#i like to keep kind words in my inbox and i appreciate them so much! thanks to the kind anons who sent them.
Brothers + dateables (Or just Barbatos, I simp hard for him) with a super pacifist MC? Like they’re always chill, super into giving back to the environment and always avoids arguing (basically the opposite of the brothers)
Sorry if you don’t feel comfortable with this one.
Love your writing X
the brothers & a chill MC
includes: lucifer, mammon, levi, satan, asmo, beel, belphie, simeon, barbatos &/x gn!reader (no pronouns mentioned)
wc: .8k | rated t | m.list
please reblog ty
a/n: this one was fun bc I've never really explored this idea. hope i did it justice! i also know very little about actual pacifists so pardon me if i misrepresented the group in any way, as that was not my intention. thank you for requesting! my inbox is open if you want to chat or req!!
➳ lucifer watches you walk into the room where levi and mammon are fighting, and immediately, both of them try to bring you into the argument. you simply ignore them, earbuds firmly in your ears, eyes focused on your task. you somehow manage to duck under both of their arms, aborting their attempts to grab you, while making it look effortless. if it weren’t for all of the acrobatics you had to do to keep away from them, lucifer would think you hadn’t even noticed them.
➳ mammon feels something press into his hand and looks over confused. it’s your hand- but also the trash he dropped onto the ground a moment ago. “MC? what’s this?” he asks, confused. “mammon, you know exactly what that is. now c’mon, you know better than this. don’t litter.” mammon hangs his head, aware he’s getting lectured by a human of all things, but in his heart, he knows you’re right.
➳ levi stands angrily, throwing his controller down. “what was that!?” he yells into his headset mic. “you have aimbot! you’re definitely cheating! you ruined our win streak!” meanwhile, you, who’s playing with him, just sit and watch his little rage meltdown, eyes calm. “how’re you not pissed?” levi asks, gesturing at the screen. “we just lost!” “simple,” you say. “i don’t care much if we win or lose. i just like playing with you.” that shuts him up real quick.
➳ satan spits out his words, acid burning on his tongue. he waits for you to react like everyone he knows will- to stoop to his level, try to fight fire with fire, but it never comes. you just accept his anger, not submitting to it, but allowing it to hit its mark. your eyes don’t light up with emotion, your posture doesn't tense. “take a bit to clear your head and calm down, and then we’ll talk,” you advise, already walking away. “i’m not going to do this with you.” satan is too surprised to stop you.
➳ asmo groans. “why do i have to do this again?” you look over from where you’re prepping for the shoot frowning. “you already agreed- no backing out now. and the reason we’re doing this is because cosmetic companies are wasteful and often test on animals and your word holds a lot of sway. if we come at them about being unethical and harmful for the environment using your face they’re going to be more likely to listen.” you’re calm while you say this, but asmo can see the genuine care in your eyes and resolves himself o stop complaining.
➳ beel turns off the tv as you walk in, already knowing you wouldn’t want to see the program on the devildom wars. he didn’t mind really- he was just watching it because it was on and didn't mind missing it. you say nothing of his action but he knows you appreciate it, as your hand squeezes his. he had picked up early on that you didn't like fighting nor violence, and wondered why you were like this when most humans were not, but never asked.
➳ belphie frowns, looking at you. “why didn’t you back me up in there? you’re supposed to support me.” you look over at him, and he seems genuinely upset, but maybe that’s just leftover feelings from his argument with lucifer. “i never get involved,” you say, trying to find the right words. “i don't like arguing and know that’s it kind of an inevitable with you guys, but i try to stay out of it. i’ll take your side, but not in situations like that.” great, now belphie feels guilty, but he knows you’re not upset with him since he held back most of his ire.
➳ simeon thinks you have the patience of a saint. even he, an angel, resorted to fighting more often than you did. like, angels were supposed to be the paragon of goodness or something, yet you seemed to set a better example than he did some of the time. you also had a real talent for settling arguments and ending disagreements. idly, he wondered if it was because lilith’s blood running through your veins, then dismissed it. all that effort was you and solely you.
➳ barbatos hid his smile behind a gloved hand as he watched you calmly organize the picketers you had gathered for a peaceful protest outside of diavolo’s mansion. you, though just a human, were in charge of keeping everyone in line and doing wonderfully. vaguely, he wondered what you were protesting, trying to read the signs. something about fuel and cost-efficient lighting at RAD. how interesting. rarely anyone in the devildom was actually into preserving the environment and all that, as, after all, they were all demons, yet you had managed to get quite a group together.
BONUS (don’t take this too seriously i couldn't resist):
➳ you insert yourself between lucifer and satan, arms outstretched. “lucifer, look at me. look at me, this isn’t like you. you’re better than this, lucifer.” carefully approaching him, you dig around in your head, before remembering a song from the human world. “this is my fight song…”
leviathans-watching’s work - please do not repost, copy, or claim as your own
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Omega!Itachi Getting Married
Anon: Helllooo!!! I was wonderin if u could write for omega itachi getting married. I'd really appreciate it :)
(Hello! Hello! This is the oldest request in my inbox, so I hope this ends up being worth the wait! Enjoy~ <3)
Warning: implied sexual activity
General headcanons - Non-massacre AU:
Itachi has always known that he would get married someday.
After all, it was his duty as clan heir.
But he never expected to actually love his mate. He was required to angle for a politically/socially advantageous match and he had made his peace with that.
If he had to marry someone to keep peace between clans, he would. If he had to marry someone his parents chose for him to keep conflict in the family down, he would.
Itachi’s fatal flaw is that he doesn’t see his comfort/happiness as important.
And while he looked forward to his future children, his future spouse was a neutral event. It would happen, whether he wanted it to or not, and there was nothing he could do about it.
Best case scenario, he might have a new friend, or at least someone he respects, to live with him.
Worst case scenario, he ends up in a horrible marriage. He tried not to think too much about this option.
He never expected there to be any love between him and his future spouse.
Until he met you.
He found a person who actually loved him. An alpha who was as dedicated to a future family as he was. A partner who respected him more than he had ever hoped.
And Itachi fell hard and fast.
So, when you proposed, he felt like everything he had never dared to hope for was coming true.
You went to get his parents’ permission first (and the permission of the clan by proxy) and did the proposal in front of them. It wasn’t ideal, you knew Itachi would be happier with a private proposal, but you also knew that Itachi wouldn’t believe that he had their approval unless he saw it first-hand.
Itachi and his family are very traditional, so you weren’t mated before you got married, instead, you mated on your wedding night.
Itachi is very happy to let his family dictate the wedding. He doesn’t care as long as he’s married to you at the end of the day.
(But he does have preferences that you can extract from him, but getting Itachi’s true opinion, can be like pulling teeth.)
You had known Itachi since you were both 18, two years now. You had been courting him officially for a year and a half before you proposed.
As I mentioned, you proposed in front of Itachi’s parents, to make sure that he knew that you had gained their approval.
Sasuke was also there, after years of bribery, finally accepting of you and Itachi’s relationship. You met Sasuke when he had just graduated from the academy, and he was not impressed by this new person stealing his brother from him when he wanted Itachi to train him ☹
For Itachi, it was a normal family dinner.
He definitely noticed that you were behaving nervously, but he knew his family could be stiff, overly traditional and a little intimidating, so he figured that was the cause of your discomfort.
Sasuke was also staring at you suspiciously the whole evening, but to be honest, sometimes Sasuke was just like that, so Itachi thought nothing of it.
You kept a hand on his knee for the entire meal, only letting go of him when you announced that you had brought dessert for everyone and would be happy to serve it.
Itachi smiled his gorgeous smile at you, so pleased to see you making an effort with his family (or perhaps he was smiling about the desert, Itachi’s sweet tooth is legendary after all. It was difficult to tell.)
Nervously clenching your hands, you walked over to the fridge, pulling out the plate of dango you had hidden in there earlier. It was Itachi’s favourite, and if there was anything to convince him to say yes to your proposal, it was a demonstration of how much dango you were willing to buy for him.
‘Don’t mess this up,’ you said to yourself, gingerly sliding the plate of dango out of the fridge. It was an elaborate platter that had cost far too much. There were seven different dango flavours with an assortment of dips and dressings, arranged artfully with fruit and dried flowers to decorate the plate.
You walked to back to the table and presented the plate with a dramatic flourish to hide your nerves.
Itachi’s face lit up. Despite your nerves, his obvious excitement put a smile on your face. He really was perfect.
And that’s why you can’t mess this up.
“There’s anko, green tea, sesame,” you pointed at each flavour as you listed them. “Hanami and…er… some other ones…?”
Sasuke scoffed at your embarrassing failure to recall the flavours, causing a red flush to creep up your neck. You didn’t even know that there was this many dango flavours before yesterday! Thankfully, he didn’t say anything, perhaps due to the sharp look Itachi had shot at him.
“I made sure to get enough for everyone, but there’s something I’d like to ask for in return.”
You could see Itachi trying to catch your eye, probably to ask what an earth you were doing, but you purposefully avoided looking in his direction.
“The only thing I ask,” you continued, nervously. “Is for a minute of your time before we eat dessert.”
Mikoto smiled at you and nodded for you to go ahead with a gentle wave of her hand. Sasuke simply raised an eyebrow at you but didn’t interrupt.
“Great,” you laughed nervously. “Um, so, er, Itachi.”
Itachi straightened under your sudden attention. He looked immensely uncomfortable and confused, he was probably panicking about you doing something in front of his family that you would regret. He always played liaison between you and his family to avoid conflict and was probably not comfortable with you doing this. Unfortunately, he would never believe that you had his parents’ approval if you didn’t propose in front of them.
“I’ve known you for two years now, Itachi,” you started, finally looking at Itachi in the eye. “And it sounds horribly cheesy, but I think that I fall in love with you more every day.”
A barely audible gasp left Itachi. He was a genius, after all, he had probably figured out where this was going. He looked torn between panicked and elated, seeming to settle somewhere around shell-shocked.
“I’ve come to realise recently that, a life without that love, without your love, isn’t a life that I want.”
You can just about see tears gathering in Itachi’s waterline. It doesn’t look like he’s breathing at all.
With one final rush of bravery, you pulled out the diamond ring that had been weighing down your pocket for months and knelt down onto the dining room floor.
“Will you marry me?”
Itachi’s head whips around to face his parents, most likely preparing some serious damage control. But when he sees his mother’s gentle smile and his father’s subtle nod, he slowly moves his gaze back to you. You’ve never seen him look so shocked before. It was almost amusing enough to distract you from your nerves. Almost.
“I-,” Itachi swallowed hard. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Just say what you want to say, Itachi,” his mother replies, trying to encourage him.
His mother’s words seemed to break him out of his stupor and Itachi breathes out a single word.
You let out a delighted and relieved laugh, taking Itachi’s hand in yours and slipping the ring onto his finger, and even though his family were all watching you, you couldn’t help but pull him into an embrace.
“I love you so much,” you whispered to him. “I’ll read you my real proposal speech this evening.”
Itachi laughed into your shoulder. His laughter had a hysteric edge to it, his mind still clearly reeling at what you had just done.
“You didn’t think I was going read my real proposal out in front of your parents, did you? No way. They still think we’re virgins and I didn’t want to spoil that illusion for them.”
Itachi quickly and efficiently jabbed you in the stomach and hit you with his infamous glare.
“Okay, I deserved that,” you winced, gingerly rubbing the sore spot.
Finally, you pulled away and moved to dish out the dango. And if Itachi got the biggest portion, well, no one mentioned it.
Itachi lets his clan take over the planning.
He doesn’t want to deal with the stress of having to combat his family at every turn and would much rather just let them do it. As long as you’re there with him, nothing else really matters.
But even when his clan leave the smaller decisions up to him, he’s hesitant to voice his opinions, wanting his alpha to make them as an apology for his family commandeering everything.
But if you pay attention to little signs and reactions that Itachi gives, you can figure out some of his wants and desires.
Overall, there isn’t much to say about the wedding planning, because Itachi doesn’t do much of it.
Things he wants (compromise available/no compromise allowed):
Sasuke as his groomsman and Shisui as his best man – Itachi doesn’t have many close friends or relatives. He has you, Sasuke, Shisui… er, he’d probably invite his old captain Kakashi and… well, you get the point. So, every person who is important to him needs to be by his side at his wedding, and who is more important than his best friend and little brother.
A traditional wedding – He isn’t actually that bothered by what type of wedding he has, but he knows his family and clan will insist on a traditional celebration and as I mentioned, he doesn’t want to fight. The elders will push the wedding to be held in the clan compound and Itachi would be told to wear a traditional Uchiha wedding garment.
A sweets cart – This is something that he won’t bring up, and therefore isn’t bolded, but it’s very easy to see his face light up when he sees this in a wedding catalogue. It’s a wooden cart with different jars of sweets with little scoops for people to help themselves to. Itachi loves sweet food, obviously, but he also thinks it would be something the children in the clan would adore. He kind of really wants one, but he won’t bring it up unless someone else does first.
An early wedding – He won’t fight you or his family about this, but ideally, he would like to get married in the morning, maybe around 8 or 9 AM. Itachi is definitely an early bird who prefers the ambience of the early morning which is part of the reason, but mainly he just wants the performative part of the wedding over and done with so he can start his honeymoon. He doesn’t find it appealing to spend all night pretending to tolerate the elders of his clan who will almost certainly spend their time berating him for his choice of partner and then telling him he needs to have as many children as possible because he’s a powerful ninja that will produce powerful children. He just doesn’t want to deal with it. Leaving at 6 PM with you to go on your honeymoon and finally, finally mate? That sounds much more fun.
To try and conceive on his honeymoon – Obviously, he’s not going to force anything if you aren’t ready, but he would really love to start trying to conceive straight away. He’s desperate to have his own children, firstly, but also, he knows this is his only ticket to retiring from being a ninja. He wants to retire so badly, and so if you’re both ready for children, he doesn’t want to wait.
You don’t see Itachi for a day before the wedding, as is tradition. You see him for the first time that weekend when he’s walking down the hall towards you.
And as Fugaku walks Itachi down the aisle, you are completely breathless.
He looks stunning.
His hair had been intricately platted with flowers, some lose strands of hair left to frame his face.
He’s wearing a deep red, formal kimono just as you expected, but it looked so much more beautiful than you had imagined.
He looked like royalty.
The whole ceremony flew by, and before you knew it, it was time for you and Itachi to say goodbye and leave for your honeymoon.
