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genderlessdude92 · 30 days

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GENTLE, PLEASE

NSFW FIC

PAIRING: Alastor x Wife!Reader

SUMMARY:Y/N, like the nervous wreck she is, can’t stop spending her free time worrying over something that’s not even a big deal. Of course, one thing lead to another. (Thank you, Charlie, for letting them have the day off).

WARNINGS: (SFW) Reader is female, Reader is hellborn, Reader is VERY anxious (alastor as well, but not too much), reader is sensitive obv, angel is angel, usage of y/n, established relationship cussing on both parts, Alastor owns readers soul. (NSFW) alastor’s pain kink shows a little bit, lingerie, reader is TIGHT, reader is also virgin but is registered adult!!!, mention of a safeword, p in v, slight orgasm denial, reader’s tears, soul-chain bondage, alastor knots. Mentions of pregnancy^^ idk if there’s angst in this that counts but both have a good ending so dw (LMK if i missed anything!!!!)

!!TRANSLATING MY WORK OR COPYING IT IS NOT APPRECIATED (But thanks for liking it :3)!!

Alastor was a man of his word.

Y/N was sitting in her room, tired from her piece of vibrating plastic that brang her ‘pleasure’.

“You look gorgeous in your bliss, darling.”

Whenever Alastor rubbed her, ate her out, it made her feel real pleasure, though.

But, did he?

What was real pleasure?

“I’m too big for you, sweetheart, maybe another time.”

Another time.

Did he want another time?

“You’re almost like Charlie’s mother, Hah! We’d make great parents.”

The look he gave you.

Y/N felt so relieved after hearing Charlie was going up to heaven for a meeting just a moment ago, but now all of these stupid…that’s mean. All these overwhelming thoughts were plaguing her head.

She threw the piece of plastic across the room.

She had to give him something.

when was the last time you talked to him? when was the last time you crossed paths with your husband during work? when was the last time you cooked for him?

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

22:10 PM

She couldn’t sleep.

Was she good enough?

Ugh.

She put on a flimsy oversized shirt she usually wears to bed, some polka-dot pajama shorts, and white, knee-high socks.

She didn’t bother to change her underwear garments from the night before.

Y/N looked around before heading out of her hotel room, in case anybody saw her, to Alastor’s room.

Y/N was so happy when Alastor ‘accidentally’ mapped her room next to his on one of the secluded floors when the hotel was being rebuilt. How happy she was, indeed.

Knock knock knock

Silence. but only for a moment before she heard and felt the soft familiar static come closer to the other side of the door.

“Come in, mon cher.” He greeted as he opened the door, stepping aside. His room looked neat and clean, unlike Y/N’s. mostly because there wasn’t much stuff…and he had a whole bayou, making the room bigger.

She nervously walked over the the edge of his bed and sat down, breathing in the smell of his familiar cologne.

“Whats keeping you up so late? you’re usually a slumbering baby at this time of night!” He chortled, sitting down next to her on the plush bed of his.

Fuck.

He was wearing silk pajama pants and a robe, but the robe was just barely tied tightly, exposing a majority of his chest. His monocle was placed elsewhere and his hair was slightly disheveled.

Crap, you woke him up didn’t you.

“…I don’t know.” You dumbass, wrong answer! she scolded at herself.

Alastor chuckled again, “Just missed me?” he asked.

That reminded Y/N of back then. When it was simple and new between them. Before they went to this hotel, decades ago when the two met. She would always go over to his manor in the middle of the night after roaming the streets and feeling lonely.

Ah, yes. Now i have to work for the princess.

“…Yeah…missed you.” Y/N forced a smile alongside that little white lie.

He sighed, “…Alright, what’s going on?” He placed a place on her tensed shoulder, rubbing it soothingly, gently.

Cornered. Y/N didn’t have a choice, “Do you…Do always mean it when…fuck- when you s-say you-um- want to have a child with me?” She said without breaking her eye contact to the floor.

You didn’t have to say it like that, fucking hell

Alastor’s movements froze. “…a…um…” His smiled turned strained, “-a spawn?”

Y/N teared up. there was no way she was getting out of this one.

She whimpered, “…sorry.” before her hands shot up to her face, Alastor grabbed her wrist-

“I would love to. Y-You know I am a man of my word…” Alastor confessed with a chuckle, “-But…only if you are comfortable with it, mon amour.” Alastor went to her eyes level to try and meet her eyes.

Y/N froze. Her tears stopped.

…Holy fuck.

Y/N looked at him, to search for any disapproving emotion in his eyes.

None.

“…I-I want to.” Y/N confessed back, “…too.”

Alastor’s smile softened, he pulled Y/N with ease into him lap, “I’m glad,” and immediately kissed her.

The kiss was soft, sensual, gentle, even. Alastor’s hands began to roam under her shirt once she opened her mouth for him.

Alastor broke away from the kiss for a moment, a string of saliva connecting to their lips, “Y/N…?” he tugged on her shirt.

Oh god, what do i say?

“…Is there something wrong?” Y/N silently panicked.

Alastor widened his eyes for a moment but then softened his demeanor, “You shirt. Can i take it off?” He kissed her lips once more.

Fucking idiot. A brain dead patient would’ve known what that meant.

“…Yes.” She smiled nervously as he broke the the kiss.

Alastor nodded before bunching the hem of her shirt in his claws, “arms up, dear.”

As Y/N put her arms up, letting him gently take off her shirt, Alastor noticed how she was…wearing lingerie.

The lingerie that she wore the night before.

see what i did there

As Y/N put her arms down, she noticed how Alastor was staring at her under garments…

That she didn’t change from last night.

Y/N squeaked and ripped the bra off her body, tossing it away and into the bayou.

Now you’re bra-less.

Y/N slowly look up at Alastor, afraid he was going to scold her for not caring about her hygiene and stuff like that.

Alastor had always scolded her for skipping certain chores to, ‘take the weight off Alastor and Nifty’s shoulders’ whether it be showers, making the bed…laundry.

Dirty landry.

Alastor sighed, “I love you, Y/N,” He laughed softly, “-my clumsy doe.” He finished the sentence with a lustful growl, his claws tickled down her spine, arching her back.

“…I…I love you, t-“ almost immediately, Y/N was pinned down into the center of the bed, Alastor lips crashing onto hers like a starved man.

Fuck yeah, it was hot.

Alastor began to knead his claws at her breasts, squishing them so.

he grinder himself to her clothed core, making her throb for his touch, some contact. It almost felt like all those other times.

…but…it didn’t feel right.

Alastor, after needing a breath of air, noticed the tiniest hint of this, and grown worried,

“Are you alright, dearest?” He checked in.

She was unsure. Yeah, she was in the mood…but she just felt nervous, and he felt so confident.

“…anything i could do?” Alastor questioned once more, still hovering over her, his antlers slightly sizing down.

Think, Y/N, you were fine before, what was he doing before…

“…can you um…be gentle?” She winced, thinking that she sounded like some kind of needy loser. Oh, lord-

“-Why…o-of course, mon cœur.” he reassured, rubbed his thumbs over her small, plush breasts because kissing her once again.

Nothing could have compared more to how satisfied Alastor felt when she moaned.

It wasn’t a pornographic moan either, it was…natural. needing, almost.

Once Alastor slipped his tongue into her awaiting mouth, he began to unwrap his robe, tossing it to the ground and leaving his chest bare for her.

She gasped, “Oh, Al…” before she could wrap her arms around his neck, she felt him tug at her loose shorts,

“May I, darling?~”

Y/N nodded like a frantic woman, lifting her bottom up so he could take off her shorts, awaiting to find her panties completely soaked.

He pushed her bottom down with ease, “Dear, you seem to be completely moist,” Alastor commenting with the low vibration of static in his voice, making Y/N blush frantically. “Tell me, what turn you on so much? Perhaps…” Alastor swiped a finger through her panties, making her yelp. He then brang it back up to his mouth and licked itc moaning softly, “…was it my switch in demeanor?”

Y/N clenched as the sight. Alastor scooted back and lowered herself to her pussy, licking her slowly through the cloth guarding her. When he got to the location of her pearl, he pushed his tongue down onto it, receiving a moan from the receiver.

But his tongue wasn’t enough at the moment.

She wanted more.

“N-no…please, Alastor…I want you.” Y/N pleaded. she was impatient, she couldn’t just sit there and go through what was the usual.

She needed more.

He growled. “Anything for you, ma lumière.” Like an inpatient man, he tapped the bottom of her butt, signaling her to raise it. She did so, and almost immediately did he swiped her panties off of her, resulting in a gasp from Y/N.

Alastor crawled over so his pelvis was just on top of her. standing straight on his knees.

Alastor unbuttoned his silk pajama pants, his hard cock springing free right out of his boxers.

Nothing could have prepared Y/N from how big it looked.

Estimating, it was probably 7.5 inches minimum, and have mercy on her-

It was seriously…thick.

She looked up at Alastor worried. Alastor noticed this and softened his expression,

“You’ll be okay. I’ll go slow for you.”

Y/N nodded, but it certainly didn’t make her feel any better. She was still clenching her womanhood as well, just slightly at the thought of how bad this might hurt.

Alastor sighed. “The safeword is…stop.” Alastor told her. Hopefully that would make her feel safer.

…she opened for him.

When Alastor looked down to examine her, he saw how each second she opened, her juices would stick to her pussy’s lips in strings.

His dick physically throbbed more.

After hooking her legs up and around her waist, he lowered his body down more so that his cock was in lined with her vagina.

Slowly, he rubbed his length up down down through her folds, collecting as much natural lube as he could for her pleasure.

-But the sounds definitely weren’t helping, making Y/N face glow a darker tint of red than before. So, she just zoned out to the rumble of Al’s static.

What snapped her out of her zoning, although, was the burning of her hole, hissing in discomfort.

“Shhh…” Alastor hushed, “Just let me put the tip in, then i’ll stop.” Alastor, still, waited for confirmation.

Fucking pussy, Y/N thought, can’t even take the tip?!-

“o-okay.” She grasped onto his shoulder for an anchor in the pain. I can get through this.

Alastor still gave her a moment before shoving the full tip in, making her wince in pain, squeezing his shoulder.

Alastor hushed her again, “relax for me, darling…” he lowered his mouth to her left nipple, softly suckling on the nub, and effort to ease the pain. As Y/N released more moans, bringing one of her hands up to rub the lonely breast.

After a moment to let her settle around him, he pulled away from her nipple with a pop, bringing her hand back up to his shoulder.

“Just relax for me…” Alastor suggested before closely pushing some more length into her. “You,” he groaned, “You’re doing so good for me…”

How is she so tight?

Tears began to form in Y/N’s waterline. Alastor looked up at the sight and pondered what he could do. After a few moments, he stopped until he was just halfway into her, he leaned down once more to place his lips on her tears, her forehead, and then her lips, whispering affirmations in the middle of each kiss.

…was this too slow?

Y/N couldn’t believe her thoughts.

She pulled away from his lips to speak, “A-Al…put it in…i’m ready…” she requested with desperation in her tone, “i need all of you…”

Alastor looked up at him to spot a lie in the process, “Are you sure, my love-“

“Alastor, fuck me.”

That made Alastor moan, which then turned into a growl as Alastor subconsciously grew into a slightly bigger form of himself, snapping his hips with force into her.

Y/N cried out, but silenced Alastor before he could say anything, “S-Start moving, Al, please…” She took one of her hands off a shoulder to rub her nub, moaning softly as the newly added pleasure mixed with him slowly bottom out before snapping back into her.

He repeated this motion for a moment before slowly picking up her pace, making her moans short between thrusts.

“A-Alastor, ngh…” She called for him, grasping onto his shoulder once again. She tried to pull him down for a kiss.

“Use your words, m…mon cher.” he breathed and he kept his euphoric pace.

“K-Kiss me…” Y/N pleaded through her moans.

Alastor quickly leaned down to peck her lips before breaking the quick kiss,

“I’m gonna fill you…” He quickened his pace, his form becoming more menacing as his antlers grew, “with my seed.” He finished his sentence by smashing his lips onto hers.

As Y/N’s legs began to slip, he quickly used his tendrils to press them to her chest,

Positioning her into a breeding press.

“Ah…A-Alastor…I’m gonna-ah!” Alastor changed his pace to a brutal, electrifying one.

Y/N didn’t even care if he were to be gentle, she just wanted that sweet relief of relea-

“You don’t cum until i say so, darling.” a green shackle on Y/N’s left ankle appeared as a warning. “Understood? Those are our rules of the bedroom.”

He wasn’t wrong there. Those were the rules. He never wanted to feel under-powered in the bedroom at all, so that included orgasm denial.

And Y/N was completely fine with it.

But how quick and hard he’s hitting that far spot in her walls?

Just made her feel like there was no control.

“Alastor, please…” Y/N let tears she didn’t know we’re building up fell.

Alastor hushed her comfortingly, “Sweetheart-fuck-sweetheart, y-you’re almost there…” Alastor could feel himself knot inside of her,

…He wasn’t even sure that he was knotting until Y/N’s moans turned into groans.

He swiped some tears off her cheeks, “Mon cœr, you’re r-ready to cum?” he shot one of his tendrils down to her pussy, rubbing it at a rapid pace. Alastor leaned down to whisper into her ear, the static in his voice now on mute, “cum for me, then.”

That’s when the coil snapped.

The same time when Alastor spilt him seed deep into her womb.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

23:04 PM

Y/N was exhausted.

“Darling, i need you to sit up for a moment.” Alastor demanded.

Y/N groaned like a toddler.

“…fine.” Alastor put down the glass of water onto the nightstand, taking one knee and placing it sorely onto the bed to get closer to her, his shadow helping to lift her butt up as he wiped extra semen off of her.

after a moment of him disappearing into the bathroom, he came back looking neat and ready for bed.

…with a genuine smile on his face as his eyes met your tired ones.

Alastor went to the other side on the bed, sighing as he felt the soft surface under him.

He scooted closer to Y/N to get her under the blankets, dramatic, he thought as Y/N made a whine of protest again from the movement.

Once everything felt to his liking, he laid down next to her. and pulled her close, nuzzling his cheek into her hair.

“…Hey…Al?”

“mhm?”

“…I love you…”

He softened his smile, chuckling light-heartedly,

“…I love you two, as well.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

BONUS ☆♪

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Hey, sweet cheeks,” Angel called from the other side of the lobby, walking over to Y/N, “Still up for that event thingy at the new bar? Heard that the sharks are blackl-“

Angel stared at the sight before him.

Y/N, laying on the couch with her legs slightly spread and a heating pad on the thighs.

“…Don’t-“

“Is it just me, or do i see you…a supposed to be virgin friend of mine…sore from a…” He examines the current position for a moment, walking around the couch to stand in front of her, “…breeding press position.”

Y/N stares at him like he’s her next target on a murder spree.

And which, he probably was.

“What? I’m and expert with this kind of stuff,” He pulls out his phone and sits next to you, “forget that I work for Valentino? Damn, how good was that sex?”

“Angel, if you want to keep the ability of having sex, be quiet.”

NOTE: I felt rlly devious making this fic 😍 But all jokes aside, i rlly need some writing tips since this is literally my first fic ever 😭 (we aren’t counting my slender x wife!reader fic from 2016 that got 11k notes help it wasn’t even that good-) But let’s be fr, tips and comments are appreciated! I’m also taking reqs but only Alastor ones for now <3 oki baiiii

-Genderlessdude92, Kiki

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letoasai · 6 months

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dp x dc Chronos part 5

Part 1 - Previous - Master list

Diana was furious.

She’d known her young uncle for only a handful of hours but here she was, ready to go to war for him. Perhaps that was what her grandfather had meant earlier, his words still ringing in her ears.

I have a task for you, Diana. One i do not think you will turn now but i’ll give you the illusion of choice.

Perhaps it was less an illusion and more her grandfather merely knowing ahead of time how she would react. If Danny was to be believed – and he did seem such a trustworthy boy – his Clockwork knew every path one could take.

She knew there were still questions to be asked, but Danny had been able to tell her a great deal before his eyes began to droop and she insisted he try to sleep. The curtains to the room had been left open and she watched as his eyes happily glazed over at the sight of open space before him. It had only taken minutes for him to fall asleep.

Now she had a lot of work to do and she planned to get as much done while Danny slept as she could.

She entered the conference room with a quick stride, many members already present for the meeting she had ordered via text. They’d learned that some equipment didn’t work well around Danny. Visuals were blurry at best and audio crackled into something indistinguishable. Diana had instead been texting information to Bruce and Kal to look into while she focused on the boy.

“Were you able to find anything?” She asked immediately, not elaborating on which fact she was talking about. She’d sent them so many little snippets that she didn’t really care where they started.

Batman just grunted, and despite wearing his cowl, she could see just how unhappy he was.

“You’re not going to like it, but you expected that.” Superman said, papers laid out in front of him. He wasn’t the only one doing his research.

Green Lantern and Flash were still there, the latter looking like he was having an existential crisis over the topic of ghosts.

Martian Manhunter had also arrived, his frown informing her that the others had caught him up on what had been happening.

“Can we confirm the truth as Danny has laid it out for us?” She asked, taking a seat.

“Oh, yeah.” Hal muttered, rubbing a hand down his face. “Constantine will arrive later, but he could confirm the new High King of the Infinite Realm went by Phantom. Never heard him sound so horrified as him learning that someone had punched a hole into another realm in their house though. Inter-dimensional war crimes on our end are stacking up.”

“Our end?” She asked.

“The GIW…” Bruce began, sounding a mixture of exhausted and livid. “Are completely out of their depth and did not have the authority to just name a species unidentified to the rest of us as non-sentient. If the Infinite Realm retaliates, and John thinks it’s a possibility, it won’t just be aimed at the GIW alone but the entire dimension. That makes this more of a mess for us to clean up than it already was.”

They’d already decided to help, that was what they did. But there was a difference in lending a hand and righting a wrong and taking responsibility for someone else’s fuck ups because they had to.

“Can we prove it?” Diana asked.

“Absolutely.” Kal nodded. “Honestly, for a government agency, their security is a joke. There was a backdoor already in place. We can ask Danny about that later.”

Diana nodded, certain the information would be good in his hands. She turned her attention back to Bruce. “The Fentons?”

There was a certain level of disgust that tried to choke her out in that situation. Danny had been so hesitant, the betrayal fresh and painful. She had lived in the World of Men for a long time now and it had as many delights as it did drawbacks, but to learn what Danny’s parents had attempted to do to him left her burning to seek them out herself.

His mother had lost her privilege to refer to herself as such.

She didn’t care what the circumstances were. Capture and torture with the intentions of vivisection was inexcusable. The target being a child made it all the more heinous. Diana knew Batman would understand without her saying a word.

“Run of the mill mad scientists. They might have been onto something once when it came to energy but their bias took over. Even if they had been correct about ecto-entities, their language is incredibly inappropriate. No licenced and competent science journal would be associated with that.” He stared at her unhappily. “They’re lunatics. The fact that their children grew up in their home is outrageous.” He hit a button on the remote and a location appeared on the computer screens.

A bricked house on a street corner, enormous Fenton Works sign taking up most of the front. It was an eyesore, but not as much as the sci-fi looking shuttle sticking out of the roof. The OHSA violations alone should have had the building condemned and there was no way permits had been granted for any of that construction.

It was a supervillain's dream and not the least bit subtle. It should have been a crime in itself for the town to allow it to remain in a residential area and was shocking that no calls to Child Protective Services had been made.

Yes, Danny was an exceptional being, but Diana understood now all the likely scenarios where he could have died in that house. Danny had called his death an accident, but she wasn’t so certain about that. “They were the ones to hurt him.” Diana said, hating how her throat was tight. She was already emotionally compromised.

“Yes, i know.”

Diana’s attention snapped back to him. “How?”

“Simple reasoning. They are unstable ghost hunters with questionable science. Danny was removed from his home for his safety. Chronos said he needed a guardian. That doesn’t paint a pretty picture.” Bruce muttered. “Either his guardians couldn’t care for him, or shouldn’t care for him.”

She felt her shoulders relax somewhat, knowing that such a logical conclusion should have occurred to her too. She really was worried about Danny’s recovery. “We can add it to the file i know you’ve created, but i’d prefer if no one asked him about that at this time. This last attack only happened several days ago and it is still fresh on his mind.”

Bruce’s eyes narrowed, always a hound when it came to sniffing out abused kids. “This last attack?”

“They’ve been after him for a while.” Diana hummed, though she’d only had a vague example or two since Danny hadn’t wanted to get into it. She couldn’t imagine how he’d just returned home every day to parents who tried to capture his other persona.

“We must factor in his identity.” Martian Manhunter approached them, having been listening. J’onn had been doing his own research the last several hours. He laid down a startlingly clear picture of Danny in his white haired ghost form. A print out of an Amity Park newspaper article.

“What is that?” Bruce frowned, sliding it closer to read.

“The hero of Amity Park. Phantom. The articles are biased and unfavorable, but that is not the current accepted public opinion. Phantom protects the living from ghosts. He also protects the ghosts from the ghost hunters.” J’onn explained, voice carefully neutral. “Phantom appearing other places, perhaps shouldn’t coincide with where Daniel Fenton ends up.”

“A name change could be warranted. If that’s what he wants.” Bruce adds.

J’onn gave a single nod. “It’s a great deal of pressure on one teenager's shoulders. Being a king of a realm on top of that…”

It was silently agreed upon that Danny deserved this break and Diana was going to get it for him.

“It was only a matter of time before something had to give.” Diana said, turning enough to speak to everyone in the room. “Well he won’t be dealing with all of that alone now. We start with dismantling the GIW, appealing the Anti-Ecto Acts, and smoothing over our relations with the Infinite Realm.”

“Only that much, huh?” Flash muttered, trying to wrap his head around the science of ghost hunting.

“Why not get some of the kids involved. Young Justice, maybe?” Hal was rubbing his eyes, not looking forward to the consequences of this mess. “Once he heals it might do him some good to be around others closer to his own age. People he wouldn’t need to hide half of himself from.”

When put like that, Diana could only agree.

“I’ll mention it to him.” “I’ll get the information i have to Lois.” Clark said, sliding his papers into a binder. “If public opinion of Phantom is already decent in Amity Park, then we’ll up the exposure to put pressure on our oblivious government.”

“I’ll take a few of the GIW facilities.” Bruce muttered, but he had that familiar tone that said he was about to let his children go buck wild. “A little recon…” he added vaguely.

Before anyone else could put in their own two cents, the sensors went off, exactly how they had before Chronos had arrived. A paranormal knock of sorts before the very air seemed to split in two, a glowing green portal building around it.

“Here we go again.” Barry muttered, each of them surrounding the portal as they’d done early for safety’s sake but they were less inclined to fight immediately.

As J’onn was seeing it for the first time, he remained near Diana, keenly watching the portal manifest. It wasn’t Chronos who stepped out though, it wasn’t human at all.

From the portal stepped a creature that Diana didn’t have the name for. Bipedal, humanoid, but beast like in appearance. Horns on his head and spikes from his tail made of ice were noticed secondary to his arm of ice that still encased his bones inside. His fur was white, his claws could easily kill and he was covered by a kilt and cape.

What gave Diana pause as the bag slung over one shoulder, the tell tale signs of a medical cross across the front.

“Who are you?” Superman asked, more polite than their earlier run in with her grandfather.

The creature, a ghost presumably, held himself rigid. He was doing a great deal to make himself appear smaller then he was but his gaze was assessing. He was ready to fight if necessary.

“I am here for His Majesty, the Great One.” Was his response.

Diana stepped forward, deciding this was exactly what she suspected. “I am Diana. Granddaughter of Chronos who Danny fondly calls Clockwork. You are Frostbite, come to check on Danny, yes?”

All of his attention was on her now, but he seemed to see what he wanted in her after locking eyes. “I am. Frostbite, Ruler of the Infinite Realm’s Far Frozen. I have come to see Our Savior the King, as his primary physician.”

“He’s a doctor.” Flash whispered.

“Fascinating.” J’onn muttered, sounding a little winded by whatever he was sensing. “He is who he claims.”

“I’m relieved.” Diana muttered, approaching him with a smile this time. “Please come with me and i will take you to Danny. I’m afraid we did what we could but his unique biology left us questioning our choices. He is resting in a private room.”

“Did something happen to setback his recovery?” Frostbite asked, serious over the care of his charge as he followed Wonder Woman out of the conference room without so much as a glance back at the other heros.

“Excitement, i believe.” Diana offered. “He may have been a little too excited to show off his alternate, living form and seemed to forget his condition.”

Frostbite actually snorted. “Sounds like him.”

“I did not realize how badly wounded he was. We had been talking about our arrangements and he was answering my questions about ghosts. He appeared sore, but fairly pleased to speak with me. Given what he had just been through…”

Frostbite grunted his agreement. “His heart is soft, but his will is unlike anything i have ever known. Many of us saw this tragedy coming, but he insisted on seeing it out for himself, hoping for a favorable ending.”

Diana cracked her knuckles out of habit, that anger still simmering. “He will be safe in my care, i assure you.”

“The Great One is the rightful King to our realm, but many forget he is still just a child.” Frostbite said, eyeing her even as she led him through the Watchtower.

“It is not something i am likely to forget.” Not after she’d seen how small he was in their medbay bed. “He’s resting but weak, you can help?”

“As long as he has not taken more damage, i’m sure i can.” Frostbite said, a gentleness to his voice as they stopped at Danny’s room. Diana went in first to prove the area was a safe one but that may not have mattered given how quickly Frostbite followed her.

He was at Danny’s bedside in an instant, having somehow moved passed her without knocking into her. He could have gone through her for all she knew. For all he seemed to be a hulking beast, Frostbite was nothing but gentle as he examined Danny. He looked over any and all work that had been done to Danny since his arrival, and checked the bandages across his torso. He went as far as to grab the clipboard on the foot of Danny’s bed to read, having no trouble understanding the medical jargon.

From his medical bag, he pulled out several small bottles, all of them growing a toxic green. Injections were given to the teenager, and it didn’t seem to matter that he was in his living, dark haired form.

“Has he explained to you what it means to be a halfa?” Frostbite finally asked, breaking the silence.

“Only in vague, teenager terms.” Diana said. She’d been quite sure that Danny’s flippant attitude was more a coping mechanism than anything.

Frostbite just hummed. “Then i will have to fill you in.”

