#i am a tall beautiful woman and it’s not my fault everyone else is a fucking shortie and I do not fit in a stupid stereotype

[repnvrbeenworse]

Jealous - L.N 

I don't like the way he's looking at you I'm starting to think you want him too

Lando Norris had never been a jealous boyfriend, in fact, he was very happy when he noticed that his girlfriend had become close friends with one of his colleages, Charles Leclerc. But in this moment, as she congratulated him on winning the 2019 Monza GP, he felt his stomach drop. Charles had never been shy when it came to her, and his obvious crush on his girlfriend. Lando, after an awful race, ended up on 14th place, Charles on the other hand, had won the Grand Prix.

I turn my chin music up And I'm puffing my chest I'm getting red in the face You can call me obsessed It's not your fault that they hover

It was a regular thing for the drivers to all hang out after the race at some random club, but tonight Lando felt a shift in the atmosphere. (Y/N) and him arrived at the party and in hand, he felt great, his gorgeous girlfriend had come with him, out of everyone, him. It was then when she decided she wanted something to drink. As Lando rarely drank, she let go of his hand and approached the bar, leaving him behind as he caught up with something Carlos was telling him.

“Hi, could i have a French Martini, please.” She ordered, as she sat on one of the stools. She was wearing a beautiful Tom Ford dark red dress, much to Lando´s dispair, as he had suggested a Mclaren orange one, but the second she opened the hotel bathroom door and walked out wearing it, he shut up.

“What is a pretty young thing like you doing alone, in a place like this.” A tall blonde guy said as he approched her, siting on one of the stools next to her. She hated this, when men assumed that just because a woman was ordering something by herself, meant, that she was alone, lonely morelike, and willing to put up with their bullshit.

“Just ordering something to drink, with my friends, over there.” She said, pointing over to the guys who where now watching as Daniel tried to tackle Max.

“Yeah, sure, if you want me to leave you alone, you´re gonna have to come up with a better excuse than, “I am hanging out with some formula 1 drivers“ honey”

“Well, its true” She answere, clearly annoyed taking a sip of her martini that had arrived, ”My man is one of them, honey” she said with a wink, leaving him lonely.

I mean no disrespect It's my right to be hellish I still get jealous

'Cause you're too sexy, beautiful And everybody wants a taste That's why (that's why) I still get jealous

Lando had watched you, from the second you slipped one of your hands from one of his, and his waist out of your grip to the second the man approached you. He was ready to step in the moment you needed him to, which never came, as he saw you leave with a wink.

He understood that his girlfriend was drop dead gorgeous, he didn't really like the fact that everyone wanted a piece of you.

“Hey baby,” you said as you approached him, kissing his lips ”Wanna dance with you” she stated not letting him answer as she dragged him to the dance floor, grabbing him by the expensive jacket´s suit. Not that he was going to say no to her.

Lando didn´t dance, not that he couldn´t, he just didn´t. His eyes travelled her body as she swayed her hips for him. He wrapped with one of his hands her waist, pulling her towards him. Lips millimeters away from hers, he whispered, ”All mine,” and grabbed a handful of her ass. ”All yours,” she answered leading him out of the club.

I said there's no one else for you 'Cause you know I get excited, yeah When you get jealous too

Lando and (Y/N) were walking along the paddock when some fans approached them asking for some photos and for Lando to sign some t-shirts. I was all perfectly fine, until she heard one of them say;

“God he is even more handsome in person, not fair, I want him.” (Y/N) felt somewhat proud and obviously jealous, she was the one who was taking him home after the race, not anyone else, her.

“Thank you guys so much for coming to support, enjoy the race.” He said as he intertwined his fingers with hers, putting his sunglasses back on. Once they were a few steps away she stopped. ”Muppet, what´s wr-“ Lando was cut off as she felt her lips harshly on his, he smiled, knowing that she was just as jealous as he was.

Should I do more F1?

#lando norris #charles leclerc #formula 1 #monza gp #monza grand prix #lando norris x reader #jealousy #charles leclerc x reader #daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo x reader #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #lewis hamilton

[raibebe]

.

#You’re beautiful no matter your height You’re beautiful no matter Your height You’re beautiful no matter Your height #reminder for myself do not mind me #i am a tall beautiful woman and it’s not my fault everyone else is a fucking shortie and I do not fit in a stupid stereotype #and yes i can be cute too even if I am the same height as my boyfie #who told society the girl had to be shorter #what is Even ‘the perfect height difference’ #what’s that supposed to mean #just fuck right off #rai.tmi

[echobeachimagines]

‘ just what i needed ’ || abed nadir

Word count: 1,511

Characters: Gender Neutral!Reader, Abed Nadir, Annie Edison, Jeff Winger, Troy Barnes, Shirley Bennett, Unnamed girl in magenta, Joey/White Abed/Wabed.

Warnings: profanity

A/N: Before we begin, I want to thank you in advance for reading. The title has nothing to do with the fic. It is just a random song title from my personal love songs playlist. Also, I know that this reader may not be just as relatable as many would like, but they are gender neutral. They say write what you know and I know emotionally overwhelmed but detached, haha. Also, if you could tell me if there is not enough space between the sections, that would be great. I am working on a chromebook, so it looks a little different on my end. In addition, I will be making edits if I find errors in this fic in the future. Onward and, as usual, constructive critique is welcomed as I am a masochist but not a human carpet. Thank you and I am sending you all love !!

---

      Truthfully, you’d never been one to express how you felt to others. It applied to everyone. Family, friends, and romantic interests for sure. It wasn’t as if you felt nothing for these people; Quite the opposite, actually. You’d argue you felt more than you should. It was intimidating and made you feel as if you were intruding on their peace. It wasn’t their responsibility to take on your emotions; good or bad. Besides, your poker face was absolute garbage. It gave well enough away as it was.

This led you to where you were right now. Jaw clenched as Jeff gave the beautiful brunette in magenta advice on how to approach the object of your affections, Abed Nadir.  

“I know that guy’s M.O and I think it’s better if you introduce yourself.”  

Your heart all but dropped through the floor. The green-eyed monster reared its ugly head and you couldn’t help the daggers that shot in the poor girl’s direction. It wasn’t her fault. You, of course, understood the appeal. The tall, adorable, stoic film nerd with the puppy-dog eyes who looked amazing in mustard yellow. Well- looked amazing in any color, really- How could one not feel some sort of attraction toward him? And why did you have to be one of these people? You felt the frustration building as she sauntered over to the pool table. This wasn’t a rare occurrence, to be honest.

As if witnessing Jeff in all his... glory... wasn’t bad enough. Now you had to watch as yet another stunning woman shoots her shot with your crush? God, ‘crush’. It sounds so stupid just hearing it. So immature.

Needless to say, you were beginning to think that pool table was cursed.  

“Are you alright, Y/N? If looks could kill-,” Annie begins before being cut off by White Abed- Wabed, as you’ve personally dubbed him- as he took a seat next to you.  

“Man, why couldn’t I be brown Joey?” You couldn’t help the redirection of your glare toward the sweater-clad man. “His name is Abed, Jackass.” You spat before you could stop yourself. He put his arms up in mock surrender. Annie’s gaze turns back to you, wide-eyed.  

You also happened to pull Jeff’s attention at your words, also a little wide-eyed, but seemingly out of entertainment than anything else. “Woah there, tiger. Retract the claws!” he says through a chuckle.

“Seriously, YN. Are you alright? Did something happen?” Annie asks yet again. You sneak a look at Abed, the girl seemingly vanished in the time you’d looked away. A wave of guilt begins to form. Jeff, oh so observant of others all of a sudden, takes notice of your glance in his direction. His face shifts through what looks like the stages of grief before a grin breaks out on his face. He couldn’t have possibly figured it out so quick, could he?

“No way!” he starts. You try to keep a neutral expression, but the blood rushes to your cheeks uninhibited. Oh, he’s going to have a field-day with this one. 

“What? What is it?” Annie inquires, still not having caught on.

“NO WAY!” Jeff says again, his eyes not once leaving your face as you give up trying to pretend. You sigh.

Annie glances between the two of you, her voice raising in pitch slightly. “What is it?! What am I missing?!”  

By this point, Abed is looking in the direction of the commotion, clearly curious.

 Wabed decides it’s his moment to shine. “I think your friend here likes Mr. ‘Abed’ over there.” He says, giving a short nod in the direction of the pool table. Annie gasps, looking at you excitedly. You’ve managed to make direct eye contact with Abed, however. Having noticed Wabed’s attention on him, he begins to make his way over. Panic starts to spread through you and you can’t help but feel like he's heard everything the others are saying. You jump up before making a break for the door. Fuck this.

You hear Annie call after you as you speed walk your way toward the exit. You don’t look back and, since you don’t have any other classes that day, you decide to head home before things escalate any further.  

-

As much as you dreaded it, you knew you couldn’t avoid Jeff and Annie forever... Or Abed for that matter. You also couldn’t help but wonder if anyone had slipped up. Annie had as good of a poker face as you did, Jeff could go either way, and Wabed sure as hell had no loyalty to you.  

You had sent Annie a myriad of texts only to be met with silence and Jeff was never one to respond to your texts immediately anyway which was strange considering he was always on his phone. All you could do was stress over the situation as the night progressed. As you approached the study room, you could see the back of Jeff’s head. Pulling open the door, you could see everyone except Troy and Abed in their seats.  

“Y/N!” Annie yelped as you walked in; You stopped in your tracks. Of course. Of fucking course. “You told, didn’t you.” You deadpanned. She looked like a dear in the headlights.  

Jeff craned his neck around to see you, a smirk taking over his face.

“She didn’t even last five minutes- OW!” He was cut off by Annie hitting his arm. “It wasn’t like that and you know it! You have to believe me, Y/N-” She argued- pleaded, really.  

Shirley, bless her oblivious heart, interjected.  

“Ooooh, told who what?” She lilted as she clutched the top of her purse, a smile on her face at the prospect of new gossip. You contemplated skipping this study session, maybe hiding near the fire exits.

Your luck, however, must have just run out as you heard the chatter of Troy. You turned around, now face to face with Abed as he opened the door to the study room. You couldn’t bring yourself to move.  

“Hi,” You said, just above a whisper. A small smile tugged at the sides of his mouth as he echoed you. He turned his head to look at Troy, giving a short nod. Troy raised his eyebrows briefly, looking at you with a knowing grin before walking over to his seat. So he knows too, then. Great.

“Do you want to go for a walk?” Abed asked. You looked behind you, seeing Annie and Troy watching with anticipation, Jeff with mild intrigue. You couldn’t help the shaky sigh that escaped you as you nodded. “Um, Yeah- Yeah, sure. Let’s go.” You attempted to sound somewhat confident as you both made your way out of the study room.  

There was a silence between you as you walked aimlessly through the hall. Although normally comfortable, this one seemed tension filled; At least on your end as you considered denying what you know he’s already heard. You decided to throw caution to the wind. Besides, you couldn’t bring yourself to lie to him. “So, Annie told you then.” You uttered as you clutched the strap of your bag with both hands, finally looking in his direction. He nodded before stopping. You stopped just a few steps after before turning around to face him. 

“Look,” You readied yourself for the rejection by trying to beat him to it, as analyzing his face had yet to yield any information. “, You don’t have to reciprocate, and I am sorry if it makes you uncomfortable-” You are interrupted.

“I like you too, Y/N.” He stated curtly. You don’t think you heard him correctly, asking for him to repeat himself. “I’ve liked you for a while.” He clarifies.

“And Troy knew?” You ask, your head tilting as you processed what you were hearing. Your confusion softens into a flutter in your chest. He nods before responding.

“I told him last month. And then he accidentally told Annie.” Suddenly it made sense. You sigh, “So that’s why she told you then?” You ask rhetorically, chuckling as you decided to forgive her... This time. You realize that the ball in now in your court; Your golden opportunity has presented itself and, although your nerves were still in overdrive, made your move.  

“Would you maybe... want to hang out? Not just as friends, of course.” You ask, shakily as you stood awaiting his response. He smiles slightly, nodding. “How about this weekend?” He prompts. You can’t help the smile that takes over your face, a blush likely present as well, but you didn’t want to think about it.

“That sounds great!” You enthuse as you let out the breath you had been holding since you asked.  

“Cool... Cool, cool, cool,” He says. It is silent for a moment before he extends his arm in the direction of the study room. “After you.” Abed adds before you both begin to make your way back to the study room.  

Now you’d just have to deal with telling everyone else, though you figured you’d cross that bridge when you got to it.

---

#community imagines #abed nadir imagines #community #abed nadir #abed nadir imagine #gender neutral reader #abed nadir x gn!reader #abed nadir x reader

[iiraven]

Odyssey

Pairing: Poseidon!Armin x Reader

Genre: romance, smut

Warnings: slow-burn, minor character death, manipulation, stalking, possessiveness, Yandere behaviour, puppy play, piss play, body worship, throne sex, implied age-gap, oral(male receiving), hair pulling, collaring (without consent)

Word count: 9.8K

Synopsis: Armin’s quest for revenge leads him to you, daughter of a merchant and object of his infatuation.

Author’s note: thank you @bubbleteaimagines​ for hosting this collab and allowing me to join <3 Also, thank you @onyxoverride​ for teaching me how to write about pee!

Attack on Titan Masterlist

Present day:

If the river could speak, you wonder what it would say.

In the silence that surrounds the rushing of the water, you’re sure you would hear it. Sometimes, you’re sure you can hear it, but then you remember the dangers of trusting unfamiliar voices. Especially unfamiliar voices in a place like this.

No one goes near the river Shiganshina. And you forget the reasons why much too often.

It’s rocky, slippery, there’s no path to walk on, and the nymphs grow sharp teeth when men approach them, hissing and eyes glowing red. But that’s what makes it perfect for you.

Sasha first mentioned the river months ago, recalling the places on the island that her and her father avoided whenever they went hunting. You hadn’t paid much attention to it until days later, when Connie recounted with round eyes how Floch’s body was found beside the river Shiganshina, mouth full of water and eyes gouged out. You knew you needed to go there yourself.

A pearl necklace is what you stole. And under the guise of going to wash clothes at the well, you made your way south of your small island with only Sasha’s vague instructions and your intuition guiding you.

You could hear the ocean as you walked through the untouched woods, your heart hammering in your chest every time the waves crashed against the island’s cliffs. You weren’t allowed to see the ocean- you weren’t allowed to be around any large body of water, for that matter- but you still knew your island well enough to know that a step in the wrong place could lead you tumbling down the cliff.

You would die before you got to feel the water on your skin and that, you thought, would be the most tragic part.

As your feet began to sink into the muddy ground, you could smell the salty water, and a slight metallic scent behind it that only drew you in closer until you reached a clearing. It was small, crowded with foliage with only a few dead plants on the ground where you could only assume people had attempted to step foot.

And there was the river. It was small, its water emerging from underground before the tide pushed it to the edge of the island- to a waterfall. So loud that it could drown out any noise, any screams. You shivered. For a moment, you just stood back and watched. The water was was green, but so clear that you could still see the fish swimming beside the floating objects. Coins, silver, small statues, and whatever else hopefuls had tried to offer. You pulled out your own offering and whispered a short prayer before throwing the necklace in.

It could have been your imagination, but the water calmed. It was quieter. And, like that, you felt as if the river had opened up its arms to you. Strong arms that you have to be cautious not to spend too long within lest you get trapped.

Thankfully, you’ve learned to read the signs. You know when the river wants you to leave, when it wants you to keep your distance, when it wants to keep you close, and even when it wants you to bathe. Those are the special moments. It’s rare the river is calm enough for you to dip your naked body into, but surrounded by the cool water, you feel like you could stay their forever.

If the river could speak now, however, you’re sure it would tell you to fuck off.

Either that or it would tell you to come back when you have something more to offer its god than a single golden bead from your grandmother’s necklace. Only three are left on the thin string, though you think you might keep the last one to honour her death. After that, you’ll have to go back to offering coins and whatever other trinkets that will keep the god of this river sedated long enough for you to dip your feet into the cool water, maybe take a sip, and then return home before your father realises where you’ve been, much less where you’ve been unchaperoned.

The latter is hardly your fault. Sasha and Connie are too scared to step foot in the Shiganshina forest, let alone the river itself. And you can’t trust anyone else to accompany you, especially the servants whose tongue could slip at the drop of a golden coin. Your father would never forgive you for spending time in the territory of the God of the Ocean or- as he liked to call Armin- the destroyer of seas. And thus, being left alone seems to be the only way.

Well, that’s unless Mr Arlert decides to join you.

The owner of the stable who appeared on the island out of nowhere is the last person anyone would expect to be brave enough to spend time at the river Shiganshina. He mostly keeps to himself, only ever seen tending to his horses or immersed in scrolls of literature and poetry. And yet, he’s here almost as often as you are, almost as vulnerable as you are.

Despite his solitary nature, Mr Arlert has been quick to make himself adored. Mothers swoon over his charm, scholars constantly indulge in his curiosity, and sailors are fascinated by his knowledge of the world and its oceans. He’s no warrior, and already in his late twenties, but he’s still without a doubt one of the most eligible bachelors on Paradis. And, yet, to any marriage proposal sent his way, he declines with a polite “A husband is not what I am fated to become”. Even Annie Leonhardt- whose father Mr Arlert would constantly visit- had her heart broken. But no one blames Mr Arlert, of course, who was there to comfort Annie, to make her realise that she just needs to be a better person, that’s all. It’s not his fault her heart broke, Mr Arlert reassured.

Thinking about it now, you’re amongst the handful of women who haven’t been offered to the tall blond. And with that comes a sigh of relief as you drag your fingers through the water.

It’s not like you dislike him- the opposite, actually- but being with Mr Arlert is like taking the hand of an invisible man in the dark and letting him guide you.

His words constantly have your thoughts spiralling in directions that they shouldn’t be. Thoughts about leaving the island, thoughts about going to the ocean, thoughts about becoming a priestess. Thoughts you aren’t allowed to have.

You fate is bound to the home you were born in, a thick rope tied to your ankle, only letting you go as far as this very river. And Mr Arlert sits beside that rope, a knife in his hand, blue eyes staring into your soul, waiting. You’re not sure what he’s waiting for. But what you’re sure of is that to be taken away from the life you know of is an inconceivable fantasy. The unknown is a dangerous thing, after all.

The small island of Paradis may lie far away from the rest of the world, but their core values remain the same. A woman must grow up to either serve her father or her husband. Your fate has already been decided for you. And, frankly, if it means not having to share a bed with an old man who marries you for your dowry, you’re very happy with taking care of your father until the day that he’ll be put into the ground.

But then there’s always the third option. A woman who serves neither her father nor her husband will serve her god. 

You had never been given that option by your god-hating kin. Simply suggesting a future as priestess would earn you at least five lashes, so why… why can’t you stop thinking about it? Your instincts have you blame Mr Arlert, but you know that your fixation began before he arrived on the island; all he’s done is vocalise your thoughts.

As a gust of wind blows the leaves and the salt from the sea gently caresses your cheek, you wonder who your god would be. Do you resonate with Pieck’s beauty, or Zeke’s creativity? Maybe. But as you look into your reflection, you know that your god is no other than Armin, the god of the ocean. The fates must think this is hilarious, but you just want to scream.

“It’s getting late. I wouldn’t want your father worrying about you.”

You jump at the sudden voice, turning around at the familiar face, leaning against a tree with a gentle smile.

“Thank you, Mr Arlert.”

His footsteps are so gentle, as are his apologies.

“You don’t need to thank me. I’ve come to invade your space, after all.”

“It’s not my space, it’s Armin’s. The god is only letting me stay here.”

He smiles a knowing smile, one that you would usually find patronising on any other man. But Armin is charming, too charming for you ever to think that of him. “I suppose you’re right.”

He comes to sit down beside you, taking his usual place at your right- the voice of reason. It’s quiet for a moment, before you remember.

“Lemnos,” you say.

The blond smiles. “I’m not named after a place.”

And you roll your eyes, as you’ve done every time he’s given you a useless hint. “That hardly narrows it down.”

“Well, I can’t make it too easy of a game.”

“You can’t make it impossible either!”

“It seems like I already have.” And you’re not sure if you want to wipe the smirk off his face or just stare at it.

“What about Tree?”

Arlert laughs. “No, but you have one guess left.”

“What?!” You sit up straight, eyes wide. Now you really want to wipe the smirk off his face.

“You have seven guesses, and in the eleven months we’ve known each other, you’ve used up six.” His explanation is calm and rational enough for you to almost convince yourself that the rule has been there from the start.

“Wait- wait. I never knew about this!”

“I thought everyone did. It’s traditional wager rules.” Mr Arlert’s tone is sorry, but you know he’s everything but. So, you cross your arms and pout, hoping that staring him down might at least give you the smallest chance of winning your wager.

He leans forward, mirthful and you feel a shiver go down your spine. “What is it, little puppy, sulking because you’re afraid you can’t win?”

You flush at the implication of your loss- “No- no not at all- no”- before registering his actual words are and only then can you feel the heat rise and you’re sure it’s doing you no service. “I know I can win!”

“I know you can too,” he assures you.

You frown. “Are you being sarcastic?”

It’s his turn to flush. “No, not at all! You can win- the water god favours you, after all.”

And although you shrug, his words stick. They always do.

Before you go home, you pass by Armin’s temple and place at the foot of his statue the remainder of your grandmother’s necklace.

A year ago:

Amrin knew how fickle the gods were and he thought that this knowledge made him impervious to those feelings. He watched how Eren jumped from woman to woman daily, how Reiner picked and chose his battles without a care, how every single fixation a deity would have never lasted more than a year. He thought of how stupid it was to spend a life of immortality indulging in such temporary pleasures. And he looked down on his kin for that very reason.

It was only after one argument too many that Armin finally let it slip. The god of the sea was usually quiet, offering soft smiles, casual conversation, and minimal conflict. That was his only rule: keeps quiet before the gods of the pantheon as he takes his anger out on the humans below. But that day, he forgot about his rule.

Maybe it was the years of silence that caused the Eathshaker’s outburst, or maybe it was just Eren’s bored expression as he talked about his mistresses in front of Mikasa. Armin couldn’t take it. Gathered at a marble table beside all the Olympians, he scowled and told them how stupid they all were.

“Don’t you realise? You’re all wasting your immortality by being so idiotic, so fickle! Everything you touch becomes a temporary pleasure, ruined by your inability to act like real gods.”

He should have stopped; he really should have stopped. But the crack in the glass bridge had been there for years, and now the shards of glass were dropping down into the sea. “You might as well be human!”

The room went silent. Eyes went wide, and mouths gaped, but the gods opted for silence. Every deity wanted to speak up, maybe even draw their swords, but they were more intelligent than Armin was in that moment, which was more unusual than one might think. He had never snapped so violently before. Armin may have been aggressive, but he knew his place. Knew when to be docile. Now, he felt like he could crumble Olympus itself with his rage and bury the Olympians with their dead parents.

The king of the gods, however, leaned forward. His emerald eyes were unmoving, devoid of emotion though his lips tilted into a monstrous grin.

“You’re just as fickle as the rest of us, brother,” was all Eren said.

When Armin lunged at him, knocking the fine glass off the table, it was Mikasa who pinned him down. Arms locked behind his back, all Armin could do was watch as mirth flooded Eren’s face, and the god of the sky laughed. The bastard laughed and laughed and licked the small wound on his hand from a shard of glass. It healed immediately. Even their pain was temporary.

And like he had been doing for the past millennia, Armin found solice in his only rule: if he couldn’t take out his rage on his brother, Armin would take out his frustration elsewhere.

His first instinct was to find a woman, but the thought of seeking out temporary pleasure, from a mistress no less, reminded him too much of Eren. So, he descended to earth, trident in one hand as the other gripped the reigns of his horse and they rode for three days and three nights. That’s all it took for the god of the sea to find what he was looking for- someone deserving of his hatred.

There are many humans like the merchant. But most of their hatred is silent. And when it’s not, blasphemy often falls upon deaf ears. The merchant just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time when his drunk rambles led him up on the deck screaming out Armin’s name like it was venom in his throat, until he could scream no more. He was drunk, but the merchant’s hatred for the god of the sea did not cease when he was sober.

And when Armin heard his name, the god wasted no time calling forth a storm to sink the merchant’s ship. He took care to ensure that the arrogant man watched each and every one of his men be swallowed whole, their bodies only resurfacing lifeless, before the storm calmed.

It took five days for the merchant to swim back to his island.

He never returned to the sea.

As the weeks passed, he relocated his home to help him stay away from any body of water and made sure that his family followed suit.

But Armin followed, and the merchant’s father died weeks later with saltwater water found in his lungs.  

Unfortunately, that was not enough to sedate the god of the sea’s need for vengeance. Fortunately, it was not enough to sedate the merchant’s hatred either. The hubris didn’t leave him. Instead, it just grew and grew and grew until the merchant considered himself more of a god than Armin would ever be.

“Oh, oh.” Armin couldn’t help but smile as he watched the man urinate before his temple. “This is perfect, so perfect.”

Armin was going to show his uncaring brother how different he was from the rest of the miserable Olympians. As he stood above the island of Paradis, golden hair blowing in the ocean wind, the god vowed to begin his Odyssey. An eternal Odyssey. A journey that would last longer than the ten fleeting years he had with the Greek hero- a journey that would last longer than the universe itself.

And he knew exactly where to begin. A man’s most valuable possession: his child.

It was only after your grandfather’s death that Armin noticed you. When he first began watching the merchant’s household, under the guise of either a guest or a bird, he had been surprised to learn that the blasphemous man had no wife, nor children. Armin only realised his mistake one night, when you came to lay a blanket on the drunk man’s barely conscious body. The merchant had pulled you towards him, muttering apologies and you had wrinkled your nose before offering him a soft smile. “It’s okay, papa”.

A daughter sheltered from the world, it seemed.

The god had initially thought you were one of the servants. There were only two in the house, and your tasks were all similar. But as Armin began to watch you closer, he saw how you did have a life outside your home with friends, interests, men- a life your father was blissfully unaware of.

The merchant hardly left home- playing the part of the sick man- and you took care of him- playing the part of your dead mother- in a happy sort of agreement.

You didn’t speak about it to your friends, but you detested your doting role. Armin could tell. The way you wrinkled your nose every time your father walked through the door, the eye-roll when you were given a load of laundry. The god couldn’t help by laugh at how pathetic the merchant was that not even his only daughter- his lifeline- cared for him. The merchant didn’t know, of course. Your fake smiles and gentle hands were enough to deceive him, keep him sane. But Armin was going to break that pattern.

The merchant didn’t deserve the care of a woman. He didn’t deserve anything. So, Armin was going to take you away from him.

His initial plan was to kill you. Simple, efficient, quick. And then he thought of dumping your body somewhere far so that the search for you would break your father’s spirit even more. He hesitated, though, he wasn’t sure why, but he did. And then, you changed your routine.

After meeting up with the two individuals you called your friends at the Sunday market- instead of going back home- you carried on walking. Through the houses on the outskirts and into the dense trees, you almost stung your sandal-clad feet twice before reaching a river. The river had no god of itself, but you still threw in an offering and muttered. Stupid human. And then you sat beside the river and- nothing. Your routine was boring, obviously a ritual to let you escape from reality. Yet, he couldn’t tear away from you. The woman at the river Shiganshina was a different one than the woman who served her father. The one here relaxed her shoulders, cursed at the world around her, smiled- albeit randomly but it was real. He decided there that he would kill you tomorrow.

But when, the next day, you led him back to the river, Armin was lost in you again. Lost in your honestly, lost in your need to escape. He wanted to see more, he needed to see more. Metaphorically, of course. But when you began undressing, the pleated robes dropping to reveal soft skin and tender curves, the god of the sea realised that he wouldn’t mind literally seeing more of you. Armin had been with goddesses and nymphs and, hell, even Aphrodite herself, but never had he been this awestruck. He had to hold himself back. Even though the way you were bathing made it seem like you were worshipping him, water dripping from your body, wet hair hiding the swell of your breasts. Armin’s breath stuttered. He couldn’t reveal himself. He couldn’t.

So, he watched, and watched. Trying desperately to take in everything you were from a distance. Armin didn’t count the number of times he visited you before finally decided that killing you was no longer an option. He told himself that his change of mind was progressive. A practical choice to draw out his revenge into the most painful and convoluted Odyssey. To do that, he couldn’t kill you. No. He was going to take you for himself. Armin was going to turn the daughter of the merchant into a servant of the one God he detested.

Putting the thought into your mind was pathetically easy. As you walked past his temple on your way home, an echo of laughter emerged from the marble building. You paused for only a moment, but it was enough for Armin to catch the look in your eyes. It was one of longing, mixed with a curiosity that threatened to pull you in. But you seemed to catch yourself in the act and hastened yourself home.

And so, Armin’s true Odyssey began. 

For his journey to progress, he had to meet you. Not as a bird or a horse or through glances as a guest. He had to meet you properly. This was the only way to draw you in, he told himself. The only way for you to submit completely and willingly.

Armin could have forced you too your knees, but he had to ensure that your father watched has his daughter chose Armin over him. And chose Armin you would. Every piece was in perfect place. The fates seemed to have woven a beautiful cloth of gold for the god of the sea.

What he failed to realise was that the cloth was in fact a snare- a trap which he will never be able to escape from.

Eleven months ago:

A short gust of wind had the pears in your thin basket tumbling down onto the rocky ground. You rushed after the fruit, crouching down to pick it up when a shadow appeared, and a hand reached out to pick it up for you. The sandal-clad feet were pale- paler than anyone living on this warm island and the robes a fine, ironed white. He somehow seemed to glow brighter than his clothes, and you purposefully let your fingers graze his as you picked up the fruit.

“Thank you,” you said, standing up.

You were hoping that he wouldn’t catch your staring. But even if he did, you couldn’t tear your eyes off him. He was lean, taller than you but not intimidatingly so and his eyes were like oceans that you found yourself staring into as he introduced himself as Mr Arlert. Just Mr Arlert. The new owner of the stables with a voice so soft, it took a moment before you remembered to introduce yourself.

“Y/N. And thank you, again.” It isn’t appropriate for an unmarried woman to be talking to a man on her own, but you couldn’t help but ask. “Do you have a first name Mr Arlert?”

His smile was contagious. “I do. But names are a powerful thing. I’m afraid I can’t give mine up freely.”

“Oh.” You scrunched your nose. “Can I pay for it then?”

You were dead serious, but the blond man laughed. How can someone look so pretty when they laugh? You wondered.

“I’m serious! I can pay you; name your price.”

Mr Arlert looked down at you, blue eyes twinkling. “I’ll think about it.”

“So, is that a no?”

“It’s a no, for now. One day I’ll tell you my name.”

He was sweet, so sweet, but you still gave him a sceptical frown, nose scrunching and eyebrows furrowing. Mr Arlert in turn gave you a sorry look before his eyes lit up and he pulled out from his brown satchel a small book of yellowed pages and a dusty blue cover, the gold embossing hardly visible. You nose only scrunched further.