Your honeymoon was to be had at a cabin held deep in the woods on the Uchiha compound. The rule was that married couples could not be disturbed for anything other than a life-or-death emergency, so you would be completely alone.
It might have been nice to go abroad, but the Uchiha clan didn’t want Itachi to be distracted by his honeymoon outside of Konoha where he might be attacked and his eyes stolen.
You both had already been by to drop off everything you would need for the week, including clothes, food, games and toiletries.
So, now, all that was left was for you two to get there yourself.
You and Itachi had decided to amble your way to the cabin, taking your time to enjoy each other’s company after a day of socialising with everyone but each other. Not to mention that neither of your outfits were particularly well designed for gallivanting through the forest. It would be rather embarrassing to have to end your self-imposed isolation to go to the hospital on day one, so walking slowly was probably a good idea.
You had been walking for about thirty minutes so the cabin should be… There! You were there!
“Wait!” you shot out a hand to stop Itachi from entering, startling him slightly. “Don’t go in yet.”
Itachi furrowed his brows, absently blowing a stray hair from his face that must have fallen down during the walk.
“I… want to carry you inside,” you admitted bashfully.
Itachi chuckled but stepped closer to let you do it. You beamed at him, pressing a kiss against his lips as a thank you. He looked a lot more tired than this morning; his hair was falling out of its elaborate placement and the makeup you were sure he was coerced into using was a little smudged.
He really was the most beautiful person you had ever met.
With his permission now gained, you placed an arm around his shoulders and another arm behind his knees, before gently lifting him off the ground. You nuzzled Itachi’s neck, enjoying his content scent and the way he sighed happily at your attention.
With your husband firmly in your grasp, you nudged open the front door with your foot and stepped safely over the threshold. You carried Itachi all the way to the bedroom and placed him down gently on the bed.
Itachi leant up to steal a kiss.
“Bringing me straight to the bedroom, you are incorrigible,” he teased, kicking off his shoes and making himself comfortable on the bed.
“I-I wasn’t, I didn’t mean that!” you sputtered, flushing under Itachi’s laughter. Silence fell over the room for a moment as the exhaustion from the day swept over you both.
“Would you mind helping me out of this kimono, please? I think it’s time for something a little more comfortable.”
It took a solid ten minutes to get Itachi out of his clothes and into some pyjamas. Ten minutes and a lot of swear words as every layer seemed to be hiding another one underneath.
“This wasn’t how I imagined undressing you on our wedding night, that felt a lot like pass the parcel but somehow more stressful.”
“Oh?” Itachi questioned, pulling you to sit down on the bed with him, finally free from the constraints of his wedding attire. “How did you imagine it?”
Rather than answer with words, you pressed wet kisses over Itachi’s neck, smirking against his skin as you felt his hand come up to grasp at your hair and a gentle moan escape from his lips.
This was definitely going to be the best part of the celebrations.
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i am taking a page from my pal portmuralis's book so here are some rules. please read carefully before interacting with this blog.
╭───── g e n e r a l
be respectful. be mindful that there’s a person on the other side of the screen. tone and intent are often hard to read through text, and i don’t know you, so please try to be kind or at the very least decent (this goes for asks as well as comments/tags)
occasionally checking on the story’s progress is okay, but please don’t obsessively ask me about it; it can get demotivating. if you start being rude and demanding updates, i will give you my ko-fi info & demand payment ♡
i am not comfortable with minors under the age of 16 interacting with this blog; obviously i can’t always check but reminder that respecting other people’s boundaries is important.
not a bad thing, but try to avoid sending pictures in asks unless they’re part of the ask itself (i love all your memes but i’m always stressing about clogging people’s dash and i feel like pics take up too much space- this is really more of a personal preference)
again not a bad thing, but if you wanna send personal asks that are unrelated to IF or you wanna chat, i would prefer if you did that on my personal blog rather than here, since i’m trying to keep this strictly for if development!
if you’re sending asks about potentially uncomfortable/triggering topics, i would appreciate if you asked beforehand to check if i’m okay with that particular content. and it goes both ways- i try to tag all cw, but let me know if i missed something.
╭───── R O / s t o r y a s k s
asks about the characters/lore/worldbuilding are always appreciated & encouraged. unless stated otherwise in my bio, my inbox is always open.
if i don’t answer your ask the possible reasons are, 1) i haven’t had the time and will get to it later; 2) i haven’t received it; 3) i wasn’t comfortable replying for any reason. if you think the ask was simply eaten you can resend it, otherwise please respect my decision not to answer.
do not gender the ROs or the MC when sending asks. mistakes can happen, just don’t let it become a habit because it makes other players feel excluded, so please stick to they/them whenever you can.
for the same reason, do not send overly specific scenarios. i’ve notice a trend of people sending authors asks about their own mcs and requesting ‘personalized’ reactions- i appreciate the enthusiasm and commitment to the story, but a dev blog isn’t the place for that. if it’s a custom ficlet for your mc you want, you can ask me whether i am available for commissions!
topics i might avoid (you can send asks about them but know that there’s a chance i won’t reply): jealousy/possessiveness; cheating; [tbd].
╭───── n s f w / s p i c y
spicy asks are accepted. i will answer under the cut and tag as #[story]: nsfk (so for swan song the tag will be #ss: nsfk).
again, use gender neutral terms whenever possible.
i’m very hardly bothered by nsfw content but that’s not the same for everyone, so if you’re sending a very explicit ask try to word it as tastefully as you can!
keep nsfw asks about the characters. do not send me self-insert asks, for the love of god. we are strangers, and this is a deeply weird thing to do in any case- i don’t need nor want to hear about your s*xual preferences.
[not strictly nsfw but this is VERY important to me] about they polymance(s): i’ve seen a lot of polyamory relationships in fiction being reduced to sex. i’m begging you, check the terms you use when talking about the triads, especially when it comes to spicy asks! i am absolutely okay answering nsfw questions/scenarios about the polyamory relationships (physical/sexual intimacy are an integrant part of that relationship). but the dynamic i will always try to present is that of a loving and committed relationship between people. reading stuff that reduces said relationship to a threes*me/some kind of entertainment gets very uncomfortable for me.
*sigh* let’s get this out of the way: i won’t answer spicy asks about the MC in swan form. sorry @ birdf*ck*rs out there. if you send them i will simply have a good laugh.
if by chance i catch a minor interacting with 18+ posts/stories, they will be blocked.
╭───── d o N O T
first of all, do not come here to tell me you don’t like my story or me. mostly because i don’t care, but also, i’m looking out for you! life is too short to waste time reading stuff you don’t like, just move on and find something better ♡
lots of people on this site seem to think they’re anton ego or smth. newsflash: you’re not a critic if you’re offering useless & unprompted ‘advice’ ♡ i am ALWAYS here to listen and learn if someone tells me “this particular thing you wrote is harmful” or “would you consider changing this thing to make your story more accessible?” but outside of that, unless i’m asking for opinions about something don’t come here saying “i don’t like how you did this” “i prefer when authors do this” “you should change x thing about this character because i don’t like it” etc... as i am not here to please a rude stranger on the internet. shoo, go write your own story!
if you bring any kind of bigotry (racism, homophobia, transphobia, etc...) here, i’m blocking you and you now owe me money.
if you send me negativity about other devs, you now owe me and them money. ♡
under no circumstances send me asks about: noncon/dubcon scenarios; inc*st; predatory relationships involving minors.
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[ 12:04 AM ] FEELS LIKE A LOSS. (PSH)
PAIRING: park sunghoon x fem! reader
GENRE: angst (if you squint hard enough)
WARNING/S: sloppy writing, i guess?
WORD COUNT: 878
AUTHOR'S NOTE: my first fic published in this site. aaaaa !!! 👉🏻👈🏻😭 i hope you all would like this. 🥺 feedbacks and constructive criticisms are very much welcome, so don't hesitate to leave them in my asks/inbox! (no, seriously. please leave some in my asks. i would love to hear from you all! 🙏🏻) special thanks to my ellybee, @meraniki, for the support even before i posted this. i appreciate it SMSMSMSM 💖💕
"Hold on. Could you repeat what you just said?" He turns his head and looks at you in disbelief. It is as if you have been talking in a different language all this time.
"I said-" you suck in a breath before continuing, "I'm leaving. For good." You finish your sentence as you begin to twiddle your thumbs.
He waits for you to take back what you have said. He thinks you're trying to pull a prank of some sort, yet he catches onto the habit you do when you're feeling anxious, and the words he wants to hear turn into the sound of the cold midnight breeze.
All of a sudden, a sense of fear crawls onto his skin, sending shivers down his spine. This emotion feels so foreign to him when it comes to you, and he can't seem to explain why.
"What made you decide to do this? Did something happen?" He turns his head to your side, trying to figure out what's running through your mind.
"I just wanted to." You answer, and that takes him by surprise. He's known you for the longest time, and he knows that you're never the kind of person who does things on a whim.
"When's your flight?" He barely manages to form a coherent sentence as your words have startled him.
"In a few hours...." You answer with a soft voice, unsure of his reaction, but hearing the loud clanks from the swing chains makes you turn your head in his direction.
"What!? Why are you telling me this just now?" He stands in surprise, stunned at the sudden revelation. He tousles his hair in frustration before he squats in front of you to get your attention.
"Please tell me what's wrong. I'm your best friend. You can tell me everything, and I'll help you solve it, mmh?" You look up to meet his eyes. However, the look on his face is something you can't seem to decipher.
"Nothing's wrong, Sunghoon. I just felt like it." She replies with a sigh. He reaches for your hands that are still twiddling their thumbs unconsciously, and you gaze onto his hand atop yours.
"I've known you for almost half of my life, Y/N. I know that there is something wrong because you never do something just because you just thought of it." His thumb stops the twiddling by stroking his own against yours, calming you down for a moment.
"It's different now, Sunghoon. I'm not the same person you used to know for quite some time now." You reply in a calm yet firm manner.
"What are you saying? You're still the same silly kid I met in elemen—" He answers but before he could finish his sentence, you cut him off.
"I'm not that person anymore..." you say in a whisper, trying to suppress your emotions from blowing up, "because I've been in love with you for years now."
The revelation stuns him and leaves him in a daze for a moment. But once the words you've uttered have sunk in, the pleading, desperate look in his eyes slowly falters as he stands and looks away.
How could he forget the day when he saw a note inside his locker that Valentine's Day in 10th grade, and he seemed to find that note's handwriting all too familiar. After countless times of having your notes with him when he missed classes due to training, he knew at first glance that it was you who wrote the letter.
He had been turning a blind eye to a thing very apparent, Sunghoon had to fool himself that it wasn't true. But it was bound to happen, and it did— he just wished it didn't happen now.
Call him selfish, but he thought that having you as his friend was the only way that could keep you beside him for a long time. That's why he pretended that the note you made for him that Valentine's Day in 10th grade never existed at all.
Sunghoon stares at the trodden sand underneath his feet, trying to find the words he wants to say. But before he manages to utter anything, you beat him to it.
"I've loved you for so long, Sunghoon. And I know you know about it because I saw you keeping the note I gave you that day.” His eyes trail to your face when you’ve mentioned the note hidden at the deepest corner on his work desk in his room.
“But even when you played pretend about my feelings for you, I've loved you still. Even when you forget about me when you date someone and come back when everything is over, I've loved you still. I've loved you ever since, but I'm starting to get tired of loving all alone." You take a deep breath, trying to control the emotions running through your system after you've decided to wear your heart on your sleeve that night.
"It's always a losing game with you." Was he shocked, confused? You had no idea. But you muster up all the remaining strength in you to stand and look at his face one last time and continue speaking before turning around to leave.
"And I'm just tired of playing it anymore."
thank you for reading!
© enhappenstance. do not repost, plagiarize, and translate. likes and reblogs are extremely appreciated!
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the sun sets in the east (h.s.)
summary: queen bellona’s kingdom has been at war for longer than she, or anybody for that matter, can remember. she says she would go to any lengths to end the bloodshed, but an arranged marriage with her worst enemy in the world may prove to be too far.
word count: 9.2k
a/n: hi! as promised, here is part one of my new series feat enemies to lovers, royalsrry, otherwise known as gotrry because I have not stopped watching game of thrones and I don’t see that fixation dying anytime soon. I am so so so excited to share this with you, I am immensely proud of it, and I'm already in love with Bellona, our beautiful MC. a massive thank you to @nationalharryleague , @sweetcreatureinthedark , and @truckerhatharry for beta reading this and getting me all kinds of hyped to post this. You all mean the world to me I cannot begin to express. ok, y’all know the drill. come chat if you’re as excited as I am! and REBLOG!!!! I am stuck in my shoebox room with ms rona this is quite literally the least you could do to make me smile right about now. can’t wait to scream with y’all later xx soph
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In the Early Years, the Land of Two Kings was overrun with civil war. The South against the North, family against family, brother against brother. To spare their people and find a way towards peace, the two kings split their kingdom in half: Gloaming in the North, Lacuna in the South, separated by a wall through the middle of the land. But even with the stony facade of Felix’s Wall to keep tensions apart, the people of the two kingdoms still could not find peace. The king in the South believed he had not received a fair share in the land, and sent an invasion to Gloaming’s capital of Loon to raid and loot the castle. Furious that the South would attempt something so barbaric, the king in the North declared war on his Southern brothers. So began the Blood Wars.
In the beginning, both sides fought tooth and nail, spurred by pride in their kingdom, and hatred for the other side. But now, more than two hundred years later, with no end in sight, neither army really knows the reason for their feud. But arrogance and the threat of a tarred reputation kept the ruling families at each other's throats, and no matter how much each kingdom might want to give up the fight, they'd never admit that aloud.
So the war waged on. The mud around Felix’s Wall ran red with blood, and the highlands of Gloaming became dotted white with grave markers. It drove a wedge further between the two kingdoms, turning hatred into stewing rage, set to simmer for hundreds of years. No self respecting Gloamand would ever step foot on the other side of the wall, and the same could be said for the Lacunites. The two kingdoms couldn’t be more different. And they liked it that way.
Gloaming was dark, misty, cold. The fog rolled off the craggy mountains in the morning, kissing the tips of evergreen trees in the forests, and tickling the noses of sheep grazing on bluffs of wild mountain thyme and purple heather. Glassy lakes glimmered in meadowed valleys, and stone grey waves lapped at gravel beaches beneath steep white cliffs.
The people were grey too. Bundled in jackets of thick, dyed wool, they worked hard, scarring their hands on fish hooks and looms, farm fences and hay bales. They were a calloused group of long whiskers, thick plaits, and deep throaty accents that could be best appreciated on a Saturday night when the pubs overflowed with folk song and melodic violin.
If Gloaming was frosty, Lacuna radiated with warmth from the golden beaches to the copper shingles on the roofs of the towns. If Gloaming was dusk, Lacuna was dawn, glowing opal and topaz, sunshine radiating from the glossy leaves of palm trees. If Gloaming was neutral, greens and greys, Lacuna was vibrant, blossoming in every color of the rainbow, and with every mineral in the mines, a diamond so bright it could be seen by ships from leagues away. It was the land of merchants, painters, musicians, and architects. Ships came to its ports from across the world, bringing silk, coffee, and rich spices. Music played on every street corner, while children danced barefoot on the sidewalk, skipping in circles while the flutist stamped his foot in time with a drum.
Lacuna was a place of song. Even the hunters in the forest and the men deep in the mines searching for diamonds whistled a tune while they worked. And on parade days, the sound of lutes and raised voices could be heard clearly from even the tallest of the mountains that towered marble and sandstone over the golden valley.
In her pearly palace in the city of Kef, the queen, Bellona Einar, ruled with a delicate hand and a firm voice. To her people, she was the most beautiful woman in the world. Girls brushed out their eyebrows to match her thick and full black brows. Seamstresses in the capital frantically turned out silky, flowing frocks for the people to match her most recent ballgown. And mothers bought tiny silver stars to pin in the locks of their daughters’ hair, “because Queen Bellona is coming to town! I bet she wears her stars today.”
If her beauty was stunning, her intelligence was overwhelming. She was known for her strategism, her ferocity in battle, and the endless streams of wisdom that flowed from her mouth like the waterfalls in the mountains; crisp and clear. If anyone could put an end to the Blood Wars, it was Bellona. Unfortunately, in order to do that, she would need King Harry of Gloaming on her side. And unfortunately again, neither of them would ever stoop so low as to offer their services to the other.
Like their people, Bellona and Harry detested one another, as their parents had before them, and their parents before that. For one to surrender to the other, or suggest a compromise, would be the same as turning belly up and handing their enemy a knife for which to slash them open with.
Bellona vowed never to let herself give in to the King in the North. He was arrogant, conniving, living up to his family sigil of the red fox in every way possible. He couldn’t be trusted, not in times of war or times of peace, Bellona knew that much. True, they had met only once at a ball for all the young lords and ladies of the land. But that one interaction had been enough to tell her all she needed to know about the King of the North.
Every year, the great families of Deroix sent their children to the neighboring kingdom of Balter, to meet, mingle, and hopefully find a suitable match for marriage. It was less of a ball than it was battle strategy-- who could they form alliances with, whose daughter could they trade for more soldiers, whose son had the most right to his family inheritance. Bellona despised the whole thing.
She used to like dressing up and brushing her hair until it shone, admiring the way the sun and moon clips sparkled in her dark tresses. She used to like the dancing, feeling the fabric of her skirts swirl gracefully around her ankles. She used to like to giggle with her friends- Ladies Cassia and Livia of the House Regalia- and making eyes at the boys from across the room. As a young girl it had felt magical, grown up, something to look forward to every year.
But as she got older, the magic began to flicker and die. It felt more and more like a task, like a part of the war, a favor she had to do for her parents. On her seventeenth birthday, her parents pulled her aside and reminded her that in a year she would be eighteen, legally an adult, with no match for marriage. It was clear what the point of their lecture was. That year, the Balter Ball became a mission-- find the most eligible lord in the room, and secure his proposal in marriage.
Bellona sighed, smoothing the front of her gown as the horses pulling her carriage clopped to a halt in front of the Balter palace. The opal facade loomed over shining marble steps where lords and ladies picked their way up to the grand entrance. The entire scene glittered with diamonds from the mines of Lacuna, pearls from the shores of Gloaming, sapphires from the mountains of Dune. She recognized the mustard yellow skirts of the children of the House Starling, the tall hairdos of the daughters of Baird, the emerald jackets of the sons of Schoen. Suddenly she felt her chest tighten.
“Enzo,” she whispered loudly to her footman, “Enzo?”
The large moustache appeared at her window, “Yes, my lady?”
“Would it be terrible if we turned around and went back to the inn?” She mumbled, looking away from the bright scene on the steps.
Enzo chuckled, “If it were up to me, princess, we would do just as you like. But alas, both of us are here on your mother’s orders. If we turned around now, she would have both our heads.”
Bellona grimaced, “I am sort of fond of my head.”
“As am I, princess,” Enzo bowed, “Tell you what. Stay for an hour or two. If you still feel like going home, I’ll take you back to the inn. But maybe you’ll change your mind.”
Bellona sighed, “That sounds fine. I suppose I could do that.”
“Good,” the footman nodded, pulling the carriage door open and holding a gloved hand out to her, “Shall we then, princess?”
She takes it gingerly, “Promise me you’ll wait for me?” She pleaded as her pale blue skirts brushed the ground.
Enzo bowed before her, “Of course, my lady.”
Bellona heaved as deep a breath as she could beneath her corsets, and gathering a handful of her embroidered dress between her gloved fingers, began to ascend the gleaming stairs. At the top, two guards pulled open the great golden doors to reveal an empty foyer lined with impressive bouquets of flowers and a trickling fountain in the center. The heels on her dancing slippers clicked across the floor to a set of mahogany doors flanked by footmen.
As she approached, they stepped aside, pulling the doors open, and loudly announced,
“Princess Bellona of House Einar, heir to the throne of Lacuna, Jewel of the South.”
The ballroom on the other side of the door fell silent, the chatter instantaneously dissolving in air soaked with champagne and perfume. Bellona lifted her chin proudly, and stepped into the ballroom. She could feel a thousand eyes on her as she descended the curving staircase, analysing the stitching in her train, scrutinizing the drape of her necklace, studying the curve of her cheek, the arch of her eyebrow, the part in her hair. She was used to this sort of entrance. But when it was a room of her peers, people her own age, she couldn’t help but feel self conscious.
By the time she reached the bottom of the stairs, the room was filled with conversation once again. The quartet in the corner struck up a lively waltz and the young aristocrats flooded the dancefloor. Bellona fiddled with the tips of her gloves and plucked a flute of champagne from a passing waiter. Before she could raise the glass to her lips, a flurry of pink organza and blonde curls swing into view.
“Bellona!” a cheery voice rung in her ears, like windchimes.
Bellona smiled warmly, turning to look into her friend’s face, flushed with champagne and excitement, “Cassia! Oh, it’s so good to see you. Where’s Livia?”
Cassia smiled and pointed with a delicate finger towards her twin, wearing an identical dress to her sister, but in purple. On either side of the slender shoulders stood two young men in dark yellow suit coats.
“Starling boys,” Bellona shook her head, “She could do much better than that. The Northern lords don’t deserve her.”
Cassia shrugged, “I don’t know. The one on the right is handsome enough.”
Bellona examined the figure, tall, all limbs, with hair like the mud at a battleground an hour after defeat- reddish-brown, sticking in all directions. She grimaced, “I’ve seen better.”
The blonde nudged her friend with a chastising hip, “Well, we can’t all be you Princess. Any man would cross oceans for you.”
Bellona smiled at her glass, “As men should do for the hand of a lady.”
Cassia sighed, her breath sending ripples across the basin of her glass, “Mother and Father say this will be Livia and my last ball.”
Bellona frowned, “What do you mean?”
“They say I have to find a husband come my birthday in the fall. Livia too.” Cassia murmurs, “They say there’s nothing left for me at Sandrea. They say I must find a husband or they’ll send me to the convents in the mountains.”
Bellona gasped, “They wouldn’t.”
Cassia nodded sadly, “When we were younger, finding a husband seemed like an adventure, or a game… now it just feels like a threat.”
“I’ll never take a husband,” Bellona muttered, “I don’t care what Mother and Father say. I’ll abdicate if they make me. I’m their only heir. What kind of choice do they have?”
“I wish it was like that. But Stavos is the heir to Sandrea, so… I suppose I have no other options.”
“Nonsense,” Bellona chided, tapping her friend on the shoulder, “You can come and live with me in Kev. I’ll make you the mistress of something. Architecture, maybe? Your drawings of the towers at Sandrea are so beautiful.”
Cassia blushed, “I’d like that.”
“Very well, it’s decided. When I become queen, you will be my royal architect.”
Before Cassia could respond, a black and gold brocade jacket materialized in front of them.
“Lady Cassia,” the jacket bowed, “Princess Bellona.”
The two girls curtsied. Bellona smiled coyly at him, “You seem to know our names. Now, might we have the pleasure of knowing yours?”
The boy clasped his hands in front of him, “Hugo Dogan, my lady. It’s a pleasure to meet you both.”
“And what brings you to our side of the ballroom, Lord Hugo?” Cassia asked, smiling up at the brown eyes.
“I have come to ask for your next dance, Lady Cassia.”
Bellona nudged her friend with a sly foot.
“I gladly accept, my lord.” Cassia curtsied, taking the outstretched hand before tossing an open mouthed look over her shoulder at Bellona.
Bellona giggled, swaying side to side as the strings began a languid folk dance. She recognized it, tapping her toes against the floor in the steps she had learned by heart as a young girl.
“Care to dance, my lady?”
She looked to the side. There stood Stavos, Cassia’s younger brother, waiting with his arm held out to her, turquoise sleeves glittering in the candlelight from the chandelier. Stavos was handsome, there was no doubt about it. His hair fell to his shoulders, fair and wavy. While his sisters’ eyes sparkled turquoise like the waters off of Crystal Beach, Stavos’ eyes were a stormy navy, like midnight over the mountains. He was kind, humorous, intelligent. All the girls in the city of Sandrea swooned when he passed through on his white stallion. Even Bellona’s handmaidens thought he was the most handsome boy they’d ever met. To Bellona, though, Stavos might as well be the little brother she never had.
“Stavos,” she smiled, taking the younger boy’s arm, “I was hoping you’d save a dance for me.”
Stavos flushed at the ground, “Happy to be of service, my lady.”
Bellona tittered, “Stavos, you know you can call me Belle. None of this ‘my lady’ business.”
He shrugged, “I know. Just feels a bit odd doing it out in public like this.”
“Don’t be silly,” Bellona said, picking up her skirts as the younger boy grasped her waist, “I’ve known you since you were a boy. It would be odd to hear you call me anything else.”
Stavos was quiet for a moment, then, “I’m glad you’re here, Belle. Honestly, I almost didn’t come at all this evening.”
She frowned up at him, “And why’s that?”
He shrugged, “You know balls aren’t exactly my specialty-”
She did know that. Stavos would sooner spend a fortnight shut up in his room with his books, or riding out in the woods with no one but his favorite horse than he would voluntarily accept an invitation to a ball. Bellona imagined the only reason he’s here at all is because his mother forbade him from turning the invitation down.
“- Just don’t like the dressing up and talking to people. And all the… attention.”
“You mean from the girls,” Bellona snorted in a way her mother would describe as ‘most unladylike,’ “Come now, Stavos. Can you blame them? What, with a handsome fellow like you, they can’t help it.”
For the second time in her company, Stavos flushed, “Well, I wish they could.”
Bellona couldn’t help but giggle at his discomfort, “I have missed you.”
“And I you, Belle. Say, when are you coming to Sandrea again? I found a new secret beach in the cove I want to show you. Looks great for horse racing, we-”
“Oh, I wish I could say soon, dear Stavos. But now that I’m nearly of age, Father wants me by his side as much as possible. That, or fielding possible suitors.” She wrinkled her nose at the thought.
“Oh right,” Stavos pursed his lips, looking around nervously, “Listen, Belle, I’ve been thinking lately. Wouldn’t it be nice if you didn’t have to go through all the courtship nonsense?”
Bellona laughed aloud, “I would like to see that world too, my friend.”
“No, that’s not what I meant,” he shook his head, “I mean what if I- if we-”
“Care if I cut in?”
The two heads jerk to the side to see a Schoen boy smirking at Stavos’ shoulder.
Bellona smiled grimly at her partner, “Thank you, Lord Stavos. It’s always a pleasure.”
“The pleasure was mine, princess.” With a bow of his head, and a firm kiss to the bridge of her knuckles, Stavos took his leave, making way for the Schoen boy (who introduced himself as Petyr) to grasp her firmly by the waist and whisk her about the ballroom in a dizzying waltz that left her gasping for breath in the corner.
After Petyr was Lord Hestor Wickin from the foothills of the South who was handsome enough, but couldn’t seem to get any kind of conversation out beyond, “So, er, my lady?” Once Hestor tired of attempting a dialogue with her, he made way for Duke Bryon of Lantus who was a much better conversationalist, but approximately six inches shorter than Bellona, hardly tall enough to look her in the eye. Then there was Ser Petron who tried to kiss her in the middle of a tango, Lord Saffrin who spat when he talked and reeked of rum, and Prince Fillon, who seemed determined to trod on every one of Bellona’s toes before their journey around the ballroom was over.
Feeling discouraged, overwhelmed, and bruised, she retired to a corner of the room next to a large window from which she could see the rose gardens below, and a white arbor covered in what looks like wisteria, though in the dull light it is hard to tell. She was just debating over whether it is in fact wisteria or a climbing lilac when someone cleared their throat beside her.
“Hiding, my lady?”
She started, nearly dropping her dancing card on the floor next to her.
“Pardon me, princess, I didn’t mean to scare you.” The voice said sheepishly.
“No, no,” Bellona shook her head, gathering herself, “That’s alright, I was lost in thought I suppose.”
Her company stepped closer towards her so that in the dim candlelight of the corner, she could make out his features. He was tall, slender, dressed in forest green that matched the mossy color of his eyes. Dark brown curls fell behind his ears and cascaded onto his forehead, though she could tell he had been spending the night fighting against their determined path to cover his eyes. Handsome doesn’t begin to describe him. He was ethereal, bewitching. She was sure she’d seen paintings of him in the friezes at the chapels, or read about him in the golden books of the royal library. She found herself stammering in spite of herself.
“You deserve some time to yourself, I suppose,” the stranger chuckled, “You’ve been on the dancefloor all night, from what I could see.”
Bellona frowned playfully, “Have you been watching me?”
He shrugged, leaning against the wall beside the window and stared down into the garden, “I suppose I have. Can you blame me? You’re easily the most beautiful girl in the room.”
She fought choking on her glass, “My lord, you flatter me.”
“No, I wouldn’t dream of it,” he smirked, though not in an evil way. The look made her toes curl in her slippers, “And don’t call me that, I’m not… that.”
“Well, what should I call you then?”
“Harry, just Harry,” he smiled, extending a hand to her, “It’s a pleasure to meet you Princess Bellona.”
“And you as well Harry, just Harry.” She giggled, allowing him to press a kiss into her gloved hand.
“I don’t suppose you’d like to brave another dance with me before the night is over?” Harry asked, turning his head as the violins began another waltz, “I do love this song. It seems only appropriate to share it with a beautiful princess such as yourself.”
Bellona’s heart skipped a beat as she pressed her gloved hand to her collarbone, “It would be an honor, Harry.”
He nodded, and guided her into the fray of twirling couples. Perhaps it was the quick spinning, or the overwhelming scent of rose perfume in the room, but Bellona felt as though she might ascend through the ceiling when he looked down the bridge of his nose into her eyes. The only thing keeping her rooted in her body was his firm hand on her waist, and his fingers clasped around her own. His coat smelled of pine and she was close enough to count the tawny freckles beneath his eyes.
“So,” he murmured, “Princess Bellona, the Jewel of the South. How fitting.”
Bellona bit her lip to keep from smiling, “Harry, you needn’t compliment me any longer. I’m afraid my head is going to swell up so big I’ll fall over. “
“Nonsense,” he grinned cheekily, “But tell me, what does the title pertain to? Besides the obvious, of course.”
Bellona took a deep breath, swallowing his flattery to save for lying awake in bed, replaying the events of the evening, “No one thought my mother could have children, all of my siblings died in her belly. They had all but given up on having an heir for Lacuna. And then, somehow, I survived childbirth. All the maesters were sure I wouldn’t make it past childhood, but… Here I am. My parents’ treasure.”
He blinked softly, “Yes here you are. So, I take it you are preparing for your own regency?”
She nodded, “Yes. Father lets me sit in on council meetings and reception of the people sometimes. But, I mostly study with the maesters in the library and learn battle tactics and strategy with the Kingsguard.”
“A princess who fights?” Harry uttered, a bit dumbfounded.
“Why, yes!” Bellona exclaimed, “How am I supposed to command an army if I know nothing about fighting?”
“I bet you look quite fierce sparring, my lady,” Harry commented, “Though I’m sure I could still beat you in a fight.”
Bellona came thudding back down to Earth with a clang. Of course, he wouldn’t be any different than any of the other sexist pigs in fancy jackets that attended these silly parties. She should have seen it in his wandering eyes, and in the way his hand kept traveling further down her waist.
“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure,” she warned, hoping her tone didn’t yet sound too venomous, “I’ve trained with some of the best warriors in the kingdom.”
“Really?” Harry quirked an eyebrow, “Name them. Perhaps I’ve heard of them.”
She huffed a breath, “Fiona of Kev and Caylin of Merre.”
“So more women.”
Bellona could feel the anger brewing in her belly. She remembered her mother reminding her that it is not ladylike to raise her voice in public. Instead she took a deep breath and declared, “In the South some of the best fighters in the army are women. Our past two commanders of the Kingsguard have been women.”
Harry raised his eyebrows in thought, “Where I come from, ladies spend most of their time indoors sewing, or out on the terrace pouring tea.”
“And where do you come from exactly, Just Harry?”
Harry breathed a laugh through his nostrils, “The North.”
“Oh.” Bellona grimaced, “I see.”
“What, just because I’m from the North, suddenly I’m not so interesting?” He cried, indignant.
“Oh, no, it’s got nothing to do with you being from the North.” She replied.
Harry frowned, but didn't say anything further. It took them another turn around the room before he spoke again.
“I must say, princess, your dress is the finest of all the other ladies here.”
Her nose began to wrinkle. She caught herself before he looked down into her face again, “Thank you. The seamstresses sent for the fabric from the mainland specially for me.”
It was her favorite dress they had made for her so far. The fabric was light and flowy, perfect for dancing. The flowers were her favorite mixture of colors, and the low neckline made her feel grownup, especially when paired with her mother’s diamond necklace.
“Well, you must give them my compliments. They certainly did your beauty justice.”
Suddenly, she doesn’t love her dress so much. Her skin crawled beneath his hand and when he leaned in to press a kiss by her ear once the final note had faded from the band, she had to resist vomiting on the floor at his feet. Instead, she gave him her best doe-eyed smile, and scurried off in a haste to find Cassia and another glass of wine.
She found the latter first, but Cassia is nowhere to be found. Feeling jilted and incredibly nervous, she sipped at her glass and contemplated sending word for her carriage to meet her at the steps. This year’s crop of gentlemen had been nothing short of disappointing. Certainly none of them husband material, or royalty material at that. She was about to take her leave and have a good cry in her carriage, when a conversation caught her ear.
“Well, well, H,” a Northern boy with long curly hair crowed, “Caught the attention of the princess, did you?”
Harry chuckled while his friend clapped him on the back, “Now, now gentlemen. Let’s not get too excited.”
“Oh, come on then H! What’s she like?” The friend persisted, “What’s the most beautiful woman from here to the mainland like as a dance partner?”
Bellona’s ears perked up. Is that what people called her? Though she knew it was vain-- something her nurse had always told her not to be as a child-- she couldn’t help but feel a little proud of the title.
Harry sniffed and slurped from a glass of wine, “Bit… Stiff?”
Stiff? Stiff? She had been practicing dancing since she was six years old. She knew every regions’ traditional dances backwards and forwards. Plus, that was all very rich coming from a man who seemed more interested in feeling the curve of her body beneath her dress than actually dancing.
While she had been stewing, Harry had begun to speak again.
“Yeah, and a bit full of herself. Don’t think I’ve ever met a lady who’s thought so highly of herself.”
That stung. She had spent her whole life trying to train her confidence to compete with the boys in her father’s palace, trying to prove herself to them. She had been told from a young age that if she couldn’t be strong and stand up for herself, the boys wouldn’t take her seriously. Apparently, that teaching was beginning to backfire.
“Plus, does she have to dress like such a harlot?” Harry whispered, “She does know this is a ball right, and not one of the Southern whorehouses.”
Bellona’s face burned. That was that. While the group of men guffawed at Harry’s comment, Bellona grasped the stem of her glass between firm fingers and marched in their direction. Her target was the fine silk stitching in Harry’s jacket, and the stark white dress shirt beneath. She knew from experience that red wine was harder to get out of fabric than blood, and though she wished she could spill the latter, a half-full glass of the South’s best grapes would have to do. She was close enough now that she can see the leafy designs stitched into the cuffs around his wrists, and smell the wine on his breath.
Without thinking twice, she tripped forward, glass outstretched. Her side of her body collided with his friend’s back, sending the wine glass spinning out of her hand and straight into Harry’s chest. Color bled into his face, matching the spreading stain of red across his front. Bellona’s wine had struck straight and true. She covered her face to hide her laughter and feign embarrassment.
“Oh, I am so, so sorry!” She exclaimed, over Harry’s cry of surprise, “How clumsy of me. Is your shirt ruined?”
Harry glared up at her from brushing off his shirt, “What does it look like to you?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” She stepped closer to him and fussed with the buttons on his shirt, undoing them tucking the shirt further beneath his jacket so that a substantial amount of his-- very firm, she hated to admit-- chest showed underneath, “There, that looks much better. Harlots like myself like when a man shows a bit of skin.”
His face dropped, lips slackening in shock. Point delivered, she patted him lightly on the chest and twirled around so that the ends of her long, black hair whipped him in the face, and sauntered away towards the exit. Though her mother had always warned her against pettiness and vengefulness, the look on his face made her moment of weakness all worth it. She was a princess and she wouldn’t let some lowlife ruin her evening with his hateful comments. She made it to the hallway before her heart rate caught up with her. Leaning against the gold painted wall, she clutched at her chest and tried to steady her breathing. Unfortunately, she didn’t have long to collect herself before Harry burst through the double doors.
“Princess!” He called from behind her, deep voice echoing down the hallway.
She ignored him and began to march away.
“Princess, please wait,” He repeated, “Please, just a moment.”
She shouldn’t have, but she turned around, “What could you possibly have to say that I would want to hear?” She demanded.
He halted in front of her, a bit out of breath, “I’m sorry. For what I said. I didn’t mean any of it, I swear.”
She rolled her eyes, shaking her head, “If you didn’t mean them, you wouldn’t have said them, no?”
Harry pursed his lips, looking around the empty hallway as if searching for the answer to her question in the marble columns and framed paintings.
She narrowed her eyes, “That’s what I thought.” She sighed, gathering her skirts in her fingers to make her exit, “I don’t know if your mother taught you much about speaking to royalty, Harry, but usually you treat them with more respect. I could, after all, have your head on a spike if I wanted-”
He chuckled angrily.
“But don’t worry. The castle gates are ugly enough without your head maring them.”
Harry rolled his eyes, “I know all about your castle gates, Princess. And my mother did teach me about addressing royalty, being one herself.”
Bellona’s breath caught in her throat. Royalty? But hadn’t he said-
“Surprised?” Harry said, angrily, “Yeah, Prince Harry of House Edward, heir to the throne at Loon and Guardian of the North. Pleased to make your acquaintance.” He extended a hand sarcastically for her to shake, fingers quivering in rage.
Bellona recoiled, “But you said you were a commoner!”
“No, I said not to call me lord. You assumed I was a commoner,” he corrected her, “Are you really so self-absorbed you can’t imagine not wanting to be called by your full title?”
She exhaled loudly, like the bulls in her farmer’s stables when they saw something distasteful in their field, “Or, perhaps I assumed you were a commoner because of the way you behave around women. I’ve met stable boys with better manners than you.”
Harry scuffed his feet harshly into the floor, so aggressively Bellona is surprised he doesn’t leave a mark, “You Southern women are all the same. Tell me, does it get exhausting pretending to be above us all every single moment of the day?”
Bellona stiffened, “Oh, and you’re so noble and selfless. I’m amazed your shoulders can still support that big head of yours!”
Harry’s lips were a line in his face. He shook his head, “Look, forget it. I was hoping we could forgive and forget and be friends, but clearly you’re too immature-”
“I will never be your friend,” spat Bellona, “Not until the sun sets in the east and rises in the west, and the sea dries up, and the stars-”
“Yeah, yeah, save your breath,” Harry grunted, already turning to leave, “I’ve got the message.”
Bellona watched him stalk down the hallway, glaring daggers at his retreating back, “You’ll regret this night, Harry Edward. I look forward to the day when my armies conquer your city and lay siege to your castle. It will be my honor to separate your head from your body and bring it home to my people. There will be songs written about your defeat and I will dance to them on the ashes of your kingdom.”
She had half expected him to turn around and come back to scream at her. But he has reached the double doors and yanked them open with a firm hand. Before the heel of his shoe disappeared from view, he halted in the doorway and looked over his shoulder at her, eyes slits beneath glowering brows.
“Long live the Queen.” He hissed, before shutting the door behind him with a click.
That had been her first impression of her opponent. In the five years since that interaction, King Harry had given her little indication that anything had changed. He cut off trade to the South by sinking ships bound for Lacuna’s harbour from the mainland. He sabotaged her cousin’s wedding to a Northern lord by sending assassins to the wedding party and slaying both bride and groom in their wedding beds. He took prisoners from the wall and refused to return them to their families, even though he had no real use for them. Bellona figured he was making up for the empty space in his skull by filling his dungeons, and thereby his pride.
True, Bellona was not free of blame for actions against her Northern nemesis. She had deposited spies in every castle in the North, each found out and hanged. Harry had sent her a memento from each one-- a third finger wrapped neatly in a silk cloth. After that, she had upped the anti. Following the brutal death of her cousin, she sent armies to every Northern border village and had them burned to the ground. When that didn’t coax the smug king out of his high castle, she led a siege herself on Castle Roche, just twenty miles North of Felix’s Wall. Her armies had been beaten back and forced to retreat.
Since that battle, neither kingdom had made much move to attack the other. Bellona chalked it up to cowardice on Harry’s part, and Harry the same for her. Both leaders were awaiting some kind of grand plan from the other, and the prolonged silence only made the situation more tense.
Bellona can’t count how many hours she had spent in the council room with her circle of advisors, imagining each possible scenario to come, and the response with which they would defeat the North. It was exhausting work to say the least.
Her favorite way to clear her head was taking walks along the walls of her palace that looked down into the city below. It wasn’t often that her advisors let her go down into the capital, afraid that rebel groups would take that opportunity to strike. But from the sandstone turrets, she could still smell lunch cooking in the taverns and hear the bustle of conversation at the weekend market. It was a welcome break from staring at maps and battle plans at the mahogany desk in her office.
She sighed, settling herself on a bench beneath a lemon tree and arranging her blue gossamer skirts around her crossed ankles. Her lady in waiting, Flavia, joined her.
“Marvelous day, isn’t it Flavia?” Bellona spoke, closing her eyes to drink in the warm sunshine drifting through the leaves of the lemon tree, “It’s a day for riding on the beach, don’t you think?”
Flavia, savvy to her mistress’ distaste for sitting indoors all day, nodded, “Yes, Your Grace. I’d like to go get Armonia from the stables now.”
“I haven’t been to see Ferox in moons,” Bellona mused, twirling a strand of dark hair around a ringed finger, “I hope he still remembers my face.”
“I’m sure he does, my lady. Who could forget a face such as yours?”
Bellona smiled, “He is but a horse, Flavia.”
“And a smart horse at that. Who loves his mistress.” Flavia continued, “I don’t suppose you could teach Armonia to obey me as well as Ferox behaves for you. It’s as though she pretends not to hear me when I ask her to go for a gallop.”
Bellona snickered, leaning into the golden haired girl beside her, “Dear Flavia, that is the problem. Armonia does not want to be asked to gallop. She wants to be told. She would run for miles if only you would tell her to.”
Flavia rolled her eyes, “I would bet you any amount of gold that she would rather lounge in her box all day than step even one hoof onto the sand, my lady.”
“Let’s go convince her then,” the queen exclaimed, jumping to her feet and holding her hand out to her friend, “Come, we’ll take them out to Crystal Beach and have a race. And then while the horses rest under the palm trees, we can go for a swim!”
Flavia hesitated, “But Your Grace, won’t they be expecting you back?”
“Oh, please. My advisors spend so much time bickering amongst themselves, they’ll hardly realize I’m gone.” Bellona giggled, “Come now, let’s go before they pull their heads from the sand and realize I’ve made an escape.”
Flavia returned her giggle, reaching out to clasp her mistress’s hand, and following her across the sun soaked patio. A firm voice halted them at the top of the marble stairs.
Bellona whirled around, the blue tulle of her dress floating around her..
“Your Grace.” The voice repeated, rounding the corner.
“Ser Germanus,” Bellona greeted, making a face at Flavia, “What is so pressing that it must interrupt my morning walk?”
Cleobold Germanus was one of the queen’s most trusted advisors, a weathered knight from halfway across the globe. Usually, he was kind, collected, a calming and uplifting presence in a time when such a thing was limited. But today, his dark brow was furrowed in a frown, “I bring news.”
“What sort of news?” Bellona questioned, “From the look on your face, I can only assume it is not the good sort.”
Germanus sighed, “Perhaps it is best you hear it with the rest of your counsel.”
As if on queue, a cloud crossed in front of the sun, shading the once yellow patio in a muted neutral pallor. A breeze whipped through the balustrade, kicking up the hem of the ladies’ skirts and ruffling the leaves of the lemon trees. Bellona took Flavia by the hand and led the way back to her study.
Inside the mahogany room, Bellona’s advisors whispered hushly between one another. When Bellona and her party marched through the door, they all fell silent, bowing their heads and murmuring a respectful, “Your Grace.”
“Good morning gentleman,” She greeted breezily, “I hope none of you declared war on another kingdom while I stepped out.”
A chuckle rippled through the room. Bellona breezed a path to the seat behind her desk and took her place in the leather and oak chair in front of the map of her kingdom.
“Now, Ser Germanus. What is your important news?”
Germanus pushed a way through the group of men, clearing his throat as he laid his fingers against the table, “We have word from the North.”
Bellona’s eyed widened, “The North? I wondered when their surrender would come. I did not expect it to be now, especially without much action from our army.”
“No, no, they haven’t surrendered, not quite…” Germanus trailed off, scratching his silver beard.
“Well, then what is it? They can’t have declared a second war on us, Gods know we’ve barely finished the first one. Are they asking to meet? What is it, man, I can hardly breathe for anticipation.” Bellona encouraged, leaning forward and giving her head advisor a warm smile.
“Well, Your Grace, it’s King Harry. He’s…”
“He’s what? Died? How is that any of my concern what happens to their monarchy?”
“No, he… he’s asking to marry you.”
Silence settled over the room, shock drifting into every corner. Bellona leaned back in her chair, open mouthed.
“Well, my answer comes without question, Ser Germanus,” she sputtered after a moment of uncomfortable silence, “You may tell him that I decline, most disrespectfully.”
“Your Grace, perhaps you should consider-”
“There is nothing to consider, sir!” Bellona exclaimed, “I have always said that I am perfectly capable of ruling without a man by my side, and I will certainly not be making an exception for my sworn enemy whose family has shown nothing but contempt and disrespect to my own. It is a ridiculous suggestion, I am tempted to dismiss you for impudence.”
The parliament turned back to Germanus, as though watching a polo match.
Germanus wiped a hand down his face. While he considered himself to be close friends with the queen, at this moment he couldn’t help but cower under her aghast face.
“I understand your frustration, my queen, but-”
“No, Cleobold, I don’t think you do. You are asking me to give up my freedom for a man who up until this moment has spent his entire life trying to destroy my kingdom, my home! It would be… humiliating to accept. If you think for one second I would say anything other than no, you are sadly mistaken.” Bellona finished definitively, huffing a breath.
“But think of what else it means, Your Majesty,” Ser Livius, a recent addition to Bellona’s advisors chimed in, “It would unite the two kingdoms, give them a reason to stop fighting. Plus, think of the trade opportunities that Gloaming would offer. Economically, we cannot afford to continue this war.”
“The people would thank you as well,” agreed Ser Faustus, a wizened old man who had outlasted the past two kings, “They’re exhausted. This war has killed more than just our brothers, Your Grace. It has destroyed our pride, and pillaged our happiness! You must consider how they would feel.”
Bellona swiveled her head to stare at him with deep anger burning in her hazel eyes, “And can you imagine what they would say, when they discover I am marrying the one who kills our sons and brothers, Ser Faustus? You try and tell a mother that she will have to live next door to the man who slit her son’s throat. You tell the bartenders they will have to serve the men who slaughtered their friends, and burned the houses of their families. No, I don’t think the people will be happier with this union. There would be riots in the streets!”
Bellona rose from her seat, placing her hands on her hips, “I will not marry him. He is an arrogant, and hateful creature who exists only to wreak havoc on my lands, and on my people. I find it reprehensible he would even consider making such an offer.”
Germanus heaved a deep breath, “Regardless of your personal opinion, Your Grace, I’m afraid you do not have much choice. Your mother has already accepted the North’s offer on your behalf. King Harry arrives come Friday.”
If Bellona hadn’t been struck speechless before, she certainly was now. “I beg your pardon?”
“The King arrives this week, my queen. He is to spend a week here in Kef, and then you are to travel to the capital of Gloaming with him after his tour. You will be married at Castle Braw by the end of the month.” Germanus explained.
His statement is received in shell-shocked silence. Worried he had caused irreparable damage, he continued, “I told the Queen Mother that you would be most opposed to the idea. But she stood steadfast.”
Bellona had never been so stunned in her life. Collecting herself, she smoothed the front of her dress, and squared her shoulders.
“It appears my anger is misdirected. Excuse me, gentlemen, for my outburst. But I hope you can understand under the circumstances.”
Her advisors nodded, subdued.
Bellona picked up the front of her skirts and floated to the door, muttering, “If you’ll excuse me, I have a bone to pick with my mother.”
The door slammed behind Flavia’s meek slipper as the men inside heaved a sigh of relief.
The Queen Mother spent much of her day in the rose garden, helping the gardeners prune the many rare species of rose bushes growing amongst boxwoods and lilies of the valley. The men who kept the grounds adored sitting with her, and listening to her stories of far away places, and the golden days of her youth.
This particular morning, Praxis and Barros leaned in over lavender bushes to better hear Queen Florencia’s recount of her first time meeting her late husband, King Basil.
“-And I told my mother I wouldn’t have an arranged marriage, that if I was going to marry at all it would only be for love. Well, then I saw Basil all dressed in his military best. I guess you could say I ended up marrying for love after all.” She laughed, delicately pulling a rose stem towards her to flick a potato beetle from the blushing petals.
“That’s a lovely story, my lady.” Barros smiled, pulling a weed from the rose bed, “And when was the wedding?”
“We had it nearly a month to the day aft-” Her answer was interrupted by a loud banging.
“Mother!” Bellona shouted, storming through the glass double doors that opened onto the rose garden.
“Good morning, dove.” Her mother called back to her, cheerily waving a garden gloved hand, “How was your council meeting?”
Bellona marched down the steps onto the path, “Well it was going just fine up until about five minutes ago.”
“Oh dear,” Florencia stood from the bed, brushing the front of her apron, “What happened?”
Bellona stopped in front of her mother, hands clasped in front of her sky blue dress, “Well, it seems that the King of the North has asked for my hand in marriage, all of a sudden. Would you know anything about that, mother dear?”
If Florencia was taken aback by her daughter’s confrontation, she did not show it in her face, “I might have heard something about it, yes.”
“My council tells me you accepted his offer without consulting me.”
“Your council proves to be an excellent source, if a little disloyal.” Florencia responded.
Bellona rolled her eyes, brushing a stray lock of hair away from her face, “I think you’ll find my council no longer works for you, mother. Hence, my council.”
“I suppose you are correct,” Florencia nodded, drawing her shoulders back, “Shall we take a walk and discuss this? I feel as though I have some explaining to do.”
“I would certainly hope so,” retorted Bellona, trailing after her mother in the direction of the greenhouses, “You may start with why you would accept a marriage proposal on my behalf, without consulting me first.”
Queen Florencia sighed, folding her hands in front of her skirts and sinking onto a stone bench beneath a peach tree. “I did it for my country, Belle.”
“For your country?” Bellona stuttered, “Did you not think about your daughter?”
A magpie flitted into the branches of the fig tree, eying the butterfly comb gleaming in the queen’s thick plait.
“I spent countless years watching our two kingdoms rip each other apart at the throat. We lost more men than you can even imagine. It is my biggest regret that I did not do something sooner.” Florencia spoke softly, twisting a ribbon in the flounces of her skirts, “But your father was too proud, and I was… too cowardly, I suppose. Perhaps too ignorant.”
Her daughter bit her lip, “And why should I sacrifice for your mistakes?”
Florencia’s eyelashes fluttered as she looked over her shoulder at her daughter, “Because I know you are strong enough. I know it isn’t fair to put it onto you. But this war has waged for centuries, Belle. And if there is anyone who could put a stop to it, I believe wholeheartedly that you and King Harry will be the ones.”
“But why must it be the two of us? Why can’t I stop the war on my own?”
“Because, dove. Peace is found in compromise. Not dominance.” Florencia said, laying a hand on Bellona’s knee.
As much as she hated to admit defeat, Bellona agreed with her mother’s words. If anyone else had been her enemy, she would have been much more enthusiastic about compromising. But King Harry was certainly not her first choice of individuals to be joining together with.
“I just don’t understand why I have to marry him.”
“It was his suggestion. I believe it speaks volumes that he would be willing to extend a hand to join our kingdoms in such a manner.”
“Perhaps he is more mature than we believed.” Bellona giggled.
Florencia snickered in a manner most unqueen like, and leaned into her daughter’s shoulder, “I suppose you will find that out soon enough.”
Bellona made a face, “I suppose I’ll marry him. But I won’t be happy about it. And I certainly won’t fall in love with him.”
“I won’t ask you to do either,” her mother nodded, “But remember, don’t discount him yet. You know, your father and I-”
“No, not this story again!”
Hundreds of miles- three days on horseback to be exact- away in Castle Braw, King Harry Edward faced the same dilemma as his wife to be.
It was a grey day in Gloaming, as it commonly was. The sky was covered in dimpled clouds, and a brisk wind whipped through the tussocks of grass on the moors. The castle atop the craggy cliffs that towered over the city of Loon gleamed obsidian in the blue light of the morning. The salt air lingered with the smell of bread baking in the ovens, and the docks were full with the clamor and chaos of the fish market.
Inside the castle on the crag in his oaken study, the King was engaged in a shouting match with his chief advisor, a man who under other circumstances he got on quite well with.
“You mean to tell me you thought that was a good idea, Fleming? Marriage? Of all things, you went with marriage!” He bellowed, tugging at the roots of his curly hair.
“Sir, you said to me last week, ‘Fleming I want this war over, at any cost.’ Is this not ending the war, and at a fairly cheap price as well, I would say.” Fleming pleaded, wringing his hands in front of him.
“Oh of course, I’m only giving up my freedom, my kingdom, and the pride of my people. That is certainly a cheap cost.” Harry shook his head.
“I would think better that than another thousand lives, Your Grace.”
Harry leaned back in his chair with a huff, “Sometimes I wonder why I even bother consulting you. It’s clear you have no concern for what’s good for me.”
Fleming cleared his throat, “You hired me to help you rule the kingdom in an efficient manner. Not be your parent.”
Harry glared at his friend, before turning his head back to stare out his study window. Through the glazed glass, he could see crowds milling in the streets below. A child threw a kite shaped as a dragon into the sky to watch the ribboned tail flutter manically in the gale.
“I hired you because I thought you knew what was best for my reign, and for my kingdom. And now you’ve sold me off to my worst enemy. Explain how that was doing your job.” He muttered, viciously.
Fleming straightened himself, holding his chin up high, “I wanted to bring peace to the kingdom. Is that not your top priority?”
Harry bit ferociously at his lip, “I do not think merging my kingdom with Lacuna is the way to bring peace. We should have begun with peace talks, or something of that variety. Not marriage.”
“And when were you going to initiate those talks, Your Grace? Tomorrow? Next year?”
“I would’ve gotten to it eventually.”
“No you wouldn’t.” Fleming retorted, “I know you, Your Grace. And, you’ll excuse me for saying this, but you are not one to compromise. If you hadn’t asked for a peace treaty already, you were never going to. Perhaps you don’t need to be thanking me, but I would certainly appreciate some respect.”
Harry sighed, eyes flitting around the dark glazed bookshelves, “You are right, my friend. I spoke out of passion, and not compassion. You were only trying to help.”
Fleming bowed his head, “Apology accepted, Your Majesty.”
Harry shuffled his feet on the stone floor. The grey flagstone is worn and faded from centuries of kings who sat at this very chair, probably yelling at their own advisors for decisions they believed to be stupid and unthinkable. But those kings weren’t Harry. He didn’t want to be the kind of leader who only took advice he liked, the kind of king who only surrounded himself with people who thought the same as him. He needed honest, intelligent people who would tell him when he was being a prick, who would put the kingdom first and foremost.
Earnest Fleming was that kind of man. Harry had known him all his life. He was a true friend, and a true subject. He knew Gloaming better than anyone, perhaps better than Harry himself. His advice came from knowledge, experience, understanding. Harry would be a fool not to take it.
Earnest coughed, “The royal family of Lacuna is expecting us in four days. It would be best if we got moving, Your Grace”
The chair legs screeched against the flagstone as Harry rose from his desk and thudded towards the window to gaze out across the capital. Snow had begun to fall softly on the shingled roofs of the houses below.
“I love this damned city,” he muttered, “Love it so much I’ll do anything to save it. If marrying the enemy is what’s going to do it, then so be it,” He scratched at the light stubble on his jawbone, “But Fleming,” he turned back into the room to where his advisor stood with his arms behind his back.
“Yes, my lord?”
“If you ever do anything without my permission again,” the king bit his lip and stared into his friend’s face, “I’ll have your head on a spike.”
Fleming smirked for he knew the threat was empty, “Yes, my lord.”
“Good.” Harry looks back to gaze out the window at the grey sea, now capped with white foam, “Prepare the men. We’ll ride at dawn.”
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I have a horny to soft thought. I'd love for Kuroo to use me however he wants. Fuck me on the table, the kitchen counter, against the wall. Just whatever he wants. He can be as rough and deep as he wants. I'd thank him so much. But then we cuddle to our favorite movie and he gives the best aftercare. 🥰🥰🥰🥰
Sorry this took so long to get to! But I’ve been thinking about it a lot while working on other things, and I’m happy to take a break for a few of the thirsts in my inbox ^3^
This kind of goes soft to horny back to soft, but I really enjoyed writing this!!! Kuroo is someone I feel like I have trouble writing for, so it was nice to stretch my legs on this one!
Everything for your comfortable date night in was already set up when Kuroo suddenly shifted gears on you. He finds you among the many blankets and pillows tossed onto the floor, more than ready to be spooned while watching your favorite movie.
You hear him come up behind you, and twist to smile at him when he straddles your thighs. He smirks back, reaching forward to push your front back down into the fluffy blanket beneath you.
"Tetsu?" You wiggle, feel your insides flutter when big hands suddenly squeeze appreciatively at your rear through your leggings. It feels nice, so you let sigh and arch while he massages your ass slowly, thinking he’ll get his fill and then lay down to spoon you, maybe let you grind up on him a little. Instead, long fingers curl into the top hem around your waist and tug the stretchy material down, his hips lifting only to tangle them at your thighs. He sits back down on them, pushing your shirt up to your shoulder blades.
You pop your head up with a pout he can't see, wiggling back into his groping hands and the biting kisses he leaves on your now bare butt. His kisses down your back are rather distracting, stalling your brain for a hot second. "The....The movie, Tetsuro?"
He hums thoughtfully into a kiss at your tailbone, squeezing your waist. "It can wait. I've been chasing this cute ass all day since you put these leggings on, and I'm not risking you getting sleepy on me.” His teeth bite into the fat of your cheek, sucking languidly until it stings, until you gasp and wiggle and he pops off with a wet suctioning sound and a growl. “I wanna fuck you first."
It's hard to be mad when he crawls back over you and bumps his cock against the curve of your ass, hard and straining against the loose fabric of his sweats. You feel warm with desire, from how his long fingers wiggle between the squeeze of your trapped thighs to split gently through your wet labia and rub slowly at your clit.
You twist a little on your front, tucking your chin into your shoulder to get a good look at him behind you. In the light of the tv, Kuroo's narrowed gaze looks way too pleased through his messy bangs. You pout back, press your ass up into his crotch, and get the exact reaction you were hoping for.
He snags a handful of your hair and shoves your front back down into the pillows, much less gentle than he did the first time. You whine, grip at the blankets, and wiggle beneath him.
He bends over you, propped up on the elbow of the arm keeping you pinned by your hair. His chest presses into your back, hips just below your butt so he can keep squishing his fingers down between your thighs.
"You're such a fucking brat," he mutters, though you can hear the fondness in his tone that warms your belly. You close your eyes and relish in his dominance, spreading your legs as wide as you can between his knees when he lifts up to get better access to your pussy.
"Fuck, you're a liar too, huh?" He teases, propping himself up on the arm that pins down your head. His lips brush your ear, landing a firm smack across your ass. You gasp and arch, rolling your hips when his wet fingers glide across your stinging cheek to push back down over your folds. "Acting like you didn't want me to fuck you. Your pussy is giving you away, kitten."
“I...I wanna watch the movie.” You don’t sound very convincing, tone breathy and your hips bouncing back against his fingers with what little room you have beneath him. You don’t really mean it either, and he knows that. You’re too wet, too wiggly, too pliant. You have a whole word that would make him stop in a heartbeat, but instead you moan wordless and languid.
He hums, a condescending sound of consideration that makes your insides coil up tight, burying your face into the sheets with sudden embarrassment. “No, I don’t think you do. I think you wanna get fucked. I think you wanna get your pussy stretched out on cock. Does that sound right?”
A wet, tacky sound accompanies the rub of his fingers over your clit and through your drooling labia. You arch up and back, arms stretched forward to support the movement, just barely able to bend your knees underneath Kuroo’s knees.
He nips your ear, and you can feel him grinning against the sensitive skin behind it, your hips rolling with a shiver “Hm? You want cock, baby?” He gives a firm, slow few tugs at your hair until you’re tipping your head back, cracking a moan from your throat. Tetsuro’s lips brush your cheek. “Tell me.”
“Y-Yeah,” you breath, fisting the sheets, stiffening up when he wiggles his fingers further down to cover your clit entirely, an easy feat through the slick that’s gathered between your squeezed thighs. You swallow and jerk with a shock of pleasure. “I...I want cock, Tetsu.”
He groans, rubbing his erection against your leg where he straddles you. His sound of pleasure is deep and rumbles against your back, vibrates against your sensitive cheek through his lips. “Whose cock do you want?”
“Yours.” The word tumbles out of your mouth, whispery and needy. “Y-Yours, Tetsu, want your cock so fucking bad--”
You keen when he shoves your face back down into the pillows, pushing himself up and ripping his hand from between your thighs. Your pussy aches for something, anything to give it the stimulation it needs, and you wag your ass back and forth beneath him, hearing him curse as he fumbles to shove his sweats down over his dick.
“Yeah?” He seethes, slapping his hot, hard length against your ass, the smacks loud and lewd, making your cheeks ripple and leaving spatters of his leaking precum on your skin. “You want my dick that bad? You need it?” You moan desperately, arching up, your ass cheeks spreading for him to slip the leaking head down through, across your drenched pussy and prodding your leaking hole teasingly.
“I need it, I need your cock,” you plead, clutching one of the many pillows on the floor to your chest, moaning when he presses forward, easing the tip inside.
He doesn’t waist any time after that, sinking in with a slap of his hips against your ass. You cry out and quake, clutching pussy squelching with the sudden invasion. You can’t wiggle back at all, pinned under his weight and into the quickly warming blankets beneath you.
Kuroo leans down over you, panting already, big hands sliding up your shoulders and down your arms, forcing you to let go of the pillow to stretch you out totally underneath him, your fingers weaving with his.
“God, you feel so fucking good,” he hisses in your ears, rearing his hips back and snapping them forward. Your moan is loud in your dark living room, accompanying the rough plowing collision of Kuroo’s hips into your ass. The clap is loud and stings perfectly, makes your skin burn hot and leaves you breathless.
All you can do is lie there and take it, moaning with Kuroo’s growls in your ear. You squeeze his hands and wiggle and gasp, his brutal pace cushioned by the overflow of blankets and pillows beneath you.
It overwhelms you quickly, until you jerk and squeal, clenching down hard on Kuroo’s cock, making him groan deep in his chest and release one of your hands to snag your hair and twist your face in his direction. “Fuck yeah, kitten, squeeze that pussy on me.”
You feel lightheaded breathing his breaths and whimpering, unable to move back against the pleasure he provides with his weight upon you. Your whimpers grow louder, freed hand scrabbling through the soft and hot sheets, toes curling and knees pressing into the floor. Kuroo nips and presses sucking, wet kisses to your cheek and down your neck until you shiver and your eyes flutter shut.
It comes in intense, slow waves at first. Your mouth drops open in a pretty pout, hand clenching tight to Kuroo’s. “T-Tetsu, oh fuck Tetsuro, m’cumming,” you whisper, beginning to shake.
Each heavy thrust of his cock and pull of your hair feels so good it hurts. Your hips buck suddenly with overstimulation, catching your boyfriend off guard at your sudden burst of movement. He hooks his arm around the front of your neck, bulging bicep and flexing tendon in his forearm cradling your throat in the bend of his elbow, pinning your head back against his shoulder as you arch and claw and hiss into the blankets like a cat.
Kuroo groans and hunches over you, grinding his hips into your ass, stirring his cock up in the excessive slick dripping out of you from your own orgasm, and it doesn’t take long to have him groaning rough into your neck. His arm flexes again where it’s lodged up against your neck. You wheeze, eyes rolling with the pleasure of being choked, shivering with Tetsu’s growling, sucking kisses at your jaw. His cum floods hot, and you lock your ankles together to clamp down on his cock just like he asked, goosebumps trailing down your legs and arms.
“Oh, that’s a good kitty,” Kuroo slurs against your ear. His arm eases and a warm rolling flush of blood runs through you, making your head spin. You both ease down to the blankets, your deathly grip on his hand and forearm barring your neck go limp, and you groan as he shifts with you onto your sides, spooning up behind you carefully, keeping his cock plugged up in your filled pussy.
Kuroo sighs into your hair, arm pillowing under your cheek now. He speaks after a long moment of buzzing, relaxed silence, sounding sleepy but immensely pleased with himself. “Okay...You wanna watch that movie now, kitten?”
Your affirmative response it muffled by the skin of his arm, and he laughs, curling his arms around you and cuddling you close before fumbling for the remote that’s almost just out of reach.
He smacks a loving kiss to your cheek and presses play. Within the first ten minutes of the movie, you’re both passed out in your little nest on the floor, curled up in each other’s arms.
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could i req a fic where the reader is dating draco but avoids hanging out with him when his friends are around cause she’s intimidated by them?
“sorting out his priorities.” (DM)
lovely suggestion, good chance for some MILD MILD angst and fluff. thank you, anon!also the reference to ron’s line ^ hope you all caught that.
warnings - none i think.
the gif has the ugliest orange tinge on it but i couldn’t find a better alternative (i was going to use the ooo from third year ykyk but)
reader’s blood + house is in the first paragraph.
you sometimes saw it strange why he was with you, but then you’d think it through and realise, well, nothing was out of the ordinary. you were pureblooded, wealthy and came from one of the sacred twenty eight. amongst that, you were sorted into ravenclaw which, perhaps wasn’t the house people mostly expected draco to date from, but was probably the second most likely.
it happened through class after being seated besides eachother in potions. it started with his assistance that he claimed you ‘needed, and he won’t sit by watching you make a fool of yourself’. ah, how he was so rude at first, you remember. but then it turned to passing notes as to not get caught talking by snape’s beady eyes, and then the notes slowly turned into things you needed to hide from the rest of the world. sweet, pure and innocent things, but that was the problem. much too sentimental for draco’s reputation.
despite his said reputation, he was so soft with you. it was when you two were alone that he’d trade the smirk for genuine smiles, and his eyes would be shy and gentle while his cheeks would bloom into pink at teasing eachother. when you were roaming the halls and in public, his arm would be around you and he’d be making sure everyone knew you were ‘his’.
so, he wasn’t ashamed of you - and yet why did you avoid him?
that’s a simple question with a simple answer - his friends.
they were all so tall and intimidating, and when you did start to sit with them, you noticed that they’d mutter amongst themselves whenever someone they deemed ‘less than’ would walk by. it made you almost self conscious in a way, wondering if they’d ever or would ever think of you like that. what if they thought you weren’t good enough for their friend?
you always thought it was the ravenclaw in you that told you to stay away from them, so you obliged.
draco noticed, and that was exactly why he was currently searching for you during his spare period. he wasn’t too keen on thinking about it, but the boy couldn’t deny how he felt for you. maybe, just maybe, he could see himself falling in love with you. he told himself it wasn’t immensely serious, so he didn’t know why he was bothering so much but an itch in his chest was forcing him to roam the school, searching for only you.
“cmon chang, you dorm with her. where is she?”
cho merely shrugged, one of the students who was most used to draco’s...abruptness. “i haven’t seen her. check the library?”
“i have. this is Y/N i’m looking for, of course i have.”
she smiled in agreement, “then i can’t help you there. sorry!”
he didn’t bother with a farewell and scowled instead, storming off back outside.
and there you were. outside.
the reason why he hadn’t thoroughly checked the grounds was because that’s where him and his friends sat, and you knew it. so why didn’t you join them? he’d assumed you were sick or, heaven forbid, serving detention, but...were you purposely avoiding him?
draco did what a malfoy did best and turned his anxiety into a mask of anger, storming over with a glare. his voice was fully accusing as he called, “there you are! would’ve loved to see you during our spare lessons or, you know, maybe even lunch breaks, but you’ve been too preoccupied with sitting under trees on your own, it seems.”
your head snapped up from your novel, eyes annoyed at the interruption but softening when you noticed the boy who you think you felt more than just like for. you were used to his tantrums by now, it was part of dating him to be honest, and that’s why you simply shrugged and patted the ground beside you in invitation.
now, ravenclaws didn’t just invite anybody to sit with them when they were reading, so draco sat. he kept the scowl, but couldn’t do anything to hide the faint blush at your proximity. had you worn a new perfume, or did he just miss you that much? his father would’ve scoffed at his thoughts.
his voice was less angry, more purely questioning when he asked, “why have you actually been avoiding me, Y/N?”
your eyes stopped trailing the sentences but lingered on the page, a finger coming to stroke the soft paper while you stayed silent. “i haven’t,”
he sighed and you saw him rest his head against the tree behind you. as he did that, you turned your head subconsciously to where his group usually sat.
there they were, mid joke and laughing simultaneously. pansy and theo seemed to find blaise’s comment so humorous, and crabbe and goyle just seemed to be grateful to be there. behind the main five with their missing sixth besides you, more slytherins sat around them in their own conversations.
they looked like innocent schoolkids, but stereotype told otherwise. of course, you didn’t pay much kind to the stereotypes - after all, you were dating a slytherin, weren’t you? but you knew better when it came to the others...they seemed too much of a rough crowd for you.
“i’m sorry. it’s the truth - i’m not avoiding you, per-say. i’m avoiding them,” he watched as you nodded towards his friends, understanding settling in his mind.
he didn’t look judgemental at all as he raised an eyebrow, “you’re scared of my friends?”
you shook your head, shutting the book now and facing him, “not scared. intimidated?” your head tilted to the side as you tried finding the right words, “maybe just wary of? i don’t know. they just don’t seem like my type of crowd,”
“but...i’m that type of crowd, and you’re not scared of me? wait - what type of crowd?”
“not scared, draco. i don’t know, i can’t explain it.”
he breathed out a laugh and brought his fingers to hold your chin, gently shaking your head as if you were a silly child. “then i can’t help my girlfriend, can i?”
you shook away his hands, swatting him on the arm as he chuckled. “i just don’t want them to judge me negatively. and also, they’re just so...loud sometimes. it’s not bothersome, i just worry that i won’t know how to join in on conversation.”
you broke eye contact to fix your spotless robes, “i don’t know. i actually prefer when it’s just us two, but that’s completely unreasonable to ask for. i don’t mind you being with them, really. i have plenty of time with you to myself.”
draco hummed in thought, sticking his bottom lip out as he edged closer to you. “there’s a problem with that, Y/N.”
your eyebrow raised for him to continue.
“i’m not fine with that. i’ll tell you a secret, but it’s got to stay a secret, yeah?”
you nodded with furrowed eyebrows as if to say, ‘of course it will’ before draco leaned in and whispered, “i don’t really care all that much for them, they’re mere companions i keep around.”
once he pulled away, he took your hand in his, “but you, i think i’d class you as more than that. just a little, anyway.” he was teasing and sarcastic, but still doing his best to reassure you. he only wanted to spend time with you, after all.
you smiled at his words, “draco, i appreciate it but you don’t need to put down your friends to make me happy, it’s okay.”￼
his eyebrows furrowed and he shook his head again, “no, you’re not listening to me. i - god, i hate sounding like this - only for you, okay?” his index finger was pointing at you and he had a shy smile on, but you knew he found these things difficult so you just nodded.
“my friends...i probably wouldn’t trust them as far as i could throw them. like, actually trust them. but everyone needs friends and no one really needs a girlfriend, and yet here you are? so don’t feel like that, and be reassured that i definitely prefer...spending my time with you, than with them.”
he looked at you to study your reaction, and seemed satisfied by the happy exhale you let out. it was full of a sort of relief and appreciation - appreciation for his words and for the fact that he actually seemed to care.
he smiled and threw and arm over your shoulder, leaning back into the tree as you shuffled comfortably into him. “just tell me your problems in future, yeah? don’t avoid me anymore.”
you nodded against his robes. “thank you,”
a small shrug. “i feel almost prioritised, it makes me happy. i don’t remember the last time i felt this cared for,” not in a way that meant he would save or destroy the world for you, but in the way that he would always notice things, he’d come and find you, and he would comfort you.
you were in public
so none of the little actions of endearment came out, but you didn’t miss his thumb on the hand around your shoulders start to sooth up and down.
“you are. very much so,”
it was him who shrugged this time before he tilted his head to lean in closer, “prioritised, love.”
this is the fic i was writing when i posted the thing about cho chang lol. i can’t even write her name without cringing.
anyway hope you all enjoyed, thank you so much for requesting <3
to all my mutuals / regulars in the notifications, i have so much love for you and you’re so appreciated, my inbox / messages are always open if you want a safe place to talk.
mwah, bye bye.
@dracomalfoys-wh0re @justfangirlthingies @dracoslittlesunflower
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bands | sixteen
[ series masterlist ]
summary: jeon jungkook has it all: the looks, the fame, the money, the women. being considered the sexiest man in the industry, he finds no complaints about the way his life is going nor does he find any reason to apologize for the way he approaches it. he is a force to be reckoned with - until he meets you.
pairing: stripper!reader x idol!jjk
genre: (18+) strip club/nightlife au, post grad au | fluff, angst, smut
warnings: cussing, mature language/implied sexual content, angst, anxiety, alcohol consumption, slight intoxication, physical abuse, slight verbal abuse, belittling, mentions of cuts/wounds but nothing too graphic, mentions of coke
tags: @brightcolorsoffendme @min-nicoleee @eggbutnotyolk @ra-mun-e @miinoongi @jimidol @ppeachyttae @thebeebi @bluesharksandfish @kooafraid @liriaus @thisartemisnevermisses @ggukkieland @preciouschimine @sunniejinnie @cypheruby @cyb3rbab3 @masterlists101 @awhnamjoon @redhedhoseok @wooya1224 @taeismydeath @jikookiekosmos @un2-verse @aynsx @wearenot7withu @knjeuphoria @bringitseijoh (closed!)
Jungkook laid on the dorm couch, legs sprawled out as he wore his hood and covered his face as much as possible. He shut his eyes, trying to make sense of the cryptic texts you had sent him.
"We shouldn't do this anymore."
"I can't do this, Jungkook."
"You don't deserve this."
"I'm only trouble."
"We aren't going to work."
He repeatedly called you, asking for an explanation, a way to help make things better because none of this should have been the reason for you to want to call it 'quits' like that. He asked for you to talk to him. He'd call and after two rings, it'd bring him straight to voicemail. It never failed. Indeed, there was much more to the text but he only fixated on a few lines, and those few lines seem to be circling his head time and time again with no sign of leaving him alone.
"I think I'm falling in too deep and I need to stop this while I can. You hear them, you hear the shit they say. I would never let them ruin you, I don't want them to. You deserve better. Maybe it's true that I don't fit into this."
It frustrates him, every single time. Where the hell did he go wrong? Why was there a sudden change? Something was off, and god forbid if his assumptions were right. But, everything was leading right back to it. The way you called in sick, the way you shut everyone out. The way you texted him these things, wouldn't pick up his calls just to tell him you're busy or whatever the hell it was. It didn't sound like you. It didn't seem like you at all.
All things led right back to the club. To Bigs. Where you felt high and mighty. Wanted. Like no one could ever hurt you the way they did outside of the club because they worshipped you in there. They knelt down to you. The way you were so fucking tough there. He knew this is where you would fall back if things got rough. He couldn't help but think that you had been forced into it though, because he knew you didn't give a shit about that anymore. Ah well, forced or not, it just felt so off. Unusual.
"Hey." Namjoon sits on the floor near Jungkook's head. "You good?" He asks even though he's fully aware he's not. Joon hates those people who ask if something's wrong when clearly, something is wrong — however, he wasn't really sure how else to open up this conversation without coming off too pushy or forward. Too insensitive, even.
"What's going on?" Jungkook sighs as he tries to lower his hood even more, although there's no more of his hood to lower. He keeps his hand on his face, trying his hardest to keep himself together.
"I don't know." Now, going back to earlier — everyone can tell Jungkook isn't happy. They've tried to butter him up and make him feel better even though they knew you were the only person who could truly make him happy again. They've tried to talk to him in one way or another, but they never forced him if he didn't want to. The only person that really hasn't said much was Jimin, and that also pisses him off because if he had anything to do with this, he will surely fuck him up for ruining his happiness.
"You hear from Y/N? She still sick? Does she need anything?"
"She's not sick."
"Hm?" Joon slightly turns back, confused.
"Something else is wrong."
"She's not picking up my calls. Not answering my texts the way she normally does. When she does, it's super blunt or one worded."
"Maybe she's really not feeling well, or just caught up with things—"
"No, hyung. I know her, she always has her priorities straight. Even if she was sick, she wouldn't do this. She wouldn't go as far as to shutting her own brother out."
"Idol life too overwhelming? I get it." Jimin jokes as he walks into the kitchen, making Jungkook shoot his head up to glare at him.
"The fuck, can you not? I don't see why you feel the need to joke around right now."
"Jeez, sorry. I just thought I'd lighten up the mood somehow."
"Come on, dude." Namjoon looks at him with disappointment, Jimin only returning the gesture by rolling his eyes and walking away. "How can I help you?" Joon asks, returning his attention back to Jungkook.
"Maybe I was being selfish bringing her into all of this. These people— they're fucking mean, and she's already had her fair share of dealing with mean people. How am I supposed to protect her all while not feeling selfish about it?"
"You're not selfish, who told you that?"
"Jimin." That's like strike.. whatever to Namjoon at this point. Why the hell was Jimin being so fucking weird?
"Look, I know it's not easy in this industry. But I think what you can do is prove to her that you won't hurt her, especially with everyone around her doing nothing but hurting her. You need to show her that you're different from the rest of them, that she can fully trust you. If I were in her shoes, to be honest, it would be scary for me. You got a whole lot of shit going on in your life. You're expected to provide a lot, and on top of that, you haven't had the best reputation with women."
"Yeah, I hear you."
"Then, nothing else matters. You keep fighting for her if she really matters to you. Does she?"
"Of course she does, I mean, can't you tell? I've never been this way over someone." Joon nods.
"You sure as fuck haven't. It still catches me and the guys by surprise. But, I'm happy to see someone helping you become a better person. She's been nothing but genuinely sweet, and I know she already does a hell of a job taking care of you."
"She's— I don't know. She's become so important to me."
"I know she has, and I'm happy to hear that. I really am." Joon sighs. "So tell me, what can I do? I hate seeing you like this."
"Well, I'm sure as hell not allowed at the club. Bigs will do anything to get back at me for what I did to him. He won't hesitate."
"I won't let him. We won't. You really think she went back?" Jungkook nods.
"Positive. Something doesn't feel right. It feels weird. And I feel like she was egged into this. I don't like it one bit."
"Want me to go check out the club tonight?"
"Yeah, please?" Jungkook says. "But don't be too obvious. Bring Jin hyung or someone who could use a lap dance or two."
"Sooo Jin hyung?" They chuckle.
"And if she's there?"
"Then I'm going straight to her tomorrow night. I just need to make sure I do this right because I don't want her or Kai to get hurt. I'll stay out there if I have to just to make sure she doesn't go back. What else do I have to do—" Jungkook pauses to stop himself because this clearly wasn't you. He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Who the fuck made her do this?"
"Bigs, who else?"
"No, she wouldn't listen to just Bigs. He's definitely working with someone and using shit against her."
"Okay, let's just not assume the worst. I'll head there tonight and drag Jin hyung with me."
"Thanks hyung, I really appreciate it."
"No problem." Joon gently massages his shoulder before getting up from his spot to make his way back to his room.
All Jungkook can think about doing is sleeping more right now. He'll send the occasional text to check on Kai and see how he was doing, but they both worried too much about you and Jungkook would hate to tell him that you ended up going back to the club. He didn't think he would tell him, he didn't think he'd have to because he was gonna make sure to get you out of there before shit hit the roof again. If it hasn't already, and he's hoping it hasn't.
And so when Namjoon and Jin hyung [obviously in need of that lap dance or two] head out to the club, Jungkook stays in his dorm room, suddenly feeling the adrenaline rushing through his body even though he can't do shit besides sit here and wait. He goes through the random pictures he's taken of you - the cute, candid photos he had of you, the cute candid photo of you as his lock screen. He deletes all the texts in his inbox even though he knows it might have been a little late. It honestly hasn't mattered to him in such a long time, but he just never got around to wiping his inbox clean since he was so caught up with you - his baby.
"Is this going to turn into some kind of action movie? We bust through the doors, take down all the guards and steal Y/N?"
"No, hyung. Jesus. Do you forget you're an idol? That's probably the very last thing we should do."
"So, what do we do?"
"We just walk in there like we normally do?"
"Plus, we can't have Bigs onto us like that. We have to act like we don't know anything."
"Do you really think he's using something against her?"
"I don't know. I have to be honest though, I think Jimin's involved."
"W-what?" Jin says, furrowing his brows. "No, he can't be."
"Trust me. He always acts so weird around her, and he's probably the one person who hasn't taken this as seriously. He hasn't said anything to Jungkook."
"But why though?"
"I don't know, beats me. I just don't think he respects her. Or, likes her. Whatever it is."
"She hasn't done anything to him though."
"That makes it worse, doesn't it?"
"How could you be so sure?"
"Look hyung, I'm not. I just think he's involved. My gut says so. We'll find out whether I'm right or not, right?"
"I hope you aren't. That'll really mess Kookie up."
"Well. I love him, but he'll have to learn the hard way for butting into someone else's business like that. No matter what the reason is." Namjoon parks the car and fixes his rolled up sleeves before adjusting the Rolex on his wrist. He looks at Jin once more, nodding in approval once they both feel like they've fixed themselves enough to look presentable, not questionable.
Meanwhile, you had just finished up your time on stage so you headed to the back to take a break. Bigs hadn't given you the option to secure private bookings knowing damn well there would be opportunity for Jungkook and some of his boys to slip through and try to work their magic in private. As much as possible, you were just trying to protect Jungkook, even though you knew he wouldn't back down without a fight. You knew Bigs wasn't all that tough, but right now, he seemed to hold a lot of power with Jimin being on his team. And you knew damn well it was Jimin all along. Did you have concrete evidence? No. But your gut feeling might as well be enough with the way he talks to you. Why else would Bigs all of a sudden feel all mighty? Bigs had threatened Jungkook and your brother enough to keep your mouth shut. Enough to keep your attitude level at a 0.
The scene played in your head over and over again—
"I gave you a better life, you ungrateful piece of shit. You do as I say and your little Jungkook and your little Kai won't get hurt. You think I'm scared of them, sweetie? You think I'm scared of you? Your stepfather don't give a damn about you two. I can easily send my men down to do their magic, especially after how Jungkook treated me. Is that how he repays me after all the special treatment I've given him?" Mr. Bigs hunched over you. "You two wanna play me like a fool, I'll show you two what it's like to be played like a fool." He pulled on your hair before aggressively releasing and spitting to the side.
There was no way they would get dragged into this. Not anymore. They didn't deserve to be included in this no matter what it was.
Boy, did you miss Jungkook. Everything about him. It took everything in you not to come running back. It took everything in you not to answer those calls or texts like you normally would.
You chose him, every single time. You wish he knew that. Him and Kai.
You sighed, sipping on the flask you snuck in. The alcohol relieving you of any pain, helping you feel numb as the night goes on. You didn't want to feel tonight, you just didn't. Why would you, when everything had just been hurting you lately?
You had just finished dancing out on the main stage, throwing your ass back to some Megan and Cardi. A few other dancers were gathered at a vanity, sneakily sniffing lines of coke while Bigs and his men were busy paroling the main stage.
"You want some of this, sis? In celebration of you coming back?" One of the other dancers smirks at you. You simply shake your head no and return to the flask in your hand.
"I'm good, thank you."
"Alright, well it's here if you want it. Just let me know, babe." Her and the other dancers go back to their business on the vanity. However, another dancer continues to eye you, sympathy filling her expression as she approaches you while you sip on your flask once more. You were starting to feel pretty tipsy again, hoping you could just hide out in the back 'till the very end of your shift.
"Y/N." She says, her hand gently on your arm. "You okay?"
"I'm good." You purse your lips together to prevent yourself from tearing up. Those words were triggering for you because you were not okay, whatsoever.
"Why did you come back, babe?" She genuinely asks, worried about you. "Did Bigs do something?"
"No." You lied. "Things just didn't work out elsewhere I guess, and I need money."
"Didn't work out? I saw the way Jungkook handled Bigs that night." If anything, she was probably the one dancer who paid attention to the environment around her. Everyone else was oblivious to the shit that's been happening and that's because they didn't give a fuck about anyone else. Her stage name was Trixie, but her real name was Miki. She too didn't really enjoy being here but her parents talked so much about how she was useless and couldn't make it out in the world, especially as a vlogger. She loved it. She loved being in front of the camera and talking to the world thru the lens. But her parents thought it was dumb— that she was dumb for even wanting to grow a career online like that. Besides all of it, she remained sweet, and she was always super nice to you. You wouldn't be surprised if she knew about you and Jungkook, and you honestly wouldn't have a problem with it. She never treated you wrong. She knew Bigs had a tendency to overstep and abuse the power he had with his status and his money. However, she knew he was a big coward and that he was all talk, no play — especially if it was outside of the club. He may be a big honcho here, but outside, he had no chance. And she couldn't wait until the day he'd get his for all the mess he's caused.
"Yeah well, things happen." She shakes her head.
"Y/N, you can talk to me. Look, as much as I love seeing your face, you have so much potential. You don't deserve to be stuck here. Let me help you figure this out."
"I'm okay, Miki. Thank you, though." She nods, not wanting to press you any further.
"Well, I'm here for you." She gives your arm one good squeeze before walking off.
Eventually, the rest of the dancers retreat back out onto the floor, leaving you to hide away in the back room as long as possible — which is why Namjoon can't get a glimpse of you anywhere out in the main area. Bigs is actually a little taken aback to see both him and Jin walking through the club, even after everything that has gone down. But hey, business is business— and if they weren't gonna cause any trouble, so be it. He knows though, he knows full well there's a possibility they're here for you.
"Boys! Long time no see!" He greets them, Joon and Jin giving him a toothless smile in return. "How've you been? What brings you in?"
"Mr. Bigs." Namjoon says, smoothing down his shirt. "Ah, we're good, just getting busy prepping for the tour. Wanted to take a little breather tonight."
"Well, I'm glad you guys came here to do so. Can I get you two anything to drink?" The both of them shake their heads. "Anything to help relieve that stress?"
"We're good, thanks. Just gonna sit out on the floor for a bit."
"You two let me know if there's anything I can do for you, at all." Bigs smiles at them as he begins to watch them walk away. "Make sure she's covered." Bigs slightly turns his head to speak through the headset mic, alerting his men to keep an eye out. He thinks he's said it low enough so that Jin and Namjoon don't hear, but Jin catches the movement in his peripherals, causing him to pinch Joon's bicep.
"Back room." Jin says, subtly nodding towards the backroom as he keeps his gaze out on the main stage and adjusts his tie. Namjoon looks around to see Bigs has welcomed himself to the other side of the club, speaking to a few customers, looking distracted.
"I'm gonna go see if I can talk to her."
"Talk?! You said we were just scoping her out. Don't cause any trouble, Namjoon-ah. Please."
"Oh, now you suddenly don't want this action movie to come alive?! You sure were talking a whole lot about it in the car."
"Since when do you even take me seriously?!"
"I always take you seriously, hyung!"
"How about you just sneak towards the back door and get her attention? You said we can't go all out like that!"
"There's guards there too."
"Look, I just don't want you or Y/N to get hurt. Maybe we should just lay low and figure out how we can approach this better."
"Hey, can I get you two anything?" Miki interrupts, fully aware of who they are and what they're here for.
"No, sweetie. Thank you." Jin responds, flashing his 100-watt smile.
"You looking for Y/N?"
"Depends who's asking?" Namjoon says, trying to keep his guard up.
"Look, I'm not gonna rat you out if that's what you think." She puts her hand on her hip, tray still balancing on her free hand. "She's in the backroom. But there's no way you can get to her. Bigs is watching her for whatever reason."
"Yeah, we're aware. Can you send her a message for me?"
"Sure. You have 10 seconds though or else Bigs is gonna be onto you." She points towards Bigs slowly making his way back.
"Just tell her that Jungkook is worried about her and wants to help. Or, we want to help. We just wanna know what's going on."
"I'll try, but she didn't let up when I asked earlier."
"Thanks." Joon sighs.
"Shoo, I'll find you guys around." She says, sneakily walking off towards the bar with her empty tray as Bigs starts to eye the main floor. Jin and Namjoon welcome themselves to a seat on the side of the stage, acting normal as possible by throwing bills onto the stage for the dancers. Miki tends to her customers before she's setting her tray down and pretending to take a cigarette from her bra to take a quick "break." She heads to the back to see you still sitting at your vanity, head resting against the palm of your hand.
"Babe." You turn to look at her, eyes slightly glossed over.
"RM and Jin are here. They said they want to help you, and if you can tell them anything, that's all they'd want."
"Girl, look. Don't let this man keep running your life like this. I don't care what he said or did, this isn't you. You need to get out of here and you need to let people in. People who genuinely care about you." You sigh.
"How is that possible when Jungkook's own bestfriend doesn't even like me? And ontop of that, Bigs even dragged my little brother and my evil ass stepfather into this. I can't let anything happen to him, he's the only thing I have."
"I get that, and I'm sure Jungkook will do whatever it takes to protect you both. Why are RM and Jin here then? Whatever Jungkook's other friend's issue is, he needs to figure it out. It's obviously his own problem, something he created himself for no reason."
"I know he's helping Bigs keep me away from Jungkook. All the hurtful shit in the media, all the shit he's been tossing in my face. Whatever, I get it. He wins. I don't belong."
"Don't say that."
"It's true, and I know even if I chose Jungkook, he'd choose his bestfriend over me. Why would he go against that? They've been together for so long. I'm a fucking nobody." Miki knows this is all the alcohol running through your veins, but at least now, she knows Bigs isn't doing this on his own [as she assumed, he's a fucking pussy for the most part - he's a pussy who got handsy with the dancers cause that's all he can do to feed his ego].
"I don't think that's true, and I don't think it's a fair assumption when he's stayed by your side, hasn't he? He hasn't given up on you." She says before walking out. Really, things were just completely scrambled in your head. Just fucked up. Your questions, your uncertainty was strong enough to pull you towards the negative - the what if's, the assumptions, the rumors, the shit-talking. After all that, the positives were dim.
Miki grabs her tray and serves the first couple of customers in dire need of their drinks before she heads over to Jin and Namjoon to spill the information she received from that conversation.
"She won't budge. It sounds like a lot of this shit talking got to her head, so she came back to make herself feel better but then Bigs ended up turning this around on her, threatening Jungkook and her brother. If I were you, I'd get Jungkook to her before she can even come back here. Make sure her brother is with him too. Bigs is all talk but being the guys that you are — I wouldn't take any chances to ruin your reputation and all that." She smacks on her gum. "And I hate to tell you this, but one of your little friends has been working with Bigs. I don't know who, but you better let that little shit know he was wrong for getting in her head like that. She deserves way better." She says with a punch of attitude before walking away.
"Jimin?" Jin mouths out to Namjoon, who only shrugs in response.
"Let's go." Namjoon tosses a couple of more bills before they head out.
"Have a good evening, boys." Bigs yells out, causing the two of them to return a tight-lipped smile.
"Are we going to tell Kookie about Jimin?"
"No? Because we don't even know ourselves. His name was never dropped, and we'll look dumb if we acted on assumptions."
"This is so fucked up." Jin sighs, looking out the window.
"You're telling me."
When they finally arrive back at the dorm, Namjoon and Jin find Jungkook pacing around in his room, tossing a rubber ball against the wall to keep himself occupied. His doe eyes dart over to them, letting the ball drop to the floor while he nervously walks closer to them.
"I'm sorry, dude." Joon sighed. "From what it sounds like, all this mess just got to her head so she went back to the club to make herself feel better. But Bigs ended up bringing you and her brother into the situation so, I'm assuming she's distancing herself to protect you in some way?" Namjoon runs his hand through his hair. "Honestly, I really don't know, that's as much as we got."
"We didn't even talk to her or see her, some other dancer helped us out. I guess she's a friend of hers? Or maybe she just likes Y/N. She wanted to help." Jin says.
"Fuck!" Jungkook groans, slamming his hand down onto his bed. "Why couldn't she just talk to me? We could have figured this out."
"Look, I'm sure there's a lot more to it and I'm sure it's difficult for her. Promise me you'll hear her out when you see her."
"I mean, yeah I know, I will. But, how did this get to her head so easily? I really can't wrap my head around it, I—" He catches how tense Joon and Jin suddenly get. He watches them nervously looking at each other, making him cock his head to the side and furrow his brows. "Wait, what is it? You know something else, don't you?"
"I mean there's really no concrete facts behind it so we can't necessarily say it's true."
"Well?" Jungkook asks, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles are turning white. But, before they could go any further, Jungkook's ringtone echos in the room. He quickly turns in case it's you calling, but he picks up anyway because it's someone equally as important.
"C-can you come pick me up? My sister isn't picking up. I'll send you Eric's address." Jungkook worries when he hears the shakiness in his voice, his tone low to a whisper.
"Yeah, sit tight. I'll be right there." He hangs up, darting out of his room, Namjoon and Jin following after him.
"Where are you going?"
"I need to get to Kai."
"Let us come with!"
"Look, it'll be quicker if I go myself—"
"Jungkook-ah, stop. We're not gonna let you go alone." Joon and Jin make it just in time to join him in the elevator, heading straight for his car even if it's nearing 1am. Jungkook pulls up Kai's location, pressing on the gas to rush over there just in case Kai was hurt. And yes, Jungkook was going to give it to your fucking stepfather if he sees anything on Kai. He will fucking destroy him, he promises.
Jungkook, Namjoon and Jin walk into the house quietly, seeing Kai putting his finger up to his lips when he meets them near the kitchen.
"What happened?" Jungkook whispers, handing his bags over to Namjoon and Jin. Jungkook looks at the small hint of blood pooling near his nostrils and the cut near his eyebrow.
"I'll explain in the car, can you just take me to—"
"Really? Calling your sister's boyfriend and his friends over to save you? You really are a helpless little shit." Namjoon, Jin and Jungkook are all shielding each other and Kai from Eric, Jungkook's blood boiling seeing him standing there, clearly very drunk and not in the right state of mind.
"Aye, don't fucking talking to him like that." Jungkook's spits out, making Eric laugh.
"First you fall for my slut of a daughter, now you help rescue him? I thought you were so much better than that, Jungkook. You aren't the person people portrayed you to be. Shittiest idol I know. All of you."
"You don't know me." Eric snorts.
"You guys do know I help sponsor your shit right? I play a big role for you, don't come into my house acting like—" He slurs his words.
"Yeah, well fuck the contract." Namjoon's jaw clenches. "Better yet, don't fucking worry about it, I'll make sure to take care of it for you."
"You need me." Eric says, almost at a growl. "You need me and Bigs—"
"Since when?" Namjoon responds in a mocking manner as he begins to usher Jin, Jungkook and Kai towards the front door. "If you wanna send your people over, you can let them know I'm free tomorrow in the late afternoon. I'll be more than happy to tell 'em what kind of sick person you are."
"You can't just take him—" Eric tries to flip the script, obviously unaware that Kai has already turned 18. He grips onto Kai's arm and tries to pull him back, except he's intoxicated, so Jungkook easily pushes him off. He watches as Eric hits a bar stool, stumbling over himself before he drunkily falls on his ass.
"You're such a sad excuse of a stepfather, you aren't even aware he's 18 already. He doesn't need you." Jungkook scoffs. "I'm gonna send people for the rest of Kai's shit tomorrow. And let's get this straight - we never needed you or Bigs. You both aren't shit without us and yout fucking empire thrives because of us. And if you do anything to Y/N, if you even think about working with Bigs on doing anything to her, I fucking promise you I will bury you alive. I won't stop until you have nothing left. Don't underestimate me."
everybody's angry and they're coming for me, but i can't give them energy that i won't receive; so i brush 'em off, i got a lot on my sleeve, like i'm moving backwards, but it's all on repeat; this place is getting crowded, i got no room to breathe
track twelve: hundred - khalid
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It's a men's world - Pt 1. The Urban Legend
A.N.: Hey guys! Sorry for making all my series so short. I promise i'll try to make this one a little longer. Asks, submissions and inbox are always open, i'd be happy to chat with y'all. Feedback is much appreciated wether it be good or bad. <3
Pairing: mob!Bucky x mob!reader
Warnings: mentions of past trauma, human-trafficking, drugs, weapons, cigarettes and alcohol. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.
Summary: You were the most famous Donna of the US, also more of a legend between families. Nobody really ever saw you, but you controlled most of the arms-dealing, and drug circles, cars. You were also working with the goverment which meant basically freedom for you and your family, helping shutting down human-trafficking circles. That is how you first found yourself in the secret den of the Barnes family, and it's new don the White wolf.
It was just about 6 months since Bucky took over the family as the new Don after his father's passing. Somewhere deep inside he loved his father, but also despised him as their family's main source of income was human-trafficking. Mostly girls took from the streets and parks, brought to the US in ships. Whoever made it through the sea alive was eaten up by the members of other families. As much as he hated this kind of line of work, he had no other chance then to take over after his father died. He made plans to stop the human-trafficking, however the other families made that very clear that he had no other source of income as they made sure his family couldnt sell weapons or cars, and only a tiny amount of drugs, which of course wouldn't be enough for a living. So with a bitterness in his heart, he continued the work his father started. His right hand was Steve a veteran, also his best friend, and Sam. Seeing the countless women's faces in his dreams he hardly ever dated, not speaking of the dangers it would've meant to be a Donna of the Barnes family. He was currently in the only base the police or the other families had never been able to find. In the middle of the forest, near the ocean from the west.
-Did you heard Buck? The Blood Countess is after human-trafficking now. What should we do about it?
-The Blood Countess is merely the maffia's very own urban legend Sam.. - laughed Bucky, sipping his whiskey. -She's very much welcome in my bed though if any of the legend is true.
-Maybe she's like 60, didn't know you're into grannies now Buck - chuckled Steve from the couch opposite to the armchair Bucky was sitting in.
Only they didn't now that the so called Blood Countess was very much real, and very much hearing every single word they had said, thanks to the mic one of your men were able to plant on the phone of Steve while you flirted with him, him being oblivious to the fact that you were that exact urban legend in the flesh.
It was almost too easy to find them, as you started to think all the other families and the whole government was incapable of doing any work.
They called you the Blood Countess since you took over. You were kidnapped, shipped to the US and sold to a man, who you were oh so lucky with. He bought girls, just so he could save them from the fate that way too many was lost for. He was more like a generous, loving grandfather, who never laid hands on the women he bought. He thought them self-defence, martial arts, etiquette.. all that jazz. He saw the potential, and he never had an heir as per se, so on his deathbed, he changed his will, making you the heiress of his empire, the Donna of the most influental family in the US and probably the world, the Carter family. You managed to get the title the Blood Countess after an old legend of a Countess in middle Europe, who took in all the noble daugthers in the name of teaching them proper court etiquette, then allegedly killing them and bathing in their blood, effectively keeping herself young for hundreds of years. The only real difference was that you didn't kill women. