile, though the expression shifts to confusion as he tilts his head at the merman's extended hand.

"I would like to sit next to you, could you help me up? I'm afraid climbing is rather difficult with just a tail." Thomas explains with an easy smile, and the sailor nods as he takes the merman's hand in his and hoists him up and out of the water.

"Jesus you're big... N-Not that it's a bad thing!" He comments as he struggles to collect the mass of Thomas' tail in his arms, suddenly embarrassed again and his cheeks flushing with heat as he was met with the sound of the merman's melodious laughter again and set him down on the deck to him as he sat down with him.

"You're really sweet, you know that?" Thomas smiled a little more, dipping his fluke in the water and tucking most of his tail off to the side, letting silence settle between the two of them. It was a comfortable silence, giving them both the time they needed to process the day's events and where it led them and a chance to enjoy another's company on a calm midnight.

"So... Is there any real reason you wanted to come up here?" The sailor asks, breaking the silence and earning a small shrug in response from his new companion.

"I just thought it'd be easier to talk this way, or perhaps it'd just close some of the distance between us... I'm not really sure, honestly." Thomas admits, pulling his tail closer to his body as his gaze dropped to watch the ripples around the boat. Silence came over the pair again, though this time it was less comfortable. Hercules watched the merman with a frown, wondering what was going on behind those indigo eyes before he wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him close to his chest.

"It's okay, I don't mind... It's not like I got any company out here either. Except for you now, of course." He replied after a moment, offering Thomas a warm smile that only grew as their gazes met and he was able to catch a sparkle of hope in those beautiful indigo eyes. "Y'know, I wouldn't mind coming back here either if I got to see you again. Not sure how I'd do it, since I kinda trashed the map, but you found me on accident anyways so maybe we could make it work out. I don't got much to go back home to anyways..." Sure, Hercules may have started rambling a bit, but he couldn't really help it. Being with Thomas made him feel relaxed like he could enjoy the moment and not have to worry about much other than making sure the merman kept smiling. Thomas was happy too, and although he was a bit unused to the feeling of another's arm around him he happily let himself lean into the sailor's side and rested his head on his shoulder, humming in content as he closed his eyes and simply enjoyed the little moment they were sharing.

"If you're really that worried I can get you a conch shell... If you play it right the sound will travel for miles and guide me right to you. That way I could help you find this place again until you've learnt the way yourself." The merman explains, his voice a gentle noise that harmonized with the rippling of the water under the boat that Hercules could only describe as 'cute.' Sitting up a bit the merman opened his eyes again and pressed a kiss to the corner of his sailor's lips, humming in satisfaction at the way Hercules began to laugh to hide how flustered he'd become and settling against his side once more. "You're a good man, Hercules, so I'm not worried... Let's just talk, the night's still young and I'd like to hear you laugh some more." The merman muses, smiling up at his sailor with a little shine in his indigo eyes as he sees his sailor was smiling too, "I haven't heard something that nice in a very long time, nor have I met someone as nice as you either... So thank you, the reef is a little less lonely tonight because of you."

#Hamilton #hamilton: an american musical #Thomas Jefferson #Hercules Mulligan #Mermaid AU #Thomcules #first fic #my writing

[birdwonder]

Hello lovely! Your writing sure leaves me all fuzzy and warm, it is just so wholesome! Note aside may I please request a scenario with Rohan (seeing as he is your pfp) and an artist s/o, but they are body painting eachother? I feel like he will enjoy painting on skin for it is very different from cloth or paper, thank you and have a good day!

|| wow, an artist s/o sure seems popular! this is my third request for one and i’m living for it. thank you so much for the praise, i can only hope that this fic and any future ones will make you feel the same ! also, Rohan is one of my favourites and i assumed the most creative jjba character would be a good ‘mascot’ for this account. 

tw: body painting is typically nude, so underwear will be worn and the reader’s gender will be ambiguous, but they have a bare chest. so like ... small, nonsexual nudity ?

Rohan Kishibe | Body Painting 

Rohan was not a man of intimate affection. At least, not to the degree of a tooth rotting man who waits on hand a knee for whatever their beloved may desire.

His gentle kisses on your lips and temple were short and quick in public, contrasting to how drawn out and occasionally desperate they could be in the comfort of his home. It warmed your heart like a fire place soothed someone coming in from the snow and you returned each display of affection in kind to respect his boundaries.  

Reminding you that you were both his muse and the love of his life was always a top priority when he wasn’t working himself to the bone in his home studio, something you worried about but you knew pestering him about how he cared for himself would only further his stress more. You were like a deity to him, his source of inspiration for when he had nothing.

From the strands of your head to your lips’ unique shape and feel against his own, Rohan appreciated and doted on every detail your face had to offer.

Your body was no different to him as well. The form, the feel, each individual spot, scar or mark was so mesmerising. He couldn’t get enough every time he looked at you, whether you were doing a mediocre house hold chore, or trying to allure him with a sway of your hips, captivating him like a moth drawn to a flame. 

With all his high praise for you, it was no surprise that the suggestion for body painting came up. 

One thing that brought the two of you together was your mutual interest in art, including painting. Therefore, when he approached you with skin friendly paint and new brushes, suggesting it as your next date, you happily complied. 

You could be the most modest, self-conscious person there was in the wonder but with Rohan, showing skin was never an issue because each time he saw you, a string of compliments wrapped around you and pulled you closer to him. So, when it came to stripping yourself of every piece of clothing you had aside from your underwear, you had no qualms and felt no pressure.

After a short session of setting up a large sheet across the floor, both you and Rohan stood in the middle of the room in almost nothing. “Would you like to go first?” You prompted, a hand brushing up and down your goosebump covered arm from the chilled air.

“Gladly,” the man replied, unabashedly stepping forwards, his pale and surprisingly nicely toned chest in your line of sight until you looked into his eyes. Despite his terse words, you knew that he felt nothing but excitement. 

He laid you down across the sheet, dead in the centre, and placed a leg on either side of your stomach, straddling your hips almost if not for his slight hovering over you. A smile ghosted onto his face as he took hold of a clean paint brush beside your head, bending down to kiss your cheek. With the silk like hairs of the brush, he swiped it gently over the other side of your face making you stifle a small laugh.

The temptation to chortle only worsened however when his chaste, gentle kisses tracked down your neck to your chest, the brush still following in his affections’ shadow which sent a track of shivers down your back. “Stay still and silent, cher, I am only getting you ready for when I start painting so you don’t move about and ruin it,” Rohan calmly instructed, not moving his head from the valley of your chest before moving down to your stomach, above your abdomen.

From there, you had managed to bite your lip and maintain half of a poker face, your loving and enamoured eyes that were following your lover ruining half of the façade. 

If this was any other day, Rohan would have disregarded the paints surrounding the both of you and kiss you with such chasmic fervour that your night would seem endless and pure bliss, but for today there was one thing meant to be on his mind and it was to turn your temple of a body into a filled canvas. 

His hands placed themselves upon your shoulders, thumbs pressing softly under your arm, and traced down to prompt you to extend and expose your arms outwards. “I’ll start now, so just lay back and relax. I’ll only work on your torso and arms, if anything feels wrong just tell me.”

The air you blew from your nose was a sign that you wanted to laugh a little. As cold and distant as Rohan seemed to others, he was nothing but kind and gentle with you. If you could awe at him, you would if it didn’t mean he would then whack you with some paint.

Closing your eyes and laying your head back, you listened to the sound of a brush clinking against the rim of a glass cup, presumably to wet it, and then moving against a palette. Next, you felt the thankfully not so cold tip of a brush spread paint across your chest, the movements of it seemingly side to side and clockwise circles. 

Once more, you nibbled on your lower lip to prevent any jolting and laughter, fingers scrapping the sheet beneath you to contain yourself. A small hum from Rohan gave the idea that he appreciated your efforts, the familiar, mellifluous sound of a brush being cleaned resonating suddenly.

You sighed softly as he did his thing. What could you paint on him when it was your turn? A portrait of a person would seem a little peculiar, although it would work well in an abstract sort of way. A landscape would do well too, something like a sunset perhaps? The purple of the gradient would compliment his hair well, and you could incorporate some other colours and shapes possibly to bring out the emerald hues he looked at you so tenderly with. 

For a while, the routine of paint being suffused across your upper arms and torso continued with the occasional pause for Rohan to take a look at you or to pick up more paint. It was strangely therapeutic for both you and Rohan, who was taking great care in what he was doing, making sure that his didn’t accidentally pressing against wet paint or have it too watery to run down. 

“Hm, just a bit more,” he told you, “you will have to lay down for a while so it can dry.”

Understandable, really. It’d be a shame to ruin something so bold and adventurous due to premature standing up. 

Once the feeling of paint had stopped, you both stayed in pleasant silence for the wet feeling on your skin to subside and harden. Well, it was silent until Rohan bent down a little to blow onto the paint, causing you to suddenly giggle.

In a second, he slapped a hand over your mouth and tutted, using his other hand to guide the more dried side of your stomach down as your back had arched slightly from your laughter. 

“Sorry,” a meek squeak muffled from his hand, something Rohan chuckled at. After ten minutes, that felt like hours, you had the “ok” to open your eyes.

The two of you sat up, Rohan on his knees in between your legs, and stared into each other’s eyes. Without bothering to see what he had painted, you wrapped an arm around his neck and brought him in for a kiss, finally allowing yourself to freely smile and laugh. “That was so much fun! It felt so funny!”

“I can imagine, it was just as nice to paint on you, it is a shame I had to cover you up but you make for a lovely canvas, my love,” the manga artist hummed, feeling more at ease than he had all week after powering through a large amount of new panels to publish.

“Oh hush,” you shushed, finally getting up onto your feet and glancing into a mirror to see what he had done.

“Rohan, this is amazing!” To your surprise, a magnificent starry sky had been spread across your body, a mix of colours similar to Vincent Van Gogh’s ‘Starry Night’ covering you with amazing detail. From your shoulders and chest, there was primarily black and deep blue that faded down to lighter shades of blue, yellow and white stars of all varying shapes and sizes sprinkled across you. Even silhouettes of structures were added, and if you squinted hard enough you saw two minuscule figures close together. 

When you turned to face Rohan to directly appraise his work, you saw that he was holding a camera and began to take a few shots of you. At first, you felt sheepish until you remembered that this was Rohan and it wasn’t like anyone else would see the photos; over his dead body they would.

You struck a few poses, even sprawling across the ground again for a clear view. With a clear gratitude, he helped you back up and kissed your forehead. “Wonderful, absolutely magnificent,” he muttered into your hair. 

“Not too bad yourself, honey,” you teased, moving back to bend down and pick up a paint brush that you dragged from his cheek all the way down to the hem of his boxers. “Now, I think it’s my turn, wouldn’t you say?”

#rohan kishibe #rohan x reader #x reader #jjba x reader #request #jjba

[monstersandmaw]

Male tiefling x male reader (nsfw)

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

Here, for your delight and delectation, is Killygren the tiefling, another character from Starfall Springs! See this dashing rogue’s character art and bio info here in case you missed it.

His story has been up on Patreon for a little while, and now it’s time to put it up on here. There’s another Starfall Springs story that’s been up on there too, but you’ll have to wait for that one, featuring an orc.

Halfway through one of the hottest summers on record, you bought a bus ticket and rode it to the end of the line.  

Unconventional, unpredictable, and possibly unwise though the decision may have been, you simply snapped and needed a break.  

The city was stifling, the traffic overwhelming, and you needed green fields, perhaps some cool, breezy woodland, or the soft caress of an ocean breeze. Starfall Springs, you knew from an advertisement you’d seen on the Underground, had all three. And a huge number of non-human residents as well, which, you had to admit, made you curious.  

Your travelling companion on the bus was a very elderly harpy lady who saw that you were travelling alone and proceeded to talk your ear off about the local area as you drew near to the town. In fact you didn’t mind because she was actually quite interesting and very sweet.  

“That’s Jaime’s farm,” she said, nodding out of the dusty window at an old farmhouse in the distance, surrounded by open pasture. There was a round-pen for training horses, and a number of horses were standing in the shade of some huge beech trees beside a field of sheep and goats and another with a small herd of russet red cows. “He’s a sweetheart,” she said, but you had begun to tune the rest of it out by then. The lilting movements of the bus, and the warmth in the air, made you feel slightly sleepy, and it was hard to focus on her voice.  

Eventually, you helped her off the bus and inhaled deeply. Already the air was different here; fresher, sharper despite the haze of pollen in the air. She thanked you for being “Such a polite young man,” and made her way off along the banks of the fast-flowing river which carved through the centre of the old collection of buildings.

Alone once again, you decided to head off towards the wide, paved market square in front of you. Stall holders yelled and called jovially, selling everything from fresh fish and meat to summer produce, cakes, handmade goods, knives, and even little witchy charms. You caught sight of a palomino centaur selling cider and apple juice, apple jelly, apple compote, and even dried apple crisps, and beside her was an orc wearing an apron which bore the logo of a local dairy. His stall had the most amazing array of different cheeses, and you paused long enough to be offered a free sample.  

“Visitor?” he asked jovially.  

You nodded. “Yeah, just thought I’d make an escape from the city for the day. Maybe even for the weekend…”

“Well, if you need a place to stay, Killy’s inn - the Inglenook over there - is great,” he said, pointing towards an old timber-framed building on the far side of the market square. 

“Thanks,” you grinned.  

The orc smiled back at you, and you marvelled at how open and friendly everyone seemed here, unlike the city where the majority of inhabitants were human, and they seemed singularly morose and unfriendly.  

You wandered through the market for a while, your rucksack bashing uncomfortably against your back, until you came to the far side of the open plaza. Down the length of the main road out of the small town of Starfall Springs, you glimpsed the rolling countryside beyond. Gods, but it was idyllic.

The hills in the furthest distance were raked with lines of grapevines, the terracotta roofs of the vineyard buildings glowing in the heat of the summer sunshine, and a few miles away there looked to be a vast fruit orchard. Heat haze marred any real details, so you turned away and made your way back into the town, winding your way down cool, narrow, ancient streets where any number of little shops were tucked away, from antique stores to craft shops, some with pottery and ceramics made locally, to small greengrocers.  

You emerged at the other end of town near the duck pond and you paused a moment in the cool shade of the poplar trees and gazed into the murky depths. A bubbling near the far edge drew your attention, and you stared, astonished, as a horse’s head surfaced from the murky water. The horse heaved itself out of the water at the opposite edge of the pond, duckweed and little water flowers clinging to its greenish-black coat and studding its flowing black mane. It shook itself and you continued to stare openly as it trotted off towards the temple which stood not far away from this end of town, in the middle of an open meadow.  

“What the…?” you breathed, realising it must be some kind of water spirit, probably a kelpie. That just wasn’t the kind of thing you saw everyday in the city though; there were very few places left which were pure and unpolluted enough for creatures like that to survive. As if to drive home the point, a tiny, glowing fairy zipped past your face, laughing and trailing a wake of sparkling dust behind them that made you sneeze and take a step back. Wherever the dust hit, the plants turned a violent pink for a few seconds before fading and returning to their usual hues.  

As enchanting as the whole place was, eventually your stomach started to rumble, and you looked about for somewhere to eat. Perhaps you might even get a cheeky lunchtime pint while you were at it. It was a weekend after all.  

Back in the central marketplace, you saw the old, traditional pub sign of the Inglenook swinging slightly as a breeze sighed around the square. The orc’s recommendation from earlier floated back into your mind, and you decided that you’d pop in and see what it looked like at least. You didn’t have to commit yourself to staying there if you didn’t want to.  

The inside was tastefully decorated, with both traditional and modern features, though the bar at the far end was a very old fashioned, high pub bar, with a huge number of beers and ales on tap, and a vast array of spirits displayed on the wall behind.  

Tables dotted the bar area, and the place was packed. You sighed, thinking it’d take ages for you to be served, and were on the verge of turning round and finding a quiet cafe somewhere else when the shattering of a glass made you halt.

You glanced around, drawn by the noise, and saw a beautiful tiefling standing beside the bar, as if he’d been about to come around the end of it and go to a table with a drink. At his dark blue, cloven hooves lay the scattered remnants of a glass tankard, foam and beer spreading in a wide pool around him. And, improbably, his eyes were locked on you.  

Well, one eye was locked on you. The other was covered by an elegant sash of cloth. His long hair was a very dark blue-black, tied back in a low ponytail, and his skin - flawless save for a pale scar that bisected his mouth from upper lip to chin - was a dusty, cornflower blue. There was no white sclera to the visible eye, and the iris was an intense, fiery gold, with a slit, catlike pupil, while his left eye was covered by a sash of Tyrian purple silk with gold thread here and there, as if to accentuate the colour of his right eye.

After a second or two of staring dumbly at you as if you were some long-lost friend, the tall, slender tiefling shook his horned head, and seemed to come to his senses. A faun appeared from behind the bar with a cloth and a dustpan and brush and told him to step back while they swept up the mess.  

You turned to go, not wanting to linger, despite feeling there was something going on that you’d missed. A few patrons were looking from the tiefling to you and back again, but most had either ignored the incident or returned to their lunchtime chatter.  

You’d barely made it to the door before you felt a soft tap on your bicep and you glanced around to see that the tiefling had come over to you. This close up, you took in the beautiful horns that curled first backwards over his thin, tapering ears and then up towards his forehead again. The left horn ended in a gold tip and you saw tiny gold hoops flashing at his earlobes too. He was a bit taller than you, and you swallowed nervously. He was stunningly handsome, and apart from the fact that you’d never been with a non-human before, he was exactly your type.  

He smiled, showing sharp, white canines and a warm smile with little dimples in his chiselled cheeks. “Hi,” he said in a warm baritone. “I’m sorry about all that just now,” he went on, waving a hand and you caught the sparkle of silver on his fingers too. “Listen, to make up for being such an ass, how about I let you have some lunch and a drink on the house?” He had an airy, lyrical, lilting accent that reminded you, for absolutely no reason at all, of summer evenings and mayflies dancing over still water.  

“Really, you don’t have to do that,” you said, perplexed. “I mean…”

He smiled again and stretched out his hand in a more formal greeting. His were those beautiful kind of hands with everything in the right proportion, the dusky blue skin flecked with intriguing scars here and there, and the sight of it suddenly, strangely, made you ache to feel his touch. Things had become a bit lonely in the city, and you raised your own hand and shook his.  

The skin of his palm was smooth and callused, but warm, and he held you firmly for a moment and then grinned, “My name’s Killy. Well, Killygren, no one except my mother calls me that, and I’d thank you not to use it…” he chuckled. “It’s hot out there today - let’s get you a drink at the very least…”

“I don’t understand,” you murmured.  

He laughed again, a free, musical sound, and winked. “I was so struck by the sight of you, I dropped that one and made a fool of myself. We don’t get a lot of humans passing through Starfall Springs you know, and I know all of the regulars.” He jutted his sharp chin at a distant corner where an orc and a young woman were deep in conversation, their hands linked. “She was the last one to arrive. Inherited a run-down old farm not too far from town.”

“The way you speak makes it seem like the humans who do come tend to stay…”

He winked again and turned back towards the bar. He had a tail, you noted, and it hung elegantly behind him like a panther’s as he walked, hips swaying slightly, hooves clonking lightly on the wooden floorboards of the old pub. It was only then that you remembered the name that the orc had said, and realised that this must be his pub.  

Emboldened, you followed him to the bar and set your rucksack down at the foot of one of the worn old bar-stools, and clambered up onto it.  

“Will you let me guess your favourite?” he grinned from behind the bar.  

You frowned slightly, but then allowed a slow smile to creep across your lips. “Alright.”

The faun, who had finished clearing up the shattered glass, looked up and giggled. He had a nest of golden curls and the brightest blue eyes you’d ever seen, his cheekbones smattered with a myriad freckles. “Don’t encourage him,” he said, shaking his head and making his wavy hair toss this way and that. “He’s incorrigible, and he rarely gets it wrong… Must be that tiefling magic…”

Killy did not look away from your face for a while, and you thought you saw a faintly glowing light through the fabric of the sash covering his eye, but it was gone in a heartbeat, and you chalked it up to mild heat-stroke or dehydration or something.  

As if he’d read your mind, Killy said, “Well, first things first, a pint of water for the gentleman, but after that…” he made a show of stroking his chin with his long fingers.  

“Like you don’t already know,” the faun snickered. “Just serve it to him and stop flirting.”

Your cheeks heated slightly, but the reaction was welcome enough, as was the attention.

Killy clutched his heart and shook his head. “I’m hurt, Dizzy. I’m hurt.”

The faun, presumably named ‘Dizzy’, thwapped him round the backside with a damp tea towel and retreated to take another customer’s order.  

When Killy turned his attention back to you a few moments later, with, yes, what just so happened to be your favourite drink in his hand, he was still laughing softly. “I'm sorry about him,” he said, sliding your glass across the bar. “So, how’d I do?”

“The hype is well-founded, it seems.”

He fist-pumped playfully and turned back to the faun, sticking his tongue out at him - it was dark blue, you were surprised to see - and then turning back to you. “So, what brings you to Starfall Springs?”

“You can’t work that out as well?” you asked, somewhat acerbically, sipping the drink and trying not to show just how much you liked it.  

He made a slightly odd expression, somewhere between strained and embarrassed, and said, “I could, I’m sure, but I’d rather hear it from you.”

You snorted, but soon found yourself telling the tiefling everything. You felt stuck in your job, your social and sex life was stagnating, you’d not had a decent boyfriend in years, and that morning you’d felt like a change of scene would be a good thing. “So I bought a bus ticket, and here I am.”

“And here you are,” he murmured softly. Killy listened to the whole thing. He’d sunk quietly onto a stool on his side of the bar, leaned his elbows on the counter top, and had listened; really listened. You’d not had anyone do this for you since… well… not even your brief stint at the therapist had been this cathartic. You found your hand resting on the ancient, beer-stained wood of the bar, tracing idle circles with your fingertip, and you noticed how close his fingers were to yours.  

“Tell me something?” you asked bluntly after your third or fourth drink.  

“Anything for you, handsome,” he grinned back. Coming from anyone else, that line would have been nauseating, but the way he said it, with that flippant, light-heartedness just made it seem somehow astonishingly sincere.

“How’d you know this was my favourite?” you said. “And how’d you get so good at listening?”

“I know things,” he said with melodrama in his one visible eye.  

“No,” you countered, “No, that’s not…”

He chuckled and gripped your hand. The touch was so sudden, so unexpected that you let out a little moan that was way more sexual than you’d intended.  

Killy only smiled and reached both hands up to undo the sash around his face. His long, blue-black hair was tied back off his stupidly handsome face in a low ponytail, and as he dislodged it to untie the covering, you felt the urge to touch it and run your hands through it, maybe even grip it and tug it. Your fingers twitched, but you remained still as he revealed the other half of his face.  

“I don’t show just anyone this,” he said conspiratorially. “This eye was a special gift from someone who shall remain nameless at the moment, but it lets me see all sorts of things.”

You snorted, but then you looked at him anew.  

He just laughed and you stared openly at his now-revealed left eye. A perfect, black pentagram hung in the middle of a glowing, ice blue iris, ringed with two black outer circles. It was unusual to say the least.  

You leaned closer, fascinated. “That’s… kind of…”

“Gross?” he said. “Unnerving?”

“I was just gonna go with ‘cool’…” you finished rather lamely. “Why do you keep it covered?”

He shrugged and wrapped it up again. “I don’t always want to be poking into people’s business, you know? That way it helps reduce the ‘unexpected visions’ factor. Though when you walked in, I got an eyeful - quite literally - of you and me.”

“Wait… like…” you gestured vaguely and he laughed.  

Killy leaned across the bar and whispered right in your ear, his breath tingling, “I mean, I can give you specifics.”

“Go on then,” you said, feeling oddly bold.  

Without preamble, he murmured, “I saw me with my mouth around your cock…”

“Holy shit…”

He shrugged and drew back. “I’ve never had that with anyone, by the way. Must be something special about you.”

“You sure you don’t say that to all the boys?” you sneered.  

Something softened in his face and he leaned back. “It’s not set in stone, you know? You can still say no. But something must be keeping you here. You’ve been here all afternoon. It’s getting late, and the last bus back to the city leaves in half an hour.”

“Shit.”

“You can still catch it if you leave now.”

The moment hung heavily between you, but one look at the way his sharp Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed got you thinking about him swallowing your release, and you felt heat pool between your legs. “What the hell,” you said. “I’m leaving tomorrow.”

“That’s the spirit,” he said with open bitterness in his voice, turning away from the bar. “You’ll have to wait til I’m done working though.”

“Fuck, that’s not what I meant,” you hastened to add. “Look, you know my whole life’s story now. You know this was a spur of the moment trip - something I’d never normally have done. It feels… I don’t know… right?”

The corner of Killy’s mouth, near the vertical scar, twitched, and he smiled. “Drink some water. I’ll be done in an hour.”

You watched him work from a quiet corner of the bar, and you definitely sobered up a fair bit in that time. Not that you’d been necessarily drunk, but something about the atmosphere had gone a long way to helping you release your inhibitions. With the water in your system, you started to note the way Killy behaved a bit more closely. He was attentive with his customers, quiet and patient, and you couldn’t help noticing from your new vantage point that he rested one hock slightly against the other whenever he paused to hear someone speak. His eyes constantly darted around, and he had a nervous habit of playing with his right earring when someone lingered too long or got too close.  

His trousers were loose linen, cuffed tight around his elegant, almost cervine ankles, and but from what you could see, his legs were hairless. He was not built like a faun, despite having the hooves.  

Eventually he washed his hands and swapped shifts with a huge minotaur who came in and high-fived him as he left. Killy glanced around the bar and then spotted where you had parked yourself, and he smiled.  

“You’re still here,” he said when he had drawn level with your table.  

Your mouth was still dry from watching the way he had dropped his shoulders in relief and the elegant way in which he had walked over to you, hips swaying softly as though he wore heels. You croaked. “Yeah.”

“Look, just because I saw one future possibility… I really mean it. You don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

“No strings attached, right?”

“Absolutely.”

“Ok.”

“Just like that?”

“No,” you said, shaking your head. “I’ve had a couple of pints of water and an hour to think it over. Why can’t I have something that’s still meaningful with a complete stranger?”

His lips twitched again. “Right. C’mon.”

He led you upstairs, his hooves clunking softly on the bare wooden tread of the staircase, and into a very humble bedroom at the top of the old pub. A double bed occupied one wall but the sloping ceiling took out practically half of the other side of the room. A little free-standing wardrobe stood against the far end, and a pair of low bookcases stood on either side of the bed, doubling as beside tables with little lamps. It was surprisingly spartan for such an apparently flashy tiefling.  

As you dumped your bag in the corner, you looked at him in surprise and he smiled softly, standing so close you could smell the soft scent of jasmine on his long hair. He had a freckle on his cheekbone. Your eyes drifted to the scars on his lip, and you wondered where he’d got them from. Before you could ask, he was kissing you. He began slowly, hesitantly, but something about the way he treated you made you ache for more.  

Blood pooled in your groin and you felt your cock stir as his hands took hold of your jaw and he groaned. He had a slight shadow along his own jaw and you relished the rasp of it against your skin. He pressed his body close, his hips rearing against yours, and you grunted softly as you felt the hardening line of his cock against your hips.  

Killy backed you against the closed door and as the air left your lungs with another softly articulated grunt, his fingers found their way to your waistband. He glanced at you and saw the acceptance in your face before continuing. He let your jeans fall to the floor and he freed your cock, stroking it slowly, apparently enjoying the feeling of wrapping his hand around it, getting to know the way you felt in his hand.  

He stroked you, working you slowly, luxuriantly, while your knees felt like they were going to turn to water. “Killy,” you hissed, and he caught your meaning.  

You stepped out of your jeans and abandoned them, allowing him to pull you over towards the bed and push you down onto it. The tent in his own soft trousers was obvious now, and you reached your hand for it, intending to palm him briefly and tease him, but he grabbed your wrist and placed it back on the bed as he tipped you expertly down onto your back.  

He took your shirt off and let his palms play over your torso. As much as you may have been underwhelmed by your own body, he seemed to relish the chance to touch it. He lingered on your collarbones and on your nipples, even lowering his lips to them and kissing you over and over while his hands painted slow circles over your lower torso and hips, down towards your thighs.  

“Fuck, Killy… please!” you grunted as your cock pulsed again, printing pre-come onto your skin. You felt like your skin was a size too small all over as he trailed a fingertip down the line between thigh and hips, dangerously close to your sensitive balls. “Fuck! Stop teasing me!”

He laughed and took you by surprise by lapping the tip of his dark tongue against the head of your cock, tasting you. His one visible eye rolled closed at the taste of you, and in one swift motion he licked his lips and took you all the way to the back of his throat.  

As your tip hit the silky soft flesh of his throat, you gasped and cursed.  

He closed his fingers around the base of your cock as he withdrew, keeping his cheeks hollowed, and he began to suck. The heat and slide of his mouth over your hard cock was incredible, and he clearly enjoyed the feeling too.  

He was as clever with his hands as he was with his lips and tongue. Killy worked your cock with his mouth, alternating between long, regular strokes and teasing sucks and licks around the head of your cock, just sliding you in and out of his lips before dipping his head and letting you hit the back of his throat again. Time slid by, but all too soon you were shuddering on the edge of release.  

“Killy…” you hissed. “I’m…”

White heat built rapidly and you knew you were very close.  

He sucked just a little harder, his fingertips tracing just behind your balls, and you came hard into his mouth. He swallowed you down without breaking eye contact with you.  

The intensity of your release had taken you somewhat by surprise.  

Sure, it had been a while since someone had blown you, but still, the way he’d lavished attention on you had been something else. He stayed there while your cock throbbed and leaked the last drops of your release onto his tongue, only drawing back and licking his lips when you had completely finished.  

“Did the vision live up to reality?” you finally rasped as you lay back, slightly dazed.  

He smiled. “You don’t want to know what else I just saw…”

“Something tells me I might enjoy it?” you hedged. “Just… gimme a minute…”

Killy lay down on his back, still fully clothed, and smiled, glancing sideways at you. “I’m yours for the night.”

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

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#exophilia #tiefling #male tiefling #mlm #mlm exophilia #male reader #male monster x male reader

[leonkennedystuff]

breathe p.2 (leon kennedy x reader)

[REmake!Leon]

Summary: Hours into the Raccoon City outbreak and trying to survive it, Leon tries to get reader to recover from the chaos

Warnings: talks about death, cursing

Part 2/2

hey guys! here’s part 2 of breathe :-) i was really so shocked when i logged back into this account yesterday and saw how much love my works were receiving :-( thank you all so, so much! It means a lot to me. With that, please do feel free to send me requests! I’d love to write for you guys. Anyway, just a lil side note for this chapter ! There was this work I read on here although I forgot what it was called and the user who wrote it (sorry huhu) but I took some inspiration from it to write this! So shoutout to that tumblr user and their work, it was super great!

You were way too invested with the amount of supplies hiding around the room. Your spirit, little-by-little, was rising again as you pick things up and put them in your filthy black backpack. 

So far, you’ve found a baseball bat, a first-aid kit, water bottles, and an unopened pack of protein bars. To think you weren’t even done searching the place! The feeling of astonishment lingers - you were still incredulous with this stroke of luck and it was all thanks to Leon. 

You pause from scanning a book talking about healing herbs and focus your attention on the cop; you could hear his feet shuffling about as he moved around the bathroom, searching for items as well.

You hear a faint creak, drips and splatters, and then Leon in awe. “Whoa,” you hear him verbalize, peaking your interest almost immediately. “(Y/N), come take a look at this,” He calls to you, excitement palpable in his tone. 

You rise up rather quick from your crouched position before dropping the book and a map of Raccoon City in your bag. You walk into the dim-lit blue bathroom with stride, curious eyes searching. Leon’s back faces you but you see clearly what he was looking at. 

A shower, an actual shower. 

Albeit the water running was a bit weak, it’d get the job done. Your excitement matches his; it’s been just a few hours, maybe around 6 or 7, but it felt like years since you’ve last bathe and your whole body ached to be under the stream falling in front of you. 

You were covered in grime, mud, blood, guts, and sewer content among many other things - you were caked in it and it was only now that you let yourself pay attention to how filthy you are. You grimaced inwardly, not wanting to dwell on the stench; this was the dirtiest you’ve ever been in your life.

You look over at Leon; his once dry-cleaned navy uniform appeared brown and red from all that you’ve gone through tonight and his soft, gentle face was also streaked with sweat, blood and grime. 

He was as filthy, if not more, than you are.

“Wash up, I’ll wait for you in the bedroom.” He says without a moment’s hesitation. He cocks his head towards the small stall with a kind smile, already turning to give you some privacy. 

With that, you felt your guilt prod you in the back - it felt wrong to clean and refresh yourself while he doesn’t just for the sake of being decent. The way he was towards you since he found you running  in an alleyway was nothing short of selfless; he was so generous and caring and it didn’t sit quite right with you that he kept choosing to be in the losing end of situations just for your benefit.

Biting your lip more from anxiousness than hesitation, you halt him by meekly placing a hand on his arm. Your cheeks blush at the suggestion forming in your mouth. “Leon... I- uh,” you stutter right off the bat. 

You remove your touch from his skin and rub the corner of your right eye despite the absence of an itch, discontinuing your sentence.

Leon is caught off-guard seeing you like this - all flustered and at a loss for words. It was so unlike your usually composed character; it was kind of refreshing to see, he thought to himself - it humanized you more. The sight makes him smile in a confused but genuine way. “Yeah?”

You purse your lips tightly, frustrated with yourself that you couldn’t get your words out. It didn’t help that your nerves were helter-skelter and your body felt like it was under an electric current. 

You were old enough to be mature about situations like this, especially with the one you currently are in. Besides, the last thing that should be boggling your mind are taboos.

“The water’s not going to be around for long,” You start, wishing he could take a hint at where you were trying to get at. With his response, he obviously didn’t.

“Yeah, go ahead,” He reconfirms, chuckling a bit at the redundancy of the conversation. You wanted to huff in annoyance but you don’t, it wasn’t his fault anyway.

“No, I mean-“ You scratch your head, “You can clean up - also. We can... both... shower.” You manage to finally say amidst your pauses. Your face - at this point- felt like it was on fire. 

As you expected, Leon looks at you with great bewilderment before his cheeks dust with a rosy color, your words registering in his brain and rendering him slightly embarrassed. He didn’t know how to reply to that and he definitely did not know if he was supposed to accept your offer – as tempting as it is.

“I just-“ a sigh, “-who knows when the next opportunity will come? I really don’t mind,” You try to explain yourself with nonchalance, although quite poorly. You don’t honestly know, though, if you really wouldn’t mind him with you, all bare and vulnerable for him to see. 

He hesitates too, weighing your words. 

You were right still, he thought- your lives from now on will probably be so unpredictable that mundane things can be rare; you should both count your blessings and grasp opportunities whenever they come up. 

As if you read his mind, you shoot him a compromised look, “Count your blessings, right?” You shrug, like you were presenting to him a consolation prize.

His slightly coarse, plump bottom lip trap unconsciously between his white teeth in final consideration before he nods his head diffidently. He turns around, “I’ll – uh, let you get undressed,” He clears his throat, his voice growing softer as his heartbeat jumps.

You nod even though he can’t see you; you absolutely hate how jittery you felt, like you weren’t in control of yourself. You concentrate on breathing and thought for a naïve second that it was helping but you started untying your shoes and your whole body went into chaos again.

You curse under your breath, sheepishly peeling off your clothing until you were left in just your undergarments. 

The cool air of the late evening breezes in through a small window you didn’t notice and raises goosebumps along your arms and legs. You bite the insides of your cheeks, attempting to cover your half-naked, dirty, and bruise-littered body.

You steal a quick glance at Leon to see his shirtless back still working on stripping his outfit before averting your gaze away.

“You can go ahead if you’re –“ He pauses and you can imagine the bashful expression on him, “-if you’re ready.” He finishes. You make an acknowledging sound, your stomach somersaulting as you quickly remove the last of your apparel, leaving you completely bare.

Wanting to hopefully save yourself from being seen where you were most conscious, you hop onto the shower and face the wall; regret floods you immediately though when ice-cold droplets attack your skin. 

You may have yelped a little bit because Leon, as if on instinct, twists to check on you. His worry is replaced by his face burning up at the sight of your body. He quickly turns away, face and ears beet-red.

“Are you okay?” He tries to keep his voice unchanged. 

You chuckle, shy, sorry for startling him. You feel silly as you look down at the  grey tiles. “Yeah, sorry – I just didn’t expect the water to be so cold.” You explain. You hear his warm laughter and it makes the corners of your lips grow some more.

With the unconventionality of the situation slowly fading, the tightness in the air between you and Leon begins to disappear as well. Focusing your attention back on your bath, you shut your eyes and steal one long breath before taking one step south and fully submerging yourself under the cold water. 

You gasp quietly at the feeling of it again but worked your way into getting used to it. Despite the temperature, you felt a whole lot better to feel the filth covering you slowly make its way to the drainage.

You watch with a mixture of disgust and fascination the discolored water coming off your body; you wipe down your skin to quicken the process. You were so caught-up with cleaning yourself that you don’t notice Leon had finally joined you.

“Do you want some soap?”

You nearly scream bloody murder; after all the events this night had unfolded, the last thing your poor heart could handle was anything sudden. You whip around, your heart hammering painfully in your chest, fear invading your every sense. 

When your (E/C) eyes meet with Leon’s concerned blues, your panic rises even more. You raise your arms quickly to cross them over your chest.

The perturbed look etched on his gentle face deepens, his hands – even with one holding a small, white bottle of body soap - slightly outstretched with caution to hold you if ever need be. His gaze unintentionally wanders to where your arms were as he was just following where you were moving.

Your soft but wounded body in his sight, he found it hard to look away suddenly.

Scratches of varying lengths scattered on your arms, bruises of different purple hues decorating your stomach and your sides, a small gash on the cavity of your neck where your throat rested, and a red mark on your collarbone that almost took you away. 

Leon goes rigid at the memory, remembering the horror coursing through his veins when he saw a corpse tackling you over. Although he killed the creature right away, he never felt so helpless as he watched it almost sink its teeth in you.

Lieutenant Marvin, Sheriff Daniels, Officer Edward and all those undead bastards wearing the faces of the people he could have worked with suddenly haunts him. He could feel himself grow physically nauseated remembering that he couldn’t save any of them; what was keeping him from actually breaking was the sight of you – eyebrows knit with trouble and right in front of his eyes, breathing and human.

You shift uneasily under his scrutiny. He looked so distraught, you thought, and you wondered idly what he was thinking about.

“What’s in your head?” You find your voice, your question almost a whisper. His sapphire eyes untangle themselves from the stains on your body and up at you, blinking. 

Maybe it was the nature of the situation or the way he looked at you so tenderly that made your heart flutter.

“Hm?” He hums, clearly not paying attention. With a small simper, you repeat yourself. “What’s got you looking all sentimental?”

“Just this crazy night,” He answers, trying to crack a halfhearted smile. The corners of his pink lips fall once more though when his gaze stops again at your collarbone. 

You lift one hand to touch the sore area and you feel you understood now what was going through his mind.

“Leon-“ You start, (E/C) eyes softening when his troubled expression still didn’t ease up. “You saved my life. I’m here right now under this snowstorm of a shower because of you,” You try to joke, gesturing at the spurting shower head in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere. You smile when you see him grin a bit.

Exhaling through your nose, you gently lower your arms, baring yourself completely. It was the feeling of being vulnerable to him – physically and, little-by-little, emotionally- that scared you. 

Although you were never the type, Leon was the opposite. He wore his heart on his sleeve and you admired what you saw - a heart made of pure gold. It made you want to confide in him. Even if the world was falling to pieces, it was his valor and morality that made you feel hopeful.

Leon’s breath quietly hitches. 

He tears his gaze away from your skin, of course not wanting to invade, but you assure him by gently reaching out and touching his strong chest. “It’s okay,” You affirm, this time sure of it. 

You gingerly take the bottle of soap from his hold and twist the cap off. The sterile smell of it made you frown – you really don’t know how much something’s worth until the world’s ending.

Leon hasn’t gone under the water yet so he was a step or two away from you. You beckon him forward with your hand and he obliges, closing his eyes and going under the stream. He huffs, probably due to the cold, and you chuckle tenderly. He smiles.

Grabbing your chance, you study the man. He was very attractive – hands down, you noticed that from the get-go – but it was only now that you’re not being chased or hunted that you let yourself see why. 

He was tall and well-built; as far as you’d let yourself wander, even though his body was a canvas of bruises and wounds too, he was defined, probably from all that training back in police academy. 

Trailing your gaze north, you rest at his relaxed expression. Despite having a baby face, he had very strong features – high cheekbones, strong jawline and all. He had long, dark eyelashes that fluttered whenever he blinked or hid his striking blue eyes. 

Indolently, you wonder if you’ve ever seen blue that intense and deep before. It reminds you of the ocean, your favorite place, and just like the ocean, you feel that you could drown in Leon’s gaze when he looks at you.

Watching as the dirt and grime continues to melt from his skin, you notice with great sentiment the light dots of freckles littering the center of his nose and cheeks. You purse your lips to keep from beaming.

When his ocean eyes finally open, he brushes his damp blonde hair out of his face. He catches you with a small grin before you try to play it cool. He smiles with amusement. 

You turn your head from him and fidget with the bottle in your hands, ignoring the warmth creeping its way into your skin in a form of a blush.

Lathering up the soap, you spread it all over yourself, trying to push down the urge to hide from his sight and face the wall again. You hand him the bottle and he takes it from you, doing the same.

“Thanks,” He acknowledges with a kind nod and you return the appreciation. A comfortable kind of silence clouds you both, nothing but the sound of the running water filling the space.

You were just about done and ready to leave the shower when Leon’s voice pulls you back. “(Y/N), wait,” He stops you. Pausing mid-step, you crane your body. A weird expression is on your face to see him looking so nervous all of a sudden. The smile tugging at your lips was unmistakable though.

“Yeah?” You respond, curious and slightly amused. 

He takes a breath before gesturing for you to come back. You oblige without second thought, your heart starting to pick up pace for some odd reason.

“Leon-?” You stop short of your sentence when you feel him move towards you, enveloping you in his broad arms as his lips lightly connect with yours. 

You gasp, your heart spiking in your chest, caught-off guard with his sudden affection. He kisses you ardently, gentle yet urgent, like he’s been craved. He pulls away after a moment – flushed and his eyes bubbling with a mixture of both pride and apology. 

You just blink at him, dazed and unable to muster anything to say. Leon’s small confidence is overshadowed fully by his growing feeling of guilt.

He shouldn’t have done that – he shouldn’t have kissed you. He just met you for God’s sake, no one does that, but he was drawn to you - that much was clear and true to him. 

He wished he met you sooner – he wished he could have met you at a bookstore or a café, at the fucking groceries or at a rock concert, not at this hellhole where the dead came back to life and ate people, where a grey giant with a hauntingly stoic face lurked at every corner to kill, and blind, skinned creatures with tongues that can cut you in half exists. 

Leon would’ve really liked you, he thought, if your lives intertwined before the pandemonium. You were strong, beautiful, and intelligent. 

It’s stupid now that he thinks about it, but he kissed you because at least if he wasn’t going to make it out of here alive, he’d have done what he’s wanted to do for a while now. 

Seeing you almost taken away, it was scorned in his heart. He cared about you a lot.

“(Y/N), I’m so sorr-“ He begins, to ramble about how he should have thought better, but he was silenced by you closing the distance of your bare and wet bodies together. 

You wrap your arms around his neck and stand on your toes, sealing your mouths with a fervent kiss. It was Leon’s turn to be pleasantly surprised – he quickly eases into it though, melting into your warm embrace. 

You tug softly at the hair on the lower part of his head and he groans at the sensation. He places his hands on your naked waist, the heat of his palms a welcome change from the temperature of the water. 

Tucking your (H/C) hair over your damp shoulder, Leon buries his head in your neck, his fringes tickling your skin as he peppers it with small nips and kisses, trailing downward. 

You bite your lip, closing your eyes at the pleasure rippling in your body. You cup his cheeks, rubbing the pad of your thumb over his light freckles before bringing your lips together once more, moving in perfect sync like you’ve both been doing this for years. 

Breaking away slightly, you lean your head on the bottom of his chin. You take a breath to process all that’s just happened; you were thankful for his hands steadying you because you felt drunk. Your heart was thumping so loud you wonder if he could hear it.

Leon tilts your face up and places a tender kiss on your forehead. You close your eyes, resting your mouth on his collarbone. “Let’s get through this – both of us,” You murmur against his wet skin, your heart renewed with purpose.

He nods sincerely, wanting nothing more than what you just said. He tightens his arms around you. “I’ll make sure.”

#leon kennedy #leon scott #leon scott kennedy #leon kennedy writing #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy preference #leon kennedy one shot #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #resident evil #resident evil 2 #resident evil 2 remake #ada wong #claire redfield #chris redfield #mr x #sherry birkin #annette birkin #william burkin #jill valentine #piers nivans #resident evil 4 #re4 #re4 leon #re2 leon #original #original content #umbrellacorporation #umbrella

[qwertythepopstarian08]

Face the Music - JSAB AU fanfic

Another birthday gift for @all-art-and-mun-crazyness!

This fic is based in our Apocalypse AU, a spinoff of Glitch Realms in which Blixer never becomes a robot, and some time after he and Tio find and adopt two Hikarlux cubs, Geophages and Doomere begin to invade Paradise, turning shapes into zombies...

Warning for minor implied gore/violence/horror. Warning for implied child neglect and animal death. 

The apocalypse wasn’t all explosions and betrayal, as Honey thought it’d be. He was much too young to watch the really scary movies that his parents binged on Halloween, but he’d stolen more than a few peeks of some of the watered down television versions that his older sister loved to laugh at to know what the apocalypse was supposed to be like. All the gore and brains certainly made his scales crawl in discomfort, and he vaguely wondered why most wild members of his species were said to dine on similar meals, when he himself was sickened by the sight of blood and content to eat salad and cookies.

He didn’t dwell on the thought at the time, but in hindsight, he should’ve swallowed his fears and eaten that corpse.

It had appeared on their lawn one day, a shape’s prone body, dead in the middle of likely running for help. It smelled of sickness, though nothing lethal or even infectious to his kind, for his internal fire would burn away all traces of disease. He’d poked at the body with a stick until it had turned to shards, upon which point he’d flown, sobbing, to his parents, crying out of the fear that he’d killed someone. They’d patted him on the head and went to clean up the mess, calling the local law enforcement to ensure that there was no foul play at hand, and that had been that.

Oh, how Honey wished he’d given into his predatory nature.

By the time the shards were disposed of, the dust had settled into the earth, festering and incubating a deadly plague, a virus which would soon overtake Paradise, starting from this little garden. No one had questioned why the shards were so grey, so brittle.

Even an ill shape would crumble cleanly, and the shards would fade to dust and glassy core bits within days, decomposing as the magic inside eroded at the physical body. It was never so instant, unless the core was destroyed entirely, and all at once.

No one had questioned it, too distracted by Honey’s tears, distracted by his trauma. His papa was a doctor, and a brilliant one, raised and trained by one of the best, and yet even he’d been swayed from his senses by the sight of his child in an anguished state.

The soil festered, rot and disease taking hold. The garden withered.

Patient Zero had died on the Fresh household’s front yard, among freshly ripened vegetables. Dust sprinkled not only the surface, but the roots and innards of the juicy, deceptively savory plants, just itching to be injested or inhaled by a vulnerable shape.

It’d been a mere flu, a small sniffle that left both of Honey’s parents bedridden for days. At the time, Honey had been convinced that they’d wake up perfectly fine, that he’d get up one morning to see them back to their normal routine, Tio making a hearty breakfast and Blixer sitting on the couch, watching Saturday morning cartoons with Belle. No such day came, and as the time passed, Honey worried for his family.

A week since the body appeared, the first outbreak of the Geophage illness was reported on the news. First only one network covered the story, reporting the mysterious deaths of about a dozen shapes in a small hospital near Honey’s school.

A month later, the death count skyrocketed to the hundreds.

His parents tried their best to keep him and his siblings safe. He was instructed to avoid leaving the house until the virus passed, to keep clean and avoid eating anything past its due date, even by a day or so. The family resorted to eating from their own garden, in addition to whatever animals Blixer could catch that grazed near the Beneath, far from the outbreak. Meals were few and far in between, for his parents were still recovering from the flu, but they were hearty and healthy when they could provide. Honey appreciated the effort.

For a while, things were peaceful. Honey forgot about the virus, for the television was kept on the cartoon channels at all times during the day now, if only to spare his young psyche from the horrors of the disease. There were no more late night movie marathons; every moment of his parents’ time was spent either gathering food or resting in bed. Honey didn’t worry, for he’d started to believe this was normal. The walls muffled the screams outside, and when a shape’s bloodied handprint marked the windows, it was gone within the hour, either by his parents cleaning the stain or a hungry outside cat licking it up. Honey stopped seeing cats around the neighborhood, even when he stared out the window for hours. His window was soon boarded up, only allowing a sliver of sunlight in. Honey liked it better this way.

A year into the apocalypse, things went downhill.

It started with a cough, a persistent, deep cough that struck Blixer and Tio at the same time. They’d been getting better, Honey realized sadly. His siblings assured him that it was a momentary relapse, for their parents hadn’t been able to get any medicine to treat their flu.

But the flu wasn’t supposed to last this long, Honey recalled from his science class. His parents brushed off his worries, and he went along with their facade with a smile.

That night, he thought he saw his papa’s hue fading a bit, in striped patterns down his arm. Honey didn’t question it, nor did he ask where the expired ham that had been in the back of the fridge since Thanksgiving had gone off to. It wasn’t in the trash, but he caught a whiff of it every time Tio spoke, as if it were laced in his breath.

Meals grew scarcer with each passing day. Where Tio had gone pale and thin, Blixer’s fur had darkened to a maroon hue, and his eye was now a piercing scarlet. He stopped catching animals, leaving their salads to be nothing but thin salads and the occasional tomato.

The garden was withering, and Honey knew, in the back of his mind, that the plants would be gone soon, too.

Someone was eating the expired food. Lava, who once clung to his parents like a lifeline, stayed far from them at all times. He awoke Honey at midnight one night, whispering of the rotten smell now permeating around their parents… Honey noticed it, too, but he refused to say anything. After all, what could he assume about a shape, when he wasn’t even one, himself?

A week went by before the break in occurred. The window in Belle’s room was smashed, a dark, static, and furry creature darting in. It snatched the weakened child before Honey could react, and upon sight of its piercing eye, he didn’t think he could move, let alone spit flames. He tried to ignore the fact that its eye had been inside of its mouth, tried to ignore the way its face split open in fours, like some twisted horror movie beast. Lava stayed in his room for the rest of the day, crying. Honey joined him, unwilling to be comforted by his parents, who smelled of rot and whose hugs had become painfully tight.

Tio was looking thinner by the day, hand his arms now possessed strange markings, oddly straight lines that raced from his palms all the way up his arms, as if splitting them in half. His once vibrant cyan hue dulled to grey, save for the dark blue bands of color that had manifested on his arms. He stumbled when he walked, and he stuttered when he spoke, his eyes foggy and distant. Some days, he forgot to cook for everyone, retiring to his bedroom and slamming the door shut for the rest of the night, or perhaps for several nights in a row.

Blixer’s fur had thickened and darkened until it covered him in an impossibly dark coat of fluff, which seemed to be constantly charged with static, stinging and sparking Honey each time he approached. Blixer’s once tall stature had become slouched, and he seemed to dart around the house, keeping to the shadows instead of speaking to anyone. Honey felt lonely, though he didn’t complain, glad that his parents were still alive and well.

No cough nor sneeze came from either of them, so Honey assumed that they’d fought off whatever was ailing them. He was proud of them for trying their best, after all. He’d long since forgotten what it was like to get three meals a day, or even once a week…

Lava had dared to question their parents, which earned him a “time-out” in the furnace in place of dinner for a week. He was “just a fire demon” and “didn’t really need to eat”, after all. Honey repeated those words like a mantra, assuring himself that, despite how weak he felt, he could just spend his time in the fireplace with Lava, feeding off ashes and cinders.

Honey assumed that his parents were just trying to save food, since they’d been skipping meals, themselves. He tried to ignore how empty the fridge looked, tried to ignore the scent of fresh steak that drifted from the kitchen whenever he was sent to the furnace. Perhaps it was a hallucination, or a mirage of sorts. His eyes filled with tears when he thought of the word, “illusion”, for some reason, so he avoided it, trying to ignore the eyes watching him from the shadows…

Two years in, he remained cheerful. After years of having nothing to do but draw, his artistic skills had grown considerably. He doodled his family, or at least what they’d looked like before the apocalypse. A short, fluffy cyan square instead of a tall, spindly grey one. A tall red circle who always smiled, instead of a shadow who watched from afar and hunched over all the time. Two healthy Hikarlux cubs… and, well, he couldn’t remember the last one clearly, so he just drew a purple blob, hoping to get the message across. He couldn’t find any magnets, so he attempted to weld it to the fridge, like he’d seen his parents welding metal to fix his purple sibling’s bike, long ago. He only succeeded in burning his beloved picture to ashes, beginning to cry for the first time in years. For making a mess and causing a scene, he was sent to the furnace for a full week. He soon forgot purple-sibling had existed, at all…

Honey was a good little cub, he was sure of it. He didn’t speak much anymore, for his voice had grown weaker and more like hissing with each day. He didn’t need to talk, for no one ever listened anymore. He still drew, but his family photos now consisted of two cubs and two monsters, his old life forgotten. He wondered who the shapes in the old photo on the living room wall were. He looked very young in the photo, nothing more than a sparkling, so he figured that he’d just forgotten. Anyone who he’d known before the apocalypse was unimportant, for they were most likely either dead or far, far away from Paradise. Paradise, that was the name of his home, right? He couldn’t remember all that well…

Honey was a good cub, he told himself. He was loved by his family, despite the fact that they didn’t talk to him much. He tried to remember if he was supposed to eat, or if his papa was supposed to be black and white, with eight spindly limbs and wicked claws. He tried to recall if his dad always had dark, static fur and traveled on all fours, eating every last ration they had. A nagging feeling in the back of his head told him otherwise, but he ignored it, happy that his family was okay, after all this time. He’d sneaked into the living room while the news was on, once. According to the funny robot, most shapes in Paradise were dead, if not turned into… Geophages and Doomtryxx. Honey thought the monsters on screen looked slightly familiar, so he told his brother about it. Lava just started crying, before retreating to the fireplace for the rest of the night.

Christmas at the house was more festive that year, for his parents were feeling well enough to decorate for the first time in months. At least, Honey thought they were decorating for the holidays; he couldn’t recall what a proper light display looked like, but he figured that his parents knew, for they were older and wiser. His papa had been a doctor before the apocalypse, so he was very smart. Honey found it thoughtful that his parents had tried to recreate the scenery of winter to replace all the snow days he missed out on, both because of the outbreak and his aversion to water. The entire house was covered in thick webbing, which, after being layered so much, looked less like cobwebs and more like frost. Glowing bulbs full of multicolored liquid were placed on the ceilings and walls, allowing the house to be bright, long after the electricity stopped working. The news had gone away, as did the cartoons, and the television was soon replaced with the largest bulb of all. The bulbs smelled strongly of acid and rot, so Honey stayed far from them. Lava refused to come out of his room anymore. Perhaps he was just tired of the holidays. Honey couldn’t blame him.

Honey must have done something to upset them… he couldn’t remember the last time his parents spoke to or even looked at him. They didn’t get him anything for Christmas or his birthday, and they’d stopped making meals for anyone. He wondered when life would go back to normal, longing for at least one meal a week…

Three years in, the second break in occurred. It was pitch black outside, to the point where even the still-present decorations did little to illuminate the house. The windows had been shattered. He heard screaming, but he was unable to rush to his parents’ aid, as Lava dragged him to the safety of their fire. A massive Geophage had gotten in. It was powerful… and hungry. It had a Doomtryxx with it, a horrific static beast with spindly, batlike wings. They’d trashed the house, searching for food. Honey stayed quiet, sobbing silently. He supposed the beasts had gotten their fill of the last of the food, for they left before morning.

Honey crept out of the fireplace. He began to cry when he didn’t see his parents. Lava stayed quiet, for he knew the truth; the family they knew was long dead. 

A few months later, they found the television. It flickered back on one day, the news having returned to air. The robot was still there, still reporting.

“After years of trying to reach them, the Paradise district of Chorus labs has finally responded to our calls. However, it appears that all of the researchers have perished, and among the casualties, the last to perish were Tio and Blixer Fresh. Due to the lack of survivors, Paradise is scheduled to be quarantined indefinitely to prevent the spread of the virus. None shall enter, none shall leave… ever again.”

Vaguely, Honey wondered if the outside world was real to begin with.

He was nothing more than an extinguished pile of ashes by the time the cure arrived, and Paradise saw the light of day again...

#jsab #just shapes and beats #Apocalypse AU #gift #Happy Birthday #Honey #Lavender #Tio #Blixer #Belle #Oh Look a Story Thing #horror warning #Geophage #Doomere