“My name is in this story. It’s mentioned few times, but it’s an important one,” he said to you.

You took the book and flipped through the worn pages, immediately recognising the tale of Aphrodite and Ares. The lovers.

Why the challenge? You wanted to ask Mr Arlert but you knew the answer you your get would be too cryptic. Besides, you think, I like a challenge.

“How long do I have?” You asked instead.

“A year and a day.”

“And what will I get if I figure it out?”

At this, he pondered. But it seemed feigned, and you wondered, just for a split second, if the man had planned this from the beginning. But why? This was another one of your questions that went unanswered that day. Because before you could say anything more, Mr Arlert leaned forward and said, “Your reward will be divine”. And he walked away.

Nine months ago:

Life was well after Armin arrived. There was no other way to put it. Your father was confining himself to his room more often than before, and you were finding more opportunities to visit the river, leave the house and, eventually, you met the handsome baker’s son. Jean was kind, a gentleman, but not the arrogant type like most the men your age. You didn’t even feel too much guilt when you thought that spending a future with Jean- taking care of him and his home- wouldn’t be too bad. It’s quite pathetic that your life had been reduced to not being “too bad”, but the idea of marrying Jean sat on the comfortable line between reality and fantasy. Safety.

And then you were visited at the river.

Mr Arlert wasn’t even surprised to find you there, he had just smiled and sat beside you as you clenched your fists and forced yourself to smile back at him. You had always enjoyed him, his company, his challenges, but now it was like he was provoking you. The river Shiganshina was your river, your special place away from the hellscape that was the town. And now Mr Arlert had brought himself and his ordinary life into it.

You pulled your sandals back on, the crease in your brow evident. He clearly couldn’t get the hint. But before you could stand up, he spoke, and you paused.

“I wish I could jump in and swim away,” he said.

Curiosity got the best of you, as it often did with the man.

“The waterfall would kill you.”

The awkward laugh again. It had an effect on you so that your jaw couldn’t help but unclench. “If it means that I get to touch a waterfall, I wouldn’t mind, you know?”

You knew. You knew exactly what he meant. But you didn’t tell him.

“Didn’t take you as the suicidal type,” you said.

“I might get saved, who knows.”

“If you’re counting on me to jump after you, I’m letting you know I won’t.”

“I know,” he laughed. “I was thinking of more of a divine rescue.”

You finally looked at him, and- unsurprisingly- his blue eyes were glued to yours. What was surprising was his unwavering tone, his straight face. Mr Arlert was being serious. Why was he opening up to you this suddenly? So far, your interactions had consisted of him staring, you trying to guess his name, and him continuing to stare. In that order. You knew there was more to him, but it’s only now that you found yourself wanting to seek that out.

“You think Armin would save you?” You didn’t miss Arlert’s smile.

“I’m hoping I’ve gained his favour- done enough for him to allow me freedom via waterfall.”

It was your turn to smile. “You probably have, You’re at the temple often.”

“Thank you.” He blushed and you quickly pushed down the thought of how cute he looked. Sitting beside you, trousers rolled up and feet in the water, Mr Arlert looked more than cute. He looked like he belonged. You weren’t sure how that made you feel but, in that moment, you didn’t mind him entering your world.

“I think you would also be saved if you jumped into the waterfall,” Mr Arlert said.

You laughed. “Is that your way of saying I’m a nice person?”

“Something like that.” He paused. “I think Armin would appreciate your- uh- honesty. You’re like a priestess.” He laughs nervously at your expression. “You know, they have this personal affinity with the water and such.”

You knew exactly what he meant. How a stranger could read you so perfectly, you weren’t sure. But as you hid your smile between your hands, you wondered whether you were prepared to face the fear of the unknown. Maybe, with Mr Arlert, it would be a bit less unknown.

A few days later, Jean was announced missing. A search party was sent out and even Mr Arlert, on his recently acquired brown horse, couldn’t find him.

Present day:

Armin isn’t sure if he likes playing the part of the nice boy or not. Humans are simple creatures who praise him continuously and, without divine responsibilities, there is no need to take his rage out anywhere. But a god is who he is, and every day, he yearns to be seen as one. To be seen as one by you. He watches as you worship him, but you never look at him- not like you do the statues, or even the small river which you think is your only true connection to the god of the ocean.

You both want more, and you both know that, but you only ever admit it to each other when you sit beside that very river. There, in those moments, Armin feels a bit more like a god. Whenever he’s around you, he feels a bit more like a god.  

He’s told you before, but your perfect honesty has made it easy for him to unravel around you. He wants to unravel around you in other ways, too, and he wants you to unravel around him. Armin can’t count the number of times he’s sat beside you at the riverside and wanted to do nothing more than to kiss those lips of yours, to press the hard cock that he hides inside of you and watch as your eyes roll back, and you call out his name.  

But the God of the Sea is not Eren. Armin will earn you. And he’s very close to doing so. Not Mr Arlert. You have no interest in human men, that much is clear. You yearn for something more powerful. And you’re right. Only a god is worthy enough to stand beside you, lay between your legs, be in your arms. Mr Arlert is simply a means to push you to realising that the god in question is Armin.

In the meantime, he’s been nothing but patient.

It’s only when you come to his door one night, eyes puffy and red, that he lays his hands on you for the first time. He rubs your back as you cry and cry, fat tears refusing stop falling. You tell him about bout your father. About how, since he got better, he’s been refusing to let you out of the house, snapping at every moment and accusing you of being a filthy god-worshipper.

“He s-sai-d- he said we’re ‘gonna move away- said we’re gonna get as far away from the s-sea as possible.” You can hardly speak, though the tears have stopped, your voice still shakes violently. But Armin listens, he holds you close to him and repeats that everything is going to be fine.

You can’t stop thanking him as you leave, and he promises that his door is always open for you. “Whenever you call for me, I’m here,” Armin tells you. “Right beside you, always,” he adds as he watches you walk away.

He’s reached a new chapter of this Odyssey.

Present day:

You suppose your father’s death should have been expected. He was an old man, obviously depressed, and his only lifeline was his daughter who hated him.

You also suppose you should feel guilty. You don’t.

Familiar faces give their condolences and whisper questions of what is to happen to you now. You only pay heed to Sasha and Connie, though, who give you a soft hug before Sasha tells you that her family would be happy to take you in. You reassure her and everyone else that you have a plan, though your best friends are the only ones who seem to believe you.

“I heard Marie has a son who’s single, maybe they can-“

“You’re not actually talking about marriage here are you?”

“Well, the girl is all alone in the world, now! She needs a man to lead her on the right path.”

The old women are wrong, so very wrong. You don’t need a man. You’re fucking sick of men- sick of them all- everything they’ve created and everything they stand for.

What you need is a god.

The head priestess of Armin’s temple in unsurprised when you knock on her door with nothing but a bag and the clothes on your body. Those clothes are burned soon after, along with many of your other things, leaving your old life behind.

She tells you that you’re lucky there’s a place for you. The last priestess left running off with a man, “Which is a cardinal sin”, she makes sure to repeat every-so-often. The head priestess seems to hate men more than you do, sneering whenever Connie comes by.

Sasha and Connie are unsurprisingly shocked at your choice of work and even if they visit almost every day, they always tell you that they miss you. They think you’ve come the temple out of desperation- everyone does- and you let them believe. Because despite cleaning the marble floors or whatever other arduous duty you’ve been given, a smile is never far as you realise that you’re free from man. Indeed, explaining the truth to anyone would be far too difficult.

Well, except one person.

You’ve never missed anyone before. Not with your father keeping you so sheltered for most of your life. But as you push through the Head Priestess’ relentless schedule, you can’t help but miss Mr Arlert. He disappears after your father’s funeral, so you leave him a note at the empty stable with your final guess. You like to think he decided to follow his own path, you also like to think that he too wishes you were beside him, a guide in the unknown.

Present day:

The room is a box of marble, with a throne sat upon a dais at the centre and one fountain at every corner, each one sculped into a horse. The object of your interests, however, is the large bowl of water on the floor in front of the throne.

This is your initiation. You will emerge from this room not as an apprentice, but a Priestess.

You kneel down and lift the pot of clay to your lips. The head priestess kept on repeating how important it is to not put it down until you’re finished. So, you gulp the water down until you can see the image of Armin. You’re the one who selected the pot, with its faded paint depicting Armin and Hange’s fight for patronage of Sina. It’s a powerful image, but when you put the pot down, you come face to face with something very different. Armin is standing in a room-this room, you realise- and crouched down before him is a young woman, looking up in awe. It takes bit longer of a moment for you to realise that the woman is you.

Looking up slowly from the pot, the first thing you see is sandal-clad feet. Golden sandals, just as fine as the robes he wears, draped in perfect waves. The first word you think of to describe him is divine and it’s indeed accurate because-

“Mr Arlert.” Your voice is barely above a whisper.

But you know that’s not correct. The man- no, not a man- before you is taller than Mr Arlert, by a foot and a half at least. His muscles are more prominent that the stable boy’s ever were, strong legs visible through the large slit between the layers of fabric draped over the god’s figure. Half of his shoulder-length hair is tied back using a golden pin whilst the rest frames his perfect, perfect face. You can’t help but think that Armin looks nothing like his statues- no medium of art could capture the ocean within his eyes, glowing in the dull light of the room. Then again, the stories didn’t capture the way the god acts either.

“Armin,” you say, this time your voice louder.

Now, you know.

His sad smile is familiar, but there’s something there that never was. “Oh dear,” he says. “I’m afraid you’ve lost out wager.”

Armin can’t help but compare you to a puppy, with large eyes staring up at him from your crouched position and an expression a perfect mix of excitement, curiosity, and shock.

You reach out a hand tentatively, but it hovers in the air between the two of you once you notice Armin’s raised brow. But he doesn’t rebuke you for it. After all, it’s only your first encounter with the god. He can’t expect you to behave perfectly, to adopt the right etiquette- no, he’ll have to train you first. Like he would a baby mutt. The thought makes him smile.

“I’ll accept any consequences, my god,” you say. Your voice sounds so sure of itself, so unlike your usual ramblings, those that Armin could and would listen to for hours. Right now, though, the certainty, it’s laced with desire that sends blood rushing south. You don’t notice. You’re too lost in his eyes to notice anything.

When he places his hand on your chin to hold it up, he can feel you shiver. “Such a perfect little worshipper,” he says. “I couldn’t possibly punish you.”

Armin can swear he sees disappointment in your eyes before he turns around and walks up the dais. The marble of the throne is cold beneath him, but the sight of you looking up at him with such longing is enough to warm him up. Now, Armin is sure you’ve noticed his growing erection because you crawl towards the dais, not yet climbing it, but close enough to see and lick your lips.

“Let me thank you at least, Armin.” He almost groans at the sound of his name. God, he wants to hear you say it over and over.

“Come here.”

And you climb up the dais only to pause before Armin leans forward and grabs your hips. Two lips, as if led by an invisible string, meet. You kiss like you’ve been waiting years for Armin and, in a way, you have. His tongue is inside your mouth quickly and he’s kissing, sucking, letting his teeth gently graze your lips as he revels in the feeling of you. As your bodies lean against each other, you can feel his heart hammering against your own. His chest is stone, but his lips are so soft and your hands find his golden hair. It’s also softer than it looks, and Armin can’t help but let out a moan as you gently tug.

When you pull back, his pupils are blown. “Thank me, then,” Armin says, breathless.

Sitting between his legs, your hand is tiny compared to his cock, and you can’t stop staring at it. Long and somewhat slender, but veiny with a flushed red top- he can see you gulp before you take an experimental lick at him. Armin’s hold on your hair only tightens and you look up at him, doe eyed and seemingly innocent.

“Put it in your mouth, pretty girl,” he says, guiding your head gently. “So obedient- Yes, exactly, just like-ah- just like that.”

But he doesn’t need to push down- no- he lets you set your own pace only because you do it so perfectly, almost as perfect as the wet noises you make. Armin doesn’t have time to be surprised, he’s just able to react fast enough to suppress his own moans so he can hear your wet tongue caress the base of his cock, as your lips create the perfect o-shape to accommodate him. Your drool is everywhere in a matter of seconds- his balls are coated with it, and so is your lap, where the spit seeps through the thin white fabric you call a robe.

“Like a puppy,” he murmurs. And you look up quizzically. “You’re drooling over me like a desperate puppy- a puppy in heat,” he grunts. “You just want to please me, don’t you? ‘S alright, puppy, I’ll let you do that.”

If you could nod your head, you would. Instead, your cheeks burn, and Armin is so lost in the way that you look- not even able to take his entire cock in his mouth- that his hips begin to buck unconsciously. He hits the back of your throat, and you gag at the sudden impact, but he hisses and murmurs “What a good, wet hole. So good, good-”

The earthshaker is afraid that if he speaks any louder, his voice will slur into incomprehensible sultry sounds. But as you struggle to take his cock even deeper into his mouth, he lets out groans that go straight between your own legs. You moan around him, and the reverberations make his head roll back. God, you could stare at him forever. And he would let you.

“Look at me,” he says whenever your eyes go astray. “Look at your god.”

As his hips buck more violently, Armin can feel the pressure in his lower stomach, the impending orgasm and he wants to stop- wants to hold out the way he always has. But he can’t, it’s too much and he just cannot pull out of you. He simply pushes further and further into your tight throat, repeating your name like it’s a blessing. “fuck, puppy, ‘m going to- I’m going to cum down your throat. You want that, do you you’re your god’s cum- ah, fuck, ahhh”-

Pushing your head down to the base, both of his hands at the back of your head, Armin cries out you name and you can feel the warm liquid go down your throat, thick ropes filling up your mouth, some of it dribbling out. Armin reflexively pushes it back in your mouth, ordering you to swallow it all, to show how grateful you are. Of course, you oblige. But before you can even regain your breath, Armin suddenly pulls you off his cock. His pupils are dilated, and he wears an expression- anger? Shock?

“You’re not a virgin,” he hisses, teeth gritting against each other. His breath is frantic, uneven. It’s not a question and you begin to recognise his expression. Rage. “You’ve done this before.”

Fuck.

The God of the sea has his fair share of consorts and mistresses. Some of them virgins- though he never chases them the way Eren does- some of them not, but none have made him cum so fast. He would like to blame it on the year of pining, of restraint, but he knows better. It’s you. You do this him. You make him so wild, so willing, so pliant even. 

In that moment, as he looks your worried face, so desperate to please, he thinks that he’ll never be able to let it go. You’ve consumed Armin and he wants to do nothing more than burn eternally. You must understand that- that you exist as his beacon, that’s where you’ll be your happiest, but those thoughts are too complex for a human. You, in your fragile state, can’t understand. It’s alright, he’ll just have to show you bit by bit that you’re his. But to do so, he must first take on the role he’s familiar with. That of the punisher.

“Who is he?” Armin snaps.

“It was only-“

“Who is he?”

You pause. Memories of nights spent together, huddled close and trying to keep quiet already fading. “Berthrolt Hoover.”

Armin’s shoulders relax, “I see.”

His breathing slowly goes back to normal, and, at the back of your mind, you know you’ve signed the young warrior’s death. But your worry is fleeting as Armin grabs you by the neck and hoists you over his knees, laying you down on your stomach effortlessly. “A priestess who isn’t a virgin?”

You look up as see Armin’s familiar sweet smile, but it’s laced with mirth that makes you forget the Mr Arlert he was before. You cry out at the first slap of his hand on your ass, more out of surprise than pain.

“I don’t think the people of Paradis will be very happy to hear that,” he says. “An unmarried woman giving herself away to a pathetic boy.”

Slap!

“I’m sorry!” you cry out. “It was a mis-”

He slaps you thrice.

“No excuses, dumb little puppy. I’m afraid you’ll have to endure this punishment.” His voice is deceptively soft, as if he is actually sorry. And when you look back up at Armin, his face betrays no malice. But it doesn’t show any cruelty either. Instead, there’s a fascination.

Armin has you sprawled across his lap, at his mercy and he is discovering you bit by bit. As a god. His cock twitches and then suddenly he tugs off the fabric of your robes and they disappear.

The way you squirm is half- hearted, and Armin has to laugh. “Embarrassed? Now of all times? I didn’t know you were such a prude. Or is this all just to compensate for the fact that you’re a whore in my temple?”

You shake your head, “I swear, I’ve never belonged to any man!”

Fingers trace the expanse of your naked body, soft enough to send shivers down your spine. “Oh? Really?”

“Yes yes, I swear, ah!” His fingers find your naked ass and they grab onto the flesh, massaging, groping, feeling you. Armin’s other hand rests on top of your head, stroking it gently and you’re so lost in his touch that you almost forget to speak.

“I belong to no man, I never have. Only you. It’s always been you, Armin.”

The god’s eyes widen, and he gently pulls you up from his lap only to seat you on it, upright and, this time, there’s so much more to admire. “You’re right,” he says. Armin captures your lips and this time, it’s longer, rougher. He doesn’t want to pull back, doesn’t want to lose the feeling of your soft lips against his, but his hands have already found your breasts and soon, his tongue joins them. You moan as he begins to lap at your breasts, leaving hickeys and spit in his wake as his finally finds your nipples and begins sucking them like a child as you whine and lean into him.

“You do belong to me,” he finally says, his voice partially muffled as he loses himself in the worship your breasts. “You’ve always belonged to me.”

And you can do nothing more than nod your head as your fingers tangle in Armin’s hair and you’re pulled into another kiss. His hand goes down your body, squeezing every single mound of flesh as if it needs to be touched so that when he finds your cunt, Armin can’t help but smile at how wet you are.

“Already, but I’ve hardly done anything to you?”

What a liar, but you don’t have a chance to tell him before he plunges a finger inside of you. “Oh, puppy, my puppy,” he groans at the contact the same time you moan, pushing your hips against his digits. “You like my fingers like that inside of you?”

“Yes, yes, I do, I really love them- it feels, oh my god, it feels too good!” you grip his shoulders, unable to do anything but desperately buck your hips at the smiling Armin. He knows what he’s doing, he knows that his fingers are giving you just that satisfaction, but it’s still not enough to bring you over the edge.

“Please Armin, please.” You squeeze his shoulders.

“Tell me what you want, tell me, I’ll give it to you- I swear.”

“I want to feel you, all- ah- all of you. I need to feel you inside of me!”

You’re not sure at which moment Armin removes his robes, but as he moves both of your legs so that you’re straddling him, your hands are on his bare, lean chest. The god’s nipples are flushed pink and pert, practically calling to you and you respond by brushing your fingers over them and watching him twitch ever-so-slightly in response. You withhold the urge to take them into your mouth, even as Armin rubs his cock against your cunt, releasing the sweetest of sounds.

He’s already leaking precum and it mixes with your juices so perfectly, his cock being dragged back and forth, only making you gush even more. “So messy,” he mumbles as he uses his tip to spreads your juices across your thighs. At this point, you can practically feel it throbbing, ready to be sheathed inside of you and the whimpers of your desperation echo against the temple walls.

When Armin slips inside of you, simultaneous gasps escape your lips. The god pulls your body closer to his as you throw your head back, stars in your eyes.

“Look,” he whispers. “Look how easily I slip in- it’s- it’s like your cunt is made for me.”

“Armin,” you whisper back. “Armin, Armin- ah- Armin.”

He sinks you down slowly, the stretch hitting every single spot that leaves your legs practically limp. The god is holding you up, whispering his own mantra that you can’t hear over your bliss. Once inside, your eyes look lock with Armin’s and he’s staring at you in a way he’s never done before. You’ve never seen pupils so dilated and the two of you stay like that as if making up for the moments when you should have been connected in this way. An eternity, it seems, the two of you have needed each other.

“I’m your god,” Armin finally says. “I’m your god and- hng ah-” He begins moving you up and down his shaft. “And I’m going to make you cum all over this cock- okay? All over your god’s cock.”

You nod your head pathetically as he lifts your hips and slams them down against his own. He is strong, ruthless in the way he bucks his hips up every time he lifts you from his cock, as if he can’t bare the empty feeling of not having your tight pussy clamped around him. At this relentless pace, you’re sure that the sound of your connecting bodies could penetrate even these marble walls. And yet, you don’t hold back. Thanks and praises spill from your swollen lips and Armin can’t help but lean forward and push his tongue between your mouth, as if he can absorb all of your word. “So good, so good, it’s- uah- I just want more, more of your cock, you fill me up so good!”

Armin can’t deny you. He pushes your thighs to your chest and picks up your entire body to fuck himself. He manoeuvres your body like a toy and as your tongue rolls out and your eyes become glassy, you begin to look like one too. The only sounds coming out of your mouth are incomprehensible, even as Armin attaches his mouth to one of your bouncing tits, you can only squeal.

“Such a good puppy,” he says between kisses. “Letting me use her holes like this. A god using a puppy’s holes- you should be- you should be grateful! Tell me, tell me you’re grateful!”

“I am!” you cry out. “I am grateful!”

“Good girl, good puppygirl.”

When Armin flips you over, you’re sat on his throne and he fucks into you harder, harder than he was doing before, and you swear his moans are louder too. He’s looking down at the movement of your stomach as if hypnotized by the way his cock disappears into you. And, in a way, he is. The fascination of being inside of you- just the idea even- is enough to make him want to cum.

The sudden position has him hitting new spots and the build-up is so fast, you hardly have the time to warn him. “Armin, Armin I’m cum-“

He grabs your face as you release around his cock, body spasming but unable to look away as Armin’s gaze burns through you. “Good girl,” he says. “Show me, show me how you cum. Just like that, just like that.”

He continues to plough his hips into yours and the spasms of your pussy leave him unable to hold back. “Inside of you,” he practically growls. “I’m going to cum inside of you- yes, yes, yes I am puppy. I’m going to cum inside of you and you’re going to show me how you take it yeah?”

You’re too far gone to even register the implications of what he’s saying, but he buries his cock in your warm walls and releases his cum inside of you with a heavy groan. “Just like that, just like that- I’m going to fill you up with my seed, puppy, my puppy.”

Armin feels like he’s emptied his balls- two powerful orgasms which leave his legs shaking violently. And yet, he pulls out of you slowly and stands back up to his full height, cock in front of your face. Almost instinctively, you rub your cheek against it, giving Armin soft kitten licks and he coos at you, stroking your hair. But he doesn’t push, he just holds his cock there and pumps softly as he stares at your fucked out face. Messy, covered in his spit, his hickeys, his bites, his cum- you look perfect, divine. Only one thing is missing. “I’m going to give you everything I have, puppy. And you’re going to take it, okay?” You nod and open your mouth for him and, immediately, a strong stream of pee emerges.

At the bitter taste on your tongue, your eyes roll back, and you spread your legs even wider, a welcome to the mess he is about to make. Armin accepts and angles his cock to release his pee over your chest, then your stomach, and then your already-throbbing cunt. He lifts a foot to rest on the throne and Armin doesn’t think he’s even seen such a beautiful sight in his life.

As if guided by an implicit will, Armin’s foot hovers on top of you and suddenly, he presses against your lower stomach. Your eyes snap back into focus as you whine out for him to wait, wait just a moment “I just had water,” you cry out. “It’s gonna- It’s gonna come out!”

But Armin simply grins. “Let it come out,” he says and presses his foot down harder. “Pee yourself dumb little mutt, be a good puppy for your owner.” The trickle that emerges is involuntary, but Armin’s grin is wider. “Yes, good girl, just like that. Let me see more, let me see more of you.”

The pressure that was holding the bowl of water back broke and you felt the warm liquid against your thighs before you realise what’s happening. Armin practically moans as he watches you whimper and struggle to hold your pee back as it spreads over the throne, the dais, and even Armin himself. He doesn’t stop until you’ve given it all to him.

You expect Armin to disappear. 

You’ve given him everything. His goal is complete, you think, he has nothing more to do with you. But, as he has done many times before, the god surprises you. Armin’s body is heavy against yours when he collapses on top of you, but the weight is comforting. Despite the malaise of urine and cum rubbing against both of your bodies, you wrap your arms around the god of the ocean and hold him close. 

Even as you close your eyes and lean your head back on the marble throne, Armin doesn’t leave you. Even as you open your eyes back up and see blue ones staring back at you, the look he gives you is so familiar and long hair in such unfamiliar disarray that you can’t help but smile.

He doesn’t ask why. Instead, Armin calls forth a stream of warm water from the adjacent fountain to clean the both of you. It feels like a fever dream the way floating droplets caress your bodies, and when Armin stands you up, his hands not leaving you, the perfume that suddenly envelops you is heavenly.

“Can I give you a last kiss, please?” you ask when your robe appears once again. And Armin leans forward to capture your lips, dragging his tongue on your bottom lip as if to taste you.

It doesn’t feel like a final kiss. You’ve had many of them- Jean, Sasha, Berthrold, your father, and even your mother, though you can’t remember it. This kiss is different. It feels less like a kiss and more like a promise, a vow. a shiver runs down your spine. 

“I am your god,” he says and lifts his both of his hands slowly to wrap around your neck. “And you’re my worshipper.” You gasp as a cold sensation spreads around your neck, just below Armin’s fingers. It’s sudden, and heavy and when he removes his hands, yours fly to your neck and there’s a metal band there where there was none before.

“It’s sculpted from Hephaestus’ gold,” Armin says as he strokes his fingers along the metal. But he’s not looking at his gift, instead he looks at you. 

“Armin- I- this is. But why?”

For the first time, he can’t read your expression. But it doesn’t matter. You belong to him. You always have, but now you know. And if it takes time for you to understand, Armin can wait. He’ll wait right beside you, always, always there to guide you.

“This is not the end of my Odyssey. My Odyssey is eternal,” he says before giving you another short kiss and disappearing, the warmth of his lips still present.

The gods might not all be fickle, you think, so you just smile sadly. But the gods are all selfish, so you touch the collar around your neck.

A/N: This is my first ever collab and I was- as still am- a bit insecure about how this story turned out so I appreciate all of your support ❤️. I would also like to apologise to my fellow history nerds for the historical inaccuracies. 

#armin x reader #armin arlert #armin #armin x you #eren mikasa armin #eren aot #AoT #AOT headcanons #aot levi #aot smut #aot fanfiction #aot fanfic #snk smut #snk fanfiction #snk eren #levi attack on titan #tw piss kink #tw piss play #tw choking #tw collar #yandere armin arlert #tw stalking #throne sex #tw obsessive behavior

[xmalfoyweasleyx]

He flirts with everyone - F.W

Summary: Y/n gets drunk at the opening party of the joke shop when she sees her best friend Fred flirting again. She accidentally tells him about her feelings when she thinks it's George...

A/N: Normally I write smut but I LOVE this idea and I had so much fun writing it! I'm a little insecure about it because it's not smut, so please give feedback. I hope you'll like it! x

Warnings/Includes: Drinking, alcohol, insecure reader, 1 mention of sex, really passionate kiss, angst to fluff :)

Today was THE day, the opening of Fred and George their joke shoppe. It all started in the evening, with a big opening party.

Y/n was outside watching the doors of the shop, preparing herself to walk through. Dimmed music and lights could already been noticed where she was standing. She was a little nervous. The twins are her best friends, they knew each other since they were little, but it's been a month now since she's seen them. That was long for them, it was the longest they haven't seen each other, ever.

When she opened the door she was overwhelmed with the loud music and all the people in the room. How is she supposed to find those twins? But before she started searching properly, she already saw George standing there. You really couldn't miss him, with his tall figure and bright smile he stood out of the crowd.

"George!" you screamed. George turned his head immediately and smiled bright.

"Y/n! Finally!" he grinned and he gave you a big hug.

"It's so pretty in here, congratulations Georgie" y/n smiled. George seemed proud, she was thrilled to see him back but she couldn't stop herself from wondering where Fred is.

As if George could read her mind: "I think Fred is.. er.." he said while looking around.

And that's when they saw him standing next to the stairs. "There" George added. But both of their smiling expressions changed when they really saw him. Like we all know him, Fred was flirting again. Y/n knew she really had no single right to care about that, but the jealousy hit her like a truck. And George knew that.

A pretty tall lady was standing next to him. They were both laughing and giggling. Fred looked so damn handsome, she thought. His suit, the hair,... It was beautiful. Y/n watched how Fred gently laid his hand on the woman her shoulder and she seductively moved her fingers against her glass of alcohol. ALCOHOL that's it.

"Where's the alcohol" y/n asked George. He had a worried look on his face. "Y/n I don't think... I... Fred is just-" he stuttered but y/n cut him off. "I don't care, you don't owe me an explanation and certainly not in your brother's place, now give me some firewhisky or something" y/n stated.

"I know you're in love with him y/n" he explained full of pity. Of course George knew, you were his best friend and it was obvious to him but not to Fred. George always had to watch how you were hurt when you saw Fred with another girl, it happened back at Hogwarts too.

"Oh. Well. If you know then give me the drink" she kept asking. George nodded. They walked to the table with the drinks and George poured something in for her.

"You're not going to say hi to him?" he guessed. "Nope" y/n answered and she threw the whole drink down her throat. George felt sorry for her but also laughed a little, he liked drunk y/n after all, it was always fun.

-

An hour later there was already a dance floor full of people dancing their soul out. Including y/n. The alcohol was exploding in her body and she poured another shot down her throat when she saw Fred dancing with the girl from before or was it another girl already? One thing y/n knew for sure was that the girl was hot.

Her favourite song came on so she danced and danced... When suddenly, she didn’t know if it was an half hour later or maybe only 2 minutes, she felt someone pressing her shoulder.

Y/n turned around and saw Fred. “When did you get here?” he asks confused. Y/n decided not to answer and she kept dancing, swaying her hips to the music. “Weren’t you planning on saying hi to me?” he tries again.

“Nope” y/n responded trying to ignore the boy. She wasn’t even able to look into his eyes because she knew she would just melt.

“I’m going for another drink bye” she muttered, trying to get away from there as fast as possible. When she turned around Fred grabbed her arm to stop her.

“I think you’ve had enough, love” he whispered.

“You don’t get to tell me what to do Fred Weasley and you certainly don’t have to call me love” y/n said angrily, leaving Fred confused.

Why didn’t she say hello to him? Didn’t she miss him? He missed her and this is what he gets? Fred didn’t understand a thing.

“Wow, calm down, what the hell is wrong with you?” he scoffed now getting angry too. "With me? Why don't you just go back dancing with that girl you stupid git" y/n insulted, immediately regretting what she just said. Fred was hurt. Angry. He didn't understand this at all.

"You're mental" he snapped. Tears started to form in y/n's eyes and Fred walked away. Leaving y/n there guilty, sad and drunk...

Y/n ran outside, finding an empty doorstep on a random house next to the shop, where she could sit on. Tears fell down when she buried her face in her hands. She didn't want to be so mean to Fred, but maybe shutting him out was the best way to get over him?

What y/n didn't know is that Fred regretted what he said too. He saw how hurt she was and he hated seeing his best friend like that. So he decided to go look for her.

His heart broke when he saw y/n sitting there, her hands in her hair and tears falling down. Fred sat next to her without saying a word. Y/n looked up and smiled, not knowing it was Fred.

No, she thought it was George, he knew how she felt after all. Normally, y/n was the best in telling them apart, but after all that alcohol, she made a big mistake.

Fred on the other hand, thought y/n knew it was him. He had no idea y/n thought she was sitting next to George.

"Are you okay?" Fred asked. "I messed up" y/n cried.

"You didn't mess up" he ensured her, trying to calm her down, but it became worse. "I did! Oh why am I in love with your stupid brother" she sighed, leaning down to lay her head on Fred's shoulder (or what she thought was George his shoulder).

Fred was shocked. In love with my brother, he thought, so she is in love with George? Did that stupid twin of him make her cry like this?

"Are you in love with my brother?" Fred gasped, trying to hide the hurt in his voice. He would never be able to watch how y/n dates his brother, the thought of it made him sick. He didn't want y/n to be in love with someone else and especially not his own brother.

"I thought you knew" y/n asked confused. "No, I didn't" Fred whispered, almost inaudible.

Y/n was confused, she talked about this with George just hours ago? But she forgot it already when she remembered how mean she was to the boy she loves with her whole hard.

"I love him, George, but he'll never love me the way I love him" y/n sobbed.

Fred gulped. Did she just say George as in: she loves George. Or did she just say George to him?

"You don't understand, I wanna have his babies!! I want to come home and see his smile, I want him to fuck me into oblivion!!! Please help me George" y/n suddenly screamed dramatically, still very drunk.

Now Fred was sure, she thought she was talking to George. Which meant all she said was about him. He wasn't able to move. Fred was shocked. How? When? Why? He had so many questions.

"But he flirts with everyone, every piece of woman he can find, he flirts with it. I'll never be enough" y/n sniffled.

That's when Fred finally put all the pieces together and realized why she acted like that. She must have seen him talking to that girl. All those girls. Has he really been so blind? And did she really think she's not enough for him? His heart broke and glowed at the same time.

He wanted to tell her so many things, he wanted to explain everything, to apologize. He wanted to tell her so so so much.

But he couldn't, he was speechless. It was like he was glued to the floor and turned into a puppet with empty strings.

"George?" y/n stammered when she saw the look on his face.

Fred only responded with eyes full of pity.

They looked in each others eyes for a moment, when suddenly, she realized.

The scar, the pattern of freckles and the chubbier cheeks.

It was Fred.

Y/n gasped loudly. "I-I-... Fuck." was the only thing coming out of her mouth.

She panicked, embarrassed and afraid of what will come next. So she grabbed her wand. The only idea that came up was to apparate away from him.

She waved her wand but before she even did something she felt Fred grab her arm and in a second she was in a room with him. He was first.

"Where are we" she asked. "In my apartment" Fred answered.

Y/n nodded and an awkward silence filled the room.

“Do you really think you’re not enough for me?” Fred whispered.

“What does it even matter” she huffs.

Fred took a step closer and he grabbed her hand. Y/n her eyes widened. “Do you really think that?” Fred repeats.

“Yes” y/n answered weakly.

“Why?” he questioned interested.

“Fred, look at you, you’re a handsome owner of a shop who played quidditch for years, I mean, look at that chest, you are funny, you are sweet, all the ladies drool over you and you flirt with all of them. They’re so pretty and I’m... I’m, me.” y/n rambled.

Fred’s heart was beating hard inside his chest, her honest words made his knees go weak. If she only knew how he saw her. How pretty he thinks she is. He was stupid for flirting with those girls right in front of her. It was his fault, her insecurities.

“I don’t want to ruin our friendship, I know you don’t feel the same way, well that’s obvious, but I can’t see you that much any more, because when I see you I just want to rip off that shirt and kiss-“ she rambled and rambled like she was already doing the whole night, as if there was a ramblingpotion in her drinks.

But Fred cut her off by grabbing her shoulders and pushing her chest close to his.

“For Gods sakes, shut up woman” he whispered with a smile and he kissed you.

It was not just a kiss, it was something you both wanted to do for so long now. You both had never felt this way before. The passion was unexplainable. Fred grabbed y/n her ass very gently making her gasp a little, now he could enter his tongue. They fought for dominance. Y/n pulled on his red locks and pressed her body impossibly closer to his. She wanted to feel close to Fred, she wanted to show him how much she loved him.

Fred felt the same way, he left a very gentle bite on her lip, making her moan a little. His heart was swollen in his chest and he finally understood what they meant with those belly butterflies.

He was going to marry that girl one day, and like she said: give her his babies. The thought of her (actually) funny confessions made him grin on her lips.

“What are you smiling about” y/n chuckled when she left his lips.

“Nothing, nothing” he grinned.

After recovering from their passionate kiss, y/n and Fred were sitting on his couch. They talked and talked like they always could keep talking about random stuff. But now the topic was a whole different one.

Fred made sure y/n realized how bloody sexy he thought she was. He promised he would try his best to only flirt with her and he talked about how he liked her too back at hogwarts. Y/n couldn’t believe it at first but after talking for a while she was convinced.

She laid in Fred’s arms while he drew little patterns on her back. She enjoyed his smell and how warm he felt. It felt safe, it felt like home.

“Thank god, finally!” they heard a voice coming from across the room. It was George.

You all laughed.

“Without you we wouldn’t lay here like this Georgie” Fred joked.

“But I didn’t do anything?” George furrowed his eyebrows.

“I know” Fred laughed placing a soft kiss on your head.

-

join my taglist :)

general taglist: @rudypankowisdaddy

@malfoysdamnapple @marrymetheonott

@dracos-eternity

( I hope you’re not disappointed because this has no smut )

#fred fluff #george weasley #harry potter #fred weasley #weasley #fred and george #fred weasly x reader #fred angst #x reader

[that-little-zebunny]

The Cursed Beauty: Chapter one

Pairing: Beast/Prince!James Bucky Barnes x Beauty!Reader (Beauty and the Beast AU)

Warning: this is an 18+ fic!, attempted rape, injury, assault.

Word count: 1,241

Summary: Beauty's curse. :’(( lets keep it that way. Pilot chap 💕

Note: this is something that came up on my rewatching the beauty and the beast 2017 movie on my sad brain day 😅 hope you'll enjoy this. Feedback and comments are so so appreciated 💜 thank you for reading!

Seb Stan & Characters’ Taglist: @nano--raptor @marvelgirl7 ​ @godofplumsandthunder ​ @jobean12-blog ​ @hawksmagnolia ​ @jewels2876 ​ @bugsbucky ​ @tyranneosaurus ​ @hailmary-yramliah ​ @buckosawrus ​ @cherryblossomskye ​ @curleyred2020 @sipsteacasually @harrysthiccthighss ​ @lookalivefrosty ​ 

Series Taglist open <3

You just bid your Father goodbye as he head off to an inventors fair out of town. You prayed for his safe journey and went on with your day. Cleaning the house, feeding the animals, tending your little vegetable garden and your favorite time of the day to finish reading the latest book you’ve burrowed. It was such a lovely story. A lady went on an adventure to find herself and find love. It was almost on the exiting part when you heard continues knocking on your door.

You sighed and got up to see who it is knocking annoyed for having the need to stop reading.

“Who is it?” You asked, removing the lock on your wooden door.

“Y/N, lovely evening. It’s just me Romlow.” Said the person outside. Knowing who it is made you more annoyed. Brock Romlow the town chief and also the most self-centered brute you ever met.

You opened the door wide enough to peak but not wide for him to get in.

“How can I help you?” You asked him trying to hide your annoyance. It wasn’t a secret that he fancies you but you really don’t find him attractive unlike the other girls. He would walk in front of them and they’ll melt. So silly.

“We’ll I saw your father left earlier. I just want to check if you’re doing well on your own tonight.” He said his eyes roam up and down your form. Luckily you haven’t change to your night dress. The way his eyes run up and down your body makes you want to puke your dinner.

“I am perfectly fine, Chief Romlow. Thank you for going out of your way to check.” You said smiling politely at him. He looked at you in a long nerve racking minute before nodding to himself and left.

Your heart was beating badly when you finally closed the door. You really don’t understand the way he acts around you. Unlike the other ladies you don’t bother with how you look. You crave adventure and to be out in the world. You don’t plan on staying here forever, you thought as you walked back to continue reading your book before heading to bed.

  Something crashing from downstairs woke you up. One of the chicken must have slip in while you're closing up but you remembered checking if they're in their coop. Surely you'll notice? Lighting up your candelabra you went down frowning as another crashing sound came up.

As you reached the final step you saw a tall figure near your back door. The kitchen window is now unhinged from its place. You hurriedly covered you mouth as a gasp came up.

Intruder! You thought. Silently you blew the light from your candles and walked slowly to get back to your room to lock yourself inside. Half way up the stairs someone grabbed your ankle making you loose your footing. You covered your head in hopes to not hit the steps but you still felt a sting on the side of your left eye.

You got dizzy for a quick second as your attacker made you turn on your back. You tried to push him off you but he's too big he didn't even move a little with all the force you put.

"Stop! Please!" You begged and you heard a familiar annoying laugh.

"Now you're begging." Chief Brock said. "Been dreaming of having you begging for me." He laughed again making your stomach turn. He ripped your night gown exposing your chest.

No, this cannot happen. You thought. He cannot have you so while he's busy kissing your now exposed breast. You want to throw up but the need to make him stop in your main focus.

Trying to push his face away with your left arm you tried to find your candelabra with your free hand smashing it in his head as soon as you got hold of it.

"Goddamn it woman!" He said angrily. His hold to you loosen and you slipped away from his hold. Getting back to your room will not be an option anymore now that you know who your attacker is. He can just make up some story and get away with it.

So you dashed towards the kitchen area and used the open window he went in with wincing as you foot landed on some rocks. Fighting over the pain you felt all over you run. Running towards the dark forest hoping he wont be stupid enough to follow you there.

You run and run not caring where your feet are taking you. You don't know how far you've run when you saw a hay cart in a small cabin. There are light inside so hiding there wont be an option so with your shaking legs you got up the hay cart.

You made sure you're covered enough in case you're being followed. You're supposed to just wait until before the sun rise so you can continue walking in the forest but somehow exhaustion won over and you fell asleep.

You woke up gasping for air as the event last night came back. You looked around and saw that you're in a dusty but beautiful room. Sitting up the blanket covering your body fell down exposing your nakedness. You heart went wild.

Did he got to you? Were he able to...to...oh god! Tears started flowing down your eyes like a dam with the idea that The Chief was able to take your innocence. The big doors opened and you hurriedly tried to cover you body with the blanket.

A lady came in carrying some elegant looking tea set in a tray.

"Oh my, darling don't cry." She said. Her voice is so sweet and soothing that your loud sobs died down. Putting down the tea on the side table next to you she sat down and held your hand. "Our master found your sleeping outside his cabin in the forest. You're so injured and very much full of dirt that's why I had to clean you up. You're safe." She said and your tears bust out again this time from relief.

"I-I...thank you so much." You said not knowing what else to say. She smiled sweetly and offered a cup of tea. You slowly calmed down as you too a sip oblivious to the man standing outside your slightly ajar door.

His sharp eyes watching your every move.

"She's very lucky you found her Master James." Said his right hand man Sam. "Maybe she's the one that will help us break the curse?" He continued.

James just grunted knowing it wont be that easy as he drunk your beauty in. One look in his face and you'll quickly lose your sanity and will throw yourself at him like any other women outside his household does. It's hopeless. No women will genuinely love him. The Enchantress made sure of that.

Soon his people will sleep and wont wake up again. It was what she said. In his thirtieth birthday if no woman loved him in return everyone he cares will turn into stone in their sleep. That's why he always stays in his cabin at night. He couldn't sleep knowing all the people that truly cared for him will soon be gone because of his selfishness. He’s trying to teach himself how to live on his own. 

Because everything is his fault. His beastly behavior became everyone’s downfall.

#zephirahnyxwrites #the cursed beauty series #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes au #beauty and the beast au #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes imagine #prince james barnes #prince!bucky #bucky x you

[shutupaboutandraste]

“Hear this now — I will always come for you” for Fenders? <3

OKAY so like. I saw this and was just immediately inspired and knew exactly what I wanted to write so I hope you like it!

It's more pre-ship, buuuuut still Fenders.

Words: 3203 Pairing: Fenris/Anders For @dadrunkwriting

ACT I

To say Fenris didn’t trust Anders would be an understatement. An abomination through and through, he would never understand Hawke’s trust in him. Perhaps, it was because of her sister-- Bethany always seemed to vouch for him, something else that made Fenris’ head spin. Never before Bethany Hawke had he seen a mage so in control of themself. Yet, there was Bethany who shined in beauty, grace, and kindness all without being possessed or resorting to blood magic. He had only known her for a short time since he was approached by Hawke’s motley crew.

Still, he stuck by them, despite it all. Hawke had become a good friend in the short time he had known her. Even if her taste in women was… questionable. Anyone with eyes could see the tall warrior had affection for the Dalish blood mage of all people. Of course, that did exclude the elf in question. Merrill seemed entirely blind, even when Hawke told her that she was free to call her Aingheal. To everyone else, that name seemed off limits and Merrill seemed content to leave it that way for herself. Strange woman…

There were days he thought about leaving. Danarius could arrive any day on the doorstep of his borrowed mansion any day. The thought of leaving, however, left the taste of ash in his mouth. Little things were what he would miss-- Hawke coming to check in on him, coming back to the mansion to find little plates of food from Merrill, Isabela’s flirting, all of it. Loyalty threaded into Hawke’s group, evident in the way they watched each other’s back in battle to those little gestures Fenris had grown fond of in the past few months. Echoes of his days with the Fog Warriors sang softly within him.

These thoughts tumbled and toppled over each other with each passing day. Fenris took each one in and compartmentalized it within. These were the people that he had thrown his lot in with, for better or worse. Yet, he never knew if Merrill would be possessed by a demon, or whether Anders would suddenly turn on them to fulfill the desires of Vengeance. So, when Anders was still glowing after an encounter with a Tal Vashoth mercenary group on the wounded coast, Fenris leaped into action.

His brands lit up as he reached for Anders. Justice’s glare flashed his way, but he did not flinch. The only thing that stopped him was Hawke’s sword in his way. His heels let him skid to a stop just in time to avoid phasing through it. There was always a chance that phasing through a weapon would just wind up with him impaled.

“What the hell, Fenris?”

Varric whistled, “Easy, Broody! That one is friendly.”

“Hardly,” he snarled, “Why is your demon still active, mage?”

“I AM NO DEMON,” boomed that voice that both was and was not Anders. Still, it didn’t argue further, seemingly releasing Anders for its thrall.

Anders snarled at him, “Justice was fine! You could have killed me!”

Fenris crossed his arms, holding his head high, acting as if he could stand down the taller man, “And you could have killed Hawke.”

Hawke scoffed, “I can fight my own battles. Thanks. Justice doesn’t scare me.”

There she went again, trusting the fool mage and his demon. Even though Fenris had warned her of all he saw in Tevinter, Hawke insisted that she knew better. One day she might live to regret it. Fenris hoped that he didn’t live to see that day. For all his terse nature, he did want Hawke to be right about Anders. So, he let the argument brewing inside him die.

Hawke was a harsh woman. When she spoke, there was no argument, one simply followed. That did not make her unkind, simply firm. It was one of the many things Fenris found himself respecting, all but in awe of. Leadership decorated Hawke like well-fitted armor. There was very little she could do now to waiver his trust in her. The group began heading out, Varric and Hawke immediately taking to counting out the loot as they walked.

Fenris came up to walk beside Anders, “You may have favor with Hawke, mage, but hear this, should you betray her--”

“Why are you so sure of my guilt long before I’ve committed a crime?”

“Should you betray her, hear this now-- I will always come for you. That is a threat.”

ACT II

Putting trust in Hawke was far from misplaced. Long after the Deep Roads, she still remained his friend, helped him when Hadriana came knocking, and trusted him in return. Fenris was a regular member of her party, trusting him even about Aveline whom she had known for far longer. Hawke was a natural, but ruthless in her efficiency. Fenris respected that, even when he wasn’t sure he agreed. Sometimes, Fenris caught Hawke with a wild, angry glint in her eye as she plowed through enemies with an almost sadistic glee. Fighting was the happiest he had seen her bar her time spent with Merrill or after she was permitted a visit with Bethany at the Circle.

Yet, still, Hawke persisted with Anders. The mage had only grown more rebellious and unstable since they had met. Fenris did not despise him, but Anders set his teeth on edge in a way Fenris had not known in some time. Yet, she had left him to deal with the wounded as healer and protector while she fought the Arishok.

Upon the kill, Fenris thought she might cut off the Qunari leader’s head and hoist it up as a trophy. If she was, she never got the chance as she was rushed upon. The word ‘Champion’ echoed about the halls of the Viscount’s Keep. Before Fenris’ very eyes, the city seemed to be turned upside down. In the chaos, he managed to stumble out of the building, attempting to follow Merrill and Varric as they both rushed after Hawke.

Bethany was outside, tailing Orsino under the watchful eye of Meredith-- Shit. Where was Anders?

Templars milled about outside, keeping watch over mages who were working on healing the wounded while Aveline’s guard began lining up the dead, human, dwarf, elf, and qunari alike. There was no mess of dirty blond hair among them. No matter what he thought, Anders did a service in Darktown. Without him, the Ferelden refugees would be worse off. Instead of following whatever parade was forming around Hawke, he ducked down a side street, attempting to search for Anders.

Smoke still filled the air, making Fenris cough as he attempted to plunge ahead. Loud wailing was still echoing in the streets, amid the cheers of victory. Loss had still struck everyone fiercely. While he searched for Anders, he also kept his eyes peeled for Isabela. Wherever she had left to go to, he had a sinking feeling that she was never coming back.

Neither deep black curls nor a dirty blond mop was what caught his eye. Instead, it was Aveline’s flash of bright ginger hair. And, safe from templars, Anders was next to her. Fenris found himself surprisingly sighing with relief. He had worried for nothing. Carefully, he approached them.

“This is your fault,” Anders snapped, teeth grit as he tried to control Justice.

Aveline snarled, “What? Saving you from templars?”

“No! The Qunari attack!” he replied, “Much as I appreciate you getting me out of there.”

“Isabela stole that tome,” muttered Aveline, crossing her arms, “That’s what started this.”

“Isabela stole that stupid book ages ago. Then you let that… that monster get away with raping a girl!” Blue crackled at the edges of Anders’ eyes, which he shut, quickly as he tried to slow his breathing. His self-control after a long day of casting and healing was reaching its limit.

Aveline rubbed her nose bridge in frustration, “Anders, honestly, I don’t know what you expect me to do--”

“Punish the guard?” offered Anders, “Or would that be too much effort because the victim was an elf? I didn’t realize we were in Tevinter.”

“That was uncalled for,” snarled Aveline, clearly close to losing her patience.

Quickly, nearly fade-stepping to get there, Fenris went forward, taking Anders by the shoulders. Justice flashed, but Anders merely looked alarmed at being touched. His eyes narrowed on Aveline, who instead just looked relieved that someone else had interrupted them. He nodded at her slowly.

“Hawke asked me to escort him back to Darktown,” he said, “Go to your guards.”

“Be safe,” she said before turning to leave.

Anders scoffed, pulling away from Fenris and trudging ahead, “I should be out there healing.”

“You can deal with the injured that make it to the clinic,” sighed Fenris.

He crossed his arms, trudging forward, “Did Hawke really ask you to come check on me? I figured she’d send someone else. Varric, maybe, or--”

“She’s too busy entertaining the masses,” admitted Fenris, “I wanted to make sure you did not get caught by the templars.”

“Me?” Anders scoffed, “Why do you care?”

Why do you care about the lives of elves? Fenris wanted to ask. Yet… He knew why. While the Spirit within Anders could ebb and flow between Justice and Vengeance, Fenris knew that the Anders had originally allowed a spirit in him. Anders had stories of Justice and their time with the Grey Wardens as separate people. Letting the guard go unpunished was unjust, no matter who the victim was, but as usual it was elves who saw the short end of the stick.

Despite every notion Fenris had of the other man, Anders continued to prove himself dedicated to the people, even if those people were usually mages. Everyone was welcome at his clinic, from refugees to the Seneschal himself. Many things Anders did annoyed Fenris, but his dedication and passion were to be admired. To see a spark of joy when healing, that was something Fenris could respect. Maybe he even wanted to, if he would just let himself.

Hawke expected his loyalty-- she had it, of course, but she still expected it. When that loyalty was questioned, she made sure you knew about it. When he had run off after killing Hadriana, she had made her position known. If Fenris wanted to do that again, he better damn well wait until they got back to Kirkwall so they weren’t romping across the Wounded Coast without help. Her anger had shamed him.

A few nights later, he had brought Anders dinner. The practice was not uncommon among the group, but it happened when Anders failed to show up at the Hanged Man. Usually, they played a round of Wicked Grace to see who took the meal. Fenris had been the first out, thus the man to take the meal. Anders had been finishing up with a patient-- a little elven girl with a scraped knee. The injury was hardly worth the time of a healer with Anders’ caliber, yet Fenris watched as he distracted her with jokes while healing her knee. Once he was done, he patted it, making her smile before he dug around for a bit, pulling out a sweet. Most of them were stale, but the refugee children hardly cared, always pleased that the healer had candy for them.

When he saw Fenris, Anders had asked him if he was okay. There was no yelling about Fenris’ comment about how magic spoiled everything--though Anders had made a snide remark when he had spoken it. No, concern lined the wrinkles of Anders’ face as he graciously took the meal, double and triple checking that Fenris didn’t need healing or something to help. Once that was over with, Anders huffed, told Fenris he was stubborn, thanked him for the meal, and reminded him to clean the up mansion before he caught something from the corpses.

“Hear this now,” he said, “I will always come for you. That is a promise.”

ACT III

Smoke had a horrible, overwhelming scent. After the Qunari attack, he didn’t have the stomach to even enjoy a good campfire anymore. But watching the rubble of the Chantry smolder before him sent a revulsion through his gut. Why did Anders always have to be such a fool? Why couldn’t he just wait for the conflict to run its inevitable course?

Hawke did not ask for their opinions. Sebastian was furious-- so was she. Merrill had her hands clasped at her heart as they watched Aingheal Hawke walk around Anders like a predatory animal. For prey, he looked remarkably calm, sad, even.

Run, you idiot. Petrify her and run for your life.

Anders didn’t move. He wanted to die. Fenris felt sick.

“I trusted you,” hissed Hawke, “I made you part of my family; I protected you. Then you LIE to me, have me help you do this.”

“The war is inevitable,” said Anders, “Justice and I have done what had to be done. Kill me if you will and be done with it.”

“You put my WIFE in danger! You put my SISTER in danger!” Hawke raised a fist, bashing it across the side of Anders’ head.

“Vhennan, no!” exclaimed Merril, “Don’t kill ‘im. He can help us protect the mages, please.”

“He doesn’t deserve to live!” bit back Sebastian.

Hawke growled, “Do not speak to her that way! Merrill, I can’t. He’s too dangerous. He’s… He’s not the Anders we knew. Not anymore.”

Fenris felt his fist clench at his side. These theatrics were ridiculous-- there was a city to save. And, to be frank, either they chose Anders to die as he pleased or they went with Merrill’s plan. Hawke had seemingly chosen the former. Tears streamed down Merrill’s cheeks as she looked away, her wife hoisting her greatsword high. Fenris felt his insides twist.

He remembered the Anders he thought he knew. Once upon a time, that man had been an abomination, just a foolish mage playing Maker. Then, things had shifted. As much as he wanted things to be simple, Anders never allowed anything to be so. With his manifesto and ranting, came the healing and the gentle touches. Even when he himself forgot to eat, he never let anyone else forget. He would risk hair and hide in battle to protect others.

One night, not long after Hawke had been dubbed the Champion, Anders had admitted to Fenris that he had not always been so selfless. Justice was what brought out the best in him-- that if Fenris hated him now, he would have loathed the Anders of the Circle or the Grey Wardens, all flirt and wit and self-serving. Somehow, Fenris doubted that was the whole story.

Each passing day over the last three years, he found he craved it more. Was Anders really so different? Or was he exaggerating in an effort to self-loathe everything about himself? One minute he was witty and charismatic the next he seemed to gain ten years from exhaustion. Yet, each day, that wit and charisma faded away. A demon-- not a traditional one, but some sort of sickness of the mind-- had taken hold of the healer. Had anyone tried to help him?

Varric, perhaps, refusing to give into such demands like taking a pillow that meant so much Anders. Yet, no one else knew what to do. None of them knew how to cope with this shell of their friend. But he was still there. After Danarius, Hawke had clapped him on the back, asked him if he was alright, and went on her way.

Anders had shown up that night, barging his way in, double-checking injuries he had already healed while Fenris pushed him away. It didn’t work, of course. The mage had always been too stubborn for that. No matter how easy it would be for Fenris to kill him, Anders had never feared him. He treated him like any other friend. Only a week ago, he had invited Anders to eat dinner together… privately.

And then Fenris, cowardly, had failed to show.

Showing up would not have changed this event. No, Anders was too far into this plan, he was sure. Yet, now, he could not find it in him to overthink. Firelight glinted on Hawke’s as it arched its way down. Far faster than he knew that he could run, Fenris found himself knelt at Anders’ side. His hands clutched the other man’s shoulders, before shoving him forward. Lyrium flickered to life.

Hawke’s sword passed through him. Phantom sensations touched him, but did not harm him. Anders looked at him from where he had fallen, gathering himself up as he stared at them all. His feet slid backward, his mouth attempting to make Fenris’ name. Behind him, Hawke seethed.

“Run!” he ordered, urging Anders, “Run! Hear this, I will always come for you! I will find you! Go!”

Anders nodded quickly, life suddenly seeming to spring forth in his eyes. Oh, how long had Fenris longed to see that glint again. He had not realized he had ached for it until he saw its gleam. The mage took off, rushing away and into the chaos of the street. Once he was out of sight, Fenris turned to face them. Sebastian had his bow cocked at his head while Hawke looked disgusted.

“You bastard,” she hissed, “What had gotten into you?”

“What has gotten into you?” he repeated, “Anders was your friend. More-so than he ever was mine.” And yet, his stupid, treacherous heart and all of its longing had found the sympathy to save him.

“You were right,” she sneered, “He was always an abomination. I was blind.”

“Your wife is a blood mage,” snapped Fenris, “Shall you put her to the sword next?” Merrill gasped, but he glanced at her, trying to show her that it was not something he wanted. Hawke looked appalled at such a suggestion, thank the Maker, and lowered her sword.

Hawke did not circle him like a prey animal as she did Anders. No, instead he raised her nose to him. Golden eyes, just a bit hazel and always piercing, cast their judgement down on him. In an instant, without thinking, she saw what he had done as throwing away her loyalty to save Anders. And Hawke always expected his loyalty.

“I loved you like a brother,” she said, shaking her head, “Get out. Get out of my sight. If I ever see you again, I’ll kill you both.” Merril sobbed, Varric quickly tending to her, looking unusually surly at Hawke. Then again, perhaps it wasn’t so unusual. Hawke was always funnier in his tales than she was in person. Perhaps Fenris had been blinded to something Varric had always seen.

Fenris did not say goodbye. Instead, he walked away with pride, head held high, a free man who would not be tethered to a woman who confused loyalty with ownership. Fenris owed her much, but she did not own him. And a free man was allowed to walk into whatever fate he damned well please.

Fenris chose Anders, and he knew he would keep choosing Anders every day after. All he had to do was find him.

#dadwc #fenders #da2 #fenris #anders #da drunk writing circle #da

[h0unds-of-h3ll]

Talking to the moon

The rumors and trauma lived inside his head in fact it ate him alive. Each and everyday lifeless and a black cloud hung over his head. Except when he received and a test message from an unknown number. He knew it was unknown for three reasons. 1) Everyone knew to not text him or disturb him unless he contacted them first. 2) He could recite his entire list of contacts over anything else in his life. And the third was that he didn’t know that this unknown message would change him forever.

Word count: 15,000 *im so sorryyyy*

This is another dreaded Bucky Barnes x reader fic.

Viewers beware you are in for a scare with the: fluff, Bucky is a wanna be alcoholic, blood, angst, cheesy tropes *wrong number,etc*, bad jokes, one liners, awkwardness, sexual innuendos, mentioned sexual harassment, suicidal thoughts, depression, murder, slight dark Bucky who’s just trying to get through life, Sam Wilson mentioned, astrology and planets, knifes, ptsd, nightmares and terrors, flashbacks, sad bitch Bucky missing Steven and using the reader as a better therapist then the certified one, she/her pronouns used for the reader, mostly from Buckys POV, she/you referring to the reader JOHN WALKER SLANDER NO HATE TO THE ACTOR, glass.

(This is dedicated to my friend, tiny adjustments to buckys story and I am dearly sorry if I didn’t write bucky true to his character!)

He choked awake on the air that never left his cold lungs, meanwhile, his skin was afire. A coat of sweat coated him, he slept shirtless since this occurred so often. Always waking in the depth of night to little to no light, only the low gleam of the moon shone through his window near his kitchen along with the soft luminosity of the television sat in front of the sofa. One that he refused to sleep on. He couldn't even sleep on the soft bed tucked in the back corner of the room down the hall in his apartment. He debated why he just wouldn't move into a studio apartment instead of the one he resides in.

He huffed staggeringly and his eyes falling to the ground, searching for something that was never there. Tranquility. His brain trying to calm itself in some form, it never worked it took hours for it to. Even then it never lasted. He suffers another day's trauma trying to sort the world back into order. Sam would often notice but knew to never ask him about it. He knew from the months working together asking and attempting to comfort Bucky often led to arguments. Bucky strongly knew this was nothing and that others were just blowing it out of proportion.

That also led to bias work and Bucky not doing his best, since Sam put him in a bad mood beforehand. Bucky went to therapy. He was more forced than offered, the government felt he was more of a ticking bomb than anything else. Bucky thought of it as more of a joke than anything.

There was no sense in for him to go to the sessions. He often found himself trying to find excuses to skip sessions. He thought that the past is the past and trying to fix it wasn't a possibility. Bucky dealt with it the way he could. He pushed it deep, deep, down in the roaring sea of his mind and dealt with it later. Only in his dreams did it resurface to haunt him. Always making him uptight and tired from the lack of sleep.

However, at this point, he was use to the torture of it all. His brain is his worst enemy. Through shaky breath fanned on his arm, he was crouched over his left leg up his metal arm resting over his knee his other arm holding his weight. He watched the glow of the tv, his chest heaved in exasperation.

Nothing piqued his interest in broadcasting. It was all the same mumbo jumbo of stereotypical things like romance, the reality that was depicting the species as inhumane, the comedy he didn't understand, only one channel did hold his interest.

Perhaps it worsened his mental state but he didn't care and it was the news. It was all the current disasters of the world and the avengers trying to stabilize the circumstances and the best part of it all how disturbing the world is. Even if his bringing was normal to where he is now, he'd most likely be a deeply tormented individual.

He nearly had heart failure when a banner at the bottom of the screen read "John Walker elected as the new Captain America." In blinding letters. Above the banner was John Walker himself standing in front of the podium a hand raised in a gesture to recognize the audience's howl.

Buckys head burst with memories of Hydra and the way it evoked him. The way of how Hydra forced him to be something he wasn't. John Walker was the perfect example of an alternate reality with a substitute Steve. Everything Steve was for John Walker was against.

Images flashed in his head. He put his hands on his head his natural one warm and clammy, in contrast to the bitter cold one. It just gave his flashbacks even more fuel. Living with a constant reminder of who he is. A monster.

He grabbed tightly onto his hair the strands were being plucked as this was being written. He felt small patches of balding from this happening so regularly. His legs parted and creased by the knees. His face strained into pain. His extensive wrinkles from age, noticeable, and worsened from him doing so.

His blanket thrown away to the side with disregard, he started to rock softly front and back. The wood floor burned his tailbone from him sitting on it for so long. Suddenly he felt a different pain. A killer one.

The beige cabinets thrown open papers and documents scattered everywhere. The dark grey of a ceiling of the shelter peered over him judgingly. His arm pushed down into the metal of the chair burned from the uncomfortable position. The bolts leaving deep indentions in his skin. The helmet pressed tightly to his skull leaving him render less against the horror of hearing the words. So many times he had to go through this routine, the monitors loud and buzzing. He bit down strenuously onto the guard in his mouth and squeezed his eyes shut. The electricity drumming into his head, his brain setting fire to its system, he feels it in his muscles, in his blood, the veins that pop in his neck. The tubes behind his head generated and pumped large amounts which umped higher and higher in velocity each time an activation word was spoken loud and clearly. Spat carelessly not in his mother's tongue, he would never think of the language to be beautiful only to be a monstrosity of the world one of the greatest. His dull fingernails dug into the chair it did nothing other than to give him some sort of balance. He screamed but it was muffled to an extent of the guard doing its purpose. "Daybreak."

The announcer spoke into the fuzzy black microphone that's the only word he made out to hear. The daily news report drone on for what of which he came back into reality.

He opened his azure eyes and looked to the left the window that sat in the middle of a pale white wall and his kitchen showed the red bloom of the sun and the tall buildings of the city.

He felt resentful towards the time of day since his flashbacks usually only lasted a minute or so.

Lately, they've grown in duration and that stroke dread into him. He was horrified that someone would say or do an act that would put him in a state of mind. One that he wished to not be in.

Somedays he just yearned to be left for dead in the snowfall of the forest. Notably, so far from the arm that was taken from him that it would be hidden to the world for eons. And from the pessimism of the clouds above him.

He grew irritably hot and damp from the excessive sweat he did to himself, he felt everything was his fault, enlisting, going on the train, helping Steve.

He hated himself for a moment realizing what he thought, he felt selfish for thinking that Steve did this to punish him. He sighed and laid his head tilted to the plastered ceiling.

His neck outstretched. His legs and his arm, limp from the compression of him tensing them for so long. His muscles trying their hardest to relax. His figure seeming to be the equivalent of a sack of potatoes.

He didn't care about how he presented, perhaps it was his past with being a soldier the constant thriving to be the strongest and the son of Hercules. He pushed so far that his body couldn't endure the strength he put it through.

Super soldier serum and all, he was still just a man. He was still human deep into the last atom of his DNA. His eyes nonchalantly examined his ceiling a soft pale white like the rest of his apartment, it reminded him of the moon outside.

If he were to take out his ceiling it'd be right above him. He was enamored by how it seemed to have an ever-lasting glow. He let out a shaky huff then fell ever quiet. Until the day grew old.

Yori had scheduled a lunch meeting earlier that week, they had a routine. Yori attended and Bucky paid. This happened every Wednesday they would meet up and discuss whatever they wished. Yori was just an old decaying man who lived in Chinatown, he lived across from Bucky's building. Yori was kind to the ones he knew.

It was otherwise to people he didn't. After Yori's son died it was hard to, if he only knew who Bucky was entirely he'd die out of shock. Bucky swore to tell him but honestly, Yori was his only friend he had out of work, and even that he couldn't let himself go and confide in Sam.

So here he was in a plain-back leather jacket, some jeans and the same pair of boots he had since the war. He didn't understand the fashion trends of late. Last week he and Yori saw a woman in a bright suit, it looked like a second skin from how tight it was.

Yori was simple-minded as he was and had similar morals and interests. It was disheartening to say that Bucky had a sort of envy for Yori, Bucky wished to have lived a normal life of maybe dying in the war or growing old and gray like Yori.

Get married, have a couple of kids, live a normal life. He understood greatly why Steve went back but he never fully forgave him for it. He felt like Steve was selfish for doing so, but isn't everyone? Steve got a normal life while Bucky had to rot in the world alone and was terrorized by his brain.

He crossed his arms, the leather making a strange sound since he gripped himself so tightly. He sat up straight, his shoulders back, his face set with a profound scowl. It forever imprinted on his face the dark scruff of a new beard growing in.

He hated how it meant uncleanliness, but he didn't have the motivation to shave it off, there wasn't a reason to anyway. He hadn't been on a date in years, centuries even.

He poked and played with his sushi that Yori said was great to try at least once. Bucky felt bad and tried a bite, he had to give credit for a thing so small having to be so spicy. That was about the first and last bite Bucky had. Since then he just jabbed at it with one of the sticks.

The other laid across the small complimentary plate with the rest of the remains of the sushi he failed to eat, he lost his appetite a few weeks ago.

He's been nursing a strong drink called Shōchū. Every time Bucky ordered it Yori said that he put an accent on it and that it made him sound like a foreigner. Although Bucky didn't know how since he was fluent but that was an argument for another day.

The employees there grew to know that they should just leave the bottle there since he usually drinks half their supply on each visit.

He just simply didn't think eating was something he needed. Recently things just seemed to bore him to the point where things that he needed to do he couldn't.

All because his brain tells him this doesn't matter. He's just lived so long from numerous life-ending things and he'd be damned if he'd kick the bucket from starvation.

"That scowl of yours is going to scare the women away," Yori spoke, breaking Bucky out of his trance. Bucky only saw the select few people around them and the women that Yori was referring to were a few older women with smiles and when Bucky turned to look they suggestively waved their fingers.

When Bucky looked back Yori smiled and waved and went back to inhaling noodles. Bucky looked at the man across from him in the small sushi restaurant he grew to know too well, they always sat in the same place a small table near the front of the glass doors.

Some posters and decorations were scattered throughout the small building. The dim lanterns gleam radiantly against the cryptic night. It rained before and the droplets of rain still reside on the windows behind Yori.

Yori slurped pounds of noodles into his mouth at a time, the residue of it was left behind on Yori's pale-white mustache. Bucky was surprised that the stick didn't break from the weight of it. Bucky's eyebrows furrowed together in thought, his posture relaxing.

He laughed inside his shoulders coming up and the side of his lips curved in a smirk. The demeanor he held was appealing from afar, (specifically to the cougars adjacent from where they were.)The conversation always breaking Bucky's previous mood, Yori was very light-hearted when he wasn't in a mood. Especially when he had food and good company. He decided to further it:

"What do you know about the ladies here that I don't?" Yori swallowed a big round lump in his throat slowly going down to his stomach, he must've had a pile of noodles in it by now.

"Well first off all, don't test my ways of making them swoon over me," Yori stated it more of a threat than a declaration. He used his chopsticks and pointed them at Bucky and a warning manner.

His eyebrows perked up and the wrinkles on his forehead worsened similar to the ones that grew on Bucky. His eyes became wide at the thought of being disrespected like the way Bucky just did.

"Second of all, you don't understand how to look without your eyes." And with that Yori chowed down once again on his bucket of noodles. Bucky couldn't perceive Yori's advice, what does seeing without your eyes even could mean?

His smirk faltered into his normal resting face which Yori liked to remark and say was the equivalent to people putting the trash into his garbage can. There was no rhyme or reason for people to do so but they just did.

Just like the way Bucky was always in a sour mood it reminded him of himself always being angry at the world because of other people.

"Have you been seeing anyone lately, if not that might be the cause of your problems," Yori spoke as if he knew everything about Bucky and maybe he could Truth it since Hydra and after being the winter soldier and Steve passing.

Bucky hadn't really been ready to mingle. He just knew he had too much baggage for a partner to put on deal with him. Every now and then when he felt completely alone he downloaded some dating app he didn't actually want and deleted it on the same night.

He had flings here and there and since he met Yori he had been setting him up on dates whether Bucky liked it or not. None of them worked out since Bucky didn't try; he was too wrapped up in his own problems to be listening to hers.

Bucky's gloved metal hand wrapped behind his neck and scratched his stubble coming back down.

"You know Yori surprisingly enough I haven't," Bucky spoke grimly and clutched his teeth. He knew Yori was going to tell him off. He winced when he heard Yori's chopsticks fall into the cup of noodles. Yori sat back into his wooden chair, his arms crossed and a displeased look came across his face.

"And why is that?" Bucky began to open his mouth "Don't give me some excuse that you always give me or this will be our last meeting." Yori stated in a harsh manner with his face twisted in that fatherly manner. "I don't understand why it's a great value to you, to know about my love life,"

Bucky spoke of it as a statement but it came out more as a question. Yori quieted and thought for a moment thinking of the proper words to say. "The stars are aligned in your favor, in which that means you should try and put effort into those small details in what is grief, if not love persevering."

Bucky sat there thinking over the things Yori told him. Bucky stretched his arm out to sip on the Shōchū. He was about a quarter way through. They'd only been there for two hours.

Since Yori met Bucky he learned that people can't always be that bad. Unless of course, you're the type who knocks over his trash can and the men don't pick it up and so it rots to hell when he fills it.

Bucky sighed and reached for the half-full glass of Shōchū. Yori never favored seeing him drink. It was too similar to him drinking when his son passed.

So Yori being Yori he made a little catapult with his chopsticks and put a small piece of noodle into his device and flicked it at Bucky. Bucky glared at him and touched the spot where it hit. Right in the middle of his creased eyebrows. The residue of the noodle followed his fingers Yori went back to eating but before he did so he gave a word to Bucky

"You're not supposed to think about how to see without your eyes. It defeats the purpose entirely if you think about it as strongly as you do, I may have some years under my belt of practicing but you are going to go nowhere soon with the troubles that live in your scowl."

He paused searching into Bucky's storm-driven eyes, Yori saw nothing that lived behind them other than sorrow. It pained Yori to see his friend in such a state.

Yori rested his hands on the table interlaced in front of him, trying to find anything worth reviving if it wasn't already killed behind Bucky's aurora. But then all of a sudden a glimmer, a spark you could say flitted inside the fellow in front of him.

Yori leaned back in his chair and smiled softly, his eyes creasing. "Ah, there it is," Yori spoke softly. Bucky confused more than he had ever been in his life questioned everything.

He had no idea what Yori was doing or as to why he endured the unwanted staring contest they just had. Then his answers were spoken by the one who created the questions.

"The way you see without your eyes is simply to be at peace with yourself, look at the moon and the stars.

They have no troubles or worries and they are the most looked at things in the entire universe no matter where you are. They see everything, yet they still choose to have no regard for the ones that judge them. For you young sir, for them to have that happiness you take that amount doubled."

Bucky scoffed that he didn't intend to be disrespectful, but how in the world was he supposed to be calm when he knew Yori's speech was literal. Yori never made jokes or metaphors, he learned that the hard way.

He uncrossed his arms for the first time since they sat down, and rested his elbows on his knees, and leaned forward in the wooden chair. He squinted his eyes, questioning Yori's statement.

He knew Yori hated to be questioned and tested, they always led to night and day-long arguments that never fully were resolved. Maybe it was the half bottle of Shōchū he drank that made him confident. He spoke rough and dry from it taking over his throat and liver.

"So let me get this straight. the only way I can find peace and happiness is if I talk to the stars and the moon? Yori, you've got to be joking." Yori grew agitated but his composure remained ever the slightest of relaxation.

Yori reached towards the back of his pants to retrieve something while glaring at Bucky and the staring contest resumed. Bucky thought for a moment that Yori was going to shoot him in point-blank range in front of the small company that was set at different tables all over the place.

Instead, Yori pulled out a small crumbling paperback book with the cover filled with stars and galaxy-type depictions and inscribed above it was

"Talking to the moon, and other astronomic casualties"

Yori sat the book gently on the side of the table he got up and before he left he looked at Bucky for a long while before turning and walking out the door. Not another word was spoken between them until the next Wednesday.

Bucky walked home that night by himself. Usually, he would walk with Yori but what happened at the sushi place he felt disturbed by. He lost his temper and he never should've.

He's been put in worse situations than thinking that Yori made him out to be a fool for believing that the stars could talk. Who knows if they do. He should've been more open-minded, he's just been riled up from the flashbacks.

Shōchū seemed to make things worse but he'd forget about things for a while. He wanted to apologize to Yori;

he severely drowned the urge. With the rest of the bottle. Yes, the restaurant let him take the rest. He had to pay handsomely. He thought it was worth it until he had to walk up the stairs to get into his apartment. He swayed back and forth mostly to the left. The arm weighed more when he was like this.

He had not a thought in mind about the world other than seeing the bottom of the clear bottle made of glass.

He tried to walk up the stairs he really did but his chunky boots made it hard to judge the height of the stairs. He got about halfway up them and then he fell. He smashed his chin against the wood and his chin started to bleed. He didn't try to stop the fall.

His right hand was occupied with the bottle. His thick scarred fingers tied around the neck of it securely. He'd kill anything that would try to take it away from him. He pushed himself up off the stair and he winced in pain when his right hand was now in the pile of glass. It fell and broke when he did.

His back burned with being indented from laying on the stairs. His chin seeped down onto the pit of his neck where his jaw formed.

He pushed slowly up off the stairs entirely putting his damaged hand behind his back. How ironic that his normal flesh is the damaged one.

He lifted off with the metal one. He clutched his wrist and pinched it tightly with the metal one.

Trying to cut off blood flow so it won't get more infected than it already had. He walked to his apartment shamefully. His head hung down low, too insecure and awkward about what happened. His jaw stern and gritted he was embarrassed.

The alcohol dimmed it but it was still a major event. He'd hit the rock bottom of an endless pit.

He dug out his key in his pocket and went inside. When he entered he always felt worse than he had left. Yet he never had a problem leaving. It always felt like he was welcomed back into a deep aurora of depression.

He stepped on the back of his boots and left them by the door. He walked to the bathroom but he stopped and turned to look at the tv. There he was again in all his glory. John Walker.

Although this time in his clutches was Steve's shield. He grew saddened by the fact Sam gave it over. He felt betrayed. Sam was the only one he knew other than him how valuable that was and John Walker out of all people had it in his possession.

He'd have a long discussion with Sam in the near future about this. He was always infuriated by John but now he couldn't put it into words. Except for the word imposterous.

Bucky felt a sharp pain in his wrist and when he looked down. He soon found that he was nearly fracturing his wrist with his metal modeled fingers. He also took into mind how deep the glass shard was. Some tiny, some huge. He cursed under his breath a soft and crude

"Fuck."

He quickly loosened his grip and shook his head in regret when he looked down to his wood floor. He realized that blood trickled from him since he opened the door.

He hastily shuffled awkwardly to the bathroom trying his hardest to not make more of a mess than he already had. He walked with long strides and his white socks dirtied from blood.

The bathroom was small, with half tiled walls and a tiled floor, beige paint covered the rest of the wall. A shower shoved to the left of him, an off-white bulb accentuated the room.

He swore to change it but he never did. A mirror and sink in front of him, the mirror was a small white rectangular one, matching the shape of the sink. Sandwiched in between the shower and sink was the smallest white toilet imaginable.

He hated going into the bathroom for this reason alone. He saw how weak he was in the mirror.

A busted bleeding wound. That crept close to the imprint that marked the middle of his chin, dark drunk eyes, shaded pink lips, sharp cheekbones accompanied with a keen jawline, scars littered across his body. His face had a few abrasions, and cheeks hidden in the scruff that continued to grow.

His hair tousled and strewn every way it pleased. He never cared about it; he never tried to style it since he'd just put his hands in it. His shoulders were clad in leather and a beige henley that matched the walls. The calmness after getting pounded reminded him of when hydra made him fight the other soldiers. Then suddenly he was there.

It was a day that Bucky would think about for the rest of his life. Bucky had a lot of those days but this one, in particular, was one that made him feel excruciating pain. The fight he was trained to lose. The compound was a dimly lit walkway in between the cells. Two would fight momentarily continuously one was declared the winner and fight the champion. Bucky or the soldier.

The commanders of hydra love to evoke fear. Seeing the men riddled with fear. Some vomit, others beg. Some are like Bucky. Ruthless. They don't care who they are or what they want to be. All they strive to be or do is fight and the blood splatter after winning against the enemy, releases stress so sometimes it's a release unless you have a guilty conscience. For Bucky, it's the latter. He has nightmares, sure, but everyone does.

Bucky had perfect posture, his head tilted into the way hydra trained him to do or to be brainwashed until he was complicit. Bright ocean eyes were unknowingly dead. The thunder of the other candidates to fight by the cells on the sidelines until it was their time to fight.

Although before they went to fight they would have a fistfight with Bucky to higher their combat skills. Bucky was the best soldier they had to let them practice on. That being said Bucky wasn't being used to his full potential. Bucky hadn't fought anyone to his skill level, everyone was either at a lower or average level. They were put into groups of two in fighting whoever won would fight either Bucky or another soldier even crueler than Bucky. Bucky had some remorse and would hold back. He still deep down was a person but the other soldier killed many from going too far. And today was the day that Bucky had to fight that soldier. Bucky had three other men for the soldier to fight until it was him, all skinny and small, scrappy.

The soldier was big and unruly. He was undefeated, sure Bucky was scared but at the compound, it's kill or be killed.

No one knew the soldier's true name, just the series of numbers he was given. His confidence may be the death of him. Bucky believed-knew that he was more than the average man. He had courage, a heart of gold, and the endurance of a bull and here he was amping himself up and nervously fidgeting wondering what would happen if he won this fight. He wondered if everyone would think of him as superior or if he'd be more of a black sheep.

He heard a crack of a hydra man yelling to start. The man in front of him was next and the one that lost had gashes to the bone and blood oozing out of places where he didn't know could.

Bucky felt exposed when the man in front of him went to fight, there was still a very long list behind him to fight but he was next up. The soldier looked at him, his demeanor felt like the grim reaper and Bucky was fixing to pay his toll.

The soldier had muscles upon muscles and as broad as one can ever be. The word powerful couldn't even describe him in the lightest.

Bucky chewed on the inside his cheek he was nervous.

The soldier was known to put the others in the infirmary for days on end and those he hurt abnormally bad gotta not fight for a while and rot in their cell until. More often than none they'd put you back out in the field.

The stories of this soldier were the type you'd tell sitting at a campfire to scare kids, instead, it was grown, men. Even if Bucky was the bravest out there he wasn't like the soldier.

Bucky observed all of his techniques and styles over the weeks. Preparing himself for his scheduled fight. It was an algorithm for the soldier to react to specific hits and counter them with the same thing over and over. The hydra men taught all of the soldiers the same moves except the one Bucky was going to go against. They knew Bucky was their best soldier so they had to at least put him in a good fight. Bucky caught on to this pattern and that made him think that he could win.

The man in front of him laid in a fetal position with mud and red splatter across his pale form, the boisterous crowd making the shame feel unbearable.

Then all of a sudden Bucky felt a harsh shove on his back. One of the hydra men shoving him into the pit with the soldier. Bucky nearly fell face forward on the cement. A burst of loud booming laughter deafened him more than the crowd on the sidelines.

The soldier crouched low and Bucky knew what he was going to do. He took out the legs then beat his component to a pulp like a gorilla. Bucky did the same stance. He looked foolish, his hair stuck to his forehead, sweat-soaked his clothes which were already tightened to his skin from the excessive working out he did. Courtesy of Hydra wanting him to be in top shape. The other soldiers grew restless as they psyched one out. They went into circles staring at one other like vultures testing who was the quickest. Whoever blinks first wouldn't blink for weeks after.

A screech came from the soldier and he came after Bucky.

Now imagine a vicious lion combined with a cyclops coming at you. Bucky psyched him out and pivoted. That just angered him more since the battles never lasted more than a couple of minutes. This one was already the longest. The soldier turned slightly and looked over his shoulder and before he could do so Bucky had gotten close enough to kick the left of his knee in and he fell. It was as loud as the thunder when he did.

Although Bucky wasn't watching his feet and the soldier took his left foot and grabbed Bucky. He fell. The roar of the other soldiers boomed. His ears went out painfully, a ringing sound, and the rain flew harshly against his face.

He couldn't move, the wind knocked out of him that he couldn't breathe. He felt ashamed to have even thought that he could win. The black ceiling littered with golden beams.

The gold reminded him of the stars behind them, how someday he could be out of this dungeon to see them again. Abruptly all the ringing in his ears came back. He heard a low hum of breathing; he thought it was his own until he saw the beast above him. The soldier grabbed his arms and Bucky struggled even through his stupor. Bucky wiggled and tried to get out from his grasp but he was a god amongst men. Bucky then thought of how Steve felt when he'd get cornered in an alley and he'd come and save Steve from being killed. But Bucky didn't get saved. The barbarian struck Bucky over and over. The nurse would later tell him that she was surprised that he didn't have any brain damage. Bucky waved in and out of reality. Every time he tried to open his eyes it'd be welcomed with a fist. Bucky spat the blood out of his mouth onto the soldier. The soldier was just too strong. He was impossible to win against. The soldier rubbed the blood into his face and laughed. He leaned to Bucky's ear only so he could hear "puny."

Bucky screamed loud. Loud enough that the neighbors awoke from their sleep and he'd sure have a lot of complaints to address in the morning. In a split second, he found himself with his fist through the mirror, the glass falling every way onto the tile into the sink and toilet. Into the already damaged hand of his, the glass poked through his palm, and through the other side, the previous glass dug deeper into his flesh.

Severing the tendons. All he could think about was the pain of having to clean everything up. He didn't feel the pain he caused himself because that didn't matter. It made him feel the least bit human. Pain. Everything living thing felt alive and once he lost that. He'd feel like a complete and utter monstrosity.

He looked up from his hand and to the mirror. Shards still hung and it displayed a perfect depiction of what Bucky was. Damaged.

Bucky spent the rest of the night with a bandaged chin that kept bleeding like a waterfall. Hw picking out pieces of glass with the smallest tweezers known to man, that too ruby red water ran down the sides of his hand onto his bare beefy thighs and pooled in the middle of his palm.

He had calmed down after a couple of hours by sitting on the bumped-out window.

He often likes sitting there and watching the city. The cars zooming past the bright casinos.

The one thing he enjoyed the most was watching the constellations and making them out to be the things he liked. Often he'd see a star in the moon and he saw the shield.

He hated that one since it put him in the pain of remembering Steve and how he had no one.

He didn't need anyone. That's what he told himself but he was very wrong. His jacket was thrown over a wooden chair in the dining area. The sleeves of his henley rolled around his elbows showing the veins in his forearms.

He changed out his jeans for a random pair of dark shorts, he threw off his dirtied socks.

To say the least, he was at comfort for the first time this week. He started to read the book a little, the pages were torn and faded. Yori must've read this multiple times.

Bucky wondered why. The book was small and petite and was only a hundred or so pages. It was interesting, it was all about philosophy, it was written as if it was a big life poem.

He hated a lot of it but here and there were a few good points. He was about halfway through the book when a paragraph struck him.

Heart. Mind. Body. Soul. Great beings of life and they can only communicate by stars. Life and everything between can be carried through them. So if you speak to the sky of night. You will often hear a reply.

He thought of it as silly but then his brain began to wonder. What if he could talk to whoever he wished dead or alive. Just from talking to the stars. It seemed too easy and childish.

Although what did he have to lose the majority of the world hated him and the other half tolerated him.

He put the tweezers down and wrapped his hand with the bandage used to box. He had leftover wrappings since he used to do dirty street fighting when he got dumped from S.H.E.I.L.D's payroll.

He picked up the book that was under his thigh, holding the book open. He held it there since that was where the most light surfaced. He didn't exactly have the expenses to pay the electric bill so he always kept it off.

His eyebrows furrowed ever close as he came across a sentence he seemed to not understand.

The book looked like it shrunk in the size of his hand. His fingers twisted and ran over the cover and the letters on the page fell off onto his lap. The shorts rode up about mid-thigh and engraved their way into his skin.

He couldn't read anymore. He sighed when he read the same paragraph twice over.

All he could think about was being able to talk to Steve. He pushed it into the back of his mind, he carried the book carelessly in his hand, the feeling an odd one since he hadn't read anything for ages.

He walked over to his little place where he slept and laid down.

The news wasn't showing anything interesting. He became quite bored. He wondered if Yori was doing okay.

Maybe he should check up on him even if they weren't on the best of terms. He drifted in and out of consciousness, he played with the wrapping of his hand to try and keep him entertained.

He sat up against his wall observing everything around him how bland and monotone everything was.

He felt a buzz in the pocket of his shorts. He begrudgingly went to grab it. He didn't know who or why they were messaging him. Whoever it knew that it was just for emergencies.

He swears that he was going to murder Sam if he sent him one of the pictures with a caption that never related to the image. Sam said that supposedly there was a joke in the caption but that just made Bucky even more confused.

Bucky didn't know why he kept the phone. He never answers it and usually, he finds out everything he needs to know by watching the news.

When Bucky did finally open his phone to see the lock screen. He stared at it in bewilderment for a long while trying to make sense as to why someone messaged him.

He noticed that it was from an unknown number. That being said there was a one in a million chance for someone to know what his number was. He sighed he was going to have to change his number again. He was surprised what the message was.

"Hey! I had a wonderful time on our date today, I was wondering if we could go on another this week? If not I completely understand I'm new to this..um..blind dating thing. I really enjoyed meeting you instead of talking to a screen! Lol! Anyway, Ttyl!"

Bucky didn’t know how or what to feel. What date? Why was she (he assumed so since the person seemed vibrant and bubbly.) So happy to see him? He didn’t even know who this person was! A thought crossed Bucky’s mind.

Perhaps he could initiate the partner she went on a date with. He wasn’t exactly busy and had a girl on his arm. He realized that if he were to go on this hypothetical date that it would be very obvious that he wasn’t the man she was interested in.

He subconsciously stood up and paced his living room to his kitchen to and fro. The soft glow of his phone illuminated his face in the dark. It was wrapped tight in his metal fingers. The yellow stripes that were like a snake coiling around his arm grew more visible.

He threw his right hand into his hair, his henley slightly rising and showing a patch of skin between the waistband of his shorts and where the sweater laid. It allowed a drooling sight of a teasing view of his defined “V” of his hip bone that flowed below his shorts.

It's been a while since he felt any blood circulate under his shorts. He didn’t understand what this girl did to him but it got him going and that was certainly uncommon under his circumstances of life.

Don’t get him wrong back in his day he was a player. Now it's lessened to nothing. Not even dates, so this could be big for him. He stopped when he concluded. What the hell did ttyl and lol mean? It took an embarrassing text to Sam and Sam merely laughed at him and told Bucky to google it. That just made things worse.

What was google? He went through every single thing on his phone until he found the icon labeled google and he did google it. ‘Talk to you later and 'laugh out loud' Oh. Bucky was embarrassed how long it took him to figure that out.

He sloppily used both of his thumbs and stood in the middle of his living room texting out a reply.

'I'm totally down to go on another date with you, sweetheart."

He was proud of himself since he remembered Sam using the word totally in a sentence before. He was confident that the confidence and the suaveness from his past never left. And then the regret started to hit him with a bat.

Why’d he called her sweetheart? What if she didn’t like to be called that. God how could he be so stupid?! He started to give up after he didn’t seem to have a reply in his future.

He sat down, crisscrossed in front of his tv and his couch, and began to swim ever so quietly in his mind. His eyes burned with strain as he watched the bright screen in front of him. A festival celebrating the new captain he nearly lost his mind until he felt a buzz against his thigh and when he looked down he saw that the mysterious girl messaged him again.

He opened his phone to find three little dots appearing and disappearing continuously. He wondered what she was writing that required that attention to thinking of what she was writing to him. He wasn’t anyone special. He was a natural disaster but that was about the unique thing about him.

He grew impatient and shifted his weight every few seconds. He was very nervous about what she was going to say. He felt like a schoolboy asking out his crush and being afraid of rejection. Lord help him because he missed feeling something other than pain. Then another buzz ran up his arm and under his spine, it was the message she sent. It was short and simple of the lines of what remembered to be:

"..."

Bucky nearly threw his phone across his apartment. But then sucked a huge breath through his teeth when another buzz went through.

"It's just no one has ever called me 'sweetheart' before."

That made Bucky feel like he wanted to crawl into the deepest darkest ice chamber and live there for the rest of his life. This was it he destroyed his life by trying to flirt with someone hundreds of years younger than him. He exposed himself and he could never redo it. He should've known that this was a bad idea.

Technically he did but he just ignored it. How could he be so idiotic to spoil his chances of getting out of this cage of death. This was the epitome of a fish drowning. He was overreacting and hyperventilating solely because he doesn't know how to flirt like the modern age. He was doomed.

His fingers resisting the strength of his mind telling him not to type out sent her the message reading:

"Do you like being called sweetheart or do you prefer doll?"

He swore he died when he saw that he sent that. SWEETHEART AND NOW DOLL? He wanted to take a steaming hot bath and maybe splurge with bubbles and fall asleep and hey maybe he'd drown.

At this point, he didn't think it wasn't that bad of an idea. He put his palms on his forehead, his knees on his thighs staring at the pitch-black rectangle below him. Impatiently waiting for her response.

An on-set headache developing from all the stress he's had under the last thirty minutes. His heart jumped at the sight of the glow lighting up his screen. He quite literally jumped out of his sin to read it:

"You have no idea. It's way better than getting called mama and shawty by the fuck boys. Lol!"

Bucky was now in the crisis of not knowing what was a shawty and an *ahem* fuck boy. It was so worrying the amount of googling Bucky has done just talking to this girl. He noted to never call her..shawty or mama and to never be a fuck boy.

When he did figure out what those things were he wasn't exactly surprised. He was jealous and angry that she'd been called things that she didn't want. The feeling was common but never this strongly. It was an odd feeling it rose from his stomach to his throat and made it dry and hard to speak.

It made him clutch the sides of his phone so harshly that webs started to hatch from within the glass. His eyes cold and dead staring at the screen reading over her sentence once, then ten times over.

A little buzz came from his phone gasping for air from Bucky choking it out with his metal hand. (You wish that was you, huh?)

"I do love how polite and gentlemanly you are tho. It's hard to find guys like you."

Such short sentences made his heart gallop so fast in minutes. The logical side of his brain kept telling him that her compliments weren't for him but the attention for someone was much louder.

Maybe his old ways of flirting were beneficial, which caused him to be more at ease. His tensed shoulders relaxed along with his metal arm. Although his body felt he was burning alive. His free hand pulled his collar off his velcro skin, letting his structured collar bones come breathable. His breathing became shallow.

"It's hard not to be when you meet someone so radiant."

He didn't even know who this girl was but all he knew is that he didn't want to lose her and become utterly alone again. Not this time. His hair stuck to his face. He was going to have to take the coldest shower ever to get rid of her and even that he won't.

"LOL, Speak for yourself, I'm nothing compared to you."

He scoffed and typed furiously, how could she think such things about herself. He was deeply frustrated he didn't know why but he felt very drawn to her. He'd do anything in his power to just want her to promise him that she'd never leave him.

God, he sounded like a psycho and maybe he was. Maybe this was his last straw and when she'd break off he would too. He was so afraid of going back to the way things were to going back to being the winter soldier that he felt like he lost his mind trying to prevent it.

"Alright doll, how about this, we meet up this Friday for dinner and a movie at nine o'clock?"

He was scared that she would reject him. Fuck. She didn't even know what he looked like. What if she took one look at him and saw past his facade and into how broken he was and decided that no. All these feelings are what drew Bucky to stop searching and to think that he was a burden to everyone. Maybe that's why he felt the only place he could be himself was when he knew that he was 100% alone.

He huffed softly and threw his head back against the couch staring up at the ceiling once again. His Adam's apple bobbed as he listened to the soft murmur of the tv. All the world's troubles put onto Steve's back for years and he gets a little tongue-tied and that was it for him.

He needed help. He needed to get better. He laughed softly, his face breaking out into creases of his tanned skin, his lips parting and his teeth glowing against the white flush. He was insane and there was no going back. He laughed at himself for what seemed like an hour until he felt the familiar buzz against his heated skin.

"Hell yes man as long as we watch sharknado!"

Bucky's smile grew more and stretched his face into a radiance that made him look like he did when he was young.

Bucky didn't know what the hell sharknado was but he was glad to know she liked him enough to go on a date with him. Bucky Barnes had a date to go on Friday and he couldn't be happier. He didn't have any nightmares that night but he'd rather have a life-ending one than what he told Yori in the morning.

It was a couple of days after the fight with Yori. Bucky finished the book the day after he read it that's why he was here along with wanting to apologize for his actions at the restaurant. He was currently sat on the wise man's couch. His son's shrine right on the small table in front of him. He bit the inside of his cheek hard and let his eyes fall elsewhere. He was ashamed to have kept this secret for so long but he couldn't find a way to tell Yori.

"Yeah, hey I murdered your son but it was fine since I was brainwashed by wanna-be nazis?" He let out a small nervous laugh and ran a hand through his hair. Yori was going to find out somehow sooner or later. Bucky just hoped it was later. He didn't want what he had with Yori to end because of his past.

"What's worrying you?" Yori said softly as he walked briskly into the living room with a cup of green tea. He sat down on the couch on the right side of the Bucky. Nearest to the door. Bucky couldn't but think Yori was in some form afraid of him since he tested him that night at the restaurant. No one ever tried to test Yori.

Bucky was different. A way that Yori wanted to understand. But Yori saw the trouble of the glass downstairs when he went to put the trash away. The brand was still visible and Yori only knew one person who drank that. Bucky. Yori figured bad things came from it.

Partly the reason since he knew what came after from drunken mishappenings. Yori sat the green tea on the brown coffee table in front of them by Bucky and put his focus back onto Bucky.

"I asked a question," Yori said softly. It seemed that Bucky was in a trance his head downward and his eyes shifting searching for something maybe an answer to Yori's question but there were so many things going through Buckys mind that it'd take months for Bucky to explain to Yori everything.

Bucky looked up to Yori with a smile but in his eyes were nothing but disaster. Yori sat uncomfortably. He was disturbed not once in the few months of knowing Bucky did not smile.

Bucky ignored the question instead "I finished the book you gave me," Bucky spoke with a waver in his voice making him sound unsure. While he reached into his pocket to grab it Yori pursed his lips.

"I didn't want you to read it I wanted you to return it to the library," Bucky's smile faltered and his eyes dimmed even darker than the way they did before. "Oh" is all Bucky said before he put the book back into his jacket pocket. He messed with the wrapping on his hand that Yori took notice of. Bucky was acting odder than usual and Yori couldn't put his finger on it.

Yori took out a scratch piece of paper and handed it to Bucky. In scratchy handwriting, Bucky assumed it was another book 'life on mars.' Then Yori spoke up "Are you going to drink your tea if not I will," Yori jabbed a finger pointing to the white cup. Bucky cleared his throat "I'm not that thirsty,"

Bucky handed over the glass cup to Yori and he glared over to Bucky and he glared back. Yori smacked his lips together after he finished. "If you're here just to have a staring contest with me, then I'm afraid you'll be here for a very long time,"

Bucky readjusted his posture and breathed roughly. "I wanted to apologize for the way I acted at the restaurant. I know I shouldn't have lost my temper at something so minor."

Bucky stopped thinking of words to say he gave up. Yori got up and left the kitchen uninterested in Bucky's apology. His son's portrait started yearning to be alive again. He stared brutally into Bucky's existence. It asked to switch position with Bucky and Bucky swore that he was out of his body and then sucked back in when Yori started to swirl a spoon around the top of the lip of the cup.

"Sugar makes green tea flavorful," Yori sat down when he was finished he swirled it into the now full cup. Bucky guessed he made a few more for later. Yori came back up to the lip and dampened it with tea it made and a remarkably loud song.

Around and around it went putting Bucky into a trance his posture regained to straight and his shoulder back head high with eyes dead. "When my son, RJ, was one he used to sing this song 'a longing rusted freight car coming to an end where it went when the furnace descended.' it was quite a beautiful song when he sang it,"

Bucky heard bits and pieces before his brain went to a mush of the activation words being said in his head. "When he was nine had a tumor and we took him to the doctor but we found out it was benign."

Bucky couldn't hear. He couldn't see. The sky was filled to the brim with stars. The moon brightened and removed his appearance from the trace of a normal eye. He stepped carefully on the roof of the building. His suit blending him into the shadows. His hair stuck to his face closing him in and disguising him more than he already is. He saw RJ through the roof's window. This couldn't have gone more perfectly. He slipped behind one of the paintings and was quiet, his breathing irregular. He heard footsteps and assumed it was RJ and punched through the painting and grabbed tightly onto the neck of the man he mistakenly thought was RJ and tossed him back into the debris of the painting. A man came after him and he quickly threw the knife from the back of his belt and plunged it into the neck of his victim. Another man slammed into the stairway when he flew out of the painting the rest of the men flew down the stairs in pursuit of fleeing the winter soldier. As they shot at him he was faster and killed them first he jumped off the stairs and threw the other spare knife at the man in front of him. An old man grey in the green leather jacket he smashed against the wall even threw metal Bucky could feel the man's heartbeat quickening and then faltering to nothingness. "Hail Hydra'' The last words the man heard as he dropped from Buckys grip to a heap of a corpse in a matter of seconds. Bucky turned to his right and watched the RJ struggle to put the key to escape Bucky. Bucky wanted to laugh at how weak and puny his attempt was to get away; he was constantly looking behind him at Bucky. Closer and closer Bucky's strides were to capture his life. Bucky's shoulder swayed a demeanor threatened with authority and anyone who dared to test it would feel the stupidity of their choice. When RJ started to beg Bucky thought that was all he had in him. Bucky didn't care. He raised his hand and straightened it perfectly matching the hilt to the RJs head.

"I KILLED RJ!" Bucky yelled standing upright. Saliva flew onto Yori when he screamed. Bucky's metal arm was tightly tied around Yori's throat. Yori was in pure terror, his eyes wide, his hands in front of him wrapped around the metal as he leaned back to get away from Bucky as he confessed to him who killed his son.

His mouth was wide in shock gasping for air. Bucky's eyes widened in horror, his mind running thousands of thoughts per second he took his hand off Yori's throat and choked on air. Bucky stared down at his metallic pitch-black hand and then Bucky ran. He ran to his apartment. Hands in his hair pacing kitchen to the living room.

What the actual fuck did he just do? He felt tears brim his eyes and he couldn't believe what he just did. He ruined everything he worked for since Wakanda. His reputation was obliterated just like that in a matter of seconds. His breathing became ragged; he managed to take off his dark black leather jacket and tossed it to the couch.

The black t-shirt he had on raised slightly from his arms being on his head. His wrapped hand tore into his skin making him even more upset from the broken mirror in his bathroom that he still didn't clean up. The memory just kept running itself over in his head he couldn't stop thinking about it. Yori's reaction.

There's no way he'd be able to repair what he did to Yori and he'd had to live the rest of his life knowing how badly he fucked up. He wanted to so badly tear this goddamn arm off with everything he had. He remembered trying the old one off that Hydra gave him it never worked. He still had the deep gashes from his nails where they latched onto his shoulder.

The scars never really healed right, instead of being in the skin, they rose like mountains from it. Bucky clutched his head tightly, his form shaking with tremors. He just kept thinking of the word stupid.

"I, John Walker. Captain America has taken the super-soldier serum and in my disregard, I feel as if there are no consequences and it should be open to the public. And in retrospect of the world, I personally think that Steve Rogers was too soft on his components and since I have taken the serum I will no longer be tolerating the life of the terrorists. That being said I will in no regard will hold back. I will do everything in my power to rid this Earth of the monsters we know until their last god-ridden breath."

Bucky lifted his head from its place hanging down into his hands, his jaw gritted tight, his nose flared, and his eyes full of fury. John Walker. He was going to kill that man one way or another. Bucky was pissed so beyond natural anger that he stood up and walked straight in front of the tv.

This man was beyond no right in having that televised. What he said could destroy the world in an instant. Who or why did he get the serum from? And Bucky was the time bomb? Bucky closed his eyes, his hands turned into tight fists, and let the image of John Walker in an interview with a lady sat across from him at John's old school burn in his mind. The white noise of the crowd cheering John's opinion made Bucky's blood boil.

Bucky thought he had calmed himself until he opened his eyes he saw John look into the camera and point.

"The world would be a better place if there were more brave soldiers like me."

Bucky reared his metal fist back and pounded the tv until the screen was ridden of John Walker's face. Bucky came to the idea that when he got another tv maybe he shouldn't watch the news for a while. Glass fell on the table and pieces on the wood floor by his feet.

He fell to his knees. His knees cracked from all his weight on them with no support. His knees being crushed by the glass. His hands hiding his face from the world.

His cheeks and face grew warm from how he felt. His nose burned when tears started to fall ever so gently down his cheeks. Grey eyes becoming the most vibrant of blues. He choked softly, his throat closing as he sat there in the middle of his destroyed living room. His apartment is the greatest amphitheater in the world.

His shoulders rising and falling and stuttering when he gagged on air. He parted his hands from his face and sat upright. His hands fell into fists, his arms tensed and the veins in his neck pulsed when he let out a blood curdling scream. It was a long screech filled with his voice cracking his vocal cords giving upon him.

His tears despite his yelling still fell and stained his cheeks. He thought so many things at once and everything involved him being a monster. He was hurt and this was the worst self-harm. The arm was given to him and the brain that wasn't his own.

He decided that he needed to go on a walk to calm himself down. Maybe he'd go and return Yori's book. All he knew is that the world for Bucky Barnes was getting darker and worse by the day. Who knows how long until he loses who he is. But one thing was for sure. It wasn't going to be for long until he does.

He stayed home for the rest of that day. It was in the evening when he had gotten home from Yori's. He was still greatly upset by what happened. He couldn't think about it until he grew angry with a suicidal rage. He was alone. All over again the monster that kids are scared to go to sleep over.

He sat by the window again just in the same random shorts and no shirt out of fear of coating it in sweat. It was the least of his problems but it was still a burden. He wished he had something to listen to, his thoughts were so loud that he was surprised that mind readers didn't go deaf from it. He watched the people below him walk past the building complex.

Not batting an eye at the monster in the window above them. He wanted to laugh at how normal people were and how he was once like them but now turned into this creature. His shoulders broad and held his form up by the sides of his sculpted waist.

His legs crossed over another he leaned against the wall that joined the window in the corner. He sat across from the kitchen. His stomach growled at the thought of food, the last time he could remember eating something was at the restaurant and that was just a nibble. It wasn't like he could eat something. He never splurged on food, all the food he had was fruit sitting in a white complimentary bowl on the middle of the island.

He pushed his head against the wall swallowing thickly debating whether he should or not. He decided he didn't deserve it after what he's done. Disrupted from his thoughts he felt a buzz on his thigh in the pocket of his shorts.

He fished out the stupid little box and saw that it once again another text from Sam. He's been ignoring them since he's had Sam's contact; he deemed them not worthy of a response. They were all on the lines of are you okay? Bucky smiled at something so incredulous. He started typing out

Yeah. Just losing my mind but other than that I'm just fine. But went against it. When he read more of the missed messages one did pique his interest. Did you hear about the rumor of Steve being on the moon? Bucky's eyebrows furrowed and his face contorted. What? How could Steve be on the moon? Sam and he literally watched Steve grow old in front of them. How absurd to say that Steve was on the moon. But when Bucky thought more of it, it reminded him of what he read in the book.

Talk to the stars and they'll talk back. Bucky groaned in annoyance. Was this what he was resorting to in a desperate measure for interaction? Talking to inanimate things. He let out a deep breath his chest rose then fell shortly after. He closed his eyes imagining Steve back in Brooklyn and all the mischievous things they did.

He remembered the day Steve got rejected and then Bucky being deployed the next day. The day that started it all. The downfall of Bucky's life. Bucky didn't know what he would say to Steve but he thought he started out well enough.

"Do you remember when we were kids and we'd always have to act like we were soldiers because of you. God Steve even when we were kids you had your mind made up. Always wanting to be something when I couldn't even choose what cereal I wanted,"

Bucky stopped and thought over the words he said. It was true. Steve was always headstrong about everything he wanted. Bucky remembered that Steve was going to create this comic of this monkey who shot bananas out of a bazooka. And Steve did.

It never took off or anything it was just the thought of if anything Steve wanted he would never stop until he got it.

While Bucky always had his priorities elsewhere, the majority of the time he made Steve do his homework so he wouldn't fail. Two opposite people were the best of friends, who knew that one of them would turn out to be the villain.

"You know Steve I enlisted because I felt like I had to prove something, I had to prove that I was better at something than you. Just that one thing I ended up not even being better than you at."

Bucky's voice was dry and raspy when he spoke. The screaming fried his throat when he talked. It burned like a good bottle of Shōchū.

He'd kill for a bottle right now. He was starting to understand that this wouldn't work but he grew angrier at the thought of Steve trading him out for some girl. Bucky knew how much Peggy mattered to Steve but he still never got why he'd trade him out for her. He was jealous in a sense over the life Steve got.

"If I could I would change places with you in an instant, to be at peace. You got to live your life and I had to decay for years without my best friend. Maybe this was for the best so you couldn't see me become who I am now. Someone that we swore to never be ever since we were kids, the bad guy."

Bucky chewed on his lip after that. Til the end of the line his ass. Bucky ran his hand through his hair, the strands comforting his hand. He got up from the window and walked over to his little bed and went to sleep. The night's toll took everything out of him.

The only thing he currently wanted was this thing he had with this girl to be good. How wrong he was.

He decided that he was going to go and return the book Yori gave him. He still hated what happened and he knew trying to fix it would make it worse. The least he could do is get him the book he wanted. So Bucky put on his washed-out jeans, his shirt he wore yesterday, shrugged on his jackets and slipped his feet into his boots, and a black glove to hide his metallic arm, and went to the Library.

The library was a little old place with the roof caving in not far from the complex building. He wondered why Yori didn't just go and get it himself, Bucky didn't really care about having to go but he just wanted to know if Yori was okay and doing well.

Bucky went down the stairs and found a few remaining pieces of the glass bottle he broke last week. The memory of him falling and breaking it etched in his mind vividly. He felt a chill run up his spine at the feeling of someone seeing him like that.

He hurried down the last of the stairs and opened the glass door and went outside. The warm air wafted itself around him in a soft summer breeze. It was warm but not hot enough for him to go without a jacket and the chilly breeze lightened it up. It felt relaxing since he forgot how long it's been outside of his apartment.

He took long strides on his walk. But he couldn't shake the paranoia of being stalked. He was about halfway when he saw a shadow mock him. He walked faster not wanting to have to deal with this today.

The other person's shadow grew larger and bigger as Bucky walked further. When Bucky saw the library and a few he nearly bolted to the building. When he was inside he saw that it was just a lost dog. He was losing it. He sighed his mind relaxing and then jolting when he felt a hand touch his shoulder.

"Hey, are you okay mister?"

A warm voice made his heart pump faster than it already was he felt like he was going to have a heart attack. When he turned around he was met by easily the most beautiful girl. It was you. He thought in that instant that everything about you was perfect the way your eyes looked at him, the way your face was adorable, the way your hair fell behind your ears, the way your lips looked the most perfect shade along with your eyes. He promised himself when he got home that he'd paint his whole apartment that color.

He went cross-eyed from staring at the shape of your lips and how they shaped around the words he couldn't hear from being so entranced by you. He started to feel his heartbeat out of his chest. When he thought of how you'd look with pretty lips wrapped around him and dull bedroom eyes looking up at him through thick eyelashes. He needed to stop, he just met you and now he's so hard against his jeans that he was sure that he was bruised.

And your hands on his shoulders shaking him wasn't helping him. His trance was broken when he realized what was happening. "Huh?" That is all he managed to make out through his lust-clouded mind. You did this face that made him die, it was when your eyebrows furrowed and your lips went to one side pursed together. Your eyes were cut at him and he knew he was in trouble but he just couldn't help being enticed by you.

"I asked if you needed help," You stopped and wagged a finger in his way "You're all sweaty." He looked down at himself and you were right, his hair stuck down and his shirt showed pools. Shit. Way to embarrass yourself, Buck. You're sweaty, you're horny for some girl you just met. He was a trainwreck embodied. "I'm okay, it's just the heat," Bucky spoke with uncertainty. He had no idea what was happening why he was acting like this. He usually never felt like this around a girl, especially one he just met.

Your face was still cut, your lips went back into the fullness of how they are naturally. "Weird but okay." You spoke under your breath since it wasn't sweating weather outside. You were going to be the death of him and thankfully there were only a couple of other people in the library since it was the morning of a weekday.

"There's a cool spot where the ac is over there." She turned and pointed towards the left somewhere. He couldn't concentrate in the slightest even if he tried. And god your body from just the standard shirt and jeans you wore he felt his turn into skinny jeans.

"But anyway if you need me just yell, its y/n." And you left and when you walked away to assist someone else he got the perfect view of your ass. He scurried into the thick of the bookshelves and triple-checked if anyone was around him and adjusted himself.

It was so painful to not jump your bones right there. He rubbed his face with his hands and groaned. Get it together Buck. He realizes that he was going to have to go and talk to you again since he had to check the book in. He mentally stabs himself in the neck.

He calms himself down enough so that he could talk to you again. He feels like a prepubescent boy talking to his crush. Bucky guessed that he lost his cool with talking to girls over the years since he stopped. This was hell. You were at the front desk, the one in front of the door. You were reading some book that he didn't know.

He took a moment to admire the way your hair frames your face, the way your ass jutted out so you could lean over the desk on your forearms. Your free hand, the one not holding your page was used as a support beam for your face under your chin. God you were so beautiful, he hooked his finger under the collar of his shirt and started to flick it back and forth to generate air.

He was the human-dog drooling over a mate. He hated himself for not getting to know you and he already felt like this towards you. He was a monster but he wasn't impolite; he drew the line there. He was in the clouds that he didn't notice you staring at him with squinted eyes. "Can I help you, sir?" Your voice hung on sir in his mind.

He couldn't help but envision you beneath him moaning sir. "Uh, yeah, there's this book" He startled himself when his voice croaked out a response. He patted the pocket of his jacket and had a crisis when he thought he left it at home. But when he shoved his hands into his pocket he let out a smile of relief and grabbed it and slid it over to you on the other side of the desk.

"I need you to check that in and then" He stopped and searched for the piece of paper Yori gave him. He found it crumpled as lint in the bottom of his other pocket and the words faded. "Shit, uh, and check out this." He shoved his hands in his pocket and looked at his feet afraid of confrontation. You silently grabbed the book and checked it in and grabbed the note. You couldn't make out a single letter. Your eyebrows pinched together and when he looked up quickly and then darted his eyes away. He knew that you couldn't.

He wanted a sinkhole to open up and swallow him whole. You scratched the back of your neck trying to decipher the note "I can recommend something similar to the book you turned in, I'm sorry but I can't read this." You spoke with sincerity. And walked out behind the desk and poor Bucky followed you like a lovesick puppy.

You cursed Jordan, another employee for putting the desired book on the top shelf. The bookshelves were very tall and you weren't short but you weren't 7' foot either. You pinched your nose shutting your eyes and put a hand on your hip. "Do you see the book at the very top with the red back?" You muttered and Bucky looked up and saw the issue. "Do you want me to grab it for you?" Bucky looked at you with the softest eyes and you couldn't help but admire them.

You shook your head and lord you were about to melt. His body was brushed up against yours, you could've moved but you really didn't. You could feel the texture of his jacket against your soft skin and you cursed yourself for blushing. He took notice and let a small smile creep on his face when he handed you the book and your head was hung low when you walked back behind the desk.

Bucky guessed that he didn't completely lose his effect on girls. When you were checking out the book he noticed the book you were reading. It was The hobbit. He actually enjoyed the book when he read it when it first came out. He didn't take an interest in fantasy and so he shrugged it off until he actually read it.

When you stamped the books inside the page and slid it back. Bucky smirked "You know they all die in the end." The pure confusion on your face was amusing and with that, he left.

When he got home he started to feel the metal of his arm become rusted and thinking back it had been a while since the last time he cleaned it. He was wanting it to fall off so bad that he forgot he actually needed it.

He wondered where the girl went that texted him before. He didn't want to bother her by texting her first that to him was unnatural. It didn't bother him that much since he used to. And that the date was tomorrow so she would either show up or not and he'd suffer the consequences either way.

He went to the bathroom to grab the grease and a rag he uses every time in the cabinet under the sink.

He stopped shortly catching himself in the shattered mirror. The bandage on his chin began to fall off God forbid it started to at the library. He took it off slowly, the hair of his stubble getting caught in the crossfire. There was a bright pink little scar where the gash was. His skin healed relatively fast but it never cured the scars. He figured if his chin was healed that his hand should be.

He unwrapped his hand slowly for some reason he was scared of what it looked like. When he finally finished unwrapping his palm was littered with scars ranging in size. He touched the scars to see if they hurt with his metal hand and nothing.

Just a scar.

Bucky grabbed the grease and took off his jacket and boots and the first time he moved in he sat on the couch.

It was stiff as ever and it never got out of the store phase. He poured some grease on the white rag and it turned brown and he started to put it in the creases where he noticed it too slow. His mind ran back to you that never happened to him. God he was caught red-handed too, he'd have to take a very long and cold shower when he was done cleaning his arm. The rest of the evening all he could think about was what would happen tomorrow and how he'd destroy the girl of his dreams.

Bucky spent Friday constantly checking his phone for two reasons.

1) to see if his admirer would message him and

2) always checking the time.

He honestly couldn't wait; it's been forever and he was excited about something new. For change. The only source of entertainment he had was the book he checked out earlier. It wasn't the book he was supposed to get. The book in contrast was called American Psycho.

Bucky was about halfway and he fairly enjoyed it. Although it disturbed him since he found similarities in himself with Patrick Bateman. Bucky laughed at all the dark jokes and liked all the points where Patrick lost all sanity; it was the highlight of the book.

Bucky flipped one of the knives carelessly in the hand that wasn't occupied by the book. Bucky loved the power a single knife had. A single slip of the wrist could end something as fast as it began. Time flew by when simple hobbies turned into jobs. He cursed himself because it was seven o clock and he had only an hour to go to the restaurant which was the sushi place that he and Yori used to eat at.

He texted the directions to the girl, he grabbed his glove and jacket and shoved the knife in the back of his belt and fled down the stairs and out the door, and ran the rest of the way.

You sat at the small petite table, your phone clutched in your hand carefully watching the time. When it turned to 8:55 your gut twisted. Maybe he didn't like you as much as you liked him.

The waitress came by once again asking if everything was okay and if you'd like to eat and each time and you'd have to politely decline. You crossed and uncrossed your legs, they grew numb from you sitting in the wooden chair for the past hour. You didn't know what to wear so you opted for a sleek white dress and some heels.

You hoped you didn't overdress and make the wrong impression. You sipped on your water looking through the window to find any hint of your lover boy. You knew what to look for since you knew who it was. But maybe he didn't come and you were set up. How embarrassing this was. Yori told you that he was stubborn but he seemed pretty into you at the library. You know Yori through Leah, an employee at the restaurant who was a friend of yours.

She promised you that she would pay for your meal every time you ate there. How could you refuse? You sighed and began to get up and leave since you thought Bucky gave up on wanting to go on the date. You quickly sat down when you heard the bell of the door ring open and then there he was in all his glory.

Bucky Barnes, in the same leather jacket but you couldn't believe how good he looked underneath the dim light. His bandages were now gone and his face was sullen and structured from the shadows that made his face deepen. You smiled your ruby lips catching Bucky's attention and he hadn't seen something so pleasing to the eye in ages. Although he was confused since he didn't know that it was you who he was texting was there something going on that he didn't know about?

He pulled out the chair and sat across from you with his face stern. "Why didn't you tell me it was you that I was talking to?" He spoke slowly and his head tilted in question like a puppy's. "Yori told me about how you are with dating and he was afraid of you always being alone, and he gave me your number, I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

You fiddled with your fingers when you talked you were nervous about his reaction. You knew all about Bucky's reputation and embarrassing enough growing up you developed a crush on him, so you jumped for this opportunity.

You loved how strong and brave he was and even though he was brainwashed you thought of him as a good person. He chewed on the inside of his cheek thinking of what were the right words to say. "Just no more secrets from now on." With that, he waved down the waitress for a bottle of Shōchū.

After the half, the bottle was gone you couldn't help but be in wonder from how he managed to be able to drink all that meanwhile you were still sipping on your first shot. Every sip you took you gagged and your face turned into a kid who took their first sip of alcohol which made Bucky laugh.

Dinner was going along nicely there were many jokes and stories shared but Bucky couldn't help but be skeptical of how this could work. Bucky was severely messed up and couldn't care for another. He wanted to but he was just incapable, maybe he could just live this lie and things could be normal.

When they called for closure Bucky finished laughing at some remark you made, you and he were sat there talking for a couple of hours. It was just so easy to talk to him. Although you did notice a few times he would wince in pain and put his face in his hands. You thought it was odd but shrugged it off from his excessive drinking. Speaking of the devil he asked

"Do you want to go to my place. There have been complications with my tv so we can't watch a movie, but I can keep you company." You smiled a drunken buzz of Shōchū. Not nearly did you drink as much as Bucky but it was still written across your features. Your face flushed pink and your body made of jello hung off of Bucky's arm the whole walk to his house and Bucky every now and then had to pick you up.

Bucky didn't want to do anything rash to you but in the back of his mind, something kept itching it made it so painful that he couldn't ignore it. It kept making him shake his head and wince it was like a headache but much more painful. When he got into his apartment you took notice of what he meant by complications of a totaled tv. You shed off your heels and sat on the tv nervous to be in Bucky's house, your form off-putting to Bucky.

He sat down across the couch from you and he became hurt by you sitting so far away from him. "Are you scared of me or something?" He spoke grimly staring at the floor, his face holding no emotion to his words. "What? no!" You were shocked by his words. How could he assume that you were scared of him? Bucky looked your way and a strange look appeared in his eyes.

"Then why are you sitting so far away from me?" He gritted his teeth and his hands turned into fists, they were clamped tightly together on his thighs and this side of Bucky did scare you. He wasn't Bucky, he looked like him but his whole persona changed in the span of minutes. You wondered if it was something you said or did.

You became fearful when he fell off the couch onto his knees his head clutched in his hands. He started to scream not like the ones before this one was full of pain and torment. The moon's light made this scene unfold a lot more sinister. What was happening to him, why was he acting this way? Then all of a sudden he grew very quiet nothing could be heard other than your breathing.

You were confused and scared but you did care for Bucky and in his position, you assumed he was in serious need of help. You walked carefully taking notice to not step loudly to provoke him. You crouched down your dress falling over your feet, you reached your right hand out hesitant towards Bucky.

You stayed with your hand on his shoulder

"Bucky?"

You whispered softly, scared to disturb him. Everything was at ease at a calm one that felt too unrealistic.

That was true because a few seconds later Bucky grumbled out

"Who the hell is Bucky."

He slung around his body twisted and grabbed a knife from the back of his belt and stabbed you straight into the heart with it. Before you could even have time to run it was over.

The white of your dress now became a soaking deep red. The way your eyes forever open to the moon the way the moon took your life. And that day was when Bucky Barnes lost his sanity and forever came the winter soldier.

*A few months later*

She sat with her legs crossed, her hair tied up perfectly.

Her posture evenly to the ceiling while sitting. The only one that a soldier would perfect. She read over his portfolio over and over to get every last detail to stick in her mind so she wouldn't forget.

She breathed heavily finishing the last sentence. She took off her glasses and shut the case file on her lap, and put her right elbow up on the white seat, her glasses in the same hand.

She pursed her lips staring at the man in front of her and sat on the white couch in front of a forest mural. He was in all black a blank face, his hair a little longer and his stubble now thicker.

He played with the pink protruding scar on his right hand. Pushing and watching the blood rush to it. She wrote that in the notebook.

When he caught notice he stopped and tilted his head slightly. He narrowed his eyes and stared at her.

He was convicted of third-degree murder and numerous accounts of other convictions.

She thought over all the things that were stated in the portfolio but what struck her the most was that he drank excessively and faked being drunk just to feel

"more human."

She thought of a way to form a sentence to not upset him about what he's telling her to see if what he recollected matched what was in the documents but there was no easy way to do that.

She listened to him finish the last of what he was telling her:

"And that's how the story ended."

Fin.

#bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barns x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x female reader #bucky fluff #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x reader angst #angst #fluff fic #fanfic #writing #marvel #marvel fic #mcu fanfiction #mcu spoilers #the falcon and the winter soldier #sam wilson #tfatws #bucky barnes #steve rogers #yori nakajima #suhi #library #flirt dates #wrong number #fluff #dialogue prompt #ship tropes #sebastian stan

[khaleesiofalicante]

I really said fuck classes who needs notes anyway (i do I have 5 tests in the next two weeks)

before I post my live blog here, I feel like people really underestimate how bad rumors are and how much they fuck with your mental health. they don't lose sleep over them, they don't think twice. but these things are harmful as fuck. they leave wounds that take so long to recover from because you keep on thinking about these lies who to others are "just words"

I've been there. it's not fun. I wish I had the courage back then to stand up to those rumors which I have now. these things never leave you. others might move on but the healing process is a journey that is long and hard. I wish more people understood just what effect their words can have.

Yeah, he knew a thing or two about family members going overboard with glitter.

IT'S RAFAEL CENTRIC GHSYGUJDUYDFUIKFDUIDFIUDF

TAVVY

TAVVY

TAVVY

DCSUIHDCSUIDUYUDICUIVSDUIHFVSUILFBUHKIFSV

I feel like I keyboard smash A LOT

“You will never drink even if you are not riding the bike,” Dad had pointed out – all Consul Voice and threatening glares. “The legal age for drinking in New York is 21.”

“But it’s 15 in Idris!”

“Well unfortunately for you, we are in Exile,” dad had grinned.

DAD ALEC UHIKSFDUIHKSGUIKSDVUIHKDVUHIKSVD

Max had a habit of ‘borrowing’ things and selling them on eBay. In his brother’s defense, Bapak had so many clothes that he never noticed when things disappeared. But Rafael did since he had a habit of wearing his father’s clothes.

The warlock – not the shadowhunter.

He wouldn’t be caught dead in one of those sweaters.

Now that Rafael was 18, he was almost as tall as his father.

The shadowhunter – not the warlock.

I AM SCREAMING

I love how he's clarifying which one he's talking about

“Do you know I used to have a crush on Lily Chen?” Tavvy blushed. “But then I found out she made out with Helen once and it kinda got weird.”

Ah yes. I remember. Does Rafael know that Alec also walked in on them?

ARCHITECT TAVVY

SDHDVUHDFSV,YDSFVUYVSFFUSVFUVFS

SHADOWUNTERS ATTENDING MUNDANE COLLEGES

“Dude, college kids don’t give a shit,” Tavvy laughed. “You could walk into a lecture covered in runes, holding a seraph blade and they wouldn’t give you a second look.”

“Cause they are chill?”

“Yes. But mostly cause they are dead inside,” Tavvy chuckled.

Surprisingly that's exactly what my grade 6 prefect told me (DAMN WHY AM I ALWAYS REMEMBERING GRADE 6 IT'S BEEN YEARS. that was a horrible year *shudders*)

ANJALI IS A CENTURION

LMAO THIS IS WHAT RAFAEL MEANT WHEN HE SAID HE WOULDNT WANT TO GO TO THE SCHOLOMANCE FOR PERSONAL REASONS

I still ship them.

“The meeting is going to go perfe-What is SHE doing here?”

Well, that was a quick change-

Unlike Aunt Maia, Lily did not like to be called Aunt Lily. So, Rafael respected her wishes. Max of course continued to call her Aunt Lily and sometimes Abeula Lily since his brother had a pathological condition of pissing people off.

THAT'S SO MAX OMG JHSXUHSCUHISDHUHUKIDVS

great now I miss Raphael

I HAVE A CLASS IN 7 MINUTES STOP MAKING ME CRY

that is so thoughtful of him though...

tears.

“There are no photos of Raphael,” Lily sighed.

“Because he is a vampire?” Tavvy asked sympathetically.

“Because he is Raphael,” she grinned. “Vampires can most certainly take photos. You should follow me on Instagram. My handle is simp_for_carstairs.”

Of course, it is. No one is surprised.

Tavvy picked one up, took a large bite and it threw it back immediately. “Holy shit, that’s spicy!”

“White,” Lily and Anjali snorted at the same time.

white people and their bland foods smh

“She is not wrong,” Lily nodded seriously. “I’m a Jem Carstairs fan first and a vampire second.”

As she should be

UHDSUHDFSUHFDH ANJALI AND RAFAEL COMPETING ABOUT WHO'S LILY'S FAVORITE

He observed Anjali’s long dark hair spilled over her shoulders as her eyes stayed on Lily – sharp, protective and beautiful.

"Beautiful"

I AM NOT LETTING THIS GO

I'm THE DAMN CAPTAIN OF THIS SHIP

FUCKING RUMORS

I'm GONNA KILL SOMEONE

“Shadowhunters are awful gossips,” Anjali said. “Let’s not waste our time with this nonsense.”

There was something in her voice. Something he couldn’t put his finger on.

No, wait I want to know what was in her voice.

But no. It couldn’t be. They weren’t dating.

YET

Rafael was sure there was something more than friendship between them. But David was polite to a fault and Max was an oblivious little shit. So, obviously nothing had happened yet.

OH MY GOD THESE TWO

But this was different. He would tolerate rumours about himself. But he would not tolerate rumours about his family.

I and Rafael will beat up the people who spread these rumors together :D

“She once told me she likes sipping tea more than drinking blood.

I-

same.

NOT THAT I DRINK BLOOD-

RAFAEL LMAO NO

"I hate her she's so annoying"

continues to daydream about her and how tall she'd be without those boots, lies to tavvy about her dating someone

Why did he do that? What was the purpose? Did he not want other people to date just because he wasn’t dating anyone?

And he calls Max oblivious.

oh class started

shit

IDC IDC I'LL STILL BE READING

LEXI AND SELENA ARE AT THE ACADEMY

JACE HYPER FIXATING ON THINGS BECAUSE HE'S BORED IS SUCH A MOOD

“David and I added rosemary to this one,” Uncle Jace wiped his hands on his apron. “It has definitely improved the taste, hasn’t it?”

“Save me,” David mouthed from behind the man.

LMAO POOR DAVID

“Empty nest syndrome,” Rafael chuckled. “I’m glad neither Max nor I had to leave home. My fathers are much worse.”

He remembered his first sleepover at the institute. His parents had waited for “an excruciating hour” before crashing the institute and joining the sleepover themselves.

yup, that's them.

“David,” Rafael grinned. “Are you afraid of my father?”

“What? No! He is the just a regular person…who can throw me in the silent city any time he wants,” David rambled and then shook his head. “Where is Max?”

He tried to sound nonchalant. But Rafael noted the way the other boy’s eyes fluttered every time he said Max’s name.

Just the way a crooked smile appeared on his brother’s lips every time someone said David’s name.

Idiots

ok, there is so much to unpack here.

DAVID HAS A VALID REASON OK??

These two are such IDIOTS HUSDUHISCUIDSVCUIHVSDUHI

“Max said Bapak is biased, and that he needs an unbiased tutor. Uncle Ragnor volunteered,” Rafael chuckled. “God bless the poor man.”

“Max isn’t that bad,” David replied.

“Looks like you’re biased too, David,” Rafael winked and picked up a spare bow from the training room.

of course, he is.

G-FORCE KJHSDCUISDYUKDFSUYKDSVYUSFD

oh shit

oh shit

WHO DID WHAT THIS TIME

what's the rumor and who do I need to kill

He didn’t know her well. But she knew a lot about him. Just as she knew a lot about the twins. She was one of those people who was oddly invested in his life just because Rafael happened to the Consul’s son.

what is her problem?

what the fuck

I need a minute

I need a minute to digest that

I'm so glad I closed my camera in class

what the actual fuck did she just say

tell me I'm hallucinating

times like these I wish I was Jared 19

no, because I'm actually speechless right now

Paige and Irene need therapy

OH SHE WENT THERE

“Paige, that’s enough!” the Dean snapped at her. “How dare you talk to him that way? You talk about warlock corruption but where all of you when Valentine exploited Jace and Clary? Where was this moral obligation when Valentine lied to his children and played with their feelings as if they were nothing but toys to be controlled and manipulated? I’m sick of shadowhunters victim blaming children instead of holding people like Valentine accountable.”

THANK YOU

SAY IT LOUDER FOR THE PEOPLE IN THE BACK SIMON

I feel like we all focus so much on the "incest" and hate on clace we forget that this part of the story was literally an abuser seeing that the victim was recovering and took the only thing which made him happy from him

I can't believe this

“Children have been suffering for a long time now, Paige,” Uncle Jace said now, his fists balled at his sides. “Where were you when Alec proposed the child protection bill? We didn’t see any of you supporting it.”

“We had other priorities,” the older woman replied. “People were dying! It was not the right time for a new law. We could have always signed that bill later. There was no rush!”

OTHER PRIORITIES MY ASS BITCH FUCK YOU

hey just realizing Rafael is the token straight

I'M SORRY IM TRYING TO DISTRACT ME

“The Cohort who made children kill themselves to prove a point?” Uncle Simon asked dryly. “That Cohort?”

I am so close to either crying or killing someone or both.

This was Max’s spot since it had the best Wi-Fi coverage.

yeah trust me I spend all the time in the guest room because it has the best wifi coverage or the study.

MAX IS SMOKING TOO

YOU FUCKING IDIOTS

oh wait

oh they might be alec's

yeah

For the next thirty minutes, Max paced around the room, threatening to portal all the shadowhunters to hell.

Then he went on about a plan to attack the cohort and portal them all to hell too.

He kept talking about portalling people to hell.

MAX YES LET'S DO IT!!!!

But here is the thing about people, they don’t get to you. You get to them.

They simply say something and leave. They probably don’t even mean the things they say or lose sleep over it. But it wasn’t the same for you. You obsess over it. You stay awake at night and let it consume your dreams.

YES! To others, it's just words. meaningless. to you, the effect can be so so deep. it's not easy to always brush them off.

NO MAGNUS

THAT'S IT

MAX AND I ARE PORTALLING PEOPLE TO HELL

WE'RE DOING IT

why do we hurt others?

my teacher: ill take a test on this chapter. all 20 units

me: softly crying because people are little shits and they hurt others.

“Fuck everyone else,” dad hissed. “They’ve hurt our family enough.”

EXACTLY. LEAVE THEM ALONE.

“I am simply being honest with you,” Dad interrupted. “I could never be okay when you are away from me. But I will manage. Max is going to raise hell though. So, that’s going to be fun.”

AS HE SHOULD

Neither Rafael nor Max would never admit it out loud, but on the day of that sleepover, on the day their parents had crashed the institute bcause they had missed the kids too much…Rafael and Max had been only a moment away from calling their parents to come pick them up.

He's right though.

it'll take time. lots of it maybe.

BUT THE ACTUAL AUDACITY.

It fucked with his mind so much.

Rafael...ALRIGHT WHERE ARE MY FLAMETHROWERS

“DAD! BAPA! WAKE UP! RAFE IS TRYING TO RUN AWAY!”

MAX REMINDS ME SO MUCH OF MY LITTLE BROTHER

He had forgotten about the bloody paperwork. Shadowhunters on their travel year had to notify the Clave and get their paperwork in order.

Well, it shouldn’t be a problem since the Clave was standing across the hall.

EXACTLY

Because it was killing him. It was killing him not to be lying on the couch, his head resting on his Bapak’s lap just like every other Saturday morning.

It was killing him not to touch, not to love, not to care.

GET MY FLAMETHROWERS AND CANNIBAL GOLDFISHES WE HAVE SOME WORK TO DO

(goddamn every class I have taken so far the teacher has told us there is a test coming up it's 9 am in the morning.)

His brother growled at that like the little feral animal that he was.

that's adorable actually.

“Fine,” Max rolled his eyes. “Does this mean I can also travel? There is a Twenty One Pilots concert in Sydney and-”

“Nice try,” Dad said. “But no. You are staying here.”

“Excuse me, but what about my healing?” Max demanded. “I’ve been traumatised by this thing.”

“You can go to therapy,” Rafael winked at this brother.

Therapy is boring but useful so-

He needed to survive this. So, he decided to go back to the place he had learned how to survive in the first place.

He needed to go back home.

UGLY CRYING WHILE TAYLOR SWIFT PLAYS IN THE BACKGROUND AND MY HISTORY CLASS IN 2 MINUTES

I'm so proud of him for this...

I still say we kill these people.

JOAQUIN AND JULIETTE

UHISDCUIHFSDUGUIDFVDSDVFJHGDFVHUKDVHUKVF

Camilla Alvarez.

well well.

OH THEY KISSED

“Right,” Rafael had said. “Gap year. Besides, I do talk them. My brother threatened to paint my room in hot pink if I don’t text him every day.”

hands max a pint of paint HAVE AT IT

Max: Also – New Rumour. Dalliance between Lily and Tavvy.

Rafe: OMFG WHAT

Max: They are running with it and freaking old n*philim out.

AS THEY SHOULD UFUHIFUIHFUIHKFU

THE CENSORED N*PHILIM I'M SCREAMING

“He is hot.”

He laughed out loud. “Yeah. I hear that a lot.”

“Your dad looks kinda scary,” she pointed out.

Rafael laughed again. “Yeah. I kinda hear that a lot too.”

I'm liking this ship...

I'M STILL LOYAL TO THE RAFAEL AND ANJALI SHIP

but I'm happy for him. I'm glad he's getting the space he needs

Dad: Jst found legal age fr drnkng in Buenos Aires is 18.

Rafe: ????

Dad: I hv friends thr.

Rafe: ???

Dad: Thy r watchn u.

Rafe: Creepy but okay.

HJSDCGUIHJGSDCYUICVXUHVUHKDV

THE BOY'S DRINKING Y'ALL

Do it

MILA IS GOING TO NY!!

I like her. she's nice.

He was leaving soon. He didn’t see the point in lying to her. “I ran away from home. Kind of.”

“Why?”

“I hurt someone I love,” Rafael confessed. “The person I love most in the world.”

honey, it wasn't your fault... hugs

Shit. Why wasn’t Bapak going to the accords signing? He had been there for every single one since the very first time.

no no no no is something wrong?? I'm worried.

“You look taller,” Rafael told his brother who hadn’t grown an inch.

LMAO

Max and I are vertically challenged.

“Rafe, go to talk to him. Or I will tell everyone you’ve been smoking in the balcony!”

So, he was going to pin this on him, huh? This little shit.

well-

“You’ve progressed from freaking to fucking,” he pointed out.

“That’s not the fucking point, Rafael!” Max said in exasperation.

“You did it again,” Rafe pinched Max’s cheek. “My little brother is all grown up now. Linguistically I mean.”

“Dick."

I CAN'T WITH THESE TWO

When he had gone back to Buenos Aires, the place was completely different - even the shadow market.

There were no abandoned children in the streets. There were no racist and ignorant leaders exploiting innocent downworlders.

There was only growth.

His father had done that. Alec Lightwood had helped Joaquin and his people create a new world in Buenos Aires.

This shows how much people can flourish under good leadership if they really try.

YOU KNOW I'M SUPPOSED TO BE TAKING THESE NOTES DOWN, NOT CRYING OVER THIS.

“I will protect our family. I will protect our friends. I will protect those who ask for my protection. But I will not tolerate their hate. I will not turn my head and pretend it doesn’t hurt. Because it does hurt and that’s not okay.”

Rafael smiled at that. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s not okay.”

“The accords is important. But so am I. There is no point in signing a treaty that is meant to value equality if I have to sign it while being surrounded by those who refuse to respect me or my identity. I simply cannot do it, Rafael. I hope you understand.”

I'm sobbing like YES YOU DONT OWE THEM SHIT. THESE UNGRATEFUL BITCHES.

“It’s taken me a while to realize this. But I don’t owe the nephilim anything,” Bapak said firmly. “It’s about time they realize that too.”

YES EXACTLY

“I’ve known shadowhunters for a long time, Rafael. Good ones. Bad ones. All kinds of them – and shadowhunters have always defined themselves by their love. Not by your weapons. Not by your runes. Not by your last names. Not by your laws. Shadowhunters have always defined themselves by love. So, don’t ever let them take that away from you.”

I want this on a T-shirt. These damn shadowhunters and their love.

“Like the Accords Hall kiss?” Rafael grinned.

“It’s the stupidest thing your father had ever done – which is really saying something,” his father laughed. “But it’s also the bravest thing I’ve ever seen him do. And that’s how I knew.”

affectionate sigh that's alec.

“Good. Max is sitting in the porch and singing All by Myself,” Tessa chuckled and closed the door. “Just thought you should know!!”

Rafael giggled at that. “He must have given you hell.”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” Bapak shrugged, and Rafael raised an eyebrow. “Fine. I might have promised to buy him a car when he turns 18.”

“You’re hoping he would stop aging by then, aren’t you?” Rafael chuckled.

Max is so dramatic I aspire to be like him.

Blue banners when the lost return, the shadowhunter rhythm said.

Rafael had returned home – and he was no longer lost.

I'm ok I say as I cry during my history class

I'm so proud of him.

“Well, that needs to be rectified immediately,” Dad said in the Consul Voice and literally yelled. “I am about to kiss my son – on both cheeks! You better gossip about this too!”

“Oh my god, stop!” Rafael giggled and tried to escape.

“YAS!” he heard Uncle Jace yelled from somewhere. “GIVE US A FOREHEAD KISS TOO!”

THEY ARE SO DRAMATIC I LOVE THESE IDIOTS SO MUCH.

THEM ADDING TO THE ACCORDS AS THEY SHOULD OMG

“The hell is hate speech?” someone asked.

Do you not have a dictionary you uncultured swine

“There is a very clear difference between free speech and hate speech,” Cristina Rosales pointed out. “The fact that you don’t seem to know that is all the more reason for us to include this provision.”

YES CRISTINA

“By the angel,” an old man gasped. “There is no need to be so emotional. The younger generation can be such snowflakes.”

What if I just strangles him

“Discriminatory language?” a woman demanded. “What does that even mean?”

“Calling vampires bloodsuckers,” Lily Chen answered.

“Calling warlocks demon spawns,” Ragnor Fell pointed out.

“Calling werewolves fleabags,” Maia Roberts declared.

“Calling faeries half-breeds,” Kieran Kingson all but yelled.

The fact that they have had to deal with this shit for YEARS. (also why Kingson? isn't Kieran the king?)

THE QUEEN HERSELF IS HERE Y'ALL

“Which one of you shitheads said hate speech is harmless?” Anjali demanded, her voice booming over everyone and everything else.

YES ANJALI

Anjali had a grin of her own. “While that might true, Paige, there is most certainly a law on child protection. You didn’t just hurt Magnus Bane. You also hurt his son. Section 7 of the Child Protection Bill states that any person who physically or emotionally injures a child through ill-treatment, neglect, abandonment or abuse is guilty of breaking the covenant.”

“Damn straight!” someone yelled from the crowd – it sounded suspiciously like Kit.

CALL THESE BITCHES OUT YES

“Rafael is not a child!” someone yelled again. A lot of them this time. “It’s still not illegal. The law doesn’t say so!”

“By the angel, for someone who is obsessed with the law you people seem to know nothing about it,” Anjali said in exasperation. “The child protection law defines a child as a person under 18 years OR younger. The incident happened when he was still 18. It’s illegal.”

YES ANJALI FUCK THESE PEOPLE

“I’m the Inquisitor’s daughter,” she said. “Next time, think twice before you quote the law at me.”

SHOW THEM, QUEEN

How did she know his birthday????

ahem

“So, if you do hurt him emotionally, you can still be implicated. You will face charges and you can possibly be stripped of your runes,” Anjali pointed out seriously. “Now I ask you again. Does anyone else have to say anything about him?”

There was absolute silence then.

“Didn’t fucking think so,” Anjali spat. “I literally had to mention the stripping of your marks for you to respect another person’s basic rights. If you give half the value you place on your precious runes to other people, we wouldn’t be in exile right now.”

The Cohort looked terrified – of Anjali or their future in the Clave, Rafael didn’t know.

“People are dying,” Anjali said, her voice heavy now. “Our people are fucking dying, and you seem to be more bothered with who is sleeping with whom. Shame on you. Shame on all of you!”

She turned to the Council. The Inquisitor looked like he was going to cry from pride. Rafael’s dad looked half terrified but mostly impressed. Lily was blowing kisses at Anjali. The other downworld leaders looked quite pleased.

Shadowhunters are so fucking bigoted and narrow-minded. I'm seething right now.

also, alec looking scared-

“THAT’S THE BEST SHIT I HAVE EVER SEEN IN MY ENTIRE LIFE!” Emma Carstairs yelled.

“Goddamn, I wish Magnus was here to see this,” Uncle Jace grinned. “That was satisfying as hell.”

“No worries, I recorded the whole thing!” Kit put up his hand.

YES YES AND YES

“Fuck the Cohort,” Rafael giggled.

“Actually, I would prefer you use the word screw,” his father pointed out. “Screw the Cohort!”

“Oh my god, Dad!” Rafael rolled his eyes. “I am allowed to swear once in a while.”

“No, you are not,” Dad said firmly – this man was so not ready to meet Max’s new persona. “As your friend pointed out, you are still a child.”

Alec seeing Max curse left and right: 👁️👄👁️

"She hates me!"

“Rafael, she stood up for you in front of the entire Clave. She fought the Cohort. It was incredibly brave. I wish she had spoken to me before without causing all the chaos. So, it was a little stupid of course. But still brave.”

Stupid but brave.

YESYESYESYES IT'S HAPPENING!!!

ANJALI WHO HURT YOU

WHO DARED TO

Names. Give me names NOW

Jaime no...please no not Jaime.

please please, please

ok, I searched it up. And he can get treatment. He can live. It doesn't have to be serious. please, Jaime...

“If you ever tell anyone you saw me crying, I will drag you to Idris and drown you in Lake Lyn.”

This is such an Anjali thing to say.

OOO MILLA (Mila?) MESSAGED!!! Is there gonna be some sort of love triangle here??

me who despises love triangles (aside from TID of course): ...

BUT SINCE IT'S YOU I'M SURE IT'LL BE AMAZING. I'm still nervous about this though...

UHCUHDVUKDVHUKVHUVHM I LOVED THIS CHAPTER SO SO SO SO MUCH IT WAS A LITERAL ROLLERCOASTER AND ANJALI QUEEN I LOVE

see ya on Friday!!

OKAY I AM LOVING THIS ENERGY BUT PLEASE FOCUS ON YOUR CLASSES FJKSDFHJKSJFHKD I PROMISE THE STORY IS GOING TO BE HERE WHEN YOU GET BACK LOL.

But I am so glad you like it. Amidst all your screaming and chaos, I always find very perceptive and profound observations. It's fantastic! I love it so much!

Thank you for enjoying LBAF - and good luck with your tests!!!

#lbaf

[hutchhitched]

Walk Back

Written by: @hutchhitched​

Prompt 143: The girl of my dreams asked me if I needed a ride home from campus so I obviously let her drive me home then walked back to campus a couple of hours later to get my car. [submitted by anonymous]

Ratings/Warnings: G

A/N: I’m continuing to post the nine @everlarkficexchange prompts I took and then sat on throughout the early months of the pandemic. This is the sixth of the nine. Thanks for your patience, and I hope you enjoy. Huge thanks to @javistg for understanding the delays. Only three more to go!

 Peeta Mellark knows he’s got it good compared to a lot of people. He really does, but that doesn’t stop him from wallowing in pity every once in a while. He’s in college, the first in his family, on a hefty scholarship; his grades are good; he has a lot of friends and a good work study job that actually does give him some time to study. Those are all good things. They really are, and he doesn’t dispute it, but…

 He’s also had a rough home life with a mom who’s never satisfied with anything he does and a father who loves him but can’t stand up to his wife long enough to protect his three sons from her emotional abuse. He’s a first-generation college student who’s excelling in courses for his major but isn’t doing so great in all his other general education courses. He has to work a lot more than he should for someone with his course load. Worst of all, though, he’s madly in love with a woman who likely doesn’t know his name. Well, that’s probably not true, but still. She’s certainly not crazy about him the way he is mad for her.

 There’s just no way Katniss Everdeen, fellow Panem University student and the smartest girl in his biology lab, would ever give him the time of day. Not when she already has a boyfriend, Mr. Tall, Dark, and Rugged, who’s about to graduate with a promising career. That’s unlike Peeta, an art major. He’ll never amount to anything, or so his mother likes to remind him every time he’s stupid enough to visit his family.

 Besides, Katniss is beautiful and sassy and shy and so many other wonderful things. She has no idea the effect she has on him or any other male within a mile radius, including their biology professor who’s proclaimed her the most brilliant student he’s had in his twenty-two years of teaching. Peeta spends the better part of their class together watching her from across the room, which is probably why his lab partner hates him and his grade in that class absolutely sucks.

 So, while Peeta knows he’s got some things going for him, it’s not surprising that he finds himself a little down in the dumps occasionally—especially on days when his crush shows up at his workplace. It’s even worse when his co-worker knows about his hopeless infatuation and has no shame. Johanna Mason may be his least favorite person on days like that. Today happens to be one of those days. He’s cursing his life when Jo comes up behind him and leans down to whisper in his ear.

 “Oooooooooh ooooooh. Katniss is pretty, isn’t she? Look at her over there. So serious. What do you think she’s getting ready to check out, and is there any way to make it sexual when gets over here?”

 “Shut up, Jo,” Peeta hisses as his cheeks flush, and he curls into himself, trying to hide behind the circulation desk so Katniss won’t see him.

 The last thing he wants is for the girl he’s been crushing on for months to hear his co-worker tease him about his hopeless attraction. The problem is that he told Johanna in a fit of self-loathing, and she coached him through it, built him up so his ego was a little higher than the floor and prepared him some for what to say to a girl when he likes her. While it was very kind of Jo to offer, Peeta isn’t that hopeless. He’d had a number of girlfriends in high school, but none of them compare to Katniss Everdeen. She is a goddess.

“What time’s your shift done today, hot buns?”

 “Don’t call me that! What is wrong with you?” he hisses. “Why are you so terrible?”

 “Terrible? I’m trying to get you laid, buddy. It’s certainly never going to happen if I leave you to your own devices, although I’m sure you’re taking care of yourself plenty. You’re a guy, after all.”

 Peeta’s face floods with heat, and he wants to slide onto the floor and hide behind the counter. She’s not wrong—he is a healthy, twenty-one-year-old man who hasn’t dated in a while—but Peeta doesn’t want his co-worker to know that. She’ll probably tell the whole world if he confirms what she suspects. Or say something to Katniss, which would be horrifying.

 “Why do you want to know?” he asks, suspicious.

 “Knowledge is power, my friend. Knowledge is power.”

 Still not convinced, he welcomes a patron and scans the student ID he’s handed. “Exactly ten minutes,” he mutters as he types in the bar codes of the pile of library books in front of him before sliding them across the counter. It’s almost midterm, so everyone’s trying to finish projects and bibliographies for research papers before they leave for spring break. The library’s been slammed for days.

 “She’s on her way over here,” Johanna nudges him.

 He whips his head up, and his eyes widen as he realizes Jo’s right. Katniss pages through a book as she strides toward the circulation desk. Johanna turns to busy herself with a pile of returned books, and he squeezes his legs together under the desk. If he can just stop his hands from shaking, things will be great.

 “Hi, Peeta,” she says with a guarded smile as she hands him her student ID. “How’s it going?”

 “K-katniss! Hi!” His voice squeaks, and he cringes internally. He sounds like an idiot. “It’s good. I’m good. How are you?”

 “Fine. I’m fine.” She hands him her student ID, and he glances down at the book she set on the counter.

 “History of Sculpture? That’s…”

 She laughs wryly and nods. “Yeah, I know. I’m not sure how I managed to get myself into it, but I signed up for an art appreciation class. I have zero artistic ability, so it’s painful.”

 “Oh,” he says. “That’s…yeah.”

 Johanna snorts behind him, and he tosses her a warning look. He should have known better. The woman doesn’t have a tactful bone in her body. Instead, she comes to stand behind Peeta and surveys Katniss.

 “You know, Peeta here is an art major,” Jo announces with her hand on his shoulder. “I bet he could help you with your art appreciation class. He’s great at that kind of stuff.”

 “Are you really?” Katniss asks, her eyes widening in pleased surprise. “I didn’t know that.”

 “I am,” he confirms. “I’m more of a painter than anything else, but I know quite a bit about all the different media. It’s kind of in the curriculum for my major.”

 She looks impressed, but she shakes her head as she picks up her book and tucks her ID into her pocket. “I couldn’t ask you to help, but that’s cool. I thought you were a biology major like me.”

 Johanna smacks him on the back, and he glares at her before wiping his expression clean and flashing a closed mouth grin at Katniss. When nobody says anything, Katniss turns to go.

 “Nonsense!” Jo cries. “Peeta’d be happy to help. I’m sure there’s something you could do for him to repay his generosity.”

 He swears under his breath and elbows Jo in the gut.

 “Oh, I don’t think there’s anything I have that Peeta wants—”

 “A ride home?” Jo interrupts. “Peeta’s car’s in the shop. He asked me for a ride, but his shift is over now, and I’ve got another two hours before I can leave. Poor guy. He’d really appreciate the lift.”

 Relief colors her face, and she nods. “I’d be happy to do that. My car’s on the street. I snagged one of those metered ones that are always full. Must be my lucky day.”

 “Oh, I’d say it certainly is,” Jo says, a wide self-satisfied smile plastered on her face. She practically shoves him out of his chair and adds, “Peeta, why don’t you go clock out. I’ll finish this up for you.”

 “I can—”

 “No, you can’t. You’re too close to hours. Besides, you wouldn’t want to keep Katniss waiting, now would you?”

 “You really are the devil, aren’t you?” he hisses as he grabs his stuff. “My car’s in the parking garage, not the shop. What the hell are you doing?”

 “Getting you some time alone with the girl of your dreams,” she explains with a withering look. “Now, let her give you a ride home so you can schmooze her.”

 Still disgruntled, he shuffles to the door and meets Katniss on the steps. She shifts uncomfortably, tugging on her braid and hunching her shoulders. He wonders if she’s trying to hide or if she’s cold in the chill of the early spring day.

 “I really appreciate this,” he says.

 She nods and leads him to her car. “No problem. It’s the least I can do.”

 “You don’t have to do anything at all.”

 She’s silent as she starts her car. Hesitating, she glances over at him and asks, “Does that mean you don’t want to tutor me? I understand if you don’t. It’s asking a lot for someone you barely know, especially since I can’t really afford to pay you.”

 “Except in rides.”

 “Well, yeah. I can do that.” She smiles at him tremulously and shifts the car into gear. Glancing over her shoulder, she signals and pulls out of the parking spot and onto the street.

 “You could help me in bio,” he blurts and his cheeks heat.

 “Really?”

 He cringes and shrugs. “Yeah. I can’t seem to get the hang of it. I think I’m one of those people that understands it in theory but not in practicality. I’m doing fine in the lecture, but lab is really confusing.” He doesn’t add that most of that is her fault, but not really, because he can’t stop mooning over her.

 “I can do that.”

 He glances at the pleased curve of her lips and wonders how he can make it happen again. The joy of seeing her happy sinks into his bones and gives him life. It’s ridiculous, but it’s true. He has no reason to think he should except common human decency matched with his overwhelming crush. He feels like a middle school boy who’s just figured out that girls and boys have different parts.

 Katniss stops at the intersection and glances over at him. Bashful, she admits, “I don’t know where I’m going.”

 Peeta’s eyebrows furrow and he motions out the windshield. “South?”

 “No,” she answers with a nervous laugh. “I mean, I don’t know where you live.”

 He’s an idiot. Of course she doesn’t know where he lives. “Sorry! Sorry. Turn left here. I wasn’t thinking.”

 “If you want…”

 “If I want?” he prods.

 “Well, maybe, if you don’t mind, that is.” She clears her throat and then words burst from her in a torrent. “I know a coffee shop that no one else really goes to. It’s quiet and the coffee’s good. They know me there, and I have a table they kind of save just for me. If you wanted to go over some of this sculpture stuff today, that’d be a good place.”

 “Oh. Okay,” he answers, fighting to keep his face clear of the glee he feels. Katniss Everdeen just asked him to go out with her. Well, she asked him to go somewhere with her, but that was more than he’d dreamed would happen any time he imagined actually speaking to her. Not only is he going to sit at the same table with her in a public place, but he’s at her mercy with transportation. She’s got him captive, and he approves.

 “Maybe I can take a look over your lab notes with you, too. You know, if you want.”

 Oh, he wants. That’s never been in question. He absolutely wants when it comes to Katniss Everdeen.

 “That’d be great. Really great.”

 The place itself is an independent coffee shop in an older area of town called The Seam. The properties tend to be more run-down than those closer to campus, but the café is cozy and humble and has great choices in both coffee and tea. He chooses a black peppermint he’s loved since his father made it for him when he was sick. His father had also snuck cookies to Peeta despite the disapproval of his mom. He adds sugar before taking a sip that transports him back to childhood. He breathes in as he swallows and blows out a heavy sigh.

 Amused, Katniss asks, “That good?”

 Nodding, he inhales the aroma and smiles softly. “Yeah. It’s that good. Thanks for bringing me here.”

 Pleased, Katniss drops her head and shuffles in her bag for the book on sculpture and her class  notes. They work together for over an hour before reviewing information from their biology lab. He finds she’s a good tutor, knowledgeable and skilled at breaking down the concepts into sizable chunks that seemed overwhelming previously. When he compliments her on it, she waves him off but returns the sentiment.

 “I already feel like I appreciate art more.”

 “Glad I could help.”

 “That doesn’t mean you’re off the hook, though,” she teases. “I’ll still need you after break’s over, but I think I can pass the final now, anyway.”

 He shivers at her claiming she’ll need him. It’s closer to genuine interest than anything he’s ever gotten from her, and it gives him a small thrill of hope.

 Reluctantly, she packs up her bag and sighs. “I really need to get home, but this was fun.”

 “Yeah, I should be getting back, too. Got a lot to do before bed.”

 They’re quiet as they slide into the car. Contemplative, Peeta almost forgets to provide instructions so Katniss knows where to take him. As he guides her through unfamiliar streets that turn into those he sees every day, he sends silent thanks to Johanna for her brashness and refusal to let things go. He only hopes he doesn’t have a ticket on his car when he retrieves it—hopefully before it’s towed.

 “This is it,” he says with a wave at his front door. None of his roommates are home, which means he’s stuck until they return. He doesn’t want to say goodbye, but she’s antsy, unsure what to do with her hands or where to look. “Thanks again for the ride. Come find me at the library after break, and we’ll do a repeat of tonight.”

 “Sounds great,” she says warmly. “Hope you get your car back soon.”

 “Yeah, me too,” he grumbles.

 He watches her leave, lifting his hand in farewell until her car turns the corner and heads back the way she came. Fishing his cell out of his pocket, he sends his roommates a group text asking when they’ll be home and if one of them can give him a ride back to campus. As each of them gives a reason for their absence, he realizes he’s on his own. He does stow his bag inside and grab a drink before heading back outside. Squaring his shoulders, he shoves his hands in his jacket pockets and begins the walk back.

 It takes an hour, and he does have a parking ticket. Still, Peeta has no regrets. The afternoon with Katniss was the best of the year with the promise of more to come. She’s worth the inconvenience. 

#everlarkficexchange #springtime edition 2020 #prompt 143 #everlark #everlark fanfiction #peeta mellark #katniss everdeen #walk back

[yandere-daydreams]

Can I have something involving apollo having a darling that wanted to be monogamous?

While I hesitate to involve myself in anything that involves monogamy, I do love watching our second favorite Sun God struggle to compromise. It’s fitting, for someone as… /generous/ as Apollo.

Title: Divided Attention.

TW: Implied Kidnapping and Emotional Manipulation.

~

You learned quickly that Apollo was a man of great extravagance.

You’d always known it, really. Even when you were simply a bystander to the antics of his cult, you didn’t have to travel far to find one of his gold-plated temples, his altars always decorated with the rarest of flowers and his sacrifices more akin to feasts than the sparse, sparable scraps other deities required. You had no great desire to participate in his theatrics, not beyond an annual festival or two tradition demanded you attend. It had been no surprise that, when you were whisked away to a palace closer to the sun than any other, there were dozens of guests who’d received their invitation long before Apollo had thought to send yours. Every room was full, every conversation shouted, and you didn’t care for it. You loathed it, some days.

Almost as much as you loathed the God who brought you here.

You were the newest toy in an overflowing collection. Countless eyes, all young and clouded, watched your every move, appraising your value as they parted to either side and made a path down the center of the massive, blinding throne room that occupied the majority of Apollo’s domain. You did your best not to be intimidated by it, keeping your eyes on the creature you were being directed towards, a man too tall and much too happy to see you. Promptly, you decided it actually was not a good idea to look at him, and instead directed your attention towards the velvet carpet guiding your advances.

Alas, avoidance wasn’t a sustainable method. As you came to a stop in front of him, you moved to kneel, but a strong arm was quick to correct your posture, taking you by the midriff and lifting you onto Apollo’s lap unceremoniously. He nodded towards the amassed crowd, and without further argument, they blended back into one lingering, unattentive group, conversations picking up where they’d been cut off and activities proceeding as if they’d never been interrupted. You watched, for a moment, but another intrusion was quick to steal you away. You didn’t try to decide which disturbance was more unwelcomed.

“You haven’t changed,” He began, his hand coming up to cup your jaw before trailing towards your neck, a long, painted nail tapping twice against your chest. You knew what he was referring to without further explanation - he’d made his hatred for your drab, grey frock more than clear. You were given clothes, a wardrobe in every color of the natural world, but every piece was just as lavish as your surroundings. You’d forgone it without much thought. “I was excited to see you in attire more fitting of your beauty, you know. Is there something wrong with what I’ve provided?”

You were in a strange place and you weren’t allowed to go home. You were surrounded by people with dead eyes and silver tongues and none of them had any interest in befriending someone as separate as yourself. Apollo had stolen you and he wouldn’t give you back, and you resented him for it and everything else and a million other reasons you couldn’t name in polite company. 

“They’re not my taste,” You answered, knowing better than to purposefully displease him. “I once heard Athena say a great mind needs no decoration.”

“And I once watched Athena start a dozen different wars over a single bronze breastplate she could never seem to get her hands on.” Despite the delight in his tone, he was quick to let out a long, labored sigh, pulling you closer to his chest as he went on. “This is your home now, my love, do you understand that? I want your comfort, and if there’s anything I could do to gain your trust, all you need to do is say the word.” Once again, his fingers ran through your hair, tilting your head back and allowing him to capture your lips in a soft, fleeting kiss, romantic by intention and onesided by execution.  You remained rigid, present only in a physical sense, but that was all Apollo required. He pulled away with a noise of contentment, if only to better stare you down with a gaze far too concentrated. Far too intense. “Your desires are my own.”

You could practically taste the opportunity. You didn’t allow yourself time to falter, you’d spent far too long waiting for an opening. “The only thing I desire is commitment, my lord.”

There was a pause. This time, Apollo couldn’t seem to summon an elegant rebuttal. “Commitment?”

“I do not wish to be a piece of a set.” It wasn’t a lie, just a truth out of context. You did not wish to be Apollo’s, alone or with company, and you knew he could never be satisfied with the lover he already had. It was an impossible bargain, and surely, it was a bargain he couldn’t risk accepting. “I am not a jewel to decorate your riches, and I refuse to be another facet of your ever-growing harem. Either send me away and be done with it, or prove that you’ll be loyal to me. I don’t want to be with someone who isn’t willing to make sacrifices in my name.”

There was silence. Rigid, frozen silence. You swallowed, and Apollo forgot to pretend he was human enough to blink.

Then, abruptly, he laughed.

“My stubborn disciple has no faith in me,” He chuckled, his voice completely and utterly rejuvenated. He held up an arm, beckoning his reluctant lovers forward and wordlessly calling them to gather, to be ready for his next demand. “You don’t think you’ll be cared for. You forget that everyone here shares in my love, and they’re just as prepared to distribute my affection as I am.” He paused, a hand coming to rest on your hip, squeezing playfully as he turned you on his knee, leaning forward just enough to let his grin press against your bare shoulder. “It’s my fault, really. I should’ve ensured that you received a proper welcome, but a delayed celebration will have to do. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive my negligence, my love.”

You moved to contest, to argue and tell him exactly what he could do with his negligence, but before you could speak, a woman’s hand had latched onto your ankle, a man’s wrapping around your wrist. They pulled, and willingly, Apollo let you fall into the mass, each and every one of its many occupants dead-set on contributing to something terrible. There were cheers, sounds of celebration and a few rough jostles to your form, but there was no changing their aims, escaping the fate you’d talked their deity into carrying out. And, as someone grabbed at your back, clawing until they’d torn through thin fabric, it dawned on you just how vile your fate was going to be.

Apollo was a being of indulgence, after all.

You weren’t sure why you expected his lovers to be any different.

#yandere #yandere love #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere prompt #yandere oneshot #yandere drabble #yandere imagines #yandere scenerio #yandere fantasy #yandere drabbles #yandere imgaines #yandere scenarios #yandere prompts #yandere greek gods #yandere mythos #yandere myth #male yandere #yandere boy #yandere boyfriend #yandere love letter #yandere god #yandere gods #yandere deity #yandere apollo #yandere fiction #yandere fanfiction #yanderecore #yandere core #yancore

[papergirllife]

Down The Rabbit Hole

Xiao De Jun (M)

🎃Happy Halloween,everyone.🎃

*gif credits to owner

*masterlist is pinned at blog.

warnings : unprotected sex, high sex, choking.

Alice in distress,

may the Cheshire cat be blessed.

Community service your mom said, it’ll be great for publicity, which is all she cares about. Your mom is the part of the community of your neighborhood, and let’s just say she loves fulfilling her duties so much that it’s become an obsession of hers to be seen on the local papers for the activities she attend, something like a minor celebrity. Sadly, the moms here all love her, your mom wanted to work a reputation up, since your father left her for someone younger, your mother needed something else to fill the emptiness and lack of accomplishment she’s felt because of him. Hence why you’re trekking in the forest of your town, trying to pick up as much rubbish as you could that were thrown by irresponsible hikers.

“This is all you fault Y/N, if it weren’t for you, we won’t be stuck in this shitty hike in such a cold weather.”

Becca was part of the so called ‘friend group’ of this neighborhood of yours that your mom forced you to make friends with just because she was friends with her mom. You don’t bother answering her nor the deathly glares from her clique to you, you didn’t have any real friends in this town, other than one or two boys you played games with.

It was until the middle of the hike when your mom called for a break, the community members all started to sit down and have a picnic.

“Remember to clean up after yourselves,” your mom said.

You chewed on a sandwich you packed begrudgingly, wishing you had hot food instead, cursing at yourself for not packing food into a thermos. When you finished, you decided to venture further away on your own, unable to stand the not so silent whispers behind your back. You decided to sit underneath a sturdy looking oak tree that looked older than any other tree here. Once you leant back, your back started falling, for some reason, the stem of the tree opened up and swallowed you in, the hole you fell in closing as you fell deeper into the hole. You didn’t scream, you were too scared, you knew you would be dead once you hit ground, so you closed your eyes and waited.

Instead of hitting ground, you fell into something that felt softer than cotton, with a blue glow like the clouds on the sky. Were you dead? You looked around, you were still in the forest, but the forest looked different here. Were these the unexplored parts of the hill?

“How graceful, Alice has nothing on you, sweetheart.”

You screamed, trying to get out of the ‘cloud’, but all you could do was trash in it because of how it’s too soft and big.

“Easy, don’t panic. I’m right here.”

Suddenly, a man around your age appeared next to you, his smile bright and somewhat familiar looking. That’s when the memory came back to you.

“You’re just like the Cheshire cat in Wonderland. Where am I? And who are you?”

“You’re in the other side of the forest, or the whole world, depends on how you see your position geographically. I’m Xiao De Jun, but you can call me Xiao Jun, and I’m a fairy. Oh and another detail? I eat humans.”

“Wait what? What do you mean the other side? What do you mean fairies eat humans?”

“Well, let’s just say fairies aren’t all Sleeping Beauty and Cinderella, those stories are told just to induce naive humans like you to fall in our traps. But you’re a pretty one, and you didn’t scream like a darned banshee just now, I might just keep you.”

“Keep me? Get us out of this thing, who said I was an object?!”

“I’ll get us out once we reach my palace, now hold on tight sweetheart, and please don’t scream like a mad woman, or I’ll eat you up in a gulp like the others.”

Xiao Jun booped your nose with his index finger before he leant back with an cynical smile on his face. The cloud floated up high, letting you see the scenery below you clearly. There were cities just like the human world, but instead of metal and blocks, these were held up by wood and magic, because there was no way a building as tall as the Eiffel Tower require no bolts and nuts, and you doubt its transparent like bubble had any glass panes.

"It’s beautiful.”

“It’s nothing compared to the beautiful lady beside me.”

You could feel your cheeks heating up at his flirty remarks. You quickly thought up of something to divert the topic, not being used to receiving compliments out of the blue.

“You said you have a palace? Are you a prince?”

“I’m a king, my father just passed away.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Xiao Jun.”

“For a human you’re quite sentimental, cleaning the forest, not threatening to kill me even though you have a knife in your pocket, and not screaming at me like a mad woman. You’re quite different from what I expected.”

“What do you...

“That’s our stop, less chatter and get a move on, or no mint chocolate ice cream for you.”

Calling Xiao Jun weird would be an understatement, his personality was like a cross of between Marry Poppins and Willy Wonka, and his palace was nothing far from that either, fortress painted with pastel tones, and that fountain was definitely chocolate, the windows looked like panes of thin candy, while the draw bridge was shaped like a milk cracker. The swimming pool at the back looked like it was filled with different flavours of fanta.

“Are you the witch from Hansel and Gretel?”

“Do I look like an old hag?”

Instead of entering from the main entrance, the cloud took you to the back of the castle where there was a balcony which overlooked the pool and the garden. Once you landed, the cloud disappeared beneath you, but Xiao Jun’s quick reflexes caught you before you fell on your butt.

“Welcome to my chambers. I forgot to ask for your name sweetheart.”

“Y/N,” you said as breathlessly, still in shock from your near fall.

Xiao Jun’s room was huge, the walls were mint green while the furniture were all made of dark oak with gold accents, just like his favourite ice cream flavour. You looked up to see a beautiful chandelier that defied the laws of gravity. The candles as well as the whole structure of the chandelier was shaped like an overturned tiered cake, each tier turning at its own pace with different colours flickering on the candles. The bed was just like the cloud you travelled on, just bigger and in a shade of pastel pink that made it look like cotton candy.

“You must really like your sweets.”

“The only human food that actually tastes good. Make yourself comfortable, it’s not like you’re leaving.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m keeping you.”

“You can’t do that! I don’t belong to you!”

“It’s written in the stars that you’ll be my queen, and I don’t have to force you. You’re going to stay.”

“Why would you know that?”

“Because I’ve been watching you and your fate in our stars, you lead an unhappy life in the mortal world, living like a balloon which lost its string, wandering aimlessly, slowly deflating just like your personality. When was the last time you truly enjoyed yourself without your mother giving you disapproving looks? What happened to your dream of being a writer? What happened when you said you wanted to go out for your birthday? What happened when you told her about your anxiety? Oh right, she called you a freak.”

Xiao Jun wasn’t shouting the words in your face, in fact it was gentle like an angel’s singing, yet what he said drizzled into your heart like sweet poison. You let out a chocked sob, you felt naked under his scrutinisation. Xiao Jun observed your life under a microscope, knowing you better than yourself.

“How do you know all of this?”

“I’ll show you.”

Xiao Jun wiped your tears with his expensive button up, the tears making the blue silk turn inky black. He then took your hand in his, guiding you out of his room into a room down the same hallway. Compared to the other odd looking fancy doors, this was bare of any jewels or gold. Xiao Jun turned the knob and led you in the dimly lit room, the room only had a large mirror with red candles on its sides.

“Show me, Lee Hyenji.”

That was your mother’s name.

The mirror flickered a few times before showing you the image of your mother.

“Where is that dumb girl? Always day dreaming and never getting things done. Wandering on her own, I’m just waiting for the day she leaves me like that useless father of hers.”

“Show me Becca Park.”

“I’m soo glad she’s lost, we don’t need to deal with her just to make our mothers happy anymore. She didn’t like hanging out with us anyways.”

Xiao Jun’s eyes flickered to yours to see your reaction, instead of holding sadness like he thought it would’ve been, your eyes were empty, the images on the mirror reflecting in your eyes like shadows in a murky lake.

“Why aren’t you angry?”

“Because they’re right.”

“No, they’re not. Mirror, show me Saved Memories.”

The mirror played images of you working on your short stories, snippets of you singing along your favourite song, as well as videos of you learning a dance.

“You shine like the brightest star in the galaxy sweetheart. Don’t let ducks call a swan ugly. They’re not even in your league, darling.”

“Am I?”

“You don’t need my confirmation, you can see it as well, maybe a flicker here and there, but those little flickers will grow into a  flame if you leave that life of yours. Don’t think too much about it, come, have a shower, I’ll show you to your room.”

Xiao Jun took you down the hall into your room, which was in front of his.

“I made it just like the bedroom in your world, so there shouldn’t be a problem with figuring out the shower. That laptop is yours, as well as those books, they’re the ones you already have and ones that you always wanted to read. The internet’s password is your birthday, yes we have internet access here. I painted the walls with the shade of blue you love, the bed is lilac, since you love that colour as well. There’s clothes from your own wardrobe as well as our clothes, it might be a bit fancy, but you might like it.”

Xiao Jun turned into such a sucker for you, the ‘I eat humans’ was such a front, you couldn’t help but smile at his dorkiness.

True to what Xiao Jun said, the shower was just like a regular shower, and the clothes in the wardrobe were nicely prepared to fit your size, making you wonder how he knew even these little details.

You went out and knocked on his door, Xiao Jun was out by the third knock, his hair now in yellow curls.

“What’s with the hair?”

“This is my natural hair colour, didn’t want to scare you too much just now. Though we really do eat humans, just the hearts, the hearts taste exquisite, according to the old fairies, and only if they threaten to develop that piece of forest. We used to eat humans all the time, until my father put a ban on it, didn’t want to look suspicious.”

There was a look of horror on your face.

“Trust me, only the old fairies eat humans, we prefer animals most times.”

You let out the breath of air you were holding in.

“This is my own private dining room, and tonight we would be having steak and ox tail soup, no humans.”

You manage to let out a laugh at his odd humour, starting to feel more at ease in his presence.

The two of you ate and drank wine, talking about his life as a royalty in his fairy kingdom.

“My mom told me I would have wings, I was so scared I checked my back every night before I slept, until I realised no one had wings and that it was just something made up in the tales.”

After dinner, the two of you danced ungracefully, the wine making your head light and footsteps a mess, giggling at each other’s mistake. After the two of you got tired, Xiao Jun carried you into his room.

He placed you on top of a couch, taking a seat beside you to admire the beautiful stars in the clear night sky.

“Would you like to try fairy dust?’

“It makes you fly? Like Peter Pan?”

“That is only one usage of fairy dust, we eat it as well. Wait let me show you.”

Xiao Jun took your hand and led you to his walk in wardrobe, it was just as big as the room he gave you, but what caught your attention was a mini pool, but instead of liquid, it was filled with swirling sparkling dust.

“Oh my god.”

Since you were drunk, you did the dumbest yet most logical thing ever, jumping into the pool. The dust made you bounce on an invisible force.

“Why am I not flying?”

“You have to give directions in your head, but I wouldn’t recommend doing that, I wouldn’t want to call medic when you hit your head.”

“Right...Jump in, join me!”

Xiao Jun shook his head in disbelief, but jumped in with a smile on his face regardless. Xiao Jun walked to your direction, stopping right in front of you.

“Breath it in.”

You did as he said, the fairy dust making you feel happy and free, as well as a warm feeling in your stomach that you can’t put your finger on once you look at Xiao Jun,, your eyes scanning his beautiful physique. Xiao Jun breathed in the dust after you, his eyes diluting into a darker shade of brown, his senses picking up little things about you that he didn’t before, like the plump of your lips, the curve of your hips under that tight skirt.

“Y/N, I want you.”

Xiao Jun kissed you with fervour, his tongue dipping into your welcoming mouth. Instead of pushing him away like he thought, you kissed him with just as much passion, your hands starting to linger under his shirt. Xiao Jun started to unbutton your top, throwing it out of the pool.

“No bra?”

“This isn’t the mortal world, there aren’t any sex predators here.”

“What about me?”

“This is for you, my king.”

Xiao Jun didn’t know whether this was you talking, or the fairy dust in your system. Xiao Jun marked up the length of your neck, purple flowers blooming in his wake as you started taking off his shirt and pants.

“Why the rush, love?”

“I need you, please.”

The amount of slick flowing onto your legs was too much to be normal, you didn’t know what side effects the dust has, but you just needed relief, and only Xiao Jun could give that to you. Xiao Jun took off your skirt and panties, smiling at that pretty piece of ruined silk in his hands.

“Wonderful.”

Xiao Jun let his hands travel southwards as his lips engulf your breast in his mouth, nibbling and sucking away like a new born, as well as leaving a mark near your nipple, the slight possessiveness sending shivers down your back. Your hands curl in Xiao Jun’s soft locks as he pushes a finger into you, when he could feel how wet you were, he decided to push two more in, curling his fingers at your sweet spot, making you cry out his name breathlessly. 

“Xiao Jun, more please. I need you inside me.”

You grinded onto his bare cock, his pre cum smearing over your slit, egging him to slide inside you.

Xiao Jun, pushed inside you in one go, your wet walls welcoming him. The action made both of you moaning in sync, lust filled relief washing over the both of you, making both of you crave for more. He started moving once you adjusted to his length, you could feel every vein and curve of his length as he bottoms out inside of you. Xiao Jun pushed himself closer to you, feeling you nipples against his own as he thrusted inside of you, the friction making your head spin from pleasure. Xiao Jun couldn’t believe it, after so many years of waiting, he finally had you in his arms, withering under his pleasurable touch. Xiao Jun slides a hand from your hips down to your clit, rubbing quick circles over it. Whimpers of his name fall from your lips like a beautiful piece of music, you were nearing your high as you felt the build up of an orgasm as your toes start to curl, your legs wrapped tighter around Xiao Jun’s waist as your head falls onto his shoulder, the overwhelming pleasure binding your body with his as he continues his thrusts, pace quickening once he felt you nearing the edge. Xiao Jun lifts you higher to thrust into you at a better angle, his tip hitting your sweet spot with every thrust, making you scream his name as your nails dug down his back, the pain mixing with the pleasure fuels Xiao Jun’s desire to absolutely ruin you under his touch.

“Cum for me, Y/N. I know you’re close.”

When you didn’t answer his request, Xiao Jun snapped his hips against yours at an even quicker pace, the speed of his thrusts inhuman, making your head swirl in pleasure as little bits of saliva drip from your lips down your throat as you throw you head back, the sight of the marks Xiao Jun left behind from earlier pushing his need for release. Once Xiao Jun wrapped a hand around your beautiful neck, you lost it. You couldn’t even scream as the pleasure was overwhelming all your senses, blinding white light behind your closed lids, your mind chanting his name like a mantra. Xiao Jun let out a beautiful moan once he felt your walls closing around his length in a vice grip, sending him over the edge as he paints your walls a milky white, his pearly white teeth biting down your shoulder to muffle his noises.

Once your orgasm subsides, you collapsed into Xiao Jun’s arms, energy drained completely by the handsome fairy. Xiao Jun carried you into his bed with the assistance of fairy dust, glad that he didn’t need to wobble into bed supporting your weight as well as his. He adjusted the pillows and blanket to accommodate your comfort, slipping in beside you once he was done, taking you into his warm embrace. Only one thought in his head.

‘You’re going to be with me for eternity, and nothing is going to take you away from me, my love, just like what the stars told me.’

#nct smut #nct fluff #nct #wayv #xiao jun smut #xiao jun #xiao de jun #wayv smut #hendery #ten lee #winwin #dong si cheng #lucas wong #xiao jun fluff #yang yang #kun #nct 127 #nct dream #renjun #haechan #mark lee #park jisung #taeyong #taeil #jungwoo #jaehyun #johnny #shotaro #sungchan #yuta

[folkreid]

Everything has changed

TYPE: fluff

WORD COUNT: 1.8K

SONG MENTIONED: Everything Has Changed- Taylor Swift

SPENCERS POV

When I enter the grocery store something is off. Where is she?

The she I was talking about was the woman. She was always here at the same time as me. It's 3 AM. Which is a weird time to go to the store. Why I go to the store so early is a story.

One day I got home from a case and noticed I didn't have anything. No milk. No coffee beans. Nothing.

It was 3AM and this was the only store open 24/7.

FLASHBACK

This store looks sorta sketchy. I don't know if I should go in.

I walk in slowly going to the back of the store where it had a big sign saying "MILK".

I see a lady in pajamas, I understand it's early but everyone else here is dressed. Her pajamas had small little red monsters on them. She picks out candies, lost and lots of candies.

Her hair was messy, long and messy. Grown out bangs messed up in her face. She was really pretty. I'm intrigued.

I grab my milk and go to the line she was in. It took a while, she had a conversation with the worker. She then said goodbye to the other workers that where there. Did she know them?

I walk up to the line. "Just the milk?" the cashier asked. Shit. I was supposed to get other things, I guess I just got distracted by her. "Uh yeah" I respond. "Sorry for the wait" she tells me. "It's fine, do you know that girl?" I ask pulling out my wallet from my pocket. "Yeah, she comes every Sunday and buys a whole bunch of candy, she talks to everyone here, she's really sweet" the cashier responds. I give her a couple dollars for my milk and thank her before walking out.

I walk out and see the girl from earlier on the bench eating some candy. It was a green lollipop. I wonder if she's okay? What if she's a homeless? Or on drugs? Or mentally ill?

Maybe I should just leave her alone.

END OF FLASHBACK

Ever since that day I've gone to the market every Sunday at 3AM. I've listened to some of the conversations she would have with the workers. Turns out she's in college right now. I'm not sure for what. No boyfriend, no children, hardly any family. She also once said that she buys the candy because she baby sits children and gives it to them as a reward.

I look around the store. She really isn't here? She's always here. I turn back around and I bump into someone. Shit it's her. "S-sorry I wasn't watching where I was going" I quickly apologized. "No i'm sorry, it's my fault I was on my phone" she nervously said.

We stood there in silence for a couple seconds before she speaks up. "I-I'm Y/n by the way" she smiles looking up at me. "Spencer, Spencer Reid" I smile at her. "I notice you come here often" she says. "Y-Yeah, you do too" I reply.

"Yeah I usually stay in the parking lot for a while and listen to music" she slightly giggles. Adorable. "Last week I passed your car and I think you were listening to You Belong With Me?" I say hoping I was correct.

Her face lit up. "You know that song?" she gives a flashy smile. "I um my friend Penelope loves that song, and I memorized the lyrics" I look down at my feet. "Do you maybe wanna get coffee sometime?" she smiled cheeky. "Uh- I um- Y-yeah I would like that".

I hope i'm not scaring her away with my nervousness.

FIVE MONTHS LATER

Three months. We've been together for three months. I've never been so happy. I am a man of science, I don't believe in fate but that's what it feels like.

I hear a knock on my door. Y/n is here! I open the door and engulf her in a huge hug, I squeeze her tightly. I think I might be in love with her. She wraps her arms around my waist. "Hey baby" she squeezes me nuzzling her head into my chest. I kiss her forehead. "Come in babe" I tell move out the way so she can come in.

On our first month anniversary I took her on a date to the fair. Our second month I took her on a picnic date. Y/n said she just wanted to spend the whole day with me.

"Do you want me to order food?" I ask her, she starts walking to my room. "Yeah you choose" she flops down on my bed.

I order our food. I lie on my bed, lying my head on her chest. I wrap my arm around her waist. "Oh! Baby do you want to listen to my new favorite song" she smiles at me. "Of course I do babe". Y/n scoots down leveling her face with mine. She grabs her phone and starts playing the song.

All I knew

This morning when I woke

Is I know something now

Know something now I didn't before

And all I've seen

Since eighteen hours ago

Is green eyes and freckles and your smile

In the back of my mind making me feel like

Y/n sings along to the lyrics softly. The song says "And all i've seen since eighteen hours ago is green eyes, freckles and your smile"

But Y/n changed green eyes, freckles and your smile too "brown eyes beautiful smile". She possibly changed the lyrics for me, I wouldn't get my hopes up. She stares into my eyes and kisses me softly.

just wanna know you better, know you better, know you better now

I just wanna know you better, know you better, know you better now

I just wanna know you better, know you better, know you better now

I just wanna know you, know you, know you

She kisses me all over my face. "I'm really happy with you" she whispers playing with my bottom lip. "I am too" I put an arm around her waist bringing her closer. She lies her head on my chest.

Cause all I know is we said, "Hello"

And your eyes look like comin' home

All I know is a simple name

And everything has changed

All I know is you held the door

You'll be mine and I'll be yours

All I know since yesterday

Is everything has changed

Y/n holds me tightly on this part of the song. I can tell she feels it too. It's like this song was made for us. I feel like lyrics. We sat there mainly silent apart from Y/n's soft hums. I don't believe in soulmates or love at first sight but this felt so magical. I know she was made for me. We've only known each other officially for 5 months, we've been dating for 3.

These past three months have been the best.

I hear a knock on the door, our food must be here. "Our food is here i'm gonna go get it okay?" I ask her. She nods pausing her the song we were listening too.

I go get the food pay the man and go back to my room. Where is Y/n? I knock on the restroom door no reply. I go back to my room. Where is she?!

"Boo!" she scream coming out from behind the door. I jump, almost dropping the food. She jumps onto my bed laughing. "Y/n/n! I could've dropped our food!" I exclaim. "Well you didn't so..."

She comes to me grabbing the food from my hands and putting it down on the table. She then wraps her arms around my waist. She slaps my butt. "Ow! Y/n! Don't touch my butt!" she giggles at my reaction.

"Why? Your butt is cute" she gives my butt a squeeze. "That's enough" I pull her arms from around me and she pouts.

We eat our food and talk about our weeks. Y/n recently graduated from college. I'm so proud of her. She has a job interview next week, she says she's really excited. I'm excited for her!

We finish our food and lie back down. "Can we finish listening to the song, I'm dedicating it to you so you better not break my heart" she cups my face in her hands making sure I look her in the eye. "I won't I promise" she smiles giving me a quick peck.

And all my walls

Stood tall painted blue

But I'll take 'em down, take 'em down

And open up the door for you

And all I feel

In my stomach is butterflies

The beautiful kind, makin' up for lost time

Takin' flight, makin' me feel like

I watch as she sings the lyrics to her hear contents. She was so perfect. What if she doesn't love me back?

I just wanna know you better, know you better, know you better now

I just wanna know you better, know you better, know you better now

I just wanna know you better, know you better, know you better now

I just wanna know you, know you, know you

'Cause all I know is we said, "Hello"

And your eyes look like comin' home

All I know is a simple name

Everything has changed

All I know is you held the door

And you'll be mine and I'll be yours

All I know since yesterday

Is everything has changed

"Spence?" she mumbled. "Yes?" I look down at her. She looks up at me with innocent eyes. "I love you" she quietly says. "What do you say?" I pretend I didn't hear. "Nothing" she lies back on my chest.

Come back and tell me why

I'm feelin' like I've missed you all this time

And meet me there tonight

And let me know that it's not all in my mind

she holds me tightly as she sings those lyrics. That's exactly how I feel. "I love you too" I whisper. She get up with a shocked look on his face. "R-Really?". "Of course I do" she stares at me in awe.

"Get up" she says standing up. I stand and she grabs my hand. "Let's dance"

"I don't know how to Y/n" I confess. "Neither do I" she smiles. I pull her into my chest as we rock back and forth to the rest of the song.

just wanna know you better, know you better, know you better now

I just wanna know you, know you, know you

All I know is we said, "Hello"

Your eyes look like comin' home

All I know is a simple name

And everything has changed

All I know is you held the door

You'll be mine and I'll be yours

All I know since yesterday

Is everything has changed

All I know is we said, "Hello"

So dust off your highest hopes

All I know is pouring rain

And everything has changed

All I know is a new found grace

All my days, I'll know your face

All I know since yesterday

Is everything has changed

Everything has changed.

#spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fan fiction

[angeli-marco-writes]

Elizabeth Debicki - Gorgeous

A/N & WC - Back again with Elizabeth and Taylor Swift. Reputation is my favourite album currently, with evermore as a close second. Two incredible women in one yes please. Listen to 'Gorgeous' while reading for the feel of it. 2.8k exactly.

Warnings - Legal alcohol consumption, mild cursing once.

Summary - Elizabeth is gorgeous, just look at her, the world can see it. A drunken night leads to some tipsy confessions, but does Elizabeth feel the same?

“YOU'RE SO GORGEOUS…”

“What was that?” Elizabeth swiftly cuts in.

Your eyes grow wide in an instant, looking down intensely at the black table, sticky with spilt drinks, and turn your attention away.

“Nothing…” you trail off. Frankly, you hadn’t realised you were thinking aloud, but if you said what you were thinking, then tonight's girls night out with your best friend is gonna be a whole lot harder.

“So as I was saying, this guy from Bumble, he comes and he looks nothing like his profile picture, right?” Her eyes are so animated when she speaks, her jaw agog in a remembering shock, she taps at her glass with ebony painted fingernails. “Like his picture was a solid eight outta ten, but in person, not even a four. But there was something about him, you know? That little twinkle in his eye, so I gave him more of a fair shot than I do other catfishes.” You hum noncommittally, not necessarily listening to the words, but the soft undulating animation in her beautiful accent is worth listening to any day, even if just hearing about her going on a date with someone riles you up intensely. “No personality,” she gapes, smacking her lissom hands down on the table with a slight thump, causing some of her wine to spill. “Absolutely none! It was like talking to a brick wall for half an hour. Can you believe it? And he asked what part of Australia I was from, and when I said Melbourne, you know what he said? ‘Is that in New Zealand.’”

She scoffs, and downs the last of her wine. Her magnetic field is so strong, so alluring, you can’t help but feel drawn to her even more. She really should think about the consequences of her charisma or else you might snog her and ruin everything before the nights even over.

“What a dick,” you play along.

“Ugh, I know. Refill?”

“Please. Whiskey—”

“On ice. I know, hon.”

She smirks, shooting you a wink before standing up and practically gliding across the room to the bar. Your eyes twinkle with hope, with sinful want, as you watch her, and you’re sure that with your wistful expression and flushed cheeks and the way your mouth suddenly goes dry the second she says or does anything that could be construed in the least bit flirtatious that she knows how much you like her. Your whole body tingles, your words and sense swallowed up by an intense fire the second she touches you, it’s beginning to make you furious that she’s able to make you feel this way and still acts so coy about it if she even does have the first clue how utterly besotted you are with everything she does.

Over at the bar, Liz has to hunch to lean her forearms on the countertop, kicking her feet back a little, her short dress showing off her long, shapely legs with grace. She looks so sultry, with her leather jacket shrugged so casually over her pale shoulders. But your mind and illicit thoughts plummet and die the second you peer around her and capture a look at the bartender she’s talking to. Tall and that muscular build of slim that only comes from years of sport, a pinched waist and full chest, tanned skin—perhaps of Filipina descent, dark inky hair falling in tendrils from her work ponytail, no makeup and she still looks stunning. And exactly like Shay Mitchell. And she's flirting with your Elizabeth. Not that she’s yours or anything, that would be absurd, unless…

This woman is gorgeous, and you’re already jealous of her, of the attention she’s receiving from Elizabeth; the suggestive touches, the coy laughs, the revealing tug of her dress, the tentative tilt of her head, the run of her slender hand through her choppy blonde locks. But because Liz is single, it’s actually worse, because she’s been a lot more open and experimental with her sexuality recently, not labelling it but trying more out, trying more partners out. And you don’t fault her for that for even a moment, but why she can’t experiment with you, a raging queer, is beyond your grasp. It’s almost undoubted that she’s going to be taking this incredibly scorching hot bartender home at the end of the night, and if you weren’t out with Elizabeth, you’d be making the same move. But Liz… she desperately needs to think of the consequences of her touching this romans hand in a darkened room. That should be you.

You can’t get too possessive, though, as Liz has done her fair amount of touching you all night on this signature girls pub crawl, but it’s not the same, it’s not… enough. She’s been holding your hand, hooking her arm through yours to do shots, hugging you with her lithe arm around your waist as you totter down the high street in heels too high. It’s all been too friendly, though. And now it’s getting late, your final destination of the night. You’re practically the only patrons with a conscience at this point. You’ll be turning in soon, the bar will be closing soon, it’s inevitable. Liz will have a warm bed, and you’ll be left to go home alone to your cats. She’s so gorgeous, you can't blame the bartender, but she can’t blame you wither; love made you crazy.

You’re busy brooding over the ice slowly melting at the bottom of your glass, condensation forming in droplets on the rim when Liz casts a glance over her shoulder, a bright beaming smile etched upon her face, every line drawn up to match her glee. She points a long raven-painted digit at you, and prompts you to smile back, which you do—without even half as much fervour—and ensure you incline your head towards the bartender, whose dark hazel eyes are now fixed on you, before turning back, pretending to have found something of interest on the table.

“That’s y/n,” she says in a happy, furtive whisper, “my best friend.”

With her ocean blue eyes looking in yours, your mind is all scrambled, and with the intense feeling you might sink and drown and die, you know you need to get it in order before she returns, so you push your own stool out and head to stand in the doorway, fresh air hitting you like a brick wall.

The smell of the city instantly prevents it being worthwhile.

The sun set long ago, and you can see vines crawling up the building across the road from you, even in the dim street light and shadows. Even in a tucked away corner of the city, down back streets in a quiet quarter, the incessant incense of exhaust fumes and chippy food and pigeon shit never quite leaves one alone.

Everything’s winding down, quietening, muffled by an indelible blanket of night. A soft mist fills the air, an impending storm infiltrating your senses, roiling you a little. The walk home will be made worse by the rain soon to fall, ire digging at you for more reasons than one.

Elizabeth… She can make you so happy with one simple look that it turns back to sadness the moment you see the flicker of friendliness in her eyes, never anything more, never anything deeper, not once. What can you say? She’s gorgeous, she’s everyone else's for the taking, whoever she deems rakish enough to take home for the night.

The silence of the night, of your thoughts, is hewn by a sharp siren whizzing past you, so you push your pain away, and sidle back through the doors, shutting the slow drizzle of rain out as you close the door behind you.

Once you return inside, your thoughts slightly more reordered, you see her back at the table, fiddling idly with the hem of her dress, her cheeks tinted a soft red.

“So?”

“I got her number,” she confesses, barely able to bite back a smile, even as her perfect white teeth graze her lower lip. “She gets off shift in an hour.”

You were right, then.

“That’s nice. She’s hot.”

“I know,” she replies dreamily, “and looks exactly like Shay Mitchell, can you believe it? I fancied her so much when Pretty Little Liars first came out.”

“Yeah, I did too.” you admit quietly, clasping your hands around your fresh whiskey.

“You okay? It’s getting late, we can head off now.”

“Nope, absolutely fine. In fact, I think I’ll have another. Tell me something.”

“But we haven’t talked about you all night, I wanna know how your life is going. Love life too.” she protests.

What, your life with the monotonous job and the zero romantic prospects so you spend all your free time sitting at home reading and the nights with your vibrator and Liz in your head? How the hell are you supposed to tell her that.

You simply shrug, and keep a mask of cold, hard resolve in place. “You know my life. I’m interested in yours. Go on.”

So she does. And you do order another whiskey after your first, to the point where you’re verging on the highest restraints of merely tipsy and if you have another you’re heading fast for straight out drunk, which you shan’t do. But you’re merry, and Liz’s words all sound weird, slurred a little from the alcohol, her Australian accent bending to accommodate the vowel sounds she’s making with the occasional slip of a Polish or French word in there. She gets like this when she’s drinking, and it’s one of her most endearing qualities very few are able to see.

“Your voice sounds really weird,” you chuckle, leaning back in your chair, “you’re talkin’ all funny.”

“No I’m not!”

“You are.”

“Am so not!” She’s persistent, she never did back down easy.

You half heartedly shrug, knocking your glasses into one another on the table. You tug your jacket further around you, and purse your lips readying for battle.

“You know, you really should take it as a compliment that I’ve got drunk and I’m making fun of the way you talk.”

She allows her precisely plucked brows to dance over her face in surprise, though quickly schools her features into a plain mask.

“Alright, what’s up?”

“Nothing, Liz. I’m fine.” you say adamantly, and take another swig from your drink, savouring the tang on your tongue. Your glass makes another thud when you slam it down with unplanned and unnecessary force.

“You see, your mouth says that, but your… mouth is telling me something else?”

Before you can help it, your fingers are clutching the edge of the table, your cheeks heating softly, “I haven’t kissed you yet, how can that be?”

A chill slithers down your skin as her eyes grow wide, her pale skin blanching a shade further. “I didn’t mean, um, what? I—” she breaks off with a cough. “I ju— just meant that, um, you’re… sulking.”

“Oh.”

You can’t ignore the way your stomach plummets into the core of the earth, embarrassment taking over every other rational thought within your mind and body. Your soul is already brittle, but this? Your pride has certainly taken a knock enough for you to down the rest of your whiskey in one gulp.

“I’m gonna take off,” you say at last, across the curious blanket of silence, ignoring the way her angular face—limned with hope—falls a fraction.

“Please stay.”

You don’t think you hear her correctly, if at all. For all you know, her words could just be a whisper in the blustering breeze beating outside, the storm you predicted arriving early. In the dim bar, you’re away from it all, sage, until the bartender gets off shift and snatches Liz away for yet another night.

“Beg pardon?”

“Please stay,” she repeats, louder this time, but her blue eyes don’t meet yours across the table. “Tell me what’s up.”

She’s not backing down, so you brace yourself, allowing brazenness to fill you with courage, allowing your alcohol to eddie around you, summoning the words at long last.

“Nothing…” you say at first, because really, it is nothing, but she cocks her head at you that authoritative way. God, she should be a teacher with her assertive glances. “Just that you‘re so gorgeous I can’t say anything to your face…” you snatch her cup across the table, and take a deep swallow before shrugging and casting your gaze outside to spare yourself the mortification of being rejected. “Sober at least.”

You’re met with a beat of silence, “Why?”

“Look at your face!” you shout, utterly exasperated. You’ve got a good mind to pull a compact mirror to remind her how drop-dead stunning she is. “I’m so furious at you for making me feel this way.”

“Why, baby? What way?” she croons.

Too caught up in your momentary lapse of judgement and rant, you fail to notice her edging closer to you, moving your glasses out the way, letting her forearms rest on the sticky table just so she can watch the way you lick your lips with nerves.

“Crazy, because you’re so gorgeous it actually hurts.”

“R—really?” she stammers.

You turn back to her, all thoughts evaporating with her ocean blue eyes looking in yours, driving you insane. Her pretty lips are all parted and awaiting, how much you want to kiss her… So instead, you pout, and begin to throw a strop in your tipsy state.

“Tell me more.”

“No.”

“C’mon,” she teases, a smirk toying at her mouth, giving her cheeks subtle dimples. “Don’t leave me hanging. “Tell me what you really think. How I make you feel. I wanna hear,” her voice drops to a purr, leaning over the table to husk in your ear, “every little thing.”

“Ok then,” you concede. “You're so cool, it makes me hate you so much.”

“I don’t see how,” she snorts, “but continue.”

Her attention never once fails you or turns away, enamoured with your every mere breath.

“You’re gorgeous. Your magnetic field is too strong for me to cope. Your energy draws me in. You’re all I want.”

“More.” she coaxes, a single word, but a whisper, and yet it stokes the embers of desire in the pit of your stomach, your forehead creasing to attempt to draw some concentration back from the depths of your mind where your fantasies about her saying that exact word in that exact breathy way linger.

Perhaps your adulation is excessive, but you don't miss the sparkle in her eyes at each compliment you dole. This is your final card, though, and you’re going to play it right, so you forget about the consequences of touching her hand in a darkness room, and simply intertwine your fingers, drawing your noses to meet over the table.

“You've ruined my life, by not being mine,” you profess, ensuring that your hot breath fans over her lips. You can feel her shudder. “And you know there’s nothing I hate more than what I can’t have.”

“I’m all yours if you’ll have me.”

And just like that, the world stops turning around you. Your heart lilts, your mind prattles on about all you want to say, all you want to do. But then it stops. And all of a sudden, you’re intrepid, desperate to ravish her and ruin her for all other women, eager to kiss her voraciously until you can scarcely breathe, yearning to feel her words of reassurance wrap around you, if only she agrees to your proposal over that of the hot bartender.

“Well, I’ve told you what's up, so I guess I'll just stumble on home to my cats. Alone... unless you wanna come along.”

You push away from the table and stand with a slight shrug, turning your back on her, making strides for the door and the storm bristling outside. Only, you barely make it to the door before Liz’s slender hand is wrapped around your arm, and is turning you back to her, tugging you closer, chest to chest, nose to nose.

“Fuck yes, księżniczka. After that, of course I’m coming.”

Your lips meet in a fiery kiss, a desperate battle of will, and her tongue slides over the seam of your lips. You grant her entry with an open mouth, heat skittering over your skin as she holds you tighter, closer, with a deeper urgency you don’t hesitate to match.

Her crystal eyes simmer as she withdraws, her forehead on yours. Her lips brush yours as she breathes, and she grabs your hand, heading out into the night with Liz, at long last.

“For the record, you’re gorgeous and perfect and drive me crazy too. Everything you said tonight, I echo. What can I say?”

You’re gorgeous.

#elizabeth debicki #elizabeth debicki x reader #elizabeth debicki imagine #jed roper #jed night manager #elizabeth debicki tom hiddleston #liz debicki #elizabeth debicki fic #elizabeth debicki smut #elizabeth debicki fluff #elizabeth debicki angst #wlw fluff #Spotify

[btswishes]

BTS: Reaction to their 16 year old sister not eating enough to lose weight.

A/N:  This is something I don’t recommend anyone doing. Take it as experience from someone who was in that hole. No matter what anyone tells you, you are beautiful and gorgeous. You don’t have to look like anyone else because you are one of a kind. Stay like that. :)

Requested by:  Anonymous 

Request: “  Hello! Can you do a bts reaction to their 16 year old sister being insecure and not eating much to lose weight? Thank you💜 “

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

Jin:

  Jin will try to cook for you the best meals he can think of and find. He will make sure they are healthy and full of nutrients, that they are super tasty, filling and new. “These are all healthy, have plenty vegetables, so you don’t have to worry about anything. You are just 16, I was your age too thinking of stuff like that. Beauty standards are a lie sweetie, you are beautiful by being unique. We will start slow, eat as much as you can now and we will work our way up till you are comfortable. Oppa is with with you, since day one and till day 0.”

Min Yoongi:

  Yoongi is one to observe quietly, but never late to react when the situation is important. And this one was of the highest priority to him, since it was about his darling sister. He would wait for your parents to leave the house and sit down next to you. 

  “Hey there. Are you hungry?” once you say no, he will comment how skinny you have gotten “ Look, I know what you are doing. I am not here to yell or get angry at you. It’s not your fault princess and don’t feel weak for not being able to control it. Things like these happen to the best of us, we are humans. It might be hard to ask for help or open up about it now, but you know I am here for you. “ he would pull out his car keys “How about we go get some milk tea and maybe a cookie or few if you are in the mood? You can get the drink only if you want to, no need to force yourself. If you want to getting something else, tell me. Big bro makes too much money and he can’t use it all up, so you have to help me out. Ok?”

Jung Hoseok: 

  Hoseok is a happy and go lucky boy. He has hard times ,but for the people around himself he wants to be that pill of happiness and motivation. Hobbi would pull you onto his lap and run his hand through your hair “How is my little princess doing? Is she happy? Does she need some love from her brother?” he would rub his head onto you “There, transferred some.Did you get it yet?” Hoseok won’t stop till you giggle “ There is that sweet voice I wanted to hear. What has you feeling like this my little angel? Ah, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t feel ready. We have all the time in the world, so take as much as you need.” his hand would pull your head onto his chest “You know, you were a picky eater since a little bean. I remember cutting myself, making characters out of your food. You seemed to eat it only like that. If you ever feel like you cant do something, come find me.I will always make it fun for the most beautiful and unique princess in the world. How about big bro makes you some fun snacks? We can eat them together and watch a good movie?”

Kim Namjoon:

  Joon is one to do his research before engaging in a talk with you. He would look up all he can find about these situations and what the proper way to handle them would be. “ I got this snack today and I couldn’t finish it by myself. Would you like some?” your eyes scanned it fast and hesitated. It looked delicious but the thoughts were eating you up from the inside “The weather seems nice today, how about we go take a walk while you snack on this? Get in a bit of exercise.” those words hooked you and you agreed in seconds. The sun shined on your skin softly as you were genuinely enjoying the food “ Do you see that tree? It’s pretty isn’t it.” you agreed with your big brother “What if I told you that people don’t think it is.” your eyebrows frowned as you spoke “ But it’s too young to tell, I am sure when it grows more it will have beautiful flowers or fruits.” Namjoon knelt next to you, running his hand over your cheek “ The same way you are the only one who can see the true beauty the tree is hiding, I do too. You are my tiny little tree, I want to keep you safe and make sure you grow up strong. Don’t try to look like other plants.” his finger tapped your chest “You carry your own beauty right in here. You might not see it but with time you will be able to see what has been in front of my eyes. You might find it difficult right now, but reach out to me when you feel down, don’t do this to yourself. I am always here for my princess.”

Park Jimin:

  Jimin is special in this situation. As someone with body-dysmorphia, he would notice your behavior fast. The same signs he showed, the same habits that took him ages to get rid off. He knows oh to well how fast one could fall into that abyss. Jimin wanted to stop this as soon as possible. After he notices things getting bad ,he would walk into your room with some food. When you lie to him about having eaten Jimin would drop the plate on the floor, tears pooling in his eyes. “B-brother?” His knees hitting the floor, hands gripping onto yours as his eyes look up at you “I know I should be your role model, I know oh too well. I failed myself once, I don’t want you to do the same. Please baby girl don’t look at the fashion trends or people that tell you looking one way is the norm.It’s NOT, it will never be. You are so young, so pretty and so smart. I don’t want you to be in the same dark hole I was in. You are worth so much more. It starts with eating less and less, then the regret hits, the fear, the anxiety. It eats you up my angel. I beg of you, don’t do it. Believe in me, let me help you. Please.” seeing your brother cry like this, hearing the words coming from the depths of his heart ,made you cry as you reached out for a piece of fruit he brought for you.

Kim Taehyung:

 Tae likes to laugh, giggle make all kinds of jokes.But in this situation his mind just went blank with panic. He didnt know what to say or do, even though he wanted to immediately. His mind wandered for days until something came up in his mind. “Y/N, get dressed we are going out.” you didn’t know what was happening, but you followed your brother “Where are we going?”you skipped next to him ”To a fashion show.” and he was honest. There were all kinds of people there and you were amazed. The models walked passed you one by one. After it was all over ,Tae grabbed your hand and pulled you backstage. He looked at your shining eyes “What do you see honey?” “Diversity.” came out of your lips “Dark skin, light skin, mixed, curvy or skinny, tall or short, man or women. No one here is the same, but they are all beautiful. Just like you.”He waved at a woman that smiled back brightly and ran over “Hey Yana, this my little sister. The one I told you about.” the woman’s skin softly tinted as dark coffee, she was shining brighter than any diamond. Curves for days and a smile such as the stars. “Oh my I was about to say she is too pretty to be your sister. Want a cookie honey?” you hesitated, but Yana put it in your hand “You need to eat something sweetie there is more don’t even worry about it. You want they say thick thighs save lives.You need to eat to  able to save. Come I will introduce you to everyone else.” They all looked different and beautiful, just like you.

Jungkook:

 Jungkook comes off aggressive at times, but in this situation he would do what he things is best and ask his hyungs for help. He would want all the help he can get. Namjoon will gather info, Hobi, Jungkook and Tae would try to show you the beauty in everything. Jimin with his experience. Suga and Jin would be a tag duo. At the end of the day all 7 of them will be with you no matter what. “Hey, mind if I sit here?” Kookie would push you a bit to the side and plop himself next to you on the couch “ I know I sometimes don’t have much time to spend with you. I just want you to know that no matter what I will first and forever be your big brother. I don’t know if someone told you something, but the Jeon genes are too strong so people get jealous of our beauty and strength. My words sound out of the blue right now, but I hope you would remember them when you look in the mirror next time. It’s not just me that sees this, ask anyone from bangtan and they will agree with me. You look like this because all these features look the best on you and only my pretty little princess. You are my special little sister, when people finally notice how gorgeous and kind you are, I will have to beat them up.” his words made you giggle “I mean it! No boys even after 50!” Jungkook swung a punch in the air “Brother!” 

#bts reaction #bts reactions #bts react #bangtan reaction #bangtan reactions #bangtan react #bangtan boys reaction #bangtan boys reactions #bangtan boys react #bangtan sonyeondan reaction #jin reaction #bts jin reaction #seokjin reaction #yoongi reactions #min yoongi reaction #hoseok reaction #jung hoseok reactions #namjoon reaction #kim namjoon reactions #park jimin reaction #jimin reaction #taehyung reaction #kim taehyung reactions #jungkook reaction #jeon jungkook reaction

[emelywrites]

Diego Hargreeves imagine where his siblings discover that he has a girlfriend/wife and a kid(s)?

Hi! Thank you for the request! I think I got a bit carried away, but I hope you like it.

Warnings: Language, mentions of drugs, rehab, relapse (Klaus), mention of death (Reginald), I don’t know how rehab works

You were sitting on the couch in your pajamas having just gotten your son to go to sleep while your husband was out being a vigilante. You were reading a book while the tv was on, showing the news. You weren’t really paying too much attention to it but the name of your father-in-law caught your attention. You had never really met him because your husband wasn’t close to his father, just like the rest of the Hargreeves-kids. Reginald Hargreeves was dead and you didn’t really know what to think. What would Diego think?

Just five minutes after the news had been on your screen the door to your apartment opened and Diego came in, going straight to the bathroom to clean himself up. You followed him.

„Did you hear it yet?“, you asked.

„That dad died? Yeah, it was on the news“, he replied, not seeming fazed at all.

„Do you wanna talk about it?“

„Not really. I don’t really care. It’s not like we were close.“

„You wouldn’t want someone talking shit about you after your death, babe. I know you didn’t like him much but shouldn’t you treat this with a little more respect?“

He leaned against the shower wall, where he was about to get in and glanced at you.

„You think someone hates me like we hated dad?“, his voice was small, like he was genuinely scared about your answer.

„No, Diego, it’s just- he’s your dad. You probably wouldn’t be the man you are today if he wasn’t. Who knows where you would be. We may have never met.“

„Don’t say that. Don’t try to protect him. He was a bitch but I guess I’ll go back to the Academy. There will be some funeral. We’ll pretend he was a good man and then we’ll go our separate ways again.“

„Maybe Vanya’s book wasn’t so wrong after all.“

„Shut up, that book was shit. Now get in here with me“, he held his hand out to you.

„No, you’re dirty and I already showered. Finish up and then come to bed with me“, you smiled and took off to your bedroom.

„Now that sounds like a deal to me“, he smirked.

A couple days later he was tying up his shoes to leave for the funeral of his father. You walked past him in the hallway, going to wake up your son before you had to head to work. He wore his typical black outfit, including all of his knives.

„Are you sure that’s an appropriate outfit for a funeral?“

„Not for any funeral but for the old man’s it should be good enough. He’s lucky I’m even coming.“

You sighed but didn’t say anything else. When he was stepping out you called after him again.

„Diego, if Klaus needs it, offer him the couch and some dinner, okay? He just got out again, but don’t make it a big deal.“

You had met Diego when he had dragged Klaus into rehab about six years ago. You had just started working there after having gotten your psychology degree and were the first person they encountered there.

„This crackhead needs some fucking help“, the man dressed in all black said, dragging another man with him who was wearing a fur coat and a long skirt.

„Okay, well, first off, it rarely helps the patients when we call them crackheads“, you started.

„You see, Diego, you need to stop insulting me, she said it, it’s your fault I’m always high.“

„We also don’t like to play the blame game. But if you would go over there to the reception desk and sign him in, we’ll take care of him here.“

Diego slumped his brother into one of the chairs and went to the reception to pick up the papers. You stuck around to help him out and when a nurse came to bring Klaus to his room you accompanied Diego on his way out.

„You did the right thing. Your brother will thank you for it when he’s clean“, you told him.

„If he gets clean“, Diego corrected.

„That’s really not the way of thinking around here“, you smiled.

„Hey, maybe“, he hesitated, „Maybe we could get a coffee sometime“, he looked at you, „You know, s-so you- you can tell me h-how he’s doing.“

You laid a hand onto his arm and smiled. „I’d like that.“

Klaus came back to rehab many times but Diego and you stuck with each other. Two years after that meeting you had gotten married and another year later you had a son together who idolized his father. Klaus was also the only one of Diego’s siblings who was at your wedding and knew about his brother’s life. Klaus and his nephew got along amazingly, mostly due to the fact that (Y/S/N) saw a boy his age in his uncle.

„I will. But if he relapses-,“

„You’ll love him just the same and we’ll help him out because you’re just as much a softie for Klaus as you are for me and (Y/S/N)“, you smiled and came to the door to press a kiss to his lips before he left.

He rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the smile that spread on his face. That night, when you were on your way to bed Klaus and Diego came through the door and Klaus immediately came to hug you, complimenting the amazing waffles you always made, thereby telling you he wanted waffles in the middle of the night. You, being his friend and sister-in-law, complied and then tucked him in on the couch with the help of your husband. When you woke up the next morning both of them were gone. You didn’t worry about Diego, you know he could take care of himself. You were worried about your recently-rehabilitated junkie of a brother-in-law. 

So after you had taken (Y/S/N) to kindergarten you left to go looking for Klaus. After searching through the city and not finding him you resorted to the last place on your list that you had never been to in your life. The Umbrella Academy. You were surprised to find out you could just enter without keys. The first ‚person‘ you encountered was Grace, Diego’s robot mom, who you were sure knew everything about you that Diego knew, simply because that man loved his mother more than anything in this world.

„Oh, hello, (Y/N). It is such a pleasure to finally meet you“, she smiled.

„Hello“, you were a bit taken aback, „I am looking for Klaus actually. Is he here?“

She paused for a moment and stared into the distance. „He should be in his room.“

Then she went about her business again. You hadn’t learned much about Klaus’ whereabouts because it could probably take hours to find his room in this mansion. When you were about to ascend the stairs you got lucky though and met yet another person.

„Oh, hi, you’re Vanya, right? Loved your book. Could you tell me where Klaus is?“, you asked.

„Uhm-, I don’t know, who are you?“, she looked you up and down.

„I’m (Y/N), I’m- I’m his doctor. From rehab. Just worried“, you smiled, knowing that Diego probably didn’t want all of his siblings knowing about his private life but everyone knew about Klaus’ problems.

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. „Since when do you do house visits?“

„Since his third stay probably. Listen, I’m just worried about him. I care about him and-,“

„Oh my god, why, are you, like, dating him or something?“, she widened her eyes in shock.

You paused and then started laughing. „Oh god, no.“

She left you to it, still not telling you where Klaus’ room was and you realized that looking for him had no point but you did need to get to work so you needed to leave, hoping you wouldn’t have to treat Klaus again anytime soon.

Two days later you received a text from your husband. „They wanna turn mom off, help“. You stared at the text in confusion and went to pick up your son before you went to the Umbrella Academy again. It seemed very unlike Diego to invite you to his childhood home like that. When you arrived your son wiggled out of your arms and ran after Grace.

„Oh, hello, (Y/S/N), I was just about to make some cookies. Would you like to help me?“, she smiled and took his hand.

Your son nodded eagerly and skipped alongside his grandmother. You in turn saw Vanya and Diego standing in the doorway to the living room or whatever kind of room that was supposed to be.

„Are you okay, love?“, you asked, putting a hand on his arm.

He pulled you close. „She’s our mom. How can they even argue about that?“, he mumbled into your hair.

„Wait, hold on. You’re Diego’s girlfriend?“, Vanya asked.

„Wife, actually. And it’s none of your business“, Diego lifted his head to look at her.

„Diego, seriously? Shouldn’t you guys stick together right now? This is your mom. You shouldn’t argue with your siblings when you’re trying to avoid your mom’s death“, you jumped in.

„You can’t just throw that word around like that. But you’re right. At least she doesn’t want to kill mom.“

„Diego? Married? To you? Seems fake, but okay“, a tall, beautiful woman you identified as Alison came up to your group.

„Diego is married? What? Are you a robot like mom? Then again, he probably couldn’t build that, could he?“, a man who was probably two meters tall, Luther, came up beside Alison.

„(Y/N), my dearest, these two are evil“, Klaus said throwing himself onto you and pulling you out of Diego’s grasp in the process.

„Granny Grace and I made cookies, daddy, look“, (Y/S/N) came back from the direction he had taken off into earlier, Grace following him.

As your son proudly held a plate of cookies out to his dad and Klaus started nibbling on one the rest of the siblings stared at the scene in shock.

Grace smiled. „Is there a problem?“

#diego hargreeves x reader #diego hargreeves #the umbrella academy