#ghost king danny #danny phantom #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #wonder woman #Frostbite

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comradekatara · 1 month

Note

Your atla analysis is the best so I wanted to ask your opinion on something I've found the fandom fairly divided on - what did you think of Azula's ending within the show proper? Unnecessarily cruel or a necessary tragedy? Would you say that her mental breakdown was too conveniently brought about in order to 'nerf' her for the final agni kai? Also, do you think it was 'right' for Zuko to have fought with his sister at all or would it have been better for him to seek a more humane way to end the cycle of violence?

okay so im saying this as someone who loves azula to death like she has always been one of my absolute favorite characters ever since i was a kid and i’ve always vastly preferred her to zuko and found her to be extremely compelling and eminently sympathetic. i am saying this now before the azula stans come for me. i believe in their beliefs. but i also think her downfall is perfectly executed, and putting aside all the bullshit with the comics and whatever else, it’s a really powerful conclusion to her arc. obviously that isn’t to say that she wouldn’t continue to grow and develop in a postcanon scenario (i have a whole recovery arc for her mapped out in my head, like i do believe in her Healing Journey) but from a narrative perspective, her telos is in fact very thematically satisfying.

no, she wasn’t nerfed so that they could beat her in a fight. the fact that she falls apart is what makes them feel that they can confidently take her on (although i do think in a fair fight katara could win anyway), but the whole point is that it’s not about winning or losing in combat. the whole point is that zuko and azula being pitted against each other in this gratuitous ritual of violence as the culmination of their arcs is fundamentally tragic. yes it’s a bad decision to fight her, and zuko should have chosen another path, but the whole point is that he’s flawed and can only subscribe to the logic he has spent his whole life internalizing through violence and abuse.

that’s why aang’s fight against ozai, while tragic in its own way, is also a triumph for the way in which his ideals prevail in the face of genocide, while zuko and azula’s fight is very patently tragic. there is no moment of victory or triumph. even as zuko sacrifices himself in a beautiful mirroring of “the crossroads of destiny” and as katara uses the element of her people combined with techniques across other cultures to use azula’s hubris and ideology of domination against her, it’s presented as moments of personal growth occurring within a very tragic yet inevitable situation. it was inevitable because azula had always been positioned as an extension of her father, and thus to disempower ozai also means disempowering azula, his favorite site of projection, his favorite weapon.

yeah, it does rub me the wrong way when zuko asks katara whether she’d like to help him “put azula in her place.” it’s not a kind way to talk about your abused younger sister. but it’s also important to understand that zuko doesn’t really recognize his sister’s pain, despite the fact that they obviously share a father, because he’s always assumed that she was untouchable as their perfect golden child and thus never a victim. and he’s wrong. zuko and katara expect a battle of triumph and glory, noble heroes fighting valiantly so that good may prevail over evil. but as they discover here, even more so than their previous discovery two episodes prior, a battle is not a legendary event filled with bombast and beauty until after it has been historicized. often a war is simply fought between pathetic, desperate people who see no other option but to fight.

aang’s ultimate refusal to fight despite having all the power in the world is what makes him so important as the protagonist. but katara and zuko both share a more simplistic view of morality and what it means to be good. and zuko assumes that by fighting azula, he can only be punching up, because she has always been positioned as his superior, and she (in her own words!) is a “monster.” and then azula loses, and his entire worldview shatters. joking about putting her in her place makes way for the realization that behind all her posturing and lying (to herself more than anyone) and performance and cognitive dissonance, azula has always been broken, perhaps even more than he is.

azula says “im sorry it has to end this way, brother,” to which zuko replies “no you’re not.” but i think azula is truly sorry, because in her ideal world, she wouldn’t be fighting zuko. she doesn’t actually want to kill him, as much as she claims to. she’s already reached the conclusion that zuko will only truly reach once their fight is over. she lacks a support system, and she needs one, desperately. if she could somehow get her family back, do everything differently, less afraid of the consequences, she would. she’s smirking, she sounds almost facetious, but really, she is sorry. as of this moment, she really doesn’t want it to end this way. but zuko cannot accept that, because in his mind, azula is evil. azula has no soul nor feeling. azula always lies.

her breakdown doesn’t come out of nowhere, either. it’s precipitated by everyone she has ever cared about betraying her. first zuko betrays her, then mai, then ty lee, and then ozai — the person she has staked her entire identity to and to whom she has pledged her undying loyalty and obedience, become nothing more than a vessel for his whims — discards her because she had the audacity to care about someone other than him. what i don’t think zuko realizes, and perhaps will never realize, is that azula betrayed ozai by bringing zuko back home. he was not supposed to be brought back with honor and with glory. azula specifically orchestrated the fight in the catacombs to motivate him to join her, and it’s not because she’s some cruel sadistic monster who wanted to separate a poor innocent soft uwu bean from his loving uncle, it’s because she genuinely believes that she’s doing what’s best for him. she believes that their uncle is a traitor and a bad influence, and she believes that bringing zuko home with his honor “restored” is an act of love. to her it is.

yes, she claims that she was actually just manipulating him so that she wouldn’t have to take the fall if the avatar was actually alive, but also, she’s clearly just covering her own ass. she didn’t know about the spirit water, and only started improvising when zuko started showing hesitation. but even if she was only using zuko, then that was an insane risk to take, because either way she was lying directly to ozai’s face. and zuko admits it to ozai while simultaneously committing treason, so of course ozai would blame azula, his perfect golden child who tried to violate his decree by bringing zuko back home a prisoner at best and dead at worst, and instead found a way to restore his princehood with glory.

we only see ozai dismissing and discarding azula in the finale, but it’s clearly a tension that’s been bubbling since the day of black sun. and we know this because we do see azula falling apart before the finale. in “the boiling rock” she is betrayed by her only friends. in “the southern raiders” we see that this has taken a toll on her, that she is already somewhat unhinged. she and zuko tie in a one on one fight for the first time. and she takes down her hair as she uses her hairpin to secure herself against the edge of a cliff. unlike zuko, who is helped by his friends and allies, who has a support system. it’s a very precarious position; she’s literally on a cliff’s edge, alone, her hair down signifying her unraveling mental state. azula having her hair down signals to us an audience that she is in a position of vulnerability. she is able to mask this terrifying moment wherein she nearly plummets to her death with a triumphant smirk, but it should be evident to us all that her security is fragile here.

and the thing is, even though she’s always masked it with a smirk and perfect poise, her security has always been fragile. azula has never been safe. azula’s breakdown is simply the culmination of her realization that no matter how hard she tries, she will never be ozai’s perfect weapon, because she is a human being. she is a child, no less. and there is no one in her entire life who loves her for nothing. zuko has iroh, who affirms to him that he could never be angry with zuko, that all he wants is simply what is best for zuko. but azula doesn’t have unconditional support in her life. she doesn’t even have support.

everyone she ever thought she could trust has betrayed her, and so she yells that trust is for fools. because she feels like a fool. of course fear is the only way; it’s what kept her in line all these years. azula is someone who is ruled by fear, and who is broken by the recognition that fear isn’t enough. her downfall is necessarily tragic because her worldview is wrong. the imperialist logic of terror as a tool for domination is her own undoing, just as ozai’s undoing is losing the weapon he has staked his national identity to. it’s a battle of ideals. aang v ozai: pacifism v imperialism. katara and zuko v azula: love and support v fear and isolation.

zuko is unfair to azula, it’s true. he tries to fight her even as he can clearly recognize that “she’s slipping.” instead of trying to help his little sister, he uses that weakness to his advantage, tries to exploit her pain so that he can finally, for the first time ever, beat her in a fight. it’s cruel, but it’s also how siblings act. especially considering the conditions under which they were raised, and how zuko has always viewed her. and in zuko’s defense, she has tried to kill him multiple times lately, both in “the boiling rock” and in “the southern raiders.” zuko is someone who gets fixated on a goal and blocks out everything else, including recognition of his surroundings or empathy for others. so of course when he’s promised to put azula in her place he’s going to exploit her weaknesses to do so. after all, isn’t exploiting his weaknesses exactly what azula does best? so he allows himself to stoop to her level, and in fact only redeems himself through his sacrifice for katara. but it is when azula is chained to the grate and zuko and katara, leaning on each other, look down and observe the sheer extent on her pain, that zuko realizes that “putting azula in her place” isn’t actually a victory. it feels really, really bad, actually.

they’re in a similar position as they were when they faced yon rha. and now it is zuko’s turn to understand that he is not a storybook hero triumphing over evil, but rather a human being, facing another human being, in a conflict that is larger than themselves. to “put someone in their place” is to imply a logic of domination, of inherent superiority, that someone has stepped out of line and must be reordered neatly into the hierarchy. but aang disputes the notion, ozai’s notion, that humanity can be classified along these lines, that there exists an ontological superiority among some and not others. so operation: putting azula in her place was always going to be flawed, even if she was performing competency the way she always does, because they’re nonetheless subscribing to her logic.

of course they should be helping azula, of course they should be reaching out to abuse victims through support instead of more violence. but first they must recognize her victimhood. first they must come to understand that they didn’t get lucky, and they didn’t dominate her because they are more “powerful,” that they weren’t “putting her in her place.” they must understand that they are not heroes fighting villains in a glorious trial by combat. that the logic of the agni kai is flawed. that they are all victims. that they are all just scared, hurt children who are still grieving their mothers.

#update: ok i readmored it 👍🏼#azula #analysis #zuko #katara #ozai #azula&zuko #azula&ozai #asks #malatilata #ugh azula is such a beautiful character….. i love her sm #her arc is so beautifully perfectly tragic #just thinking abt the mirror scene gets me sooo . distraught #this was supposed to be like 2 paragraphs lol #as is always the way . with me..

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javiscigarette · 16 days

Text

Emergency Contact

Frankie Morales x f!reader

Summary: Frankie gets in trouble and this is the last time you're helping him. At least that's what you tell yourself.

Warnings: angst, smut, post break up, mentions of drug/alchol use/abuse, military ptsd, frankie on a downward spiral and needs to get his shit together, emotional smut because I had to, fingering, oral (f receiving), creampie, frankie is literally this emoji -> 🥺 the whole time

w/c: 6.8K

a/n: part of @iamasaddie writing challenge 2.0!!! I picked puppy eyes brown and my genre was angst with the prompt: "Tell me how to fix this." And guys listen. I literally never write angst I’m such a softy but I tried my best with this okay! and I obviously had to include some smut I just couldn't resist hehehe. Also thank u to my baby love @undrthelights for finding theses pics and for everything else you do :) enjoy!

my masterlist

You should scream at him, yell at him. Tell him to get the fuck out, fight him tooth and nail to prevent him from worming his way back into your heart, to avoid anymore pain. But then he’s against you, his chest flush against your back, legs tangling together under the blankets. He slips an arm around your waist, the other underneath you, pulling you against him tighter as he nuzzles into your neck, burying his face into your hair and takes a deep breath. “Just one more night" he whispers. "Please. Just let me have one more night."

The vibrations of your phone buzzing on your nightstand pulls you from a deep slumber, your heart is already pounding at the sudden noise, the rest of your body slow and sluggish as you try to gain your bearings.

You paw for your phone, squinting at the brightness of the screen when you find it. A call from a number you don't recognize. You debate letting it go to voicemail but the area code is local and that makes you pick up, a raspy Hello? leaving your mouth as you roll over in bed, glancing at the clock.

2:13 am.

The sound of your name crackles down the line, the immediately recognizable voice causing your heart to plummet to your ass.

"Frankie?" You ask, sleep quickly leaving you as tension takes its place.

"...Yeah, sorry, I…I didn't know who else to call." His voice is frail and pinched.

You don't have to ask him what's wrong, your brain already piecing the puzzle together You've been in this exact position before. The anger is already starting to creep in, your brow furrowed and stomach twisting as a familiar rage blooms in your chest.

"You couldn't have called anyone else?"

You know the answer is no. The rest of the boys are on a mission, leaving him behind after he failed on his promise to stay clean for long enough to get cleared to go. And now, you’ve fallen victim to that decision too,being the only person left to call whenever he finds himself without a leg to stand on. Frankie in trouble, you bailing him out. Just like normal.

"I'm sorry I didn't want to bother you I just..." he takes a deep breath and sighs. "I'm at the station on Oak street. Can you maybe... pick me up?"

You close your eyes and take a moment to compose yourself and reign in the anger at the way he's gotten under your skin already.

"What did you do this time, Frankie?"

He's quiet for a second before he finally says, "DUI. And um, slightly resisting arrest? It’s uh, it’s my first one and I didn’t blow too high so they’re letting me go as long as I show up for court in a few days."

His voice is soft but you can hear him fighting back emotion, his voice cracking and straining under the pressure. the sound eliciting sympathy you desperately wish you didn't feel.

"Jesus, Frankie," you sigh, defeated already.

It shouldn't even faze you at this point. It should be expected given the path he's fallen down since his return home from their last mission 3 months ago. The Frankie you knew before he left had been a steady force. Protective, headstrong but soft in his demeanor, so sweet and full of love. The man now standing in his shoes still holds some traits of that Frankie, but they've all been scarred and tainted with his fall from grace.

Memories of the nights spent tucked in his bed, his arms around you, his hands buried in your hair come flooding back like they usually do. The sound of his laugh, the feel of the downy hairs on his forearm pressed against your skin and the steady thrum of his pulse under his jaw as you placed kisses against his neck. The words you would speak softly to one another in the early hours of the morning, secrets only shared with each other under the protection of black velvet night sky.

All of it traded for bitter resentment and anger towards a version of the man that was ripped away from you.

When he was gone, you’d sleep in his shirts and on his pillow, clinging to the faded scent of his cologne as your brain conjured up ghost touches from his fingertips. Dreaming of the day that he'd come home, how he might touch you, and kiss you, the taste of his lips and the feel of his skin on yours. A reunion so deeply desired that the day after he returned was a sharp double edged sword - a blessing, and a curse. The Frankie that walked back in your life was broken, smothered with the weight of the innocent lives on his hands.

Warmth and tenderness traded for stony silence. Nights now spent at the bar, warming himself up with vodka instead of your embrace. Fights ending in harsh words and raised voices as he stubbornly dug his heels in deep, too ashamed to admit he needed help. Staying out late with no warning and coming back at dawn smelling of smoke, weed, and liquor. You are always wondering where he went, who he was with, if he was safe, or if he’d found someone else to soothe the pain.

Then the coke. An old habit that was kicked to the curb in his earlier years now back with a vengeance. Your ultimatum quickly following.

This or you.

A choice you prayed he'd be strong enough to make, but was clearly not.

And now here you are. Two months since you walked away, trying to convince yourself it was for the best. The majority of the last two months of his life is a mystery to you, which you've accepted is probably for the better.

"I know," he finally replies. "I'm so sorry baby, you know I..."

You can almost hear the way his jaw snaps shut, three words catching on his tongue. You don't need to ask to know what the next words are. Tonight was not the first time he's tried to use them in a vain attempt to patch up a crack in the foundation of your crumbling relationship.

There’s nothing but silence on the line as a war wages within you. Part of you wants to believe that he’s the selfish, careless man that he’s recently proven himself to be. But your heart whispers in your ear a softer notion. He's scared. Fragile. Battered. Embarrassed. Alone.

With a heavy sigh, you run your hand down your face in a feeble attempt to wipe away some of the grogginess clinging to you.

"I'll be there in 20," you say.

There's a pause before he speaks, "Really?"

Always an air of disbelief.

"Yes. But this is the last time I'm doing this Frankie, I mean it,"

"I know, I... thank you."

You don't bother to reply, simply hanging up the phone as the heaviness of this final gesture sets in. The gravity of the situation, of the line you're about to cross, already threatening to consume you.

This will, without a shadow of a doubt, be the last time you show up to save Frankie’s ass.

At least that’s what you tell yourself. Just like you told yourself the last time this happened and the time before that. But this time will be different. You'll set new boundaries. That's it, just ride this storm one final time and be done.

You know it’s a lie, one you desperately want to believe it.

___

He’s standing outside the doors of the small station, a cigarette dangling between his fingers, wisps of smoke rising and dissipating in the still night air. He looks up as he hears the engine of your car approaching, the red glow of his cigarette temporarily highlighting the deep frown on his lips as he takes one last drag before he flicks the butt aside and heads your way.

The anxiety radiating off of him is tangible as he drops into the passenger's seat, gently shutting the door and peering at you with wide puppy dog eyes full of shame. You don't look at him, focusing on backing out of the parking spot before pulling onto the road.

He picks at the skin around his thumb and bounces his leg, his jaw tight. You wonder how long he’s been at the station. How long he’s been sober. You’re still not sure if he entirely is right now.

Most of the ride is silent save for the hum of your engine and the clicks of your turn signal. His eyes never leave you, he can feel him boring a hole in your profile, trying to catch your eye as you watch the road.

"What?" you finally snap.

"Nothing, just...I was wondering if I could stay with you tonight. I can sleep on the couch, I…I don’t really want to be alone right now" he speaks so softly it makes your stomach lurch.

"Absolutely not."

"Please? I'll leave early in the morning, by the time you wake up I'll be long gone."

The rage is back, glowing red hot in your chest, fingernails digging into the leather of the steering wheel, your knuckles white and tense. How fucking dare he ask.

"Absolutely. Fucking. Not," your grit your teeth with each word, biting off the end of the sentence with a sharp finality.

"Right. Okay."

Silence takes over once again, your heart slamming against your chest, heat crawling up your neck as your cheeks grow red and damp. No. No. Absolutely fucking not. Absolutely not.

Frankie leans his head back against the headrest and rolls it to the side to watch you again. You can feel the disappointment radiating off him, hear him sniffling, his eyes, big and glassy, pleading when you glance over at him.

It would be a lie to tell yourself that your “plan” isn't already halfway out the window as your jaw clenches and your gaze ping pongs between the road ahead and the man beside you. Deep in the darkness of your soul you know that with Frankie is where your comfort lies. It’s tucked in the space between his ribs, squished alongside his heart and lungs, running the length of his spine and settling between each vertebrae. You worry you may never be able to completely dislodge it, unsure if it would ever fit anywhere else in any other person.

Maybe it would be easier if Frankie didn't fill up the cracks in your heart with the fractured parts of his. If he didn't take up room in your brain that's not his to own, if he didn’t crawl under your skin and take root into your DNA. Now every cell in your body knows what it feels like to be next to him, now programmed to cry out for his presence when he isn’t near.

And it’s no different now. He’s here, looking so pathetic it’s almost laughable, staring at you with tears sliding down his cheeks that glisten in the glow of the headlights passing you by. Crying over something that’s entirely his fault. You should be the one crying right now. Not him.

So you do.

Hot angry tears spilling over your lash line. Though you can’t decide who you’re more upset with. The man who drank himself out of your life, or yourself for falling for him once again in spite of it all. Either way, it’s not enough to convince yourself to stay firm in your decision.

Fucking pathetic. Both of you.

“You’re out first thing in the morning and then I’m done Frankie. I fucking mean it this time, we can't keep doing this to each other."

“Okay. I promise baby, I will. First thing, I promise." He replies quietly.

Your hand flinches with the urge to reach over and slap him for calling you baby. But instead, you clench your jaw and you shake your head at him.

"Don’t call me that, Frankie."

He quickly nods his head in understanding, his eyes again facing forward as he wipes away the wetness from his cheeks, watching the road the rest of the way to your house.

—

Neither of you move once the car is parked in your driveway. The silence is heavy, cut only by the tick of the engine slowly cooling once you remove the keys from the ignition. You chance a look at him and find him picking at his thumb once more, his face red, his eyes soft and timid when they meet yours.

“Tell me what happened, Frankie?”

You ask even though you don’t really want to know.

Frankie sucks in a breath and scrubs a hand down his face.

"I got into a fight at the bar, got kicked out, made the dumb fucking decision to try and drive home and...now I'm here," he laughs mirthlessly as he waves his hands as a vague gesture to you, your house, his current situation. You can't tell if he's telling you the whole story, his answer simple and devoid of context. The context you’re sure wouldn't be good for you to know.

“You could’ve killed someone, Frankie. yourself included,” you say after a few beats, your voice comes out sharp, frustration bleeding in each syllable.

He slowly nods as huffs out a breath.

"I know... it was stupid, and I was an idiot I...shit I was really careless and not thinking straight I’m sorry. I'm really sorry I-"

"I mean seriously Frankie,” you snap, cutting him off. “Do you ever, I mean ever, think about anyone but yourself? Or has it genuinely never crossed your mind that your shit might possibly affect the people around you?"

Frankie opens his mouth, eyebrows furrowed as he's about to respond. You don’t give him a chance to.

"How many more times are you going to take advantage of me, make me look like a fucking dumbass always showing up to rescue you? Why am I always the one covering for you, taking your crap, cleaning up your messes, only to have you throw it right back in my fucking face, every single time!"

Your voice cracks at the end of your sentence, chest heaving with each word that flies from your mouth. Two months worth of bitterness bubbling up from deep down, spilling over and cascading down your face in the form of frustrated tears.

"When did you become so fucking selfish, Francisco?!"

Hearing his full name fall from your lips spurs Frankie on, the last of his shards of resolve flying away as his walls come down.

"I don't fucking know okay?! I don't fucking know!" You flinch at the rise in his voice and his tone stings. But it's how quickly he follows up with a softer, feeble excuse that adds fuel to the fire, "I'm doing the best I can."

That does it for you. Hot searing molten rage pulses under the skin of your face, the tips of your ears hot with blood.

"Doing the best you can? The best you fucking can, Frankie? Fucking bullshit! Getting into bar fights, spending all your money on booze and blow, losing your fucking pilot license because you were too coked up to see straight? Was losing your driver's license just putting your best foot forward? Throwing your whole life away just because you refuse to get clean? Is that really the best you can do?"

You pause and swallow, giving Frankie a second to take it all in, letting him process the onslaught of scalding truths you've thrown at him, before you quietly continue,

"I can't keep doing this, Frankie. I just can't."

He sniffs and shakes his head in what appears to be defeat, his gaze fixed on his hands folded in his lap.

“I know...fuck. I know I’ve fucked up alright? I know that. I just don't know how to fix this," he admits quietly, his wide eyes watching you helplessly. “Tell me how. Tell me how I can fix this. Please."

You bark out a laugh, sarcastic and cynical.

"Are you serious right now? What do you mean you don’t know what to do? How many times did I help you try to find a therapist, try to get you into a program? How many times did I suggest AA? Don't fucking tell me you don't know what to do because you do."

He nods, shifting around in the seat, sniffling yet again as he looks back at you. "Okay, okay. I get it, okay? But what can I do right now? To fix this at least for tonight?"

You sigh, deep and heavy, your entire body now just exhausted. You half wish he would put up more of a fight, call you a bitch, snap back at you for going off on him. Maybe it’d make it easier for you to let him go. But instead, he looks at you with desperate eyes and you can feel your resolve crumbling once again.

"Just forget it, Frankie.”

But he won’t give up that easily. The man is persistent, you’ll give him that.

"I'm serious. Tell me what I need to do right now to fix this. What can I do to show you how sorry I am?"

You stare back at him, jaw clenched, biting back the next words you were about to speak. They die on the edge of your tongue. You know the answer is.

Not a single damn thing.

"Look, I'll try harder, I fucking promise alright?” His tone becomes more frantic as your silence stretches on. “I’ll fucking try harder, please just...please," Frankie pleads, more tears welling in his eyes.

Your throat is tight, your head spinning and aching as your blood roars in your ears. He's already taken enough, stealing more would simply be the end of you. Giving in now would mean you've swallowed the bait, falling hook line and sinker into his trap, stepping back onto the slippery slope you've fought so hard to escape. And for what? More heartache, more bullshit excuses, more fighting, more pain?

But one glance into his wide-eyed, watery gaze and you know he's got you. Again. Faster than you can tell your mind no, your heart, foolish and hopeful, speaks for you instead.

"Lets just get some sleep, okay? It's late. We can...we can figure it out tomorrow."

"Thank you," he whispers immediately, relief coming off of him in waves. "I really mean it, I-thank you, I promise I’ll—“

“Can we not talk anymore Frankie? I just wanna go to sleep."

"Yeah. I'm sorry, let’s go."

There's nothing left to say, washing over the two of you as you make your way inside. You give him a towel and dig up some of his old clothes that live in the back of your closet from when he was here almost every night. You're back in bed before he’s done with his shower, tucked underneath the covers with your face pressed against your pillow, the silk fabric soaking up your tears of sadness and frustration.

The water shuts off and you can hear him getting settled in the living room. A pillow being fluffed, the creak of the couch when he sits.

And then soft footsteps on the hardwood 5 minutes later, padding their way into your room.

He doesn’t knock. He doesn’t bother speaking either. He just simply creaks open the door and walks over to the other side of the bed, peeling back the covers before slipping into bed beside you.

You should scream at him, yell at him. Tell him to get the fuck out, fight him tooth and nail to prevent him from worming his way back into your heart, to avoid anymore pain.

But then he’s against you, his chest flush against your back, legs tangling together under the blankets. He slips an arm around your waist, the other underneath you, pulling you against him tighter as he nuzzles into your neck, burying his face into your hair and takes a deep breath.

“Just one more night" he whispers. "Please. Just let me have one more night."

You don’t have any fight left in you. Because at the end of the day, a night spent wrapped up in his arms, inhaling his scent, touching his skin and his beating heart is worth a thousand fights. And a million shattered dreams.

You don’t answer him, but you don’t tell him to leave either. Instead, you block out any looming thoughts, the impending worry of where this could go, or how bad the damage will be. For now, you chose to focus on the rise and fall of Frankie's breath against your skin, the way you fit so perfectly into his arms.

One more night.

Frankie presses a kiss into the back of your neck, repeating his previous sentiment in a rough scratchy whisper, "Just one more."

And you listen to it resonate, bouncing around the walls in your head and tickling the space behind your eardrums.

Inhale

Exhale.

You should want to fight.

But instead, your body melts his, molding your bones and flesh against his, fitting into all the creases and gaps that have been carved out and reserved just for you.Trying to forget, to bury this pain as deep as possible,. Just for tonight.

He waits a few more minutes, waiting until your breathing levels out with his before he makes his next move. His fingers trace mindless patterns on the skin of your stomach, goosebumps erupting under his fingertips, rippling outwards like a rock being tossed in a pond. He leans in once more, slowly dragging his nose up the length of your neck and curling his lip to press another kiss behind your ear. Then another.

And then another, this time lingering as he sucks softly on your skin.

Inhale.

You close your eyes, hoping for anything but this, yet feeling the sting of arousal spark below your skin.

And exhale.

You’re better than this. You won’t stoop down to his level, you won’t let him chew you up and spit you out again.

But fuck, his lips are soft and warm, so is the breath as he exhales against your neck, lightly swiping his tongue and soothing the faint red mark he left behind with a small little hum.

“Frankie..." You warn, albeit much more breathless and weak than you would have liked.

“Tell me to stop and I will," he murmurs, his beard gently grazing your sensitive skin, causing your toes to curl.

You take another deep breath, but this one is shaky, as you can't help but tighten your grip around his hand, squeezing his fingers as you lean your neck to the side, exposing more of your soft skin to him.

Dead in his trap. Caught so fucking easily. Pathetic.

But if his teeth and lips and tongue and soft, gentle touches are how you go down, then so fucking be it.

He hums his appreciation against your skin, scraping his teeth down to your shoulder, latching his mouth on a spot and sucking harder. Strong, callused fingers continue exploring, fiddling with the hem of your shirt, waiting for you to give him permission.

He rolls his hips forward against your ass and you bite your lip to stifle the whimper at how hard he is against you, his soft grunts in your ear traveling straight between your legs and fanning the flames building.

Then suddenly, he's sliding his hand up your shirt, squeezing your waist and traipsing over your chest until he’s cradling the weight of your breast in his palm, his thumb slowly brushing over your peaked nipple, and it takes every ounce of willpower not to moan out loud.

A small gasp escapes you instead, your fingernails digging into the back of his hand.

"Frankie."

This time not a warning. It’s a plea. A desperate, burning want that you should be ashamed of.

He murmurs into the shell of your ear then, his tone is deep and scratchy.

“I miss you...I need you, baby. Just tell me to stop if you want. But I... fuck I miss you so much."

You don't tell him to stop.

You roll your hips back instinctively, a warm wave of arousal washing over you at the feeling Frankie's hardened length pressed firmly against your ass. He grunts in satisfaction as his palm slides from your chest and up your throat to your jaw. His grip is gentle as he turns your head to face him, his lips against yours without missing a beat.

It’s too easy to fall right back into him, back into the practiced, very well rehearsed routine. To let him glide his tongue along the seam of your lips and coax them open so he can lick into your mouth, getting the taste of his tongue stuck behind your teeth. Too easy to let him remind you just how easily you fit in the palm of his hand, how tightly you’re wound around his finger.

He kisses you fervently, desperately almost, lips and tongue moving against yours as though he’s trying to devour you whole, just like he used to. He’s been starving for too long.But right now, he's finally found nourishment, the feeling of your body under his hands and the taste of you on his tongue feeding his soul. Wanting more. Always more, entirely unable to help himself.

“Wanna make you feel good,” he murmurs, his mouth half a centimeter away from yours. “Let me make you feel good baby, please.”

As if you could say no.

As if you even wanted to.

He pushes his leg between yours, thick, firm muscle under warm skin pressing against your clothed core and you answer him with a roll of your hips, seeking out any sort of friction you can.

It takes less than half a second for him to have you flipped over on your back. When Frankie truly wants something, he does it quickly and efficiently.

He moves above you, licking and kissing a trail down your neck. He makes his way down your body, greedily nipping at the skin stretched over your collarbones. He swirls his tongue over each nipple, only moving on when he’s satisfied. He presses wet, open mouthed kisses to your ribs and your tummy just above your navel, his beard tickling skin, making it twitch under his mouth.

Your body is cooperating far more than it should, your hips lifting up instinctually when he hooks his fingers into the elastic of your panties, your thighs automatically parting further, and your hands migrating to his head. Your fingers tangle in his soft curl, your nails softly scratching his scalp just like you know he likes.

And when his tongue drags up your thigh you have to sink your teeth into your bottom lip to stop the reactive moan. But your back arches with pleasure anyway, the last bit of your resolve evaporating into thin air as you give into him freely.

His hands burn hot where they smooth over your skin, a comforting weight and a familiar drag of calloused palms fueling the fire and tightening the coil in your stomach.

“Missed you so much,” he whispers, his breath fanning over your pussy before you feel the first stroke of his flat tongue up through your center.

This time, you're not strong enough to hold back the breathless mewl that leaves your mouth. You immediately push down on his head while simultaneously canting your hips upward, needing more friction, dying for more of everything he's willing to offer. He slides his arms underneath you and hooks his hand over your hip bones, holding you down and keeping you in place as he tries to find salvation between your thighs.

Heavy breaths through his nose as he uses his mouth, lips and tongue working in tandem to take you apart. Lapping and sucking at your clit while his fingertips nudge at your entrance, dipping just enough to tease, waiting until he hears the high pitched whimpers that he's after.

And when you've reached that level of desperation he wants from you, whimpering and panting, he slowly dips a finger in.

He moans along with you as though he's the one experiencing the pleasure. He's always gotten off on this almost just as much as you. The warm, slick slide of his fingers in and out of you, how you gush on his tongue, your thighs trembling on either side of his head, the tingle of his scalp when you tug on his hair.

More addictive than any substance he's ever found solace in.

And against your better knowledge, you're more than happy to indulge him, let him chase the high you give him and let yourself drown in it as well.

Your back arches off the bed as he adds another finger, grunting into you and thrusting faster as you tighten and flutter around them. He finds the spot he's looking for with practiced ease, whimpering into you and groaning along with you as he drags his fingers back and forth along the spot that has you bucking your hips into his hand.

He knows how to get you there. Knows how to do it fast. And right now, that's what he wants. He's craved it too long, spent far too many nights with his hand wrapped around his leaking cock your name on the tip of his tongue as he fucked up into his own hand. He wants to hear you fall apart again, feel you coming on his tongue, your walls clenching as they try to suck his fingers in deeper. Wantsto know that he hasn't ruined absolutely everything between the two of you.

"Come on baby, lemme feel you,” he urges, voice deep and rough as he brings you to the edge. His mouth, licking and sucking at your clit, works in perfect rhythm with his fingers, sliding in and out, crooking them at the exact angle and speed he knows will get you there.

"Please, Frankie...need to– fuck, I'm..." Coherent words evade you as he works you towards your peak, your breath stuttering as you struggle to keep air in your lungs. Your grip tightens in his hair, tugging roughly in an effort to ground yourself as the wave of euphoria starts to crest, the undercurrent pulling you down.

Frankie growls in approval as you tighten around his fingers, all your muscles tensing as the sensation crashes into you. Your mind and body shut off and float into that sweet state of oblivion as Frankie's name falls from your lips, mixed in with a litany of profanity and slurs and choked back moans. He doesn't stop, doesn't even slow down until you're yanking on his hair hard enough for it to hurt, trying to wiggle away from his touch.

Frankie raises his head up and locks eyes with you, the tip of his nose, beard, and cheeks shiny with your arousal as he looks up at you through his dark, heavy lidded lashes.

"Want you so bad," he sighs, breathless and needy, crawling up your body and resting his weight on his elbows on either side of your head. He kisses you again, soft and sweet as if he has the right, tasting yourself on his tongue.

You whimper into the kiss and hook a leg over his hip to pull his hips towards you. His cock strains almost painfully in his boxers when he grinds it against you, your warm arousal dampening the front of the fabric.

"Gonna let me baby?" He rasps when he moves to your neck, his teeth scraping sensitive flesh.

You both already know he's won. You're not even putting up a fight at this point, any dignity you thought you had left totally abandoned the moment you picked up the phone. But he asks anyway, needing the verbal affirmation, needing the confirmation that you want him as badly as he needs you.

And you can't lie.You're both equally weak and vulnerable. Two pathetic, heartbroken creatures chasing a temporary relief. A small glimmer of something to make the pain more bearable, something to fill the hole for the briefest amount of time.

You both know. And neither of you care.

No response to his question. Instead, you push up the hem of his shirt up and he does the rest, pulling it over his head and tossing it to the floor before he hooks a thumb underneath the waistband of his boxers and tugs them down his hips and off his legs.

Your hand finds his cock and he hisses at the contact, his hips shuddering as he pushes forward into your grip. You swear he's thicker and longer than before, heavier and hotter where you hold him. Your thumb brushes over the tip, spreading the pearls of pre cum around, coating the rest of his length to ease your glide. Frankie's mouth finds your neck again, tongue and lips tasting and teasing, his shaky breath in your ear.

You try to push up onto your elbows in an effort to roll him over, wanting to take over. But a palm finds your chest, gently pushing you back down until your flat against the bed again.

"Wanna look at you," he says simply, as he pushes his length into the palm of your hand once more before sliding out.

He lets his length rest against your sensitive clit and gently rocks his hips, slicking himself with the mess between your legs, sighing whenever you gasp each time his tip nudges at your clit.

"Please..." you whisper, feeling pathetic and needy, but at this point too desperate to care.

And he’s equally impatient, not waiting another moment before lining himself up and slowly pushing in.

You tense at the initial intrusion, not having been with anyone in far too long and the feeling is almost overwhelming. You're trying to remember how to breathe again as you let your head fall to the side, trying to hide from his intense stare. But Frankie's there, using a gentle finger to tilt your face back up towards him as his hips moving at an agonizingly slow pace to let you adjust.

"That's it baby. Look at me."

And you do, the heat in your belly burning brighter with his eyes boring into yours as he witnesses your surrender to him. Your heart aches, still raw and tender and in pain from all the hurt that's transpired. But you ignore it and tell yourself the tears in your eyes aren't a result of a broken heart, but rather of how full you feel as Frankie's length finally bottoms out in you.

"Fuck..." You both curse under your breath as he stills for a moment, letting you adjust before he starts to move his hips. You cling to his broad shoulders as he pulls out of you, his eyes glued to where you’re joined, his thick cock slick and shiny with your arousal before he slides back in again with a quiet groan. He repeats the motions over and over watching as he pulls out almost completely before pushing back in, stuffing you to the hilt.

"Shit,” he hisses under his breath, his eyelashes fluttering when you clench in response. “You feel so good baby, fuck."

He buries his face into your neck, panting and pressing soft kisses as his pace starts to speed up. The soft grunts in your ear turn into more desperate moans when you lock your legs around his waist, pulling him, trying to get him even deeper than he already is.

Your fingernails dig into the skin of his shoulders, holding on for dear life, hoping that you’ll leave half crescent moon shapes embedded into his flesh. A painfull reminder for the morning that you were here and this was real, despite the circumstances.

His hands slide under your ass, angling it upwards to let him hit just that little bit deeper inside, pushing the air from your lungs with each thrust. The muscles in his forearms flex and strain as he tries to hold back, always making sure you finish before he does.

And he doesn't have to wait much longer. Your orgasm is creeping up and taking over your body and Frankie can sense it. He knows exactly what to look for, knows all the signs.

One hand moves to reach between the two of you two fingertips pressed against your pulsing clit, drawing fast, tight circles just like you like it. Your grip on his shoulder tightens, your nails digging into the skin and dragging down his back as his thrusts become more erratic.

"Keep lookin' at me," he grunts and you struggle to keep your eyes open. They sting, the image of him above you starting to blur around the edges as he drives you closer and closer to your release.

"That's it, baby. Lemme see it, lemme see you come on my cock."

He doesn't have to tell you twice.

You come undone again just like that, dizziness spreading and heart hammering in your chest as you sob out, pleasure consuming you from within. He fucks you through it, not giving you a chance to catch your breath, as he curses and rambles in your ear about how he's missed this, how he's missed you.

You've barely started to come down when he grabs one of your legs behind your knee and pushes it into your chest, letting himself sink even deeper into you. The new angle has your head spinning, drowning in an unparalleled amount of pleasure. Your eyes flutter and roll back in your head as you whimper his name, fingers curling into the pillow above your head.

He doesn't last much longer, breathless moans and strangled whimpers into your neck as he gives you the last few sloppy thrusts. He's almost there, and when he tries to pull out, it's the way your leg tightens around his waste and your needy whine that sends him over the edge, groaning and cursing with his face in the crook of your neck as he spills himself into you.

His cock pulses inside you with every wave, his hips chasing his release, tiny jerks as he empties into you. He stills, his heavy breathing in your ear, his weight resting on you, heavy but grounding, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into your skin.

Once the room stops spinning and the stars clear from behind your eyes, you drop your legs. With a shaky sigh, Frankie starts to pull out, both of you groaning in protest as he slips out.

His cum leaks out of you, quickly pooling between your thighs no matter how hard you squeeze your legs together. And when he catches sight of it, it makes your face burn. At the mere sight of his sticky, warm release spilling out of you, mixing with your own, Frankie swears he could go another round right then. Something about knowing he marked his territory, his claim on you established once again. He looks up at you, your eyes closed, forehead creased, and he has to dig his nails into his palm to keep from dragging his fingers through the cum leaking out of you and pushing it back in, keeping it where it should be.

But the weight of reality is starting to press on him once again, the fear and shame from earlier taking root again and tugging at his stomach and pulling him out of the euphoria.

He kisses your hip bone once before making his way to the bathroom for a wet washcloth. The room is silent as he cleans you up, wiping gently between your legs, both of you keeping your eyes on anything except each other's.

When he's done, he stands and moves to gather his clothes off the floor, tugging his boxers back on before heading towards the door. But your shaky, watery voice breaks the silence and freezes him where he stands.

"You're leaving?" You ask, voice squeaking at the end as you pull the sheet up to cover yourself, as if it would protect your heart when he ultimately breaks it again.

He turns to look at you, his heart aching in his chest from the innocent way you're looking at him. The way your eyebrows draw together, and your lips pull into a frown, the way your lower lip trembles as your eyes fill with tears.

"Can I stay?"

His voice is quiet, fragile, as if speaking any louder would scare you off, would cause you to start yelling at him again until you ultimately kick him to the curb for good.

He stares at you through the darkness of the room as you chew on your lip and try to grapple with the split decision you’re facing.

The logical part of your brain is screaming at you to say no and end this right here and now. But that part of your brain is buried and silenced underneath the heaviness in your heart. That desperate need to hang onto whatever's left. You swallow the lump in your throat and give in.

"Please," you plead softly. "Don't...don't want to be alone anymore."

A rush of air leaves his lungs as the pressure is released from his chest as he climbs back into bed beside you. Your head finds his chest, curled into his side and letting his arms wrap around you. His embrace is familiar, comforting, your safe space.

You count the steady beats of his heart in your ear as his blunt fingernail scrape lightly up and down your back, knowing it always soothes you. No words are spoken but the air between the two of you is thick, full of the things you both want to say, but neither of you speak.

Sleep wraps its tendrils around you once again, exhaustion settling in your bones. You welcome it fully, even though you know when you wake up, you'll have to face the reality of the situation once again.

You can only hope that he'll still be here in the morning to face it with you.

For now, you let yourself drown in the warmth of his embrace, pushing away all the other things that are gnawing at you and letting yourself relax in the arms of the man who broke your heart.

Just one more night.

Thank you for reading!! :))

#writing challenge 2.0 #frankie morales smut #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales #triple frontier #triple frontier smut #triple frontier fic #pedro pascal characters

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luveline · 2 months

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Hi jade, I have a hurt/comfort request for Steve, maybe reader was there with the party for all the vecna stuff and maybe gets hurt, afterwards Steve taking care of her and staying w her in the hospital and stuff? Love your writing!

thank you for requesting <3 fem!reader

“Did you know there’s like, a concessions stand?”

You moan at the pain between your shoulders, turning onto your arm. Steve lounges in the chair beside you with a paper plate of donuts on his chest. His legs are kicked up on your bed. He’s taken his shoes off, at least.

“Free donuts, coffee, they even had flapjacks.”

“Steve, I think you have to pay for those.”

He puts the plate on your bed. “Well, they can’t send you to jail.”

“‘Cos my back’s broken?”

“‘Cos you’re too pretty for prison.” Steve sits up properly. “You need help?”

He moves the donuts again onto your nightstand and hooks you under the arms to ease you into a sitting position. You’re back isn’t broken, for the record, but you fell funny coming out of the gate a few days ago and you haven’t bounced back yet. Worse, you've got an infected burn on your hand, wrist and arm from your Molotov cocktail. It’s out of commission, as are you while they pump antibiotics into the crook of your elbow. Steve’s careful not to tug your IV.

You gasp, the twinge in your back turning to flame. “I know,” Steve murmurs, shockingly sincere, “I’m sorry. You’re not supposed to lie down all the time, or it won’t get better.”

“I know.”

“Yeah, of course you do. You know everything.”

Insult or compliment, you’re unsure. What you do know is that Steve’s come to see you every day since you were checked in, he’s the one who checked you in, and he’s taken good care of you so far. He’s not even your boyfriend, you thought he liked Nancy— but he’s rubbing his hands down your shoulders and looking you in your face despite the horror he’s sure to be witnessing. Bruised eye, greasy nose, hair thankfully clean but completely untouched otherwise.

“Better?” he asks, cupping your cheek.

Is he gonna kiss me? you think. You glance down at his lips, then back up. Steve doesn’t notice or doesn’t mention it, his fingers drawing a gentle path behind your ear as his thumb aligns with your jaw.

“Hey, don’t cry.”

You shake your head. “No, I’m not.”

“Sorry, you just looked so sad for a second.” He laughs wryly. Though you don’t feel like he’s making fun of you, he teases, “Cheer up. What have you got to be so sad about?”

“You keep harassing me.”

“Oh, that’s how it is!” He tips his head back. “Nurse! I’d like to report a thief!”

You gasp, laugh, and attempt to cover his mouth as strikes of pain nibble up your spine. “Steve, don’t–” He catches your hands to stop you from silencing him, but he doesn’t shout again, holding your hands together in his lap, smiling smugly and affectionately at once. He has nice eyes that are almost almond in shape and a lovely light brown. They glow in the slither of light that sneaks its way through the blinds, raw amber, stomach-achingly pretty.

You can’t look at him for too long. You defer to your hands scrunched up in the sheets instead.

“I did pay for the donuts, by the way. I’m just messing with you.”

You try to laugh. “Why doesn't that surprise me?”

“You act like I’m such a jerk,” he says fondly, pulling you in for a cautious hug. He’s tender when he needs to be, you’d never have thought it of him, how sweetly and softly he rubs your back, how he murmurs near your ear. “Do you need more meds? I’m sure they can get you another dose of the good stuff if you pretend your gummy arm is aching.”

“Thanks, Steve, but I’m fine.”

He hums. “Think I can get them to let me stay the night?”

“Steve, I’m really okay.”

“It’s not about you, I just don’t wanna go home,” he lies poorly, “they don’t have donuts at home–”

His hand leaves your back. “Are you eating over my shoulder?” you ask.

He hugs you tighter with the remaining arm. “What? No.”

You feel sprinkles falling down your back and ignore it for now. He’ll have to help you out of bed in a few minutes anyways. He can sort it out then. For now, you lean into his chest and close your eyes tight.

“I’ll sleep better in the chair by your bed,” he promises.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington scenario #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader

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alexlwrites · 2 months

Text

𝐑𝐞𝐝 𝐃𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐞𝐬

✿𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: OT7 x Plus Size! Reader

✿ 𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: "What was so outrageous about someone like you, you asked yourself and the universe. You had tried your best to compensate for any shortcomings with everything else that was expected of you: femininity, understanding, a sense of humor. Never enough, those were never even the first thing that came to mind when people thought of you.

Why bother then? If nothing you did made any difference at all, why try? If people hated your body just for existing, why not give them a reason to hate your personality as well?"

The one where seven campus princes who are used to getting everything they wanted get enchanted by your distrust and brattiness, climbing over each other to get a smile from you who could not be bothered to give them a single second of your day.

✿ 𝑻𝒂𝒈𝒔: Romance, Humor, Fluff, Angst, College AU

✿ 𝑨/𝑵: I wanna leave this here as sort of a trigger warning: this work features a plus size main character and throughout the story there will be mean comments from characters about her body and her journey dealing with said comments. A lot of it comes from my own experience as a plus size girl myself and my path to living peacefully within my body. And although this work is about Y/N's relationship with the boys, I like to think that she still would've continued to grow and blossom happily on her own. Let this be something you learn from this fic, as I say right on the first chapter: You don't have to love the way you look right away, you just can't let it stop you from doing the things you want and, in a greater scale, from being happy and treated with respect.

Thank you for reading <3

P.S: Red daisies, like many red flowers, represent love and romance. Florists often use them to communicate affection to someone who doesn’t know how beautiful they are—a.k.a. beauty unknown to the possessor.

(Fanfic masterlist)

(support me on my ko-fi)

°•. ✿ .•°

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞: 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭

The pattern in your relationships - if you could call them that - was tiring, to say the least. Once, they might have been soul crushing, but time and repetition took away the novelty of your pain and now the endgame was a mild, resented disappointment.

It started with kindness and a gentle smile, mainly from your part. You treated anyone who gave you any smidgen of attention with the utmost sweetness, hoping your energy would be matched. And sometimes it was, for a while. Sometimes you got to be on the receiving end of a blinding smile or a casual touch and you allowed yourself to hope - no, pray -that that could be it. That someone, some modern day knight in shiny armor , saw through your looks and decided that you were deserving of love, despite societal norms,

But men had a way of setting you up for disappointment. A talent, truly.

You were tired, you decided that night. No, beyond that, you were exhausted, scarred, bitter, hopeless, resentful… You could keep going. You could list every bad feeling you had been carrying in your chest by alphabetical order or by how badly they hurt and honestly you just wanted it to stop.

Would you have to change everything about your body to be happy, you wondered watching the boy you had been seeing for a few weeks make fun of you in front of his circle of friends at the party you were both at. Would you never be allowed to be happy just the way you were?

Would you have to change everything about your body to be happy?

“Yeah, she’s nice” Junsuu said, winking suggestively at his giggling friends “if you know what I mean.” you felt your face heat up in humiliation at the renewed round of laughter “But we just don’t match, like, physically. You know, looks-wise.”

“Right” someone agreed way too enthusiastically, sending a spear through your heart “I really just can’t see you with someone like her.”

What was so outrageous about someone like you, you asked yourself and the universe. You had tried your best to compensate for any shortcomings with everything else that was expected of you: femininity, understanding, a sense of humor. Never enough, those were never even the first thing that came to mind when people thought of you.

Why bother then? If nothing you did made any difference at all, why try? If people hated your body just for existing, why not give them a reason to hate your personality as well?

“You’re right” you said out loud, drawing attention to yourself. Filled with hatred (for him, the world, the circumstances), your heart had no room to be mortified when all eyes turned to you “we don’t match.”

You watched as Junsuu’s eyes widened, clearly not expecting you to hear, much less reply “I am a big girl” you continued, words dripping with rage “And I know for a fact that there’s nothing big about you.”

You turned around to leave the room, cringing at the petty comeback, ignoring the murmurs and Junsuu’s panicked calls of your name. Walking fast, you fled the scene of the last heartbreak you would allow yourself to go through, deciding that a change was needed, but not the change everyone wanted from you.

Despite the rumors, you didn’t turn into a huge bitch overnight, didn’t start kicking puppies or spitting on the poor. Truly, the only thing you did was establish boundaries and reevaluate the amount of respect some people deserved, but very quickly people started seeing you as some sort of villain, especially when they realized how little you cared for how they saw you. How disrespectful of you to not allow yourself to be disrespected, right?

At first, there was still an air of uncertainty about you - years and years of non-reciprocal niceties drilled into your brain, habits hard to quit. But the more you let go of those things, these tiny acts of self-aggression disguised as pleasantries and altruism, the lighter you felt; Your days became easier to get through, existing within your body felt less and less like a punishment. You had yet to reach an Instagram-worthy level of body positivity, but you had become accustomed to body neutrality. You didn’t have to love the way you looked right away, you just couldn’t let it stop you from doing the things you wanted and, in a greater scale, from being happy and treated with respect.

And respect you started to demand and much happier you became, living in relative peace and solitude - safe by a few close friends - up until your days started being pestered by seven headaches you could not seem to shake away.

—-

Jungkook was the one that saw you first.

It was 3 weeks into the semester and he finally decided it was the perfect time to start going to classes, sitting in the back and only listening to about 25% of what was being said, mind floating towards more important subjects such as the package of ramen waiting for him at home. Only mildly interested in what the professor had to teach, he couldn’t help but to be startled when everyone started getting up from their seats to shuffle around the room. “What’s going on?” he asked the guy sitting next to him.

“Professor gave us a duo assignment.” the other man said, standing up “You're with Y/N.”

“Who?”

The guy just pointed towards you with his chin, redirecting Jungkook’s attention before leaving. You were sitting a couple rows further down, hunched over your little green IPad as you wrote something with impressive velocity. Jungkook walked over to you, already mentally going over what he would have to do to charm you into doing everything on your own “Y/N?” he called and you raised your head.

You were pretty, he noticed with satisfaction, all bright eyes and lovely features, curves everywhere he looked “Yes?”

“I’m Jungkook.” he extended his hand with a casual smirk “The professor put us together for this project.”

There had been a small, but pleasant and polite smile on your face up until he said those words, replaced by pursed lips and an arched brow. “Yes, I know. We’ve had classes together for over a year now and been partnered together before.”

Uh oh. “Right” he coughed awkwardly, fumbling under your hardened stare “so, about this project…”

“We will meet once a week,” you said, straightforward as you turned your eyes back to your sticker-filled IPad “I will go over the theme and split the work evenly, so give me your number and I can text you with what you’re supposed to do.”

“Woah, woah, asking for my number already?” he said in a flirting manner, sitting on top of your table so he could be directly in front of you.

“Would you prefer it if I emailed it to you?” you asked without looking up.

“Actually, I was thinking you could help me out a bit,” he placed his finger under your chin, raising your face towards him “you know I have soccer practice and…”

You pushed his hand away “Unless you’re playing at the World Cup, I can’t see how that would be more important than your studies, so you either do your part of the assignment or get an F in it, I don’t care. I won’t do all the work for you, Jeon. Not again.”

Again? Jungkook winced, trying to remember when you had met before. Surely he would remember getting his head bitten off by a snappy, pretty thing like you, wouldn’t he? Surely your attitude would stand out to him amongst all the sweetness and compliance he received just for existing and smiling.

“Here’s my number.” you gave him a piece of paper with your digits written in gel sparkly ink “Text me when you decide if you want to pass this class. Good day.”

You looked down again, going back to your notes, signing that the conversation was over before he even had the chance to add anything more. He jumped off the desk and stepped away, looking back to see if you were looking at him, but there wasn’t a single glance from your part.

Shit. Shit. He actually did have to pass this class, otherwise his overbearing soccer coach would kick him off the team. He stared down at your number, wondering what he would have to do to get you to cut him a little slack and forgive him for absolutely forgetting about your existence.

—

“Hey, this is Jungkook” the text from an unknown number said “looking forward to us working together. We should get dinner sometime, get to know each other better.”

You read over the text once more, willing your heart to slow down its beating. Sure, Jungkook was charming and handsome, but you had seen this dance before. He would talk his way into your good graces, making you laugh and giggle until you had a four thousand word essay done with both your names in it and your texts to him would go unanswered and unseen.

This was not your first hurtful rodeo. You put your phone away, facing down, ignoring as the poor device vibrated itself off the table with the upcoming texts.

Meanwhile, across campus, Jungkook was fuming.

“Or breakfast. We should get breakfast. I know a great place.” he tried once again, but his message was left unread. Still, he persisted.

“I have a lot of great ideas for this assignment. Don’t you want to know them?” he texted, even though he didn’t have the faintest idea on what the assignment was even about.

“You know, it’s rude to leave a guy hanging.”

“How can we do this if you won’t even text me back?”

“I thought we were in this together.”

“You know, like High School Musical.”

He kept typing out absurdity after absurdity, hoping you would dignify one with an answer. He just needed one opportunity, one opening…

His text stopped going through.

“She blocked me!” he gasped out loud.

“Who?” his roommate, Taehyung asked from where he laid on their couch, feet up on the coffee table.

“This girl in my class. We have this project together and she blocked me!”

Taehyung sent a disbelieving look his way “Were you actually planning to do the work?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Obviously not.”

His friend rolled his eyes “Obviously not. So what’s your plan here?”

Jungkook didn’t answer, too busy looking for alternative ways to contact you. After a few minutes of research, he found your Instagram. You were cute, he noticed again, scrolling through your few posts, all relatively recent. You had a very specific style, a tasteful mix or dark and edgy with splashes of pink and bows, tight corsets under leather jackets that he couldn’t help but stare appreciatively, the flattering material clinging to your waist line and pushing your breasts up, exposing the soft freckled top of cleavage to his always hungry eyes. In your pictures, your eyes shone brightly, crinkling at the sides from your ever present smile and he could not understand why you hadn’t directed one of those to him.

It was unsettling, to say the least, but he could not allow his annoyance to take over. He needed your help if he wanted to pass that class and if he had to use unconventional ways to get your attention, he would.

And so, much like a little boy pulling at a girl’s braids, he started liking and spamming the comments of every single post you had.

—

There were whispers all around you, your worst nightmare.

You were at the school library, getting work done while drinking from your fourth cup of coffee, hands shaking due to caffeine and anxiety, your ever present friends. You tried to focus on your books and carefully written notes, but every word you could barely hear and every look you felt over your shoulder seemed to dig claws into your skin. You knew what they were saying. You heard it all the way from your dorm to your classes and couldn’t seem to escape them.

“Did you see Jungkook’s comments on her pictures? What’s that about?”

“It’s not like there’s a lot to comment, is there?”

“Maybe he thought it was someone else?”

“It’s probably a prank.”

“I bet he was hacked.”

Of course, why else would someone like Jungkook - a campus prince, popular soccer player, heartthrob - show interest in you?

It hurt, but a small part of you still agreed with those mean spirited whispers. You closed your eyes, trying to even your breathing and will those thoughts away. You knew better, had learned better than to measure your value by how interested some boy was in you.

When you opened your eyes again, Jungkook was in front of you.

You barely had time to process his presence when the voices picked up volume, your skin prickling and eyes aching to remain dry.

“What’s Jungkook doing with Fat Y/N?”

That word shouldn’t be as hurtful as it was - after all, it was just an adjective, just the current state of your body that served only to carry your thinking mind, your feeling heart. But people always said it like a curse, wielding it like a sword.

You closed your eyes again and when you opened once more, Jungkook was still there. Looking furious.

“What are they saying?”

“What they always said” you shrugged, avoiding his eyes by looking down at your papers.

Jungkook didn’t move for a while, hearing people pretend to whisper around you but it was clear that the motherfuckers wanted you to hear. Was it always like this for you, he wondered, watching as you focused on whatever book you had in front of you, hunched over with tense shoulders, your face a far cry from the luminescent one he saw on your Instagram, not a hint of that smile he wanted directed at him so unreasonably.

He couldn’t just stand there and watch you struggle to keep your posture.

You felt him standing up and leaving more than you saw him. Good, you thought. He should leave, like everyone did, scared away by that one word that followed you around like a brand. He was probably embarrassed to be seen with you, you assumed bitterly, and there was no place in your life for people who didn’t want you proudly by your side…

Jungkook sat back in the chair in front of you and you couldn’t help but gape at the impressive bouquet of red daisies he extended towards you.

“Take it” he said, but you couldn’t move, could barely hear the furious voices around you over the roaring beat of your heart.

You… You had never gotten flowers.

“Take it” he repeated “I almost got run over because of this, the least you can do is accept it.”

“Jungkook” you whispered, dumbfoundedly accepting the bouquet “what’s this?”

“People keep doubting I could be interested in you” he said and there was an edge to his tone you did not expect “maybe this could help clear up some rumors.”

“This is not your battle to fight” you held the flowers close to your chest carefully, looking up at him with distrust, unable to understand his motives “I’m used to this sort of thing and I don’t care about those stupid rumors.”

You were used to it? That just made Jungkook angrier. How could you be used to that sort of treatment?

Jungkook was a lot of things - spoiled, a little lazy, sometimes a dick. But he wasn’t a bigot and he wasn’t about to stand around and let you become used to being disrespected if there was something - anything! - he could do about it “I like picking up fights”.

“Is this just pity?” you asked and he could see walls around you that stood thousands of feet tall “Is this because of that stupid assignment? Because I’m not going to do all the work just because you got me some flowers…”

He raised his hands and smiled at you “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll do my work” he said, a new goal in mind as he saw you recoil from him with eyes filled with wariness like a suspicious kitten “You said once a week, right? How’s friday for you?”

You still clung to your bouquet like a lifeline “That works, I guess.”

“Great!” he clapped loudly, standing up and catching the eye of those around him “I’ll see you around, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me sweetheart” you mumbled, but he pretended not to hear as he crossed the table around to your side, quickly leaving a kiss to your heated cheek before you had the chance to react.

“Alright, sweetheart, I’ll see you around” he said, making sure everyone in the library could hear him “do me a favor and unblock me, ok?”

You flipped him off, both for stealing a kiss and that stupid nickname, but he just laughed it off.

“That’s my girl” he said and the library erupted in renewed whispers.

°•. ✿ .•°

𝐌𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧! 𝐂𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐝

°•. ✿ .•°

[Red Daisies taglist: @purplelady85 ]

[Permanent taglist: @imknewattis ; @dreamamubarak ; @onlythebest-106 ; @betysotelo18 ; @havetaeminforbreakfast ; @uno7 ; @chimchimmarie ; @anaya123world ; @junecat18 ; @kayleefriedchicken ; @jkselcouth ; @ivrose21 ; @svnbangtansworld ]

#bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts #jungkook x reader #alexl red daisies #ot7 x reader #ot7 x you #bts x y/n #kim taehyung x reader #park jimin x reader #kim namjoon x reader #jung hoseok x reader #min yoongi x reader #kim seokjin x reader #ot7 fluff #bts romance #bts college au

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navybrat817 · 5 months

Text

We Don't Talk Anymore

Pairing: Best Friend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: You and Bucky have an honest conversation, but it may not have a happy ending.

Word Count: Over 2.9k

Warnings: Angst, confessions, communicating, crying, feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (yep, he's a warning)

Previous Part of AU: Where Did the Time Go?

A/N: More Dreamboat and Butterfly from my Reconnect AU! Sorry in advance, lovelies. ❤️ Beta read by @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

As long as you and Bucky had been friends, you rarely saw him nervous. It wasn’t an emotion he liked to show to many, even though he knew you’d never judge him. Watching him clench and unclench his jaw, the fingers on his left hand twitching before he ran them through his hair, you sensed just how anxious he was. Whatever he had to say had him on edge.

Which had you right there with him.

“Just tell me what's going on,” you urged, putting a hand on his arm in the hopes that your touch would calm him. “Please.”

Bucky swallowed as he looked at you. Why was it a gaze like he was saying goodbye? “You asked how I knew TJ stayed at your place,” he began, moving his arm to take your hand in his. “I went to see you after Steve’s party because I had something I wanted to say to you. Something I wanted to say for a long time.”

You took a step closer, your heart racing a bit faster. The combination of excitement and nerves blended together as you squeezed his hand. “What did you want to tell me?”

The next words out of his mouth would either break your heart or heal the unnecessary pain you put on yourself by staying silent for so long.

“That you weren’t just my best friend. You were so much more to me than that,” he said, bringing his palm to your cheek. You instantly leaned into his touch. “I wanted to tell you that I was crazy about you and wanted you to be my girl.”

Butterflies filled your stomach and it took you a second to find your voice. Was this a dream? “You wanted me to be your girl?” You asked softly, like if you said it any louder you’d wake up.

“Yeah,” he whispered, a sad smile on his face. “I never wanted anything more than that.”

It was like the ground shifted beneath your feet as you let the words sink in. The butterflies in your stomach went straight to your dizzy head. Bucky Barnes wanted you to be his girl. You longed to hear that he felt the same way you did. It didn’t feel real though.

You were waiting for the shoe to drop.

Because you were always just out of reach of Bucky. It was like you were a step behind, but you still wanted to follow. You wanted your paths to eventually merge the way you thought they were supposed to.

“Bucky, I…” you trailed off, trying to get your bearings. You wanted to admit that you felt the same way, but you needed the rest of his story first. “If you felt this way, why didn’t you say anything? Why were you with Dot?”

Why didn’t you just tell me?

A darkness clouded his eyes. “I didn’t feel like I was good enough for you. I never thought I deserved you. Because you’re the best person I know and I’m just me,” he said.

“Bucky, don't say that. You're more than good enough. You deserve the whole world,” you argued. Had you done something to make him think he didn’t deserve you? “I’ve always thought that.”

“When you tell yourself of something for so long you start to believe it. And that’s what I did: I convinced myself that I would never be the man you wanted or deserved to be with,” he said. It broke your heart that he didn’t see himself as worthy enough for you. “And the day I tried to tell you, I shouldn’t have listened to that voice in my head.”

“What happened?”

“TJ answered your door. Shirtless, messy hair. I immediately jumped to conclusions about why he was there,” he answered, his nostrils flaring. Was he replaying the image in his mind? “And when I asked if I could talk to you, he said you were sleeping because he kept you up all night. I left and didn't look back because I thought my assumption was right and something in me broke.”

Your mouth fell open as you realized what Bucky thought happened. “You thought TJ and I had sex,” you stated, wanting to shake him when he nodded. “We didn’t have sex. He kept me up all night talking.”

“I know that now. I should’ve known then. But I thought that was my sign that I was right all along and that I’d never have you,” he explained as tears sprang to your eyes. “You asked me why I dated Dot. It was because I settled. I thought that was what I deserved.”

“So, you thought TJ and I hooked up or were together or something and that was it? You just decided not to say anything to me. And you went to Dot because you knew that was a sure thing?” you asked louder than you intended to, an ugly feeling swirling in your gut. Was it bitterness? “You gave up on us.”

Was it actually giving up when you weren't together? In a way, yes. He bowed out without a word.

“Gave up on us?” he repeated, searching your face for something you couldn't place. “Wait, what are you saying? That you care about me, too?”

“Yes! Yes, I do. So much,” you admitted, hastily swiping at your cheeks as tears fell. “You’re the only guy I’ve ever wanted.”

“You wanted to be with me?” he asked above a whisper, wiping a stray tear away with his thumb.

You couldn't stop crying as you nodded, an ache in your heart spreading with each tear. “Yes. It has always been you. I was going to tell you how I felt, even at the risk of our friendship, but the day I planned to was the day you introduced Dot as your girlfriend. I knew it was too late.”

If someone asked you to visualize what both heartbreak and hope looked like, it would’ve been the expression on Bucky’s face. “This whole time…”

“This whole time,” you confirmed, swallowing the lump in your throat. “And I never stopped caring about you. I thought maybe I’d try and move on, but I couldn’t.”

“Oh, my God,” he whispered as his hand dropped, a shuddering breath leaving his lungs. “I'm sorry. I’m so sorry I didn’t go to you before Dot. I should have.”

“Honestly, yeah, you should have. You didn't give me a chance to explain. You didn't even attempt to fight for me,” you accused, your eyes stinging as your vision blurred again. The floodgate was open and you were powerless to stop it. “Bucky, you gave up so easily at the first sign of something you thought was a problem. I wasn’t worth it to you, was I?”

Your chest tightened as you let the hurt sink in. You wanted to be angry, but you were only left tangled up in disappointment. That was on you for expecting too much, wasn't it?

“You are worth everything to me,” he said, stepping closer as you took a step back.

It sounded like a promise, but felt like a lie.

“If you really thought I was dating TJ, did you ever wonder why you never saw him around much after you went to my place? Or if I slept with him, did you question why I didn’t talk about him or bring him up?” you asked, feeling as defeated as he appeared to be. “Or was I already so far gone from your mind and heart that you just didn't stop to question it or care?”

“There's nothing I can say to fix it because I know I messed up. Saying 'I'm sorry' isn't enough because I shouldn't have given up before we started,” he said, daring to lift a hand to wipe more tears away. You allowed him to do so. “I never should've put you through that. You are the last person in the world I'd ever want to hurt and I hate myself for doing just that.”

“I don't want you to hate yourself,” you whispered, your chest steadily rising and falling. “But I am hurt.”

Like the cracks that formed in your foundation, his face crumbled at your admission. “Butterfly, all I want to do is show you that you mean the world to me and make up for not being there for you. It’s the whole reason I’m here.”

“So you want to fight for me now, but you didn’t fight for me then!”

“Because I’m a fucking coward!” he shouted, both of your eyes wide as he raised his voice. His shoulders slumped, like the rush of emotion went as quickly as it came. “I didn't think I could be with you and I still wanted you in my life even if we weren’t together. I couldn’t even do that right.”

You knew Dot had a huge hand in why you didn’t see Bucky as much, but it wasn’t all her fault.

“But why didn’t you tell me how you felt?” he asked gently before you could say anything else. “I wouldn’t have been with her if I had known. I shouldn’t have been with her in the first place.”

Hearing that didn’t stop the ache in your heart. If anything, the pain expanded. Bucky said he settled for Dot because he thought that was the kind of girl and relationship he deserved. You settled by staying silent. Part of you even felt bad for his ex, even if she knew he wasn’t fully invested. Maybe that was why she didn’t want you around. She really did know that he wanted you.

“Because I thought you were happy and that's all I ever wanted for you. Even if it wasn't with me,” you told him, something simmering in your gaze as your eyes narrowed. “Do you think I'm some kind of homewrecker? That I'd be selfish enough to tell you how I felt, with no indication that you even felt the same way, to ruin a relationship you told us you were happy in?!”

Loving someone sometimes meant having to sacrifice.

“No, I don’t think that of you at all. You’re the least selfish person I know.”

“Then what kind of person would I be to destroy your path to bring you back to mine?” you asked, not waiting for him to respond as you held up a hand. “And you know what? I agree that we wasted time. Two years wasted because we couldn't just talk to each other. Two years of seeing you in bits and pieces,” you continued, each word like a punch to the gut. “Two years of trying to figure out what the hell I did to push you away.”

He quickly shook his head. “You didn’t do anything. I-”

“You know, I've imagined so many different ways that we’d tell each other we cared for one another beyond friendship. I didn't think it would end with me crying,” you said, straightening up and trying to put on a brave face as you wiped your cheeks one last time. “So what now? Where do we go from here? We can't go back and fix it and I don't even know if I can trust you to not give up on me again. Because I never would have thought in a million years you wouldn't give me the benefit of the doubt.”

“You're right. We can't go back and I made a mistake by giving up before. I have no intention of doing that again,” he said. You wanted so badly to believe him. “And I have no right to ask anything of you, but please. Give me a chance to show that you can trust me.”

It broke your heart that he chose Dot over you so easily. You also understood what self-doubt could do to a person. How many times had you told yourself that Bucky would never see you beyond anything besides a friend? Could you completely fault him for settling?

You also wanted to trust him since you loved him.

“Give me a chance,” he begged as he leaned in, his lips a fraction away from yours. It was like you were sharing one breath. “Please.”

All you wanted was to kiss him. To tell him you’d be his. You almost closed the gap between you.

But you couldn’t do that tonight.

“I think I need to be alone for the rest of the night. I can't think clearly with you right in front of me,” you said, you resolve almost breaking when panic filled his eyes. “I'm sorry.”

The impulsive part of you practically screamed to jump in his arms and promise him forever, but you owed it to yourself to take a little time to reflect.

He swallowed a little. “Please, I-”

“I'm not saying 'no' to you. I'm not going to ask you to prove anything to me. I told you, I’m used to not being a first choice,” you smiled sadly, continuing before he could react to that comment. “And this isn't a test to see if you'll chase after me when I walk away. This is me asking you to give me space for the evening. If you really care about me as much as you say you do, you'll respect that.”

Bucky opened his mouth and shut it before he opened it again. His breathing became shallow as hurt and understanding showed on his face. “Whatever you need, Butterfly.”

“Thank you, Dreamboat,” you whispered, pulling free of his grasp. With a deep breath, you took your first few steps away from him. They were both the lightest and heaviest steps you ever took, your head held high despite your sinking heart. It both pained and healed you. “And thank you for talking to me,” you added when you stopped at the porch.

“I wish I would've talked to you sooner,” he said.

Your heart sank more at his wistful tone, the urge to comfort him taking over.

As you looked at him over your shoulder, you took in the sight of him in the moonlight. He seemed like a shell of himself as he stared at the ground with drooped shoulders. You didn't think you’d ever seen him look so lost. How did someone so strong to you appear so powerless?

And could you walk away with him in that state?

“We talked now. That means something,” you said, offering him a small smile when he lifted his head. The corner of his lip tugged in a tiny smile as well, but it fell quickly. It was a heartbreaking sight. “And Bucky?”

“Yeah?” He asked hopefully.

“My feelings for you haven’t changed,” you assured him as he let out a breath. The weight in your chest lightened at your admission, likely needing to say it as much as he needed to hear it. “If anything, they’re stronger because we finally talked. I just want you to know that.”

Even if you went your separate ways at the end of the week, Bucky would always be in your heart. You didn't have to be with him to know what you felt for him was real. You also didn’t want to try and carve him out because you considered yourself lucky to experience what love felt like, the good and the bad. Some would never know that feeling.

Bucky let out another breath and stood straighter, determination filling his eyes as he brushed his hair out of them. It was a far cry from his stance moments ago. Did he ignite a fire within himself?

Or did you light the match?

“My feelings haven’t changed either. And they won’t,” he promised. “I'll beg for you to be with me if that's what it takes, but I'm not giving up this time.”

Your heart raced faster, but you wouldn't let it deter you. “Maybe tomorrow we can figure out where we go from here,” you suggested. As much as you wanted to see Bucky grovel, you wouldn't make him do that. “Good night, Bucky.”

“Sweet dreams,” he whispered.

Like you asked, he made no move to follow.

You avoided the rest of the gang as you went straight to your room and allowed yourself to cry in peace on your bed. Your heart was still pounding in your chest as you reached for your pillow. When did your hand start shaking? When did your head begin to spin?

You could still feel Bucky’s touch on your cheek, his voice in your mind begging to give him a chance.

“What the hell am I going to do?” You asked out loud.

Leaving Bucky outside was one of the hardest things you had ever done and you wondered if you made the right choice to do so after his confession, but you were proud of yourself. You knew how he felt now and you opened up about your feelings as well.

As much as you loved him though, you had to sleep on it. Even if he didn’t care about Dot as much as he did for you, he was still with her for so long. You didn’t know how he intended to prove his feelings for you, but the determination you saw in his eyes told you there was hope for tomorrow. You would figure out the next step in your relationship.

Maybe you would even allow yourselves the happiness you deserve.

Together.

I know! 😭 I'm sorry, lovelies. Things will look up. Love and thanks for reading! 💙

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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angelicyoongie · 6 months

Text

lovesick (XII)

— pairing: yandere ot7 x (f) reader — word count: 6.3k — warnings: yandere, obsessive behaviour, explicit sexual content (vaginal fingering), other content that may be triggering. — summary: You dreamed of the day you would get your very own soulmark. Though, you didn’t expect to wake up to a searing hurt in your arm, the phantom pain of your shoulder being dislocated and your forearm fractured. As if dealing with the worst possible soulmark ever wasn’t bad enough, you also have to come to terms with the fact that you’re being stalked. When the letters and gifts you receive begin to escalate and the police offers no help, you have no other option than to figure out who’s behind it yourself – and hopefully before it’s too late.

Previous – Next

You pad slowly into the common room, rubbing your eyes.

Yoongi was abruptly called into work a few minutes ago – something about missing files and a tight deadline – so he had to usher you out of bed with gentle touches and soft apologies, sending you to wake up on the couch with Namjoon.

"Hi darling," Namjoon croons as you collapse next to him, picking up one of the thick blankets strewn about to bundle you up with.

You let yourself be tucked in, the extra warmth is more than welcome with how chilly the cabin gets in the early mornings. The fireplace is barely crackling, the flames struggling to take hold with how recently they've been lit.

You mumble something unintelligible in return, pulling the blanket up to your nose to fend off the cold. Namjoon lets out a fond laugh as he scoots closer on the couch. He puts an arm around your shoulder, guiding your head to rest on his chest as he mindlessly plays with your hair. The soothing touches make your already heavy eyes flutter shut immediately, your consciousness drifting further away with every rise and fall of Namjoon's chest.

You drift off for a while, the sounds of Yoongi's rushed goodbye as he runs out the door and Namjoon turning the pages of his book muffled under your sleepiness. Sitting curled up against Namjoon allows your body to slowly wake up, and lets you forget about everything that awaits you while you're caught in the in-between of sleep and reality.

It's the sound of cupboards slamming that finally wakes you up, a sheepish sorry! being called from the kitchen. Namjoon's fingers still in your hair as you huff, your eyebrows creasing with displeasure as you realize it's time to open your eyes.

"Morning," Namjoon murmurs warmly, "Jungkook doesn't always remember how strong he is, especially not when he's tired, so he has a bad habit of slamming things shut. I'm sorry he disturbed you."

"'S okay," You yawn, "I should probably get up anyway."

"Hmm, you don't have to," Namjoon curls his arm around your waist, holding you securely against his chest. "We can just stay here and cuddle until breakfast is ready."

I'm sure you'd like that, you–

You stifle the vicious voice inside your head as soon as it rears its head. Even though you have decided to accept the cards you have been dealt, or rather, the cards that were forced into your hands; it's not something that can happen overnight. They've terrorized you for over a year so rewiring your brain to follow the path your soulbond is trying to lead you isn't easy. But you are trying.

"Sure," You concede, snuggling closer to Namjoon's firm chest.

You watch as he delicately turns another page in the book he's reading, your eyes growing wide as you recognize the poem that's printed on it in faded letters. Your breath hitches as you blink, dumbstruck, down at the same collection you asked him about that day you visited him at the library.

"Aren't these the poems Jungkook used in his letters?"

Namjoon tenses as he notices where your attention has drifted. His fingers subconsciously splay across the page, almost as if he's trying to hide the words, as he says, "Yeah, it is."

"Why did you bring it here?" You ask as you eye the book warily. It's not like the book carries any good memories for you and on top of that, Namjoon seemed rather perturbed by the sight of it all those months ago.

"It... I guess you can say it holds sentimental value," Namjoon murmurs.

"My mom passed away when I was young so I don't remember much of her. I just have a blurry memory of us visiting a garden somewhere, her blue dress fluttering in the wind. Her passing broke my dad's heart. They were soulmates, so I think a part of him died that day too," He heaves a heavy sigh.

"Grief made him do stupid things and one of those was throwing away most of her belongings. I think it just hurt too much, that her things were still there but she wasn't, you know?"

You give a silent nod, heart squeezing at the way Namjoon's voice turns slightly shaky.

"He luckily donated most of her books to the library. I don't think he knew she had written one of them," He gently taps the collection in his lap. "It wasn't until a few years ago that I found some old papers he had missed, once that were drafts of half-written poems and random thoughts. It was just luck, fate maybe, that I recognized her writing. I had read through most of the local donations by that point to do a little feature stand and hers was one of them."

"I'm sorry, about your mom, I mean," You push aside the throw to curl an arm around Namjoon's waist, giving him a comforting squeeze.

"It's okay, it happened a long time ago," He whispers in return, resting his cheek on top of your head.

"Do you know what happened – why she passed so young?"

"I'm not sure," Namjoon says, "Dad never told me the full extent of it. I just know she had a lot of health issues."

The pit of your stomach feels heavy as you rub your cheek against Namjoon's chest, hugging him close. His mom's history must be why he's been so adamant on making sure you're healthy and taking care of yourself, why he even went as far as scheduling medical check-ups for you. It doesn't make it right and it does not excuse his behaviour, but it does explain things.

"Do you know how Jungkook found the book? I remember the section being pretty hidden away," You tentatively say, trying to steer the conversation over to something a little lighter.

"Hm, I showed him that aisle a long time ago. It's probably the section that needs the least work since so few people know about it, so it would be easy for him to use it and put it back without me even noticing. He probably copied them down in his letters whenever I wasn't on shift – I guess he didn't want me to notice and ask about it."

You suppose that makes sense. No one besides Taehyung and Yoongi was open about their newfound soulmate connection and letters, so it adds up that Jungkook would want it to be a secret too.

"It's weird that he ended up with that particular collection out of every book in the library though," You muse.

Namjoon's breath fans across your hair, his voice equally as thoughtful as he says, "Maybe it was our bond that did it. Even if it's just connected through you, it's still strong enough to influence us. That could explain why he was drawn to it."

"Right," You swallow thickly.

You suppress the shudder that wants to travel down your spine. It's a truly terrifying thought that everything has fallen into place like it was supposed to happen, like the universe made it that way. Even if Namjoon said that your bond is rare, there have to be others out there who are dealing with the same thing. Or, at the very least, there has to be some sort of explanation as to why all seven of them are acting this way – it surely can't be that it's just because they're feeling the bond more intensely than you are.

"Actually, do you think you could do me favour?" You pull back just enough to glance up at Namjoon, giving him the sweetest look you can muster as you say, "Could you bring me some books on soulbonds from the library the next time you're there? I think knowing more about it will make everything a little... easier for me, you know?"

Namjoon stares at you in silence, the second dragging on for much too long before he breaks out into a pleased smile. "Of course, darling, anything for you."

"Thank you," You press a fleeting kiss to his jaw, hating how the action makes your own heart pick up speed.

You catch a glimpse of Namjoon's bright grin, dimples indented on his cheeks, as you hurriedly settle back down against his chest. He puts his book aside in favour of wrapping you up in his arms, humming something under his breath as he holds you close.

Perhaps not all luck has left you just yet. Namjoon practically runs the local library, so if there's anyone who can bring you all the books you could ever want on soulmates and soulbonds, he's the right guy for it.

You're sure there is some information out there that can be useful for you – you just need to find it first.

"He's not giving up."

You halt at Jimin's low hiss, wiping off the last bit of moisture on your hands on your sweats. You're halfway between the bathroom and your old room, shrouded in darkness as you wait with bated breath for Jimin to continue.

"This is the second time he's come by this week and he even brought his boyfriend along to 'act as a witness'. I barely managed to keep them from making a scene."

You can hear the agitation in Jimin's voice, can easily picture how his lips must be pressed together with annoyance as he paces around the room. You keep to the shadows as you creep closer, making sure you can't be seen from the open door.

"It's Heejin– no wait, Heejun right? Y/n's friend?"

Your heart jumps to your throat as you catch Seokjin's low murmur, gripping the wall for support as you listen to them talk.

"That's the one," Jimin lets out an exasperated sigh. "He refuses to accept the story we came up with even though there's no evidence to suggest foul play. He keeps prodding and poking and if he continues, something will eventually lead him back to me, hyung. I don't care if he thinks I'm an incompetent cop; but if he's starting to suspect me, we'll have to deal with it – one way or another."

You press your hand to your mouth, muffling the broken noise that squeezes past your lips. You have accepted your faith, have decided to work with it instead of against it, but your best friend doesn't know that. He just knows that you were being stalked and then one day, you were suddenly gone. If the situation was flipped, you would've been beside yourself with concern. You know he cares too much to give up but you can't let Heejun get hurt because of you. You miss him and Jaemin so much your body aches with it, but their safety is all that matters. You won't be able to live with yourself if the boys harm them in any way.

You stumble back, ears ringing as Seokjin says something in return. You feel along the wall as you hurry back to the bathroom, your breaths falling quicker and quicker. You close the door behind you with shaking hands, leaning on it as you sink to the floor.

You're not sure how long you sit there, mind racing with possibilities of what you can do to stop them until Seokjin knocks on the door.

"Angel, are you doing okay?"

"Yeah! Just a minute," You clear your throat, legs unsteady as you clamber to your feet.

You glance at the mirror, wincing at how disheveled you look. You brush your hair back with your fingers as you take deep breaths, attempting to make yourself look more put together and not like you weren't just tethering on the edge of a full-blown panic attack.

"There you are," Seokjin grins as you open the door. He doesn't seem to find anything amiss as he grabs your hand, leading you down the dark hallway toward Jimin's room.

Should you ask Seokjin about what you heard? Should you beg him to stop Jimin from doing anything rash?

"Let me know if you need anything, angel, you know I'm right across the hall," Seokjin's long strides take you to Jimin's door before you can make up your mind. He pauses before he opens it, leaning down to deliver a lingering kiss to your cheek.

Warmth blooms where he touched your skin, your burning face thankfully hidden by the low light.

"Sleep well, Y/n," He whispers. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze before he pushes the door open, guiding you in by your shoulders.

"Angel delivery!" Seokjin announces as he walks you into the room, snickering at the embarrassed noise you make in protest to the cheesy line.

"About time!" Jimin whines, "I thought hyung had stolen you away for the night."

He pulls you out of Seokjin's grasp and into his arms before the older can hog more of his time, shuffling backward towards the bed as he says, "Close the door on your way out."

"Excuse me?" Seokjin splutters, "Is that any way to treat your hyung?"

"Oh right," Jimin has his chin hooked over your shoulder, flashing Seokjin a teasing smile as he says, "Please close the door on your way out."

"The disrespect! I swear– " Seokjin's voice tapers off into irritated mumbles as he shows himself out, closing the door behind him as Jimin requested.

Jimin waits until he hears Seokjin's footsteps recede and another door close before he pulls back, making sure he isn't going to pop back in to ruin the moment. The boyish smile Jimin is sporting after teasing Seokjin softens as he meets your gaze.

"Hi baby," Jimin cradles your face in his palm, running his thumb soothingly over your cheek. "I missed you."

"Hi," You murmur back, easily returning his smile.

He's only been gone for two days, but something in you settles as you feel Jimin's touch; like a weird itch you didn't even know was there has been scratched. Jimin's shifts at the station often force him to be away for multiple days at a time and while it's a bitter pill to swallow, you've actually started to miss him while he's gone. It's not even just Jimin – if any of the boys are gone for more than twenty-four hours, your chest starts to feel hollow, like an important piece is missing.

You hate it.

Jimin looks at you like he's drinking you in, his eyes never settling on one spot for too long.

If you're feeling their absence this strongly already, you're sure it must be a much worse experience for them. You've grown accustomed to the boys being a little more clingy than normal when they return and the extra skinship always seems to soothe you too. Yet, your breath still hitches as Jimin moves his thumb down to your mouth, lightly grazing over your bottom lip.

The way Jimin's gaze keeps flickering back to your mouth makes it very obvious what he wants – craves – but he doesn't act on it; none of them do. So far the boys have seemed content, though perhaps somewhat resigned, to limit their kisses to your cheeks and hair. They know that pushing you past your limits will only backfire, that they'll only get what they truly want once you're willing and want them just as much as they desire you. They've already spent over twelve months watching you from afar, so you suppose a few months more doesn't make much of a difference now that they already have you in their grasp.

It's only a matter of time before you break and you all know it.

"Let's go to bed, baby. I've had a long day."

"Everything okay?" You grip Jimin's hand a little tighter than intended as he leads you to bed, his earlier conversation with Seokjin echoing in your head.

"There's been a string of minor burglaries that have been giving me a headache, but there's nothing you need to worry your pretty head about," Jimin pulls the covers back, throwing you a reassuring look over his shoulder as he adds, "You're safe here with us, Y/n."

"I know. Thank you," You murmur, swallowing around the knot in your throat.

You couldn't care less about some random break-ins, not in a situation like this and with Heejun's safety in jeopardy. Why would you worry about the monsters that are out and about in the city when you're fighting your own demons right here in the cabin? Regardless, you know that Jimin is speaking the truth. You pity anyone who would ever think to come to this cabin when you got seven, frankly unhinged, soulmates that are willing to do anything to 'keep you safe'.

You crawl into bed first, getting yourself situated on your side as Jimin slips into place behind you. You raise your arm just in time for Jimin to curl his own around your waist, your legs slotting together with practiced ease.

Jimin hugs you close to his chest, letting out a content sigh as he breathes in the slightly woodsy scent that lingers on your skin. "Sleep well baby, we'll catch up tomorrow," He drawls, pressing a kiss to the back of your neck.

"Good night," You whisper back.

You curl both hands beneath your chin, staring aimlessly out the dark window that's visible from the bed. The rapidly approaching winter has made the already dark nights almost pitch black, engulfing the trees despite the clinging snow that tries to brighten them. There are no stars out, nothing but endless darkness that stretches around the cabin like an all-consuming void.

You find you can't quiet your mind, your thoughts racing much too fast for it to happen. You can't shake off the conversation you overheard earlier, of how annoyed Jimin sounded as he mentioned Heejun and Jaemin. The boys have already proven that they're willing to go to great lengths to ensure that they get what they want, so you don't doubt for a second that they'll hurt your friends if they deem them to be in their way.

You can't let them harm them. You won't be able to live with yourself if they do.

Jimin's breathing has almost evened out when you reach down to grab his hand, your mouth opening to blurt out a choked, "Please don't hurt them, Jimin."

There's a second where you wonder if he's already asleep when there's no movement aside from the steady rise and fall of his chest. Maybe it would be better if he is asleep, at least that would give you time to come up with a plan, but you're too frazzled to think straight. All you know is that you need to convince Jimin to back off.

"Jimin–"

You're gently shushed as he intertwines your hands, resting them on your stomach.

"I guess you heard us talking," Jimin mumbles drowsily.

He rests his face against your shoulder, voice muffled against your skin as he asks, "Do you remember how I told you about the night I first felt the bond? That time your 'friends' ditched you at that club. Do you know how you got home that night, baby?"

"What? Don't change the subject–"

"Just indulge me," Jimin interrupts you with a squeeze to your hand.

"No, I... I don't remember. I don't know," You mumble, eyebrows creasing as you try to recall any details from that night. Everything is fractured into broken memories, blurred from the copious amounts of alcohol you had in your system.

You can only picture the sneer one of your 'friends' was sporting behind your back, clearly not meant to be seen by you as you suddenly turned around to ask her something. The flashing lights on the dance floor. Your bleeding knee as you tripped outside the club. Dark, polished shoes barely visible through your tears.

"I didn't just see you that night you fell outside the club, baby. I was the one that brought you home."

"You did?" You stare into the darkness, stomach twisting with emotions you can't quite place.

"Yeah," Jimin confirms with a slight nod. "You were drunk as hell and all alone, it wasn't safe for you to attempt to find your way home on your own. I knew you were hurt so how could I just leave you there to fend for yourself?"

"I think you, or the bond maybe, recognized me right away. You were all over me as I was trying to walk you to my patrol car, touching my face and giggling about how handsome I was," Jimin lets out a breathy chuckle. "You're a touchy drunk, baby, I almost had to put you in handcuffs on the way over to your apartment."

– handcuffs, but I'd rather not do that to you right now. Just keep your hands in your lap, alright Miss?

Baby, you hear your own voice sniffly grumble, not "miss" – that's so boring.

You're not going to make this easy for me, hm? Okay then, baby it is.

The memory comes out of nowhere, catching you off-guard. You were the one that permitted Jimin, no – practically begged him – to use such a nickname for you?

"You weren't easy to handle, Y/n," Jimin snorts. "It took me way too long to wrangle you to your couch and you almost started crying again when I left the room to grab your first-aid kit. You kept stroking my hair as I patched up your knee, switching between acting pouty and cute as you tried to convince me to come to bed with you."

"I didn't, by the way," He adds as he notes the tension in your body. "I just helped you into bed and made sure you fell asleep before I left. Nothing happened. I would never take advantage of you like that."

You believe him. Jimin's letters were always so sexual, always so ready to describe the ways he would touch you as if he was picturing your first time together. If he had already done so, you can only imagine what kind of imagery he would've painted for you in his letters.

"So that's how you know where I lived," You say, mind reeling with the new information. You just thought he had passed you by that night, just long enough to feel the bond. You had no idea that he was the one that safely got you home.

Jimin hums.

"If you knew, why didn't you tell me? All of this, everything, could've been avoided that way."

You feel him pause and hold his breath, before he slowly releases it. "I don't know, baby. I was overwhelmed that I had finally found you – scared that you wouldn't like me when you were sober. It just felt easier to watch you from afar and try to build up the courage to approach you again."

Your heart twists with the idea of what could have been.

Jimin was the first soulmate who felt your bond and who later sent you a letter. If he had just approached you normally the day after your night out, you're not so sure everything else would have transpired the way it did. Maybe you would have looked for your remaining soulmates with his help once you figured out there was more than one. Maybe you would've met the other boys through Jimin or perhaps they would've been more inclined to approach you normally once they realized you shared a bond with their friend.

Perhaps everything would have been different if Jimin had tried.

"Why are you telling me this?" You whisper.

"I know I haven't given you a great first impression but I'm not a bad person, baby. I just.. wanted you to know that," Jimin says, lips moving against your skin.

This new knowledge does paint him in a slightly better light. You're mortified over the way you acted that night and you clearly gave Jimin some signals as to how you felt about him, but it still doesn't excuse the way he has acted or the things he has said over the past year.

He lets out a small, sad sigh when he doesn't get a response.

"You asked about your friend. What if we come to an agreement on how to deal with him?"

"Yes," The word spills out before you can even consider the consequences.

Jimin goes perfectly still behind you, his voice a low rumble as he says, "Do you even know what you just agreed to, baby? I haven't told you what I want in return yet."

You swallow thickly, giving him a barely-there nod. He might not ask for what you're thinking about but when it comes to keeping your friends unharmed, you're willing to do anything. Giving Jimin what he's been craving for over a year should hopefully make him more inclined to listen to you, to trust you.

Jimin's breath hitches as you slowly bring your intertwined hands up your body, not quite touching but still making the implications very clear. You untangle your fingers as you reach your chest, leaving his hand resting just shy of it.

You bite your lip, heart racing, as you wait for Jimin to touch you. A beat passes, and another, but his hand stays frozen in place where you left it, not even a finger moving closer to your body.

"Why aren’t you?–"

"You're tense," Jimin murmurs, nudging his nose against your tight shoulder. "I’ll only touch you if you want it – want me."

"Do you?" He asks.

The question hangs in the quiet air between you, pending, as you try to find your answer. Had Jimin asked you the same question a few months ago, you know what your response would have been. Your body would have curled up in disgust, you would have screamed and kicked and punched if he had so much as tried to put a finger on you. But now... You're not so sure anymore. While the thought of what he's put you through still sickens you, it's not repulsion you feel as you imagine him touching you.

You want it.

Whether it's the soulbond, the isolation or just your mind breaking apart, you don't know. But that doesn't change the fact that you don't mind the idea of Jimin touching you. You even brought it up first, not knowing if this is what he wanted out of your agreement or not.

You want him.

You lick your lips, your mouth feeling dry as you whisper out a quiet, "Yes."

"I need a full sentence, baby. I want to make sure."

"Jimin," You barely manage to raise your voice, but it sounds so loud, so damning, in the quiet night. "Please touch me."

Jimin stifles a groan against your shoulder, sounding hoarse as he says, "Okay, baby, as you wish."

He nudges your oversized shirt to the side with his nose, attaching his mouth to the revealed skin. You let out a soft mewl as you feel the slight sting of his teeth sink into your shoulder, the sensation soothed by his tongue as he licks over the bite, sucking the skin between his lips.

Jimin moves his mouth from your shoulder to your neck, leaving behind a trail of kisses and slowly forming bruises. He reaches out to grope your chest, moaning at the resulting shiver that runs through you.

"Gods," He groans as he massages your breast, rolling your nipple through the thin fabric of your shirt, "Been thinking about this for so long."

"Jimin–" You arch your back, gasping, as he suddenly pinches the nub. Jimin pulls and rubs at it in a way that makes your core throb, wetness coating your folds. As you push your breast into his hand, you feel something hard poke against your lower back, Jimin's hips rolling forward on instinct as he feels some friction.

After all you've been through you know you shouldn't enjoy it, but it feels like your soul preens at the contact. You never thought you would end up here, that you would ever want to be in a position like this, but there's no denying that your body is practically vibrating with excitement as Jimin touches you. Still, there's a small knot in your stomach that only feels heavier the more skin you let him explore. You don't know how much of this is actually you and how much of it is just the bond that ties you together.

"My pretty baby," Jimin murmurs as he moves his hand over to your other breast, giving it the same treatment as the first as he slowly grinds his cock against your body.

He gives your nipple one last mean tug, one that makes your cunt clench with need, before he slowly trails his hand down to your stomach. Your breath hitches as he moves his fingers under your shirt, the skin-on-skin contact causing you to let out a soft moan. Your body feels electrified as Jimin caresses your stomach and sides, his fingertips mapping out every inch of the area before he dips them down under the waistband of your sweats.

"Please," The word barely has time to leave your mouth before Jimin obliges, hand sliding between your legs to cup your cunt. He glides his fingers between your folds, groaning as he feels how soaked the material of your underwear has become.

"Fuck, you're dripping for me already, baby," Jimin curses as he continues to feel up your cunt, dragging the pad of his finger from your aching clit down to your slick hole, giving it just enough pressure to feel the tip of it dip in.

The sensation makes you squirm with want, rolling your hips against Jimin's cock. He lets out a choked sound at the action, attaching his lips to your neck to give you another hickey. He hisses with frustration as he struggles to touch you properly, the angle awkward and your clothes restricting his hand.

Jimin taps the inside of your thigh to make you spread your legs further. Heat floods your face as you feel just how wet you are as your legs part, hooking your foot over Jimin's calf to give him more room.

"Good girl," He praises as he finally pushes your underwear aside. The first touch of his fingers against your aching cunt makes you both moan, your heart thumping harshly in your chest with anticipation.

You know there's no going back after this. The knot in your belly, the lingering hostility, is practically overshadowed by your mounting pleasure. You can feel the part of you that's still angry quieting down more and more with each touch, the tight grip you've had on your resentment loosening. You know this is wrong, that you never should have let Jimin – your stalker – touch you like this regardless of how much your soul is yearning for him. But the horrible truth is that you're never getting away from them. And if this makes Jimin happy, then that means you should have it easier too, right?

Gods, how could you sink so low–

Jimin doesn't waste much time teasing you, too impatient for it when you're already this dripping wet.

He drags his finger along your slit, coating it in your slick before he prods at your entrance. The digit slides into your wet heat easily, your walls fluttering around it as you try to get used to the feeling. He gently pumps his finger in and out at first, making sure you're relaxed before he adds another one. He thumbs at your clit as the second finger joins the first, the jolt of pleasure masking the slight discomfort as you're stretched out more.

You can't quite believe how easily your body allows him in, how painless it feels compared to the previous times you've been with someone in the past. Maybe Jimin is just more skilled, but it feels like your body knows to relax in Jimin's hold, like it wants to be good for your soulmate.

"Shit," You whimper as Jimin's fingers curl against your walls, bumping into the spot that makes stars explode behind your eyelids. You clench down around him, trying to keep him in place and yet draw him in even deeper, desperate for that burst of pleasure again.

"P-Please don't stop," You beg, your mind blissfully blank aside from the mounting pleasure in your core.

"I won't, baby, I won't," Jimin groans. He keeps up the steady motion of rolling his hips against your body, grunting as you work yourself on his fingers, pressing your ass harder against his cock.

You bury your head into your pillow as Jimin's fingers begin pumping into you faster, stifling your increasing moans as he touches that sensitive spot over and over. Your leg trembles, toes curling, as Jimin angles his fingers, ceasing his thrusting in favour of rubbing your g-spot head-on.

Desperate noises fall from your lips as your stomach begins to tighten, your release building so quickly that it leaves you gasping for air. You're almost there, your cunt clenching needily around Jimin's fingers.

"Come for me, baby," Jimin rasps. The faintest brush of his slick thumb against your clit is all it takes for you to come undone.

"Jimin!" You cry out his name as your pleasure unravels, your vision whitening out as your release hits you. You feel your slick gush around Jimin's fingers as he keeps brushing against your walls, prolonging your orgasm for as long as possible.

The sound of you moaning his name with so much passion makes Jimin growl, his hips snapping forward. Your wetness coating his fingers and your warm body twitching underneath his is all it takes for Jimin to find his own release; he grinds his hard cock against you once, twice, before he explodes with a deep groan.

You lay in bed, panting, as you try to catch your breath. You let out a choked whine as Jimin carefully pulls out his fingers, everything feeling so sensitive after the intense orgasm you just had.

"You're amazing, Y/n," Jimin croons as he presses a kiss to the nape of your neck. He slips his hand out from your clothes, rubbing your stomach contently as he says, "Just give me a second to find something to clean us up with, baby, I'll be right back."

You let out a soft noise in return.

You wait for the deep regret and anger to come rushing in as you hear Jimin swiftly exit the room, for the high in your veins to turn to disgust as he returns to carefully wipe you down with a damp cloth and whisper sweet nothings about how much he adores you.

It doesn't happen.

Everything in you feels thrilled at Jimin's attentiveness, at how closely he wraps you up in his arms when he's done. Your heart flutters with excitement as he tucks you close to his chest, arms wrapped around your body securely.

Your soul feels so content that you struggle to grasp onto the hatred you feel for them, the feeling buried deep beneath the happy emotions your soulbond tries to overwhelm you with.

Your resentment hasn't changed. Won't ever change. But how do you explain that you wanted Jimin to touch you – that you enjoyed it? You don't want this or them so why do you feel so content? It breaks your heart to realize that while you do hate them, some small part of your is starting to like them too.

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to block out Jimin's pleased hums as he runs his fingers up and down your arm. You know you won't get any answers tonight and letting your mind run around in circles won't do you much good either. You need the books Namjoon promised he would get for you, that's the only place you'll be able to find some answers.

You let Jimin's repetitive motions soothe you towards sleep, your eyelids growing heavy.

"Baby?" Jimin murmurs, the rhythmic fall and rise of his chest skipping a beat as he tenses up for a split second.

"Hmm?" You make an affirmative sound in return, brows furrowing at the sudden shift in Jimin's mood.

"We've been pretending to be you on your phone, texting your friends and family to keep up appearances. Heejun doesn't buy it."

Your eyes snap open in the darkness, your breath catching in your throat.

"He knows something is wrong since we can't pick up whenever he tries to call you. We won't hurt him or his boyfriend, I– we, know you'll never forgive us if something happens to them. But we need him to back off," Jimin grumbles.

You clutch at his tee, sleep washed away and voice bordering on frantic as you ask, "What do you need me to do?"

"Simple," Jimin sighs, pressing a fleeting kiss to the top of your head, "You just have to convince him that you don't want to talk to him anymore. That's the only way he'll leave us alone."

The thought makes you want to laugh. There's no way Heejun would ever believe something like that. You've practically been attached at the hip ever since you were young, been through so many highs and lows that you taking a trip to the moon sounds more possible than ever growing bored of him. Heejun would never buy such a simple excuse, hell, he would probably only double down harder to figure out why you're so hellbent on ignoring him.

"Right, simple," You echo, deflating in Jimin's arms.

It's never going to work.

You'll have to come up with a much better idea if you want to protect your friends and keep them safe.

a/n: hhh.... so that happened?? 🫣 we got a lot of new information in this chapter! we finally learned more about namjoon's backstory and his connection with the poems, the mc needs to figure out how to convince her friends she's okay and well... we have finally reached the smut!!

please leave a comment and reblog if you enjoyed the chapter and let's scream about what went down with jimin lol 💖

see you soon!

#yandere bts #bts x reader #yandere x reader #bts smut #yandere jimin #yandere seokjin #yandere jungkook #yandere yoongi #yandere hoseok #yandere namjoon #yandere taehyung

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mikobeautifulheart · 2 months

Text

How JJK men react when they (or you) "accidently" fall on you (or them).

Including: Yuta, Yuji and Megumi

Tw: none unless you don't like falling over.

I KNOW THE TITTLE IS PAINFUL AND THE FIC IS NOT TOTALY EDITED. IM SORRY.

♡Yuta♡

All the second year students were at the traning field when you noticed that you forgot your phone.

Normally that wouldn't bother you, but today Yuta was supposed to come back from his training trip in Africa. There was nothing official with you guys but everyone around you could feel how much you both fell for each other. Just like the day he first arrived, you introduced yourself (probably the only person who did) to him. It was just like two wires fused and after that you guys became close. But it ened when Yuta left and you felt loke it was back to old times again with Maki, Panda and Toge.

"MAKIII" you yelled across the field as Maki was in the middle of her warm up lap.

"I NEED TO GO GET MY PHONE, ILL BE BACK SOON" You yelled getting a thumb up approval from her.

So you ran off the field and onto the path past the shed of cursed tools and straight to the main building in Jujustu high. You swung open the door and sprinted down the hallways.

Yuta was supposed to text you when he got back and nearly at the dormatrys because they changed the locks while he was gone and getting him his own key would take a while with his seemingly 'sudden' return. Luckily you had 2 keys made because you wanted a spare just in case it came handy.

You swung open the classroom door when you realised you forgot where you left your bag, which held your phone and pair of keys. You searched up the whole room panicking but to no avail. You looked at the clock on the wall. 4:00 pm. Yuta was supposed to be back at 4:10 and you figured the only other place your bag would be was on the bench bu the traning field...

Letting out a loud sigh of frustration you didn't want to waste any more time so you took a short cut to the oval. Right through the buildings window. You stood at the edge and pushed off landing harshly on the ground making you stumble a bit before sprinting again.

You made it to the field at 4:03, a new record, but still with your frantic searching you couldn't find your bag.

"I have to be quick before Yuta gets here or he'll be locked out the dorms!" You said franticly knowing your 3 classmates were watching you and wondering what you were doing.

You felt a tap on your sholder

"Tuna mayo Shakke."

(*We moved class rooms today remember?)

Your eyes went white realising you looked in the wrong room.

"I KNEW IT WAS IN OUR CLASS ROOM" You yelled before running again.

This time you went to the right room and saw your bag on your desk. You snatched it and looked at the time on your phone 4:11.

You said you would met Yuta at the schools enterance but there was no way you would make it there in time...unless you ran. Again.

You spun on you heals and with the last and most of your energy you ran head first into some body making them lose thier balance because the last thing they expected was getting rammed head first in a deserted hallway.

THUD

You fell onto your back in shock not realising the person hand was holding the back of your head making sure it never hit the ground.

"Are you alright!?" He asked looking down at you

It was Yuta.

"Yeah sorry about-YUTA?!" Your face flushed as his body caged your on the floor

"Sorry I didn't see you running then and just got in your way."

"NO, NO IT WAS MY FAULT" you were losing your sanity, he was so close and so...diffrent. His hair hung over his eyes and his body frame was way bigger from the last time you saw him.

He suddenly turned his head away from your gaze but you could see the red tint in his ears.

"Nice catch" you heard some one say

Both you and yuta looked down the hallway to see Maki standing there with a cursed weapon.

Immediately Yuta got up embarassed and offered you a hand up.

"Uh welcome back." You tried to act normally but that moment would live in your mind forever.

☆Yuji☆

You were in the library studying for Gojos "surprise quiz" that was taking place tomorrow. How were you going to get through all the subject set in the quiz with only one day's notice? Well you concluded that Gojo was not a very qualified teacher.

On the list of study books you'd need to read to take notes from there was one that was up impossibly high up on a shelf. But it was okay because there was a ladder at the end of the shelf you would just have to bring over.

You pulled the ladder over and made sure it was stable by shaking it a few times slightly, knowing there wouldn't be anyone to hold the ladder for you because Megumi, Nobora and Yuji were all currently out on a mission that you were no put on. It was a but disappointing but it was the perfect opportunity to study.

You got up on the ladder, when it came to the last step you got a bit nervous because the ladder began to shake a bit. But you took a deep breath and managed to make it up there without falling. You grabbed the book quickly got down the ladder. You put it on top of the other books you were using. You walked back to your table with all your study notes and materials.

It was a successful hour because you felt like you were finally ready. So you packed up your things and began to put the books back. Until it came to the high shelf. You tested the ladders durability again and finally took the first step. When tou were half way up, book tucked beneath your arm, you heard the library doors open and two people arguing. You already knew it was Nobora and Yuji. And if Nobora and Yuji were there then Megumi must be tagging along to. You kept climbing but a little faster so you could greet your friends back from their mission, however when you got to the top step you heard Nobora.

"JUST TELL HER YOU DAMNED IDIOT OR YOU'LL LOSE YOUR CHANCE!"

You looked down the ladder and saw the three (as predicted) walking toward the ladder when Nobora kicked Yujis back sending him forward right into the ladder you were on. With his instincts he grabbed a side of the ladder which only made him land on his back.

You let out a panicked gasp as you felt yourself lose your footing and fall off the ladder.

Nobora and Megumi watched in shock as the suddenly saw you fall off the ladder and crash...right into Yuji. Thank goodness for Yujis reflex skills because he managed to catch you. Catch being you landing the back of your head into his chest.

"YOU IDIOT" Nobora yelled

"YOU COULD HAVE KILLED MY PRECIOUS Y/N"

"ME KILL HER? YOUR THE WITCH THAT PUSHED ME!" He yelled in retaliation you slowly sat up in-between his legs.

"Are you okay?" Yuji sat up to crossing his legs almost trapping you between him.

"Yeah I'll be alright" you mumbled but before you could rub the back of your pounding head you felt yujis hand on it.

"I'm sorry, I'll be more careful next time, really I didn't mean to hurt you"

"I know, it's okay Yuji I know you wouldn't purposely hurt me."

A blush spreads across his face and your body warms against his.

You look around trying to avert his gaze before realising that you didn't have the book any more.

"Huh? where did my book go..." your eyes wander to Megumi who's rubbing the top of his head with one hand and holding your book with the other.

"Here" He mumbled in pain.

THANK YOU FOR READING THIS ♡♡

AUTHOURS NOTE: yeah I'm not entirely happy with the Yuta part but maybe I'll re write it if you guys want. Also if you want a part 2 with other characters let me know because I was going to add Megumi but didn't.

283 notes · View notes

whispereons · 7 months

Text

Oracle!Reader Part 17

Masterlist - Part 1, Part 16, Part 18

PSA: I'm going to go through my followers and report + block porn bots. Porn bots look like users who have nothing posted. So if you don't want to be blocked please put at least one post saying that you are human.

Warning! This has your good old violence! This is a SAGAU imposter au so this to be expected.

The ice in your calves throbbed as spikes of pain fried the nerves every time you shifted into a better position. That's not even counting how the arrow in your chest jostled and wedged deeper into your skin.

"Let's start with some easy questions, yeah? Like your name, date of birth, and occupation."

You wished Yelan would just ask the important questions only. It would make your life so much easier. Who knows what information you could give her here that unknowingly connects to what they know about the 'Creator'.

Yelan's expression turns neutral before she steps closer. Your body tenses in preparation before she grabs your hair to pull your head up. Hissing in pain, you glare at her with animosity.

"Don't overestimate your body, Y/N." She drawl's as if speaking to a child. "I could just remove this pretty little mask and bring you back to Liyue for those with... more experience to handle."

Was it a natural thing for Hydro users to threaten you with torture? The thought makes you wanna laugh but you gasp in pain instead as she releases your hair harshly.

You didn't have time to be a smartass. Your mask being removed was the worst thing that could happen. The only question was, should you admit to being an Oracle or not?

"My name, as you already know, is Y/N. I don't have a last name, or maybe I do and I don't remember it. Same situation with my birthday, I just celebrate it whenever I feel like it."

Genshin always sends you a gift in the mail when it's your birthday. It's a good guess that everyone knows your birthday, having the same birthday would be suspicious. What if it's like your face in which no one else can share the same birthday with you? Far-fetched but better safe than sorry.

"I'm an adventurer who signed up a few days ago. I have my handbook and commission list to prove it if you want to check."

There was a chance she knew about your Oracle job from when you had to stay at the Teahouse, but you won't offer that bit of information unless she specifically asks for it. Far too many of your own victims on Earth screwed themselves over when they revealed things only to learn you were shooting in the dark.

"Quite the convenient story. No last name or set date of birth means you must be from one of the villages. Name it."

Yelan gets comfortable resting against a tree as Shenhe stands close to you with a cold glare. The questions were still easy but you didn't want to be stuck here any longer. You needed an escape.

"I was born in Inazuma, one of the less-tamed islands called Kannzaku. But after the recent war, all the people that were still living either died or left. I chose to leave as well."

Yelan hums at that, you aren't sure if she truly believes it or if she's just making a mental note to look into it later.

"Then how did you manage to catch the Alcor of all ships to bring you here? They aren't one to take passengers along easily."

Has she been watching that early on or did she trace your path that far back? If so, she may even gain information about your time in Inazuma. Best to keep everything aligned with the most public knowledge.

"The Yashiro Commission helped me find a ship. I don't see how my upbringing in Inazuma has to do with whatever reason you have for attacking me."

Flexing your feet, you try to adapt to the pain. Yelan nor Shenhe were going to let you go even if you did answer everything correctly. That was a fact just based on how much trouble you gave them.

Yelan keeps a watchful eye on you as she stays silent. You know this tactic, you've used it before. Staying silent to make your hostage squirm and anger till they burst. That, or slowly die in place from any wounds.

This wasn't a problem for you. Every second you stood there in silence was just more and more time for you to get used to the pain. The arrow was too deep to remove, you would bleed out and become weaker so it'll have to stay stuck inside your skin.

Yelan and you could have gone all day, but Shenhe wasn't nearly as patient or stubborn.

"Ask your question and finish your job already, Yelan. If you take any longer then I'll just exterminate them." Shenhe moves to stand directly in front of you with her weapon raised.

She points it directly at Yelan. "And if you try to stop me, I'll kill you too."

Seems they aren't as in sync as you originally thought.

Yelan sighs and moves from her spot. It seems even she knows better than to trifle with the bomb in the shape of a crane. The grass crunches beneath Yelan's heels as the trinkets on her jingle.

Lifelines wrap around your wrists and waist and she pulls you forward. Nails dig into your skin through her gloves making you bite your tongue in slight pain. The pretty azure color is coated with crimson as emerald eyes stare into your soul.

"What's giving you the confidence to claim to be the Creator's oracle? If you don't repent and shed this flimsy mask, the Qixing will have you sacrificed in the city's center."

Your heart stops at those words as flashes of the sacrifices you witnessed in Inazuma come to mind. Taking off your mask would get you killed, but not taking it off would also get you killed. Torn between laughing and crying, you hated the fact that once again you were stuck in a ‘damned if you do, damned if you don’t’ situation.

Frowning at the strange expression on your face and the lack of confession, Yelan sighs with frustration and even a bit of hatred. “Not willing to speak even now, huh? Then my job is nearly done. Ningguang can deal with you instead, I’ll just reap my share of the rewards after you die.”

Patting your now bloody cheek condescendingly, she turns away from you. Her lips can be seen moving from her side profile but you could care less about what she's saying.

All you can focus on is the feeling of being talked down to. Being treated like a child, being treated like an idiot. The inner lining of your cheek begins to ache from how hard you're biting on it.

Specific personas you've created and used in your work would include ditzy and dumb acts. The patronizing tone they would speak to you with was annoying but tolerable. But this? This?!

Lips curled into a snarl, you look up at the woman with a boiling glare matching your equally hot temper. Yelan's features seem to continuously morph and switch with a man who would speak to you in that exact same demeaning way.

"Where the hell do you get off speaking to me like this?"

Yelan shuts her mouth but doesn't move her snobbish eyes off your form. Shenhe holds her polearm tighter as she keeps her eyes on you. Well aware of just how stupid, rash, and careless your next actions are, your brain tries to calm down.

But the moment you lift your bloody chin to look up, all you can see is condescending eyes taunting you.

"What the fuck is giving YOU the confidence to indirectly call yourself extraordinary by calling your deceased teammates 'ordinary folk'?! You only got to your position from the charity and sacrifices of other people!"

Breathing heavily from the anger and strain from yelling, you wipe the blood on your chin away. You were giving it your all to survive and weasel your way out of this situation. That's what you have done all throughout your time in Teyvat.

It wasn't fair, it wasn't right, it shouldn't be possible that all your efforts would be for naught from just one person. Everything you've worked at all this time, gone, just because Yelan and Ningguang couldn't mind their own fucking business.

"You can inflate your ego all you want with clever schemes and working solo but that doesn't take away from the fact that you would be dead without everyone around you. Your ancestry of heroes, Ningguang's patience and willingness to wait for you to train and move on from your friend. Even the lessons you learned on how you aren't invincible didn't seem to click until you lost your whole team!"

Grinning widely with malice and blood staining your teeth and lips crimson, you finished your jab. "You know? The same team you basically disowned and dissociated yourself from after they died. After all, you’d rather isolate yourself instead of properly acknowledging your team's talent and appreciate the life they lived no matter how short!"

Your mouth felt dry and all you could taste was copper. The shards in your calves were slowly melting making your legs. A vast contrast to the burning anger you harbored. But it seems you aren't the only one feeling this way.

Yelan hasn't moved from her spot but the look she has on her face is clear as day. Her neutral and taunting smile has dissolved into a murderous expression. Viridian eyes sharpen almost like an arrow and gritted teeth grind together. Your blood stains her blue gloves much like how you successfully stained her invincible reputation.

As good as it felt to get back at her, the slightest bit of guilt plagued you. That blow concerning her teammates was low, even if it was true. It's a bitter truth that she probably still struggles with. Living knowing that someone had to be sacrificed for your life pushed you to the brink more than once. Even still, you can't find it in yourself to take back those words, to apologize.

After all, you could never disregard the help and place your dad had in your life even with his early death.

The Hydro vision on Yelan's side glows as she takes long strides to your trapped form. No longer summoning her bow with flair, she points it at you. Bracing yourself with bent knees, you flex your fingers preparing to summon your sickle and escape the disadvantageous position.

"GRAH!"

A huge leaping rocky creature almost flattens Yelan who swiftly dodges by jumping backward.

"GRAW!" What you can now identify as a Geovishap roars loudly and slams his hulking fist onto the ground. The impact sends Yelan flying through the air and the ice trapping your feet shatters.

Not even allowed a second to enjoy your newfound freedom, Shenhe lunges either polearm poised at the ready. Grinning, your sickle clashes with her weapon as you shift to a more comfortable position.

Fighting both women would be impossible for you, they've trained for years. But it was still within your limits to defend and escape from one. Thanks to the Geovishap, you now have been granted that possibility.

The lingering shards of ice in your calves keep the blood somewhat clogged but the blood dribbling out down your ankle is uncomfortable. Ignoring it to the best of your abilities, you dig your shoes into the ground as your sickle repeatedly blocks her attacks.

The spear's minor side curve gets hooked onto your sickle leading to a stand-off. Planting your feet deeper into the ground, you focus on pushing against Shenhe as she does the same. Your arm strains with the force needed as Shenhe's full power begins to overpower you.

Not that you weren't expecting that.

Shenhe fought a god as a child and would have won if Cloud Retainer hadn't cut it short. She grew up in these mountains fighting, training, and eating whatever she was given. Cloud Retainer didn't raise a child, she groomed a soldier.

Your wounds ache as your body is pushed back. Inhuman strength wasn't something you ever encountered on Earth. This wasn't the city where you could pull a dirty trick and get away. Wasn't there anything else you could do?

Perhaps it was the determination you felt to stand your ground. Or maybe it was the desperation you felt to escape and live. You couldn't be completely sure as power mingled with your flesh, giving you a burst of energy.

The air grows cold and the ground shakes beneath your feet. The Electro wrapping around your sickle crackles louder, nearly masking the creaking of the ground. Geo petrifies the ground as it travels from your feet to hers.

A dark umber-colored stone traps her feet with cracks of topaz. Shenhe frowns and tries to rip her feet out but is stunned when it doesn't work. The petrify only moves to consume her body faster.

Knowing that you must be the only reason for the Geo, you take advantage of the newfound power. Breaking the grapple, you move out of her polearms range. Her braids loosen as she tries to lunge at you even with her torso completely petrified.

In some last-ditch effort to kill you, Shenhe holds her polearm in one hand and prepares to throw it at you. Not a moment sooner, the petrify entraps that hand locking it in place.

"Don't run away, demon!" Shenhe shouts in fury as her braid loosens. Her face is permanently etched as a harsh scowl and furrowed brows when the Geo overcomes her completely.

Not wanting to waste the precious and limited time you have, you turn on your heels and run away. In a split decision, you run to the left, the same direction where you first met Shenhe at that hilichurl camp.

Greenery and foliage are trampled on as you push past the burning pain. You pass the threshold of the stone and a large thud catches your attention from behind you.

Curious, you look back to see the Geovishap be pierced by Hydro projectiles. The blood and water splatter and mix on the ground as the Geovishap collapses. A weak gurgle of a roar is all that could be heard.

Glazed eyes holding no consciousness, no life, stare at your wide, sympathetic ones before crumbling into dust. A different pair of wrathful green eyes stare back at you instead.

There's no time to teleport. You couldn't fight in this state. Running was your sole option and your body moved on its own.

The river water dampens your shoes as you run, and the moonlight filters through the leaves of the trees above you. Slimes peer at you curiously as you avoid running into them.

The only thing you could properly focus on was not tripping and not getting hit by the arrows raining down on you.

Between your honed instincts and Teyvat’s warnings, you manage to dodge the vast majority. Yelan wasn't in the position she is today without mastering her archery.

Pain and most likely a bruise bloom when her Hydro-infused arrow hits your shoulder. It's not deep so you quickly pull it out before it gets lodged like the one in your chest.

The chase is intense as your ragged breaths nearly mask the sound of her heels following you. More arrows cut your clothes and graze your skin.

The sight of the red staining the cloth makes bitterness spread and fester deep within you.

Just why couldn't you bleed gold?

Now in Nantianmen, you pass by the hilichurl camp where you met Shenhe in. You must be getting closer to the ruins, maybe you could lose Yelan in the twists and turns of the rundown ruins.

But that plan quickly is thrown out the window when the only exit is a large drop-off, small broken ruins with broken ruin pieces serving as platforms on the large river. Treasure hoarders roam that area from what you remember.

To your right is a large mountain, climbable but no doubt time-consuming. On the left is where the ledge is. The only thing in front of you is a path leading to a boss, that you can’t be certain would recognize you or not. And above it would just be another cliff only serving to prolong the chase.

Faced with the choice, the shallow water washes the crusting blood off your legs. Climb the mountain and be shot down by Yelan, or glide off the edge into Tianqiu Valley and be shot down by Yelan or the treasure hoarders.

Aren’t you spoiled for choice?

That sarcastic thought is quickly swept away as you narrowly avoid an arrow that hits the water. Only sparing a glance behind you, you move to the side avoiding the follow-up arrow. The click of Yelan’s heels is replaced with the sloshing of water as she runs after you.

She dodges the Cryo that a large Cryo slime shoots at her as you back away with urgency. Before you can make a panicked split decision, a new Geovishap tackles her right into the Cryo slime.

The combo of being frozen and shattered seems to knock the wind out of Yelan as she falls onto the ground and slowly rises to her feet. The Cryo slimes, now with the addition of another that popped up out of nowhere and this new Geovishap, form a circle around Yelan.

The circle is tight and her soaked form only hinders her further. The wounds and bruises she sustained from the previous Geovishap are still visible.

You recognize this as an opportunity to escape.

The sound of Yelan’s grunts and groans of pain as she’s thrown around out of sight are washed away as you pull the game screen up. It loads slowly but you aren’t too worried, Yelan is spent after chasing you and fighting so much today.

Once the map is loaded, you quickly swipe to the statue of the seven. Selecting it you press the teleport button and wait. You wait with bated breath and expectant eyes to finally be free of this whole battle. Yet, as the screen stays the same and a whole minute passes by with no response, your heart pounds with fear.

Trying to deny the worst possibility you press the teleport button again. You press it again and again and again with no results. The sounds of the Cryo slimes being splattered onto the ground make you suck in a harsh breath.

In one last desperate attempt, you close the game screen and open it again. Repeating the same actions before with no difference in the result.

It’s refusing to work.

That revelation fills you with a mix of dread and a manic mess of anger combined with sadness. A disbelieving laugh escapes your mouth in a low tone before you sprint towards the closest escape option. There’s no more time to waste, the petrify is going or already has worn off and Yelan won’t be occupied with that Geovishap forever.

Your scratched-up and coarse fingers haphazardly grasp the grooves of the mountain to climb as fast as possible. It’s painful to put your body weight onto your legs but it must be done. That pain is almost completely blinded by the agonizing burn of when the arrow in your chest is pushed further in whenever you accidentally scrape the wall.

The air becomes thinner as you climb to the halfway point, your digits grasp onto the next protruding rock and it’s too late when you realize that it’s too loose. The rock slips out, hitting your face and temporarily blinding you as your other grip becomes weaker.

Dangerously swaying backward, you stop breathing and scramble to hold on to something. When your cut-up fingers finally grasp something more stable, your face hits the rock and it makes the blood from the wounds Yelan’s nails left leave a splotch.

Pain and sharp aches rack your body but you grit your teeth and continue climbing. The mountain seems to almost vibrate and you look down to see Yelan be smashed onto the wall. A thrilling chill of happiness runs down your spine at the sight of Yelan getting pummelled. You can only hope it scars her the way her injuries most likely will scar you.

The struggle is finally over as your fingers dig into the grass at the top and haul yourself over the ledge. Crawling with the last bit of your strength, you lay on your back and breathe in as much of the thin air as you can. Sharp and burning pain electrifies your nerves as you stare up at the night sky.

Just how shitty was your luck to end up like this?

Gingerly touching your head as the world briefly spins, you open the game screen. Maybe, just maybe it will work now that you are away from the battle. Perhaps it didn’t let you teleport in some stupid rule of ‘no teleporting when enemies are nearby’ or ‘you can’t teleport in battle’. You are well aware that Genshin never had that rule but you wanted to hold onto some hope.

Of course, it doesn’t work. Hope at the end of the day is just that. But being away from a life-or-death situation at least brings back some clarity of mind. You select a different teleport waypoint and try to teleport. It doesn’t work, and after trying nearly all of the waypoints you close the screen and groan in frustration.

You close your eyes and just try to breathe, to relax your heart that just won’t stop beating frantically. It becomes suspicious when your blood runs cold and your stomach churns in a familiar feeling of danger. With anxiety-fueled fear, you roll your aching body a few feet away as the wind caresses your skin trying to help you.

Dirt and grime cling onto your clothes and make your open wounds itch as it enters your body. But your attention is pulled away by a polearm piercing the spot you were lying at just a moment ago. Frantic yet oh so tired, you pull yourself onto your sore feet and stare warily as the cloud of dirt dispenses.

As much as you dared to dream that maybe it was Xiao, the long white hair and crane-patterned sleeves aren’t surprising. Disappointing nonetheless though.

Shenhe grips her weapon tightly as she stays in place, the rock she struck in pieces beneath her. You can already imagine what kind of damage she would have done if you didn’t move away in time. She doesn’t lift her head as she mumbles something.

Not willing to move closer but also too cautious to move away in fear of triggering her, you stand in place. Her head lifts up to let iridescent eyes glare at your beat-up and bleeding body. “I hate you.” She mutters as strands of hair droop to frame her face.

“I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate-” She mutters endlessly from her position as you begin to take slow steps backward. The red rope tying her hair is already gone and the ones on her clothing are close to slipping. Most of them are ripped and gone anyway.

Shenhe harshly rips the last of the red rope off and gracefully twirls her polearm into the correct position with a look cold enough to freeze your blood. Actually, that’s just the frost creeping from her feet…

“I hate you!” Shenhe’s yell is swift and her weapon is merciless as her attack pattern changes from the elegant crane style to one more comparable to a raging bull. You hurriedly summon your sickle in the nick of time.

Your hands are shaky from the exhaustion weighing down on your body. Combining that with Shenhe’s erratic wrath attacks makes your movements clumsy.

Each narrowly raised block and shaking deflection eat away at the little energy you have left.

It's not enough.

That fact becomes more and more obvious as your grip on the sickle gets weaker. What other fate awaited you when being hunted down by Shenhe who has fought and trained nearly all her life?

The past battles you've been through are viewed in a new light. Your first fight with those treasure hoarders led you to rely more on your wit than skill. The first Fatui encounter with Heizou had you more as a support than an attacker. Beisht wasn’t even attacking you and you struggled against the elements more than anything else on Beidou’s ship. After taking the commission to save Yiran from the kidnappers, you teamed up with Xingqiu and Chongyun for every battle after that.

Even afterward when you were forcibly separated and Cloud Retainer strangled you, it was the other Adepti that pulled her off. The only battles after that were your hit-and-runs with Yelan and Shenhe. Have you ever actually fought and won on your own since that first scuffle with the treasure hoarders? They even ran away after you threatened them without touching them!

The realization of your less-than-stellar fighting capacity makes your movements sloppier, your body feels heavy with the weight of your journey. All the injuries you sustained, even the ones already healed, seem to chip away at your resolve.

You were tired. You’ve been tired for a long time. It would be accurate to say that you were tired of being tired.

Shenhe’s emotions bleed through her fighting style, the wrath she’s consumed by makes her attacks rough but misaligned. Slices that should have cut deep into your shoulder or slashes across your unguarded areas miss their mark. Each one only makes her more aggravated leading to even sloppier motions.

A terrible cycle that was helping you out enough that you use your new Geo power to petrify her feet. But Shenhe has already experienced this, her spear is waved erratically around her keeping you away.

This rare chance of escape isn’t lost on you, turning on your heels you book it and narrowly avoid the polearm thrown your way. The graze makes the already scraped side bleed heavier, and the burning feeling of pain doesn’t subside.

Running across the greenery and leaving a trail of dotted red on the dark grass, you don’t bother trying to recall where you might be. There was never much of a reason to climb all the way up here as a player and you had no time to stop to observe the map.

The rocks, trees, and flowers blur in a shadowy hazy mess. You can’t be sure whether it's from all the blood you lost, the pain that plagues your body or the starless night sky. A single rock jutted out of the rock trips you and the pain blinds you as you lay on the ground.

Stumbling back onto your feet, you hold a nearby branch with a death grip as your body sways and your vision spins. This intense lightheadedness could only be from blood loss, one would think that it’s a shame how easily you can tell blood loss apart from any other injury it might be.

The sound of water splashing catches your attention and you do your best to follow it quickly without any more falls. The toll of the adrenaline that was coursing through your veins is starting to settle and you know full well how nasty it can be. A small lake appears in your vision and you collapse onto your knees once close enough.

A group of Cryo slimes begin to make their way towards you from the middle of the lake, or maybe it was Hydro slimes? The wind is both sweet relief on your clammy skin and a rude reminder of your aching wounds. Crawling to the side where you can only hope that Shenhe won’t find you as easily, you let your bag fall off your shoulders.

The bag has holes but as it’s not a normal bag, nothing has fallen out. To your immense relief, of course, the medkit you pull out is your only hope of surviving just a little longer. The slimes gather around you curiously, even this close the only thing you can be sure of is their blue coloring.

Ignoring them, you apply the disinfectant, ointment, bandages, and anything else that might help you with your numerous injuries. Most of them were bandaged fine with you skipping the minor wounds to not waste your precious resources, but it was the major two damages that you couldn’t touch.

The remainder of the ice spikes in your calves were slowly melting which, unfortunately, was only leading to more bleeding. The arrow in your chest already made breathing hurt like hell. There was no way you were gonna risk yanking either of the two out. With the bleeding slowed down, your body feels a bit better but the fatigue anchors you to your spot.

Surrounded by the slimes and gently showered by the moonlight your head rests against the closest solid structure. Thoughts of what kind of disease, danger, and death you might experience are washed away. The rippling reflection of the moon on the lake lulls your mind into a haze. Eyelids fluttering shut, you can no longer resist the urge to just rest...

Oh boy, finally done and over with. It actually had more but I decided to cut it here and post the rest with the other parts next chapter. It may be shorter than this one. Or not, who knows. Thanks to my patient editor @serpent-benediction who edited this today. I hope everyone enjoyed the differences yet similarities between Y/N and Yelan. I did write this on Google Docs rather than on Tumblr so maybe the format is weird. Tell me if this one is too dense looking or any other opinion on it. Edit* Guess which dumbass forgot to add the read more option? Taglist - Remember those that are in italics are those who I couldn't tag! I appreciate all the comments and reblogs! Ya'll can be so funny and sweet at the same time. @vvyeislazzy, @nikqi, @the-dumber-scaramouche, @etherisy, @yourlocalstranger123, @ra404, @iruiji, @goldenglow149, @haru-tofuu, @lsleepysimpl, @bebobeboben, @yuyuzi-ling, @amidst-the-tempest, @resident-cryptid, @mxd1zzy, @mochicurls21, @nervouseaglelover, @thedevioussmirk, @yumuramma, @kwqsla, @undecidingfate, @ehjane, @game-savvy, @akiramirae, @liansh3ng, @fluffy-koalala, @formacoon, @sxftiebee, @khxii-i, @ursinaw, @chuuya-brainrot, @sweetbills, @kazuchaos, @snowfoxnix, @bluebelony, @shellofthewell, @pencil-of-ashes, @ghostlyintervention, @taiformaifoe, @goaudduck, @carminerin, @maddysflowers, @zenith-of-all-zenith, @crazydreamcat, @leafanonsforest, @grimreapersscythe, @leylanx, @sapphireknown, @help-whatdoimakemyusername, @zhonglisfruityass, @mer0n37, @victoria1676, @mochinessss, @sinnful-darling, @emilymikado, @pix-stuff, @esthelily, @luxie963, @emmbny, @millienolife @kbar1013, @xxblackroses623xx, @chxrlxtteee, @aludicpoet, @yandematic, @atrcclovsxoxo, @0lshadyl0, @esthelily, @t-rex-red, @ck123, @steadybreadbluebird, @118gremlin, @stratonia, @time-shardz, @farelady-fate, @valeriele3, @francisnyx, @byakuren100

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spacedace · 8 months

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Reluctant War AU Part 4

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Everything I know about Flash and the FlashFam (& Flash enemies) comes from fandom and theflashmuseum on tiktok so fair warning on that lol

Sorry if Barry is out of character or things don't line up with canon. Canon is a stranger I think I passed in a crowded room once, I did not ask for its number lol

Anyway, time to touch a bit more on that whole Ancient of the Speedforce Elle thing yeah? Here be a sprinkle more of that and I promise there's more to come haha

Gonna start posting this on Ao3 soon, probably Monday or Tuesday, so heads up I may stop adding these parts here on tumblr once I do

---

It lived beneath his skin.

For a long time Barry had never believed in magic. His world was grounded, scientific, made of predictable rules and laws. Tools that could be used to explain everything strange or supernatural away as just another odd twist of the massive universe they all belonged to.

It took perhaps a little longer than it should have to admit that magic was as real as thermodynamics and gravity and atoms. That the world was a great deal stranger than even science - for all its own wildness at times - could account for. There were things that went bump in the night. Hells below and heavens above and things that crawled and clawed their way out from the places in between.

It was almost a little embarrassing how long it had taken him to admit to such things, when considering his relationship with the Speedforce.

A force of the universe. Like gravity or time, pushing and pulling everything along. Something that could be explained with all the familiar scientific concepts that had buoyed him along in life for so long.

Except.

Buzzing, burning, blistering. Not painful but felt. Making his hair stand on end, his fingers tingle and numb. Sliding against his veins, bouncing between scar tissue and freckles. Pressing out from the confines of his sternum, rattling against his rib cage as it shifted and moved. Twining around each and every vertebrae. Coiling over and under itself within his skull, darting along the paths of his neurons and nerves. It hummed in every cell in his body. Darted and danced in the space between the atoms that made up his very existence.

The Speedforce lived beneath his skin.

Lived.

Not existed. Not contained. Lived.

He couched it in terms of science, but science - despite his long time refusal to acknowledge it - wasn’t really able to explain the full scope of what he could feel. Not just the power of the Speedforce, but the…the identity of it. The living part that made it’s home in his body, existing in a way that was separate from him. Distant and indistinct most of the time, but…sentient.

He could feel it. Warm and excitable, delighting every time he tapped into it. Pushing him from behind urging him on and on, tugging him forward from ahead beckoning to go, faster, faster. Joyful in his victories, despairing in his loses.

It lived beneath his skin.

Until it didn’t.

He followed its joyful calls, pushed beyond what he should, what he knew was safe. Chasing that welcoming chant of faster, faster until he was there. In the Speedforce. More even, was the Speedforce.

He was everywhere. Beyond everywhere. In every possible everywhere it was possible to be. Every world, every universe, every multiverse.

To enter the Speedforce, to merge with it, was to become part of existence itself.

He couldn’t remember everything about it once he came back. He got flashes, sometimes, quick moments in dreams of places, of moments. What stuck with him most had been the feeling of it all. That had been the hardest part of returning. The sense of terrible loss, of having been surrounded by such a giddy, delighted, devoted love only to be pulled back from the heart of it. Returned to how he had been before, drifting at the edge of it all, it had been painful, agonizing even.

He…adapted, eventually. The sense of it all was still there, just distant. Something he’d come to feel he’d see again, someday.

It had been different, recently.

His powers were the same, he just as fast as ever, but…there was something…off. Changed. A sense that while his speed remained, the Speedforce had become, for lack of a better word, quiet. Distant.

He’d been having dreams, since it started. Not the quick glimpses of his time where he’d merged with the Speedforce. No, instead they were more nightmarish. Not nightmares exactly, though he felt like they should be with what they contained, but something else. Something that felt unnervingly real, left him confused and reeling when he woke with the certainty that when he opened his eyes he’d see the same as what his dreams held.

In the dream, he was in a room.

Cement and metal, hostile and brutalistic in design. He was bound in place, standing upright with feet and hands spread wide and locked in place within strange devices. Gleaming chrome and brilliant green, a painful thrum of energy surging through his body - not the Speedforce, something else, deeply unpleasant pulsing through every cell of his being and freezing him in place more firmly then the restraints did. Projectors hung from the ceiling, displaying images of landscapes, changing every ten second or so.

The sight of them made him nauseous, body shivering and spasming with the burning, agonizing need to go, but at the same time there was something distantly soothed by them too. Like a gnawing hunger abated with water and crumbs. The need for food not gone but the pangs diminished by the false feeling of being full.

In the dream he felt like he was dying.

In the dream he was afraid that maybe he couldn’t.

That he’d be trapped alive in that state forever, watching places he’d never see in person again as he was trapped in one place. His mind spiraling his Core splintering under the weight of it all, scared so scared. He wanted his brother, wanted to see the cement walls explode into dust and debris and see him there, ready to save the day like he had so many times before.

He just had to wait. His brother was looking for him, would have everyone in the Realms looking for him. He just had to hold on.

Barry didn’t have a brother. He only remembered when he woke, heart hammering in his chest fast even by his own standards, mouth tasting of bile and body aching with the need to go.

He hadn’t been sleeping much these days, even before the King of the Dead declared war.

It was having its effects, as sleep deprivation always did. His mind drifting, catching again and again on the dream, attention far away from the world around him. How many times had he been startled by someone calling his name, touching his arm? How many times had they given him a pinched, worried look that told him they’d been trying to reach him for longer than they should have before he noticed.

He was aware, distantly, of the glowering, stern faces around him. The flinty looks of his friends’ and partners’ eyes as they stared at the image of Waller’s scowling mug.

She’d declined an in-person meeting, hunkering down in some bunker somewhere trying to avoid the consequences of her latest atrocities. Or maybe just trying to avoid the very real possibility that one of the members of JL Dark might try to kill her for what she’s caused.

Or JL light, for that matter.

Bruce and Clark had their rules that they lived by, but Diana certainly wouldn’t hesitate to splatter Waller’s brains across the nearest available wall. In reviewing footage of one of the last battles - she’d been at the other one at the time, trying to contend with a ghost in the shape of an ethereal dragon - she’d recognized the spectral figures of Amazons long dead, fierce even in death as they fought with a warrior’s pride along side the rest of Phantom’s armies. They followed a figure that towered even above the Amazons, four arms and gleaming armor and a name that Barry associated with ruin and forgotten hope but who was so much more to Diana. Heroes long departed to the fields of Elysium, stepping out of their well earned rest to fight once more.

A few hadn’t survived the weapons the GIW shot them with. Barry didn’t know what that meant, for a ghost to die. If they simply returned to their afterlife or -

He tried not to think about the or.

They’d been going back and forth for awhile now. Voices faraway, muffled. The world felt as if it was underwater, blurred and cold. Clark had gotten to his feet at some point, Waller’s grip on a pen so tight on the screen he expected to see if burst at any moment. It was an important meeting, an important discussion. One he needed to be apart of, aware of, but it all escaped him. Sand held too tightly, slipping through his fingers. On the screen, Waller hit a button on the computer beside her and the image changed.

The world burned back to life in sharp relief.

The dream.

The room.

Cold cement. Projections of unreachable places on the walls. Chrome and green machinery in a configuration meant to contain.

It looked larger on the screen.

Maybe it was how small the figure held prisoner inside it was.

She was young. A child, no older than Superboy Jr. or Robin. She looked like Phantom - her father - but there were differences. Her hair was white, but it didn’t look like the spun starlight of her father’s. Instead it burned, the bright hot crackling of the plasma of a lighting bolt striking. Skin the blur of shapes caught just at the corner of the eye as you ran past, Eyes -

Looking at him.

The image had come up, a live feed - he knew it was live, knew he was looking at her where she was at that exact moment - and she’d been as he was every time he tried to sleep. Trembling and shuttering, eyes squinting against the pain, trying to stay open so as not to miss a single moment of the flat images imposed on blank cement walls. Desperate to fill the fathomless hunger burning deep down in the Core of her.

But then a shuttering breath and her eyes - the burning green of an afterimage - snapped up to the camera. Snapped up to look at him, recognition in her young face. And despite never having seen this girl before, he recognized her too.

The Speedforce lived beneath his skin.

She lived beneath his skin.

He could feel her there. Buzzing, burning, blistering. Not painful, but felt.

Not as felt as she used to be.

The image snapped back to Waller’s face, smug and self-satisfied. Talking - lying - about the how the girl was there, what the GIW’s intentions for her were. Barry was on his feet, but so was everyone else. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, could only hear static, the rush of wind, the crack of the lightning bolt. A call for help.

It was then that the alarms began to blare. On the screen someone rushed in to whisper into Waller’s ear. Bruce was running out of the room towards the Zeta tubes and Barry was right there with him and there was so much chaos around them, men in white and Gothamites and Ghosts banding together to rain terror down upon them and something massive and horrible and living towering above it all and Barry let go of that last bits of logic and thought.

Instinct, older than he was. The echo of a voice that had called him for years now, carrying him along, biding him forward:

Run.

Someone might have shouted after him as he left Gotham behind. He didn’t know.

All he knew was the pounding of his feet upon the ground, the wind in his face, the Speedforce lashing and frantic and hopeful burning and sizzling beneath his skin. Calling him further and further away until he stood in a vast, empty field staring at a single, rusted shack near ready to collapse before him.

He wasn’t alone.

Wally. Bart. Max. More still. Not just his family and friends. Eobard. Hunter. Thaddeus. Everyone touched by the Speedforce.

They didn’t speak. Bodies humming and thrumming, crackling with energy and intent.

Minds as one, they focused on the shed, the hidden hatch inside, the base hidden deep below.

The Speedforce lived beneath their skin, and no one was going to steal it away from them.

#dpxdc #dc x dp #dp x dc #barry allen #justice league #flashfam #dani phantom #danielle phantom #elle phantom #ancient of the speedforce elle #ever onward elle #amanda waller #eldritch speedforce #kinda #unsettling speedforce at the very least #cut to 20 minutes later to all of the speedsters & Elle at a waffle house having the world's most awkward family reunion #Dick gets a call from his bank about his card being used to buy several thousand dollars worth of breakfast food in another state #& immediate calls Wally like #Dick: YOU TOOK OFF IN THE MIDDLE OF A FULL ON WAR IN GOTHAM TO GO GET WAFFLES?#(because of course he gave Wally his card - he's bought Wally a god damn expensive ass apartment they're basically married)#Dick: I THOUGHT YOU WERE BEING MIND CONTROLLED #Wally: ....sorta? But like...in a good way?#Dick: How can there POSSIBLY be a good way of being mind controlled?!#Wally: you know what actually I'm gonna make our new mom explain this one #Dick: ...WHAT DOES THAT *MEAN*???

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rafesapologist · 2 months

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the setback ─ rafe cameron (sequel to the set up)

summary: it's been two years since your departure from the outer banks and rafe cameron has seemingly convinced himself that he can go on with his life as if you never happened, except now more than ever his addiction is at an all time high. whether he was snorting lines of cocaine at wild parties or drowning himself in alcohol to numb the pain, rafe couldn't escape the memories of you. despite his efforts to bury his feelings, your absence lingered like a shadow, haunting him at every turn. meanwhile, you've been navigating life outside the outer banks, trying to carve out a new path for yourself. but no matter how far you've traveled, the memories of rafe cameron still linger in your heart, leaving you with a sense of unfinished business. as you find yourself facing new challenges and opportunities, you can't help but wonder if fate will eventually bring you back to the place where it all began.

warnings: not much, angst, mentions of addiction and drug use, mentions of alcohol

author's note: the sequel is here!! thank you guys for showing so much love for the set up and i can't wait for you guys to read the continuation of the series! mwah

Rafe wiped the sweat from his brow as he hoisted another crate onto the ship's deck, the muscles in his arms straining against the weight. The salty tang of the sea filled the air around him, mingling with the scent of freshly sawn wood and the metallic hint of the gold hidden within the crates. His father, a rugged man with a weather-beaten face and a glint of mischief in his eyes, worked alongside him, his movements deft and sure.

"You're moving slower than a sloth today, Rafe," Ward teased, his voice carrying over the sounds of the bustling port. "Pick up the pace, boy!"

Rafe shot his father a mock glare before responding with a grin. "Maybe if you'd stop distracting me with your incessant chatter, old man, I could actually get some work done."

Ward chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Ah, but where's the fun in that? Besides, a little banter makes the time go by faster."

As they continued their task, Ward's tone shifted, his voice taking on a more serious note. "You know, Rafe, I've been hard on you over the years. Pushed you to be better than you thought you could be."

Rafe paused, surprised by his father's admission. He glanced up, meeting Ward's gaze with a mixture of curiosity and anticipation.

"But you've turned out to be my best child," Ward continued, his expression softening with pride. "Strong, capable, and fiercely loyal. I couldn't ask for more."

Rafe's heart swelled at his father's words, a rush of emotion flooding through him. For so long, he had sought his father's approval, yearning for even the smallest sign of acceptance. And now, here it was, offered freely in the midst of their everyday routine.

"Unlike your sister," Ward muttered, his voice heavy with regret. "Sarah always had a wild streak in her. Ran off two years ago, couldn't handle the life we lead. Sometimes I wonder if I pushed her too hard."

Rafe's heart clenched at the mention of Sarah, his sister who had always been their father's favorite. He'd watched with a mixture of resentment and envy as Ward showered her with praise and affection, leaving Rafe to feel like an afterthought.

"Yeah, well, maybe if you'd paid as much attention to me as you did to her, she wouldn't have felt the need to run," Rafe blurted out before he could stop himself.

Ward's gaze snapped to Rafe, his expression a mix of surprise and hurt. For a moment, the air between them crackled with tension, each of them grappling with the weight of their unspoken words.

But then Ward's features softened, his gaze filled with a mixture of regret and understanding. "I'm sorry, Rafe," he said quietly. "I never meant to make you feel like you weren't enough. You're my son, and I love you, no matter what."

Rafe swallowed past the lump in his throat, his eyes burning with unshed tears. In that moment, he realized that maybe, just maybe, there was hope for their fractured relationship after all.

Rafe wiped his forehead with his shirt, the midday sun beating down relentlessly as he and his father continued their task under the sweltering heat of Figure Eight's early summer. The air was heavy with the scent of salt and sweat, the rhythmic lapping of waves against the dock providing a backdrop to their labor.

"So, how're things with you and Sofia?" Ward asked, his voice cutting through the oppressive heat as he glanced over at Rafe.

Rafe paused, taken aback by his father's sudden inquiry. He hadn't expected Ward to broach the subject of his relationship with Sofia, not after their last conversation had ended in a heated argument about Rafe's antics.

"Uh, things are good," Rafe replied cautiously, unsure of how much he wanted to divulge. "We're… figuring things out, I guess."

Ward nodded, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "She's a good girl, that one. Strong-willed, like you. You two make a good match."

Rafe couldn't help but feel a surge of pride at his father's words, a warmth spreading through him despite the oppressive heat. It was rare for Ward to offer his approval so freely, especially when it came to matters of the heart.

"Yeah, she's something special," Rafe agreed, a fond smile playing at his lips as he thought of Sofia. "I'm lucky to have her."

Ward clapped him on the back, a grin spreading across his weathered face. "That you are, son. That you are."

As Rafe continued with his work, his thoughts drifted back to the early days of his relationship with Sofia, a bittersweet smile tugging at his lips. They had been through so much together, weathering storms both literal and figurative, yet somehow emerging stronger each time.

But as memories of their first meeting flooded his mind, Rafe's smile faltered, replaced by a pang of sadness. He remembered the excitement and nervousness he had felt as he approached her that day, the thrill of possibility mingling with the uncertainty of the unknown.

And then, like a sudden storm cloud on a clear day, another memory intruded upon his thoughts. A memory of someone else, someone who had once been a constant presence in his life but had vanished without a trace.

"You were still here," Rafe whispered to himself, the words barely audible over the din of the bustling port. "Before you ran away."

The pain of your disappearance still lingered, a wound that had yet to fully heal. Rafe couldn't help but wonder where you had gone, what had driven you to leave without so much as an explanation. Had it been something he had said or done? Or had you simply grown tired of waiting for him to change, to become the person you had hoped he would be?

As the memories threatened to overwhelm him, Rafe shook his head, banishing them to the recesses of his mind once more. There was work to be done, and he couldn't afford to let himself be consumed by thoughts of the past, no matter how painful they might be.

But deep down, in the quiet corners of his heart, he couldn't shake the feeling that he would never truly be able to move on until he had unraveled the reasoning of your disappearance and found closure once and for all.

With a determined shake of his head, Rafe pushed aside the tumult of emotions swirling within him and focused on the task at hand. He hoisted the final crate onto the ship with a grunt of effort, the weight of it a physical reminder of the burdens he carried both on and off the dock.

"Finished up here, Dad," Rafe called out, wiping his hands on his trousers as he made his way over to where Ward stood overseeing the loading process.

Ward glanced up, his brow furrowing in mild surprise at the sudden interruption. "Already? Well, I'll be damned. Looks like you're finally starting to earn your keep around here."

Rafe grinned at his father's gruff praise, a sense of satisfaction settling over him despite the lingering ache in his heart. "Guess I'm good for something after all."

Ward chuckled, clapping him on the shoulder with a rough hand. "Don't sell yourself short, son. You've got more potential than you give yourself credit for."

With a nod of thanks, Rafe stepped away from his father and headed toward the gangplank, eager to escape the confines of the dock and lose himself in the familiar streets of Figure Eight once more.

"I'm heading out to meet up with Sofia," he called over his shoulder, his voice carrying on the breeze. "I'll be back later."

Ward waved him off with a casual salute, his attention already turning back to the task at hand. "Take your time, Rafe. Just don't keep the girl waiting too long, or she might start thinking you've forgotten about her."

Rafe laughed, the sound ringing out clear and bright against the backdrop of the bustling port. "Trust me, Dad. That's the last thing I'd ever do."

As Rafe cruised down the sun-drenched streets of Figure Eight in his trusty old truck, a sense of freedom washed over him. The wind whipped through the open windows, tousling his hair and carrying with it the scent of salt and sea. He couldn't help but feel a surge of joy bubbling up inside him, the promise of the afternoon ahead adding an extra spring to his step.

But as he idly flipped through the radio stations, searching for the perfect soundtrack to accompany his journey, his heart skipped a beat when he stumbled upon a familiar melody. The haunting strains of "Gold Dust Woman" by Fleetwood Mac filled the cab of the truck, wrapping around him like a warm embrace.

For a moment, Rafe's finger hovered over the buttons, torn between the desire to switch the song and the inexplicable pull of nostalgia that tugged at his heartstrings. It was a song you had loved, one that had become intertwined with memories of lazy afternoons spent driving aimlessly along the coast, lost in each other's company.

With a sigh, Rafe let his finger fall away from the radio, surrendering to the flood of memories that threatened to overwhelm him. He closed his eyes, allowing himself to be swept away by the bittersweet melody, the lyrics weaving a tapestry of emotions that mirrored the tangled mess of his thoughts.

In that moment, you felt closer to him than ever, your presence lingering in the spaces between the notes, in the warmth of the sunlight on his skin. And as he drove on, your memory by his side, Rafe couldn't help but wonder if somewhere out there, you were listening to the same song, thinking of him as he was thinking of you.

As Rafe pulled into Sofia's driveway, he couldn't shake the feeling of being haunted by your presence, like a ghost lingering in the shadows of his mind. He sighed heavily, trying to push aside the memories that threatened to overwhelm him, focusing instead on the task at hand.

He turned off the engine and leaned back in his seat, the familiar comfort of his truck offering him a brief respite from the turmoil within. But even as he tried to clear his mind, he found himself unable to shake the feeling of unease that gnawed at him from within.

With a shaky breath, Rafe closed his eyes, willing himself to find some semblance of peace amidst the storm of emotions that raged inside him. He reminded himself that he was here for Sofia, that she was the one who mattered in this moment, not the ghosts of his past that threatened to consume him.

Minutes passed like hours as Rafe waited in silence, the weight of his thoughts pressing down on him like a heavy burden. But just when he felt like he couldn't bear it any longer, the front door of Sofia's house swung open, and she emerged onto the porch, a bright smile lighting up her face.

Rafe's heart skipped a beat at the sight of her, the warmth of her presence chasing away the shadows that had threatened to engulf him. With a sense of relief washing over him, he pushed open the door of his truck and stepped out onto the gravel driveway, ready to leave the ghosts of his past behind and embrace the promise of the present moment with Sofia by his side.

Sofia's cheerful voice broke through the haze of Rafe's thoughts as she opened the passenger door and greeted him with a warm smile. The kiss she placed on his cheek sent a flutter through his chest, dispelling the lingering shadows that had haunted him moments before.

"Hey, you," Sofia said, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she leaned in to kiss his cheek. "Ready for tonight?"

Rafe returned her smile, the weight of his worries easing at the sight of her infectious enthusiasm. "Absolutely," he replied, his voice laced with anticipation. "Wouldn't miss it for the world."

As he stepped out of the truck and joined Sofia on the driveway, he felt a renewed sense of purpose wash over him. Whatever demons lurked in the corners of his mind, he knew that as long as he had Sofia by his side, he could face them head-on with unwavering determination.

With a quick squeeze of Sofia's hand, Rafe followed her lead as they made their way towards the house, leaving the shadows of his past behind and embracing the promise of the night ahead. Whatever challenges awaited them at the party, Rafe knew that together, they could conquer anything that came their way.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

You were sprawled out on a hammock with JJ, the gentle sway of the hammock lulling you into a state of blissful relaxation. The warm summer breeze rustled through the trees, carrying with it the sweet scent of freshly cut grass and blooming flowers. You took a deep inhale, the fragrant smoke from the blunt swirling around you as you passed it back and forth with JJ.

"Man, this is the life," JJ said, his voice lazy with contentment as he took another hit before passing the blunt back to you. "Just kicking back, enjoying the sun, and getting high with my favorite person."

You couldn't help but chuckle at his words, the corners of your lips curling up into a lazy smile. "Right back at you, JJ," you replied, taking a long drag from the blunt before passing it back to him. "Couldn't think of a better way to spend the day."

As the two of you lounged in comfortable silence, the stresses of the outside world melted away, leaving nothing but the warmth of the sun on your skin and the soothing rhythm of the hammock beneath you. In that moment, surrounded by the peaceful tranquility of nature and the company of a good friend, you felt truly at ease, content to simply exist in the here and now.

JJ took another hit from the blunt, his gaze distant as he reminisced. "Life was wild back on the cut, huh?" he mused, exhaling a plume of smoke into the air. "But I gotta say, we're much better off where we are now."

You nodded in agreement, the memories of your past life tugging at the corners of your mind. "Yeah, definitely," you replied, your voice soft as you passed the blunt back to him. "It's been a crazy journey, but I wouldn't trade it for anything."

As you took another hit, however, your smile faltered, a shadow passing over your features. Memories of your time on the cut flooded back, and with them came thoughts of Rafe. "Remember those days at the chateau?" you said, your voice tinged with nostalgia. "Those were some good times."

JJ's expression softened, a hint of sadness in his eyes as he nodded in agreement. "Yeah, they were," he said quietly. "But you know what they say about nostalgia… sometimes, it ain't all it's cracked up to be."

You couldn't help but laugh at his words, the tension easing from your shoulders as you took another hit from the blunt. "True that," you replied, a wistful smile playing at your lips. "But hey, at least we made it out alive, right?"

With a shared chuckle, you and JJ settled back into the comforting rhythm of the hammock, content to bask in the warmth of the sun and the camaraderie of each other's company, even as the memories of the past lingered on the edges of your consciousness.

As you and JJ lounged on the hammock, lost in reminiscence, the sound of footsteps approaching drew your attention. You glanced up to see Kiara emerging from the house, a cooler full of drinks in her hands, followed closely by Sarah, a mischievous smirk playing at her lips.

"Hey, look who decided to join the party," Kiara said with a grin, setting the cooler down beside the hammock. "Thought you two could use a little refreshment."

You couldn't help but sit up in excitement, the prospect of cold drinks on a hot day too good to pass up. "Hell yeah, thanks Kiara," you said, reaching eagerly for a beverage as she offered them around.

Sarah followed suit, her smirk widening as she made eye contact with you. "Enjoying yourselves, I see?" she teased, her tone light-hearted as she handed you a drink.

You chuckled in response, taking a swig from the can and relishing the cool liquid as it slid down your throat. "Absolutely," you replied, a grin spreading across your face. "Nothing beats kicking back with good company and a cold drink on a day like today."

JJ echoed your sentiment, taking a drink of his own and offering a nod of thanks to Sarah and Kiara. As the four of you settled into easy conversation, the worries of the past and the uncertainties of the future faded into the background, replaced by the simple pleasure of the present moment and the warmth of friendship.

As you enjoyed the drinks and banter with Kiara, Sarah, and JJ, your attention was drawn to a nearby jacuzzi where John B and Pope lounged, seemingly lost in their own conversation. You couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of JJ's impulsive purchase, a jacuzzi that seemed out of place yet strangely fitting in the backyard of the house.

"Check it out," you said, nudging JJ with your elbow and gesturing towards the jacuzzi. "Looks like John B and Pope are living the high life over there."

JJ grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he watched his friends. "Hey, if we're gonna do this whole beach lifestyle thing, might as well do it right," he remarked, a hint of pride in his voice.

You couldn't argue with that logic, especially not when you saw the smiles on John B and Pope's faces as they relaxed in the warm water, their cares melting away with each passing moment. With a nod of agreement, you settled back into the hammock, content to bask in the simple joys of friendship and camaraderie, even as the world around you seemed to spin with uncertainty.

As you basked in the warmth and joy of the moment, a sense of contentment washed over you like a soothing tide. Here, in this idyllic setting, you were free from the debts and drama that had plagued your life back in the Outer Banks. The weight of those burdens lifted from your shoulders, leaving you feeling light and unencumbered for the first time in what felt like ages.

You couldn't help but marvel at the peace you had found in this new life, a life where you weren't constantly running from something or someone. Here, surrounded by friends who felt more like family, you finally felt like you belonged.

But even as you reveled in the happiness of the present, a twinge of guilt gnawed at the edges of your consciousness. You couldn't shake the feeling that despite the freedom and joy you now experienced, a part of you still felt tethered to the past, to the people you had left behind without a word of explanation.

Memories of your abrupt departure crept into your mind, casting a shadow over the tranquility of the moment. You couldn't help but wonder if you had made the right choice, if leaving had been the only option or simply the easiest one.

With a heavy sigh, you pushed aside the doubts and regrets that threatened to dampen your spirits, focusing instead on the warmth of the sun on your skin and the laughter of your friends echoing in the air. Here, in this moment, you were determined to embrace the peace and happiness that surrounded you, letting go of the past and embracing the promise of the future with open arms.

With a satisfied sigh, you finished the last sips of your drink and set the empty can aside. Feeling the warmth of the sun on your skin, you decided it was time for a refreshing dip in the jacuzzi. With practiced ease, you peeled off your loose t-shirt, revealing the vibrant bikini underneath.

As you sat up from the hammock, the cool breeze playing across your skin, you made your way over to the jacuzzi where John B and Pope lounged, enjoying the warm water. With a playful grin, you called out to them, "Hey guys, mind making some room for me?"

John B and Pope looked up, their faces breaking into wide smiles at the sight of you approaching. "Of course, come on in!" John B exclaimed, scooting over to make space for you beside him.

You slipped into the jacuzzi with a contented sigh, the warm water enveloping you in its comforting embrace. As you settled in between your friends, you couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the simple pleasures of life, for moments like these spent with good friends in the warmth of the sun. With a smile, you leaned back and let the worries of the world slip away, fully embracing the peace and happiness of the present moment.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

Rafe leaned against the doorway of Sofia's room, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he watched her finish getting ready. She moved with effortless grace, her movements fluid and purposeful as she applied the final touches to her outfit.

"You look beautiful," Rafe said softly, his voice filled with genuine admiration as he took in the sight of her.

Sofia turned to him, a radiant smile lighting up her features. "Thanks, Rafe," she replied, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "You're not looking too bad yourself."

Rafe chuckled, feeling a warmth spread through him at her compliment. He couldn't help but feel a surge of affection for this girl who had stolen his heart, who had stood by him through thick and thin, who had helped him find his place in the world.

As Sofia put the finishing touches on her makeup, Rafe couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation building within him. Tonight was going to be special, he could feel it in his bones. And with Sofia by his side, he knew that no matter what the night held in store, it would be a memory he would cherish for years to come.

With a final glance in the mirror, Sofia turned to Rafe, a playful glint in her eye. "Ready to go?" she asked, holding out her hand to him.

Rafe nodded, a grin spreading across his face as he took her hand in his. "Absolutely," he replied, his heart racing with excitement as they made their way out the door and into the night, ready to take on whatever adventures awaited them together.

As Rafe and Sofia headed to Topper's house party, the anticipation buzzed between them, filling the car with an infectious energy. With the windows down and the music blaring, they sang along to their favorite songs, laughter dancing on their lips as they shared the joy of the moment.

Rafe stole glances at Sofia in the passenger seat, his heart swelling with affection as he watched her sing her heart out, her laughter filling the air like music. Her happiness was contagious, and he couldn't help but smile as he soaked in the sight of her, the love he felt for her radiating from every fiber of his being.

But as he glanced over at her once more, something shifted. For a split second, he thought he saw a flash of your face superimposed over hers, your eyes meeting his in a haunting echo of the past. His heart skipped a beat, his grip on the steering wheel tightening as he blinked in disbelief.

The moment passed in the blink of an eye, leaving Rafe shaken and disoriented. He shook his head, trying to shake off the strange sensation that lingered in the air. But deep down, he couldn't shake the feeling that your presence still lingered, a ghost haunting the edges of his consciousness, refusing to be ignored.

Sofia's sweet gesture snapped Rafe out of his momentary dissociation, her warm kiss on his cheek grounding him in the present. He blinked, the remnants of the strange sensation fading away as he met her gaze, her smile a beacon of light in the darkness.

"Can't wait for the party, huh?" Rafe echoed, a smile spreading across his face as he reached up to brush a strand of hair away from her face. "Me neither. It's gonna be a blast."

Sofia's eyes sparkled with excitement as she settled back into her seat, the anticipation palpable in the air between them. With a renewed sense of determination, Rafe refocused his attention on the road ahead, the memory of your face fading into the recesses of his mind as he focused on the promise of the night ahead with Sofia by his side.

As Rafe drove, the weight of what had just happened settled heavily on his shoulders, casting a shadow over his thoughts. Try as he might to shake off the strange sensation, the memory of your face superimposed over Sofia's lingered in the corners of his mind, refusing to be ignored.

With a heavy sigh, Rafe felt himself zoning out, his grip on the steering wheel tightening as he lost himself in the rhythm of the road. The familiar longing for escape crept up on him like an unwelcome guest, gnawing at his impulses and filling him with a restless energy.

He couldn't help but feel trapped, caught between the pull of his past and the promise of the future. The road stretched out before him, endless and unforgiving, a tantalizing temptation beckoning him to leave it all behind and disappear into the unknown.

As Rafe navigated the streets towards the party, a sense of unease gnawed at him. He couldn't shake the feeling that this party was just another part of his plan to escape, a temporary reprieve from the weight of his troubles. And buried beneath that unease lurked the insidious craving for something more, something that promised to numb the pain and quiet the demons that haunted him.

Coke.

The mere thought sent a shiver down Rafe's spine, a mixture of desire and dread swirling in the pit of his stomach. He knew the dangers of succumbing to his cravings, knew the havoc it could wreak on his life and the lives of those he cared about. But in moments of weakness, the allure of escape proved too strong to resist.

As he pulled into the driveway of Topper's house, the bass thumping from the speakers and the laughter of the partygoers filling the air, Rafe felt a familiar sense of anticipation building within him. He knew what awaited him inside, knew the temptations that lurked in the shadows, yet he couldn't deny the pull they held over him.

With a heavy sigh, Rafe steeled himself for what lay ahead, determined to navigate the minefield of his desires with caution and restraint. But deep down, he couldn't shake the sinking feeling that tonight, like so many nights before, would end in a blur of euphoria and regret.

taglist: @ellesalazar, @champomiel, @vadinaleme, @kys4-20, @gills-lounge, @allsmilesreally7, @sublimepenguinpeach-blog, @sp00ky-spr1te, @bibliophilewednesday, @haroldpotterson, @i-love-rafe, @ellesalazar, @calmoistorm, @abundantxadorations, @fals3-g0d, @gillybear17, @oiiviagrande, @hockeybabe87,

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scribblesofagoonerr · 3 months

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Don't give up yet, I'm not letting you | Inner Demons

⟫ Alphabet Challenge, D- Don't give up yet, I'm not letting you.

Pairings: leah williamson x teen reader, arsenal wfc x teen reader

Back again with another part, I've had a really shitty day if I'm honest and so, umm, writing this now has sort of helped, I guess?

Once again nothing has been proof-read so yeah, it won't make any sense maybe and this ones' a bit longer than the rest but once I get carried away I just can't stop so this is definitely going to have a few more parts to this one. I just don't know how many that will be, so I guess we'll see what happens.

Thank you each and every single one of you for the response to this small fic series so far, I'm so glad that people are liking it so much.

The confession you have made leaves the room feeling a tense atmosphere, the girls will not let you give up so easily so they make a decision on your behalf to help you on the right path to get better.

tw: heavy angst, mentions of SH, MH, suicide and death.

"What... What does that even mean?" Katie furrows her eyebrows as she looks at you for a more logical answer.

"I'm tired, I'm so tired and I can't keep on fighting this battle anymore" You speak quietly, afraid to meet their eyes.

Each one of them really did mean so much to you, they all look heart broken with the what you had confessed.

Steph, the Aussie girl that made you feel so loved

Kim, your captain who always talked sense into you

Jen, the brave Scots' woman who you can rely on

Caitlin, the second Aussie that you love despite how annoying she is

Katie, the Irish girl who acts all tough but is a total softie

Beth, the blonde who gives great advice when you need it

Viv, the dutch who you cheers you up when she sneaks you ice cream

Lia, the swiss girl that gives you the best hugs sometimes

& Leah, the one who stuck around and made you feel at home

Your family, you would really miss them all.

However, you knew it was time.

It was the only way, you couldn't do it any longer.

The battle was too hard, it needed to end.

"Y/N, you're awake!" Vic burst into the room and broke the sudden silence before she spins and looks back towards the door. "Less! Kyra! Lotte! Laura! Y/N/N is awake!" she shouts loud enough to get the attention of the three remaining girls not in the room.

As right on queue, the rest of the girls all run in and smile widely when they see you awake and sat up in the hospital bed.

"Y/N/N, you're awake!" Laura says as she grins at you before she walks over and hugs you.

"Hi Y/N/N!" Alessia smiles brightly, glad to see you're awake.

"Y/N/N!" Kyra shouted aloud, right down the blondes' ear beside her.

"Ow, Kyra. That was right down my ear" Alessia grumbles as she glares at the Aussie girl before she shakes her head and walks over to your beside to exchange a hug with you.

"Glad that you're awake, Y/N. You gave us all a scare" Lotte came over and gave you a gentle hug before she ruffles your hair.

None of them 4 girls had caught the glum expressions on the older girls' faces.

"So how long do you think it'll be before your back on the pitch and we can prank everyone?" Kyra questions taking it upon herself to plop herself down on the end of the bed.

"Hopefully not too long" You take the chance to put a front on in front of the girls in the room. "I'll be back before you know it and thrashing you out there!" you give her a grin to hide the deep pain inside.

"How're you feelin' kid?" Lotte glances at you concerned.

"Oh you know, fabulous. Just had the best 24 hour nap" You can't help but joke with the girls even with them all looking so distraught. "Ah come on girls, cheer up. I'm not dead yet, you know?" You tell them.

"I'm sorry no I can't do this. I can't sit here and pretend that everything is okay and fine, when it's not... It's far from okay" Leah spoke up as she goes to move off the bed from where she sat beside you.

"What's going on?" Vic asks confused, having not been in the room previously.

"Y/N/N is tired of life, she wants to give up on it" Leah tells them as her bottom lip wobbles at she tells the rest of the girls what you had said.

"W... What do you mean?" Laura asks, confused and not understanding what the blonde means.

"Y/N wants to die" Leah drops the bombshell before she presses a kiss that lasts longer than usual and then starts to walk away.

"What?" Alessia gasps as her eyes widen in shock as she looks at you.

"Wait, Le... No!" You shot up as you try and latch onto her arm. "Le, don't leave me... I need you-- Please, come back!" you shout aloud as you thrash your arms around.

"I'll go and find her" Lia is quick to follow her, leaving the rest of the girls all still staring at you.

"Y/N, you need to be careful of your bandages or there'll rip" Steph says gently as she looks concerned about your well-being now while she moves to stand by your beside.

"I don't care, I don't... I don't care! Leah! Don't go, come back!" You continue to put up a fight to get out of the hospital bed. "Please, please, c... come back!" you scream at the top of your voice.

What have you done? You made her so upset.

You've made them all so upset, your a horrible person.

Why did you have to blurt it out like that? Your so stupid.

Stupid, selfish... You're nothing but a huge let down.

The voices inside your head was taunting you, you just needed them to stop.

Watching the one person that's always stuck by your side, walk away, it hurts you more that you realise.

More than any pain you currently feel, why did you go and say that?

"Calm down Y/N/N. You'll make yourself sick if your not careful" Beth tells you as she moves to stand on the other side of the bed as she pulls you into her arms for a hug as you just break down into sobs.

"I... I don't care, I don't... Leah! Come back!" Your now sobbing as you still try and do your best to get out of bed to go after the blonde, although it wasn't any good when you had so many different wires and monitors attached to you. "Le, please... please, don't leave me!"

Why did it hurt so much for her to walk away like that? You really were so selflish.

"Deep breaths, Y/N. Just keep on taking deep breaths" Steph adds in, trying to make it to the point where you didn't get yourself too upset that you were physically hurting yourself again.

"I'll be back" Kim eyes you wearily as she exhales a sigh before she also leaves the room to go and find the two girls.

"Leah?" Lia found Leah sat slouched down against one of the walls outside of your hospital room.

Leah peers up to look at the Swiss women, "I can't be in there right now" she mumbles quietly. " I... I just can't do it, I can't sit there and listen to crack jokes about death and be so optemistic when she... when she said something like that, I just can't" she explains to the older girl.

"I know" Lia replies in agreement and moves sit beside her.

"She said that she wants to die, Wally" Leah states as she stares straight out in front of her.

"I... I know" Lia repeats as she exhales a sigh and wraps her free arm around the blonde.

"She said she wants out of life... I... I-- Why?" Leah asks in disbelief as the tears threaten to spill.

"I don't know, Le" Lia mumbles and bits her bottom slightly.

"S...She said she wants to die, Wally" Leah voice quiviers as she repeats what they heard. "She's a teenage girl, s... she has so much more to achieve, so much more-- H... How can she be so depressed about life that she would rather be dead instead?" she questions distraught.

"She's suffering Le" Lia swallows the lump that forms in her throat as she hugs the blonde in her arms. "She's been suffering for a long time and we just didn't know, but we can help now" she tries to speak positive about it all.

"I... I thought she was doing better, she... she was doing better. I don't get it, what happened that made her do this?" Leah wonders numbly as she roughly wipes the tears away and shakes her head. "We can't let her die, we can't let her give up just so easily. She needs to fight... She has to fight!" she adds in.

"We will help her, we won't let her suffer in silence anymore" Kim speaks up as she joins the two of them as she exhales a shaky breath. "Y/N is one of our own, we'll be there for her and she'll get better" she tells them honestly.

"But how can we do that when she doesn't even want the help?" Leah questions as she shakes her head in disagreement. "You heard her in there, Kim! You heard what she said, she doesn't want to live anymore, she did what she did on purpose. H... How can we help her?" she questions as her voice breaks even more.

"We need to make a plan, we can come up with a way to help her... Even if she doesn't want the help" Kim declares with determination in her voice.

"But how do we do that? We can't keep an eye on her 24/7, when we have training and stuff, can we?" Lia glances at the Scots' woman in confusion.

"We keep her in hospital where she'll be safe" Kim tells the two of them.

"And how do we do that? I imagine as soon as she gets the chance then she'll bolt out of here" Leah scoffs and shakes her head, knowing you all too well and you were stubborn when it come to some things.

"We don't let her have the chance to do that then, still is still a minor remember? Technically that means, that you, Leah, since you're her guardian so too speak, you can make that decision for her and notify the doctors of your concern for her own welfare" Kim explains to the blonde, which was somewhat true now since you had moved in with her.

"Keeping her here against her own will? She'd hate me then for sure" Leah mutters as she rubs her hands down her face, feeling the stress of everything even more when the decision was resting on her shoulders.

"She might do at first, but soon enough she'll realise that you're only doing this to help her because you love her just like we all do" Kim gives the blonde a sympathetic smile.

"Kim is right Leah, this will be the best thing for Y/N" Lia speaks up after she had been quiet for a bit.

Leah glances between the two girls that she is sat with. "Is it, really?" she asks, still unsure about it all.

"You know it is Le" Lia states, knowingly.

Okay, maybe Kim has a point there then.

This would be the best decision to make right now.

"Alright, but how do we get here to stay here?" Leah asks, not knowing how to even go about this.

"First things first, we-- you speak to the doctors, you tell them that she cut herself and has admitted that she intended to do it. That's validation for the doctors to detain her for up to 72 hours at least" Kim explains the logical side of it all.

"That is something that I don't think she will like very much" Lia frowns, shaking her head as she listens to the older women.

Leah frowns and shakes her head. "A psych hold? I don't think she'll like that very much" The Swiss women tells her captain

"No, she won't but she won't have much choice if the doctors believe she's at risk of hurting herself again" Kim confesses to them as she exhales a deep sigh. "The doctors will run further assessment to determine whether they need to keep her in for longer and in the mean time, it gives us chance to talk to Jonas and the medical staff, fill them in what's happened and create a proper plan going forward" she adds in.

"And what if you determine that she needs to stay for longer than 72 hours?" Lia questions the Scots' woman.

"Then we cross that bridge when we come to it" Kim replies to the blonde as she moves to crouch down beside her.

"I know that it'll hurt to walk away and leave her here in the hospital Le, but you know as well that this is the right way, it's the only way for her to get better" Lia says honestly.

"Remember that Y/N is our family and we will always be there for her even if she will be mad at us about this" Kim adds in.

"Oh yeah, she is definitely going to be super mad about this" Leah chuckles in realisation about it.

Sure enough you would probably be mad with her, but Leah wasn't going to let you try and kill yourself again, not on her watch.

You were her family even if you were a complete pain is the ass sometimes, but you were her pain in the ass to deal with.

#arsenal x reader #woso x reader #arsenal women x reader #leah williamson #woso #woso imagine #woso fanfics #leah williamson x teen!reader #heavy angst #arsenal x teen!reader #woso one shot #leah williamson x reader #arsenal wfc x reader

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dduane · 4 months

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From the Writing Advice dep't: A complicated ask, a serial answer (part 1)

Every now and then I get an ask in the box that's complex enough that it has to be taken apart and answered in pieces. Also, sometimes I get queries in that are painful enough (in varying ways) that I elect not to attribute them when answering. This one is both.

I read the ask (and reread it, and rereread it, four or five or six times after it came in, and a bunch more times while I was on my back this week being sick), and gradually came to realize that for it to be properly handled I had no choice but to break it into pieces for best management.

There are three main strands to the issues this ask brings up: motivation, growth as a writer, and coping with or succeeding despite the current state of the publishing industry.

So let's dig in. Here's the first part of the ask:

I know there's no One True Path, but I'm struggling with this, and I'm sure others are too, so I'll just ask it. I want to make a career out of writing, but with shrinking attention spans and so much content to mindlessly consume, how do you keep the motivation to write? My friends get mad at me for getting discouraged when not even they read my writing. They get mad and say, "write for yourself, not for the validation!"

Welp. (sigh)

First of all, I think your friends are absolutely right. But we'll come back to that.

You have to understand that as far as the Search for Motivation goes, I'm probably Spiders DD, the outlier who seriously should not have been counted. I have been motivated to write stuff pretty much nonstop since I was eight, and did my first novel in crayon in a school notebook. (It was one of the thick notebooks. The ones with the black and white marbled covers. Most of you who come of US schools know the kind.)

So I'm really the wrong person to be asking about this, especially since it's now nearly the Year of our (Wood!) Dragon 4722, which would make me nearly, uh, six Years of the Dragon old. And being of such age, and a career midlist genre writer, I have the same source of motivation as the vast majority of my similarly-aged colleagues: the need to write or starve. (There's an Irish saying perfectly descriptive of my situation: "Too old to dig ditches and too scared to rob banks." That's my situation exactly. There's nothing left for me to do but to write.) :)

...Anyway, it's kind of amazing how that kind of motivation'll focus your intention, and help you keep it in place, once you're been working with it for a while.

At the beginning of a career, though, things can look a lot different as you start getting a handle on exactly what it is you like to write and why you like writing it. And having another job to keep you afloat while you find your way is seriously a very good idea if you can manage it.

It sounds very much to me as if you're still in the early "finding your way" stages. This is a place that a lot of writers pass through, so don't be concerned. It's rare for sudden perfect motivation-to-write to crystallize out of nothing. And never forget, the word itself is based on old Latin roots for movement, and provokes the question, "Yeah, okay, but which way?" Movement without intended direction tends to turn into a lot of unfocused flailing, which looks good on Kermit, but not so much on the rest of us.

(inserting a cut here, because honestly, this is gonna go on a bit)

So you need to sit down and start asking questions—and answering them—so you can draw some kind of map. "I want to make a career out of writing"? Fine. What kind of writing? Fiction? Nonfiction? If fiction, what kind? What do you like to read? Why? Is that something you'd like to write? Why? Why not? If there's something else you'd rather be writing—what else? And why?

The more you ask the questions and answer them—"Keep asking the next question," Ted Sturgeon never used to stop saying—and the further along your investigations get, the more likely you are (as you get close to the answers that matter) to start getting the itch to write something, something in particular. This process may take a while, and the itch may take a good while to manifest. Don't be alarmed by that. The old saying is that the fire from Heaven won't descend until you've built the altar for it. And it may take a while piling the rocks up into the right shape. Don't hurry. If this is something you intend to spend a lifetime on, make sure the foundations are sound. The time taken will be worth it.

And BTW, do you intend that kind of length of commitment? If you're not sure, that's fine. But there's no one else to ask at this point who can give you meaningful answers. This is the time to get into it. Work out what "having a career in writing" looks like for you. Then start investigating to see whether your conception has any foundation in reality as a kind of lifestyle you actually have decent odds on achieving. (Again, I'm an outlier here. I'd been writing for pleasure for a long time before I had the good fortune to befriend an actual career writer, examine his habits [and those of other writers in the LA area] at close range, and realize that this line-of-work choice was actually something that could be successfully pulled off by mere mortals.) After investigation, this is a call that only you can make.

But anyway. Once you've started experiencing the kind of motivation that comes of increased certainty about what you want to do and why, you'll find you're way less concerned about sourcing or supporting it externally. It tends to fuel itself. (As once it does descend, the fire from Heaven is tenacious stuff: more Greek than otherwise.)

But also: trying to designate outsourced exterior stimulants for motivation is a bad idea. The reason's simple: one day you'll need them and they won't be there. Conditions will have changed, or the outside-of-you sources into the hands of which you've resigned your motivational agency may not be available for one reason or another, temporarily or permanently... and then where are you? The concept's a nonstarter. If your motivation's acting up, you need to be looking inward, not outward, for ways to kickstart it. This is one of the most personal parts of the writing process. You need to own it.

(And yeah, even career writers' motivation slips sometimes: annoying career things happen, cyclic lows cut in at a bad time, you name it. Most of us work out ways to jar the motivation back into correct operation when it acts up. But for such corrections to work you must first know what it's like to generate or mine yours yourself... and you're still working on that. The methods you find to generate motivation toward doing the Work will also assist you in diagnosing it when it goes south, and putting it right again.)

Also: (sighing) Please let your friends off the hook as regards reading your material, and feedback. Your motivation to write should not be dependent on their feedback, and it's not a good idea to try to make friends feel responsible for keeping you on the creative track. Chief among reasons for this: they may not feel themselves up to the task of giving you the writing support you're apparently asking them for—possibly because they simply don't feel competent to. (This is where we could get into how I had to stop @petermorwood from rewriting his third novel for the third time due to conflicting notes from friends... but let's leave that for later.) At best you're possibly making your friends deeply uncomfortable. At worst, the pressure may damage the friendships.

Tl:dr; our friends may love us dearly, but that doesn't make them competent editors. If you're online, so are many writers' groups who'll welcome a new member who needs advice. Wait till you've got more data and clarity on your motivational issues, and then start shopping around for assistance that seems friendly and trustworthy.

And finally (for the moment), about other people's attention spans:

It'd be good if you can start training yourself away from the habit of worrying about those. For one thing, there's absolutely nothing you can do about them. You might as well worry about the 11-year sunspot cycle. The attention-span issue is just one more distraction from things you should usefully be thinking about. But also: A lot of what we hear about that situation strikes me as fearmongering (as, IIRC, it was supposed to cause the downfall of western civilization around the time I started writing for Scooby-Doo).

If you look around, you'll see that loads of people are willing to spend HUGE amounts of their attention on stuff they love. (I mean, have you been on AO3 lately? And we're just talking about free stuff, there. Lots of other people will do the same for traditionally published work, given the chance and the money.) Your job is to get on with writing, start putting what you're doing out there where people will have a chance to fall in love with it, and then deal with the consequences.

More of this next time. (And please bear with me, as I'm still not up to best operating speed after the last week's illness. I'll get to everything else you sent me, I promise.)

HTH!

#writing advice #masked ask #is that a term?#it is now #motivation in writing #motivational issues

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chxrrybcmbs · 5 months

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Pas de Deux

Summary: You and Bucky find solace in each others shared experiences. (Bucky x Female Reader) Warnings: 18+ smut and mentions of brainwashing Note: I do not give permission for my work to copied or translated anywhere but this blog. Word Count: 1.9k

Bucky stalked alone back to his quarters of the compound. Stark had thrown another party and he’d sat through it begrudgingly. Tucked away in the corner with a drink clutched in his hand like a security blanket. Steve had thought it would be good for him to be around others but it only made him feel more alone. He wasn’t like everyone else, especially not Steve. He wasn’t adjusting as well to the transition as Steve had. He was still fighting Hyrdra’s manipulation and trying to keep his head above water. Something Steve or the others would never understand. Bucky didn’t fault them for that. They we’re trying their best but their best wasn’t working for him.

With his hands tucked firmly in his pockets, he entered the common area and was intending to keep on his path across the way to his room when he heard faint music. The lights were out and he didn’t see anyone around but the unmistakable sound of Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake wafted through the room like a ghostly waltz. He moved further into the common area thinking the music was coming from someone leaving a radio on but there was no one around. Then he realized, it wasn’t coming from the common area but the room above it. When he entered the stairwell the music was clearer and as he ascended the stairs it became louder.

The floor above the common area was just an empty room, it was used for various reasons. Meditations, yoga sessions or just a place to be away from everyone in total quiet. As Bucky entered the room, the lights were dim but there you were dancing across the floor. In the pointe shoes that had been your only request from Tony when you agreed to stay at the compound. He had thought it an odd request but it was important to you. You were so lost in the music at first, you hadn’t noticed Bucky watching you with awe. With a heaving chest you turned the music down,

“Hello, Barnes.” You said without turning to see him collect himself after being caught.

“I didn’t mean to disturb you.” He apologized. You reached for the little towel on the stool where the speaker was and wiped the sweat from your face and neck.

“You didn’t.” You turned around to look at him. His hands were shoved in the pockets of his jacket and he averted his gaze in embarrassment.

“Shouldn’t you be down at the party with everyone?” You asked, tossing the towel back onto the stool. He looked up at you briefly before looking back to his shoes,

“Yeah, I was for a bit. Not really my thing.”

“Is your thing sneaking into rooms and watching women dance?” You smirked and his face flushed a little.

“I heard the music and-I’’m sorry, I’ll leave you alone.” He turned and opened the door to leave,

“Wait, I didn’t mean for you to go.” He stopped and looked back at you.

“You like Tchaikovsky?” You asked, he took his hand off the door and stepped back into the room.

“I don’t know, I haven’t really spent a lot of time listening to music.” He replied.

“Oh.” You nodded.

“But you-you like to dance?” He stuttered and you smiled.

“I don’t know why but it keeps me sane. Even though I was never a ballerina, something about it makes me feel at ease.” You answered, he furrowed his brows.

“Never a ballerina? Could’ve fooled me.” He joked.

“Yeah, when Hydra plants false memories of being a ballerina into you for years, you cling on to the only good memories, y’know?”

Bucky’s face fell,

“Hydra? You mean?” You could see the confusion written on his face mixed with the pain. You knew Hydra had had their way with him too. You nodded.

“You didn’t know?” He shook his head, Steve had kept this from him. They all did, When you had been recruited, he was told you were just an ex spy that defected and S.H.E.I.L.D took you in. A moment of silence passed,

“How do you cope with it?” You started, “All the memories, real and fake.”

He took his hands from his pockets, he looked down at his left hand that had a black leather glove on.

“I don’t know.” He muttered. Slowly, you walked towards him. Closing the space between you, you reached for his left hand and he pulled it back. You looked up into his blue eyes, swirling with unspeakable pain.

“I’m not afraid of you.” You reached for his hand again and he let you. You took off the leather glove revealing the silver metal. You traced your fingers across his palm, enjoying the chill of it. Bucky was tense and he wasn’t quite sure what was going on but he didn’t feel like running. For the first time there was someone else who knew what it was like. To have been manipulated and controlled.

“Come.” You took his hand and guided him to stand in the center of the room.

“Take off your coat.” You ordered, and he nervously obliged. You stepped over to the speaker and turned the music on once again.

“I-I don’t know how to dance. I can’t-“ He made a gesture to himself as he tossed his coat aside.

“You don’t need to dance. Just-“ You gripped his hands and guided them to your waist. “Lift me when I say to.” He looked into your eyes, as if looking for reassurance which you gave with a subtle nod. Slowly you propped yourself up on your toes and began to spin, his hands anchoring you at the waist. You stretched your arms up to the ceiling, moving your fingers to daintily. With your back facing him and your arms still in the air,

“Now.” You whispered and you felt the squeeze of his hands against your body. He lifted you up his and you kicked your legs out. He set you down and you commanded,

“Again.” Up you went, moving your legs and arms into an elegant pose.

“One more time, this time set me down slow.” Into the air once again, you threw your arms up over your head and spread out your legs, you turned your head to face him. Your noses barely inches from each other. Gently, Bucky began lowering you. Your bodies pressed against each other, you could feel his heart beating against your back. When your feet touched the ground you turned to look up at him, placing both hands on his chest. His hands still lingering on your waist. He wasn’t even aware of himself anymore, it was like something else took over. The man in him that desperately needed human contact, affection, intimacy. All things he had been deprived of for decades.

It was similar for you, being a covert spy with mixed up concepts of self didn’t aid in the dating pool. Here it was, two people so desperate for affection, so terrified of putting their faith in others.

“How long has it been?” The question was bold but you knew your next move would be even bolder.

“Since what?” He asked, his voice was breathless at the proximity of you. His forhead just barely grazing yours as he looked down at you, dark strands of his hair forming a shield to the outside world. You snaked your hand up from his chest around to settle on the back of his neck, he twitched at the touch.

“Since you kissed a woman?” You pressed your lips to his before letting him answer. His breath caught in his throat and you felt his lips tremble ever so slightly against your own. You pulled away but not too far, still close enough to ghost your lips across his own.

“Since 1943.” He whispered before initiating another kiss. He kissed you with confidence and his hands roamed your body freely. His flesh hand came up to cup your head while his metal one pulled you flush against him.You deepened the kiss, your tongue colliding with his. For someone who hadn’t kissed in 70 years he was doing very well. You could feel the heat starting to emanate from between your legs and the sign of his obvious arousal pressed against your front. Breaking the kiss, you brought your hand down to caress his cheek and he softly brushed a strand of hair from your face.

“If we do this there won’t be any turning back.” You said, he smiled and let out a small chuckle.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have followed that music.”

“I’m glad you did.”

“I don’t want to be alone anymore.” He confessed, and you felt your heart break. You felt the same.

“Then lets be alone together.” You guided his lips to yours again, simultaneously pulling down the sweats you were wearing. He started fumbling with the clasp of his pants which you made quick work of, he kicked them off and they slid somewhere across the floor. His metal hand was ice to your skin as he helped you pull down your panties. For a moment you stood there, naked and taking in each others appearance. His chiseled abs, the uneven skin around the flesh that connected to his metal arm. And when you came back together, your back crashing against the wall, his arms hoisting you up to wrap your legs around his torso. It felt like the stars aligned, like the universe was created in that very room with the two of you at its center.

Your hands raked through his hair, grabbing and tugging at it. He held you as you positioned yourself to take in his length. A wordless glance before he thrusted in, audible gasps left both your mouths at the shock of it. You reveled in it, breathing heavily against each other before he started. A slow, smooth rhythm but each beat felt like heaven. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, the soft moans of his adding to your own pleasure. You let your head fall back against the wall, your hands dragging down his back. Feeling the muscles move as he continued his pace. He lifted his head up to look at you and you kissed his swollen lips fiercely, drinking in every moan and sigh like it was sweet honey spilling into your mouth.

You felt him start to tense and twitch and his breathing became more ragged, as did your own. With foreheads pressed together, you each met your ends with breathless moans. Gently, he set you back down onto your feet and you noticed you were still in your pointe shoes. You couldn’t help but laugh and he along with you. Bodies glistening with sweat and the room steaming from the encounter, you gathered up the clothes scattered on the floor.

“I’m not sure that is what Stark intended for this room.” You joked and Bucky smirked, as he fastened the clasp of his pants. He looked over at you and you met his gaze, both of you thinking the same. Grateful for the intimacy, the unspoken understanding now between you.

“What Stark doesn’t know won’t kill him.” Bucky commented, you finally took off your pointe shoes and held them by the ribbon, letting them swing beside you as you walked closer to Bucky.

“I could always use a dance partner, Barnes.” You said, and he smiled shyly. Neither of you were quite sure what this was or what it would become but maybe it could help you both on your path to heal from your pasts. No one else here or anywhere could ever understand what it was like.

“Anytime, doll.”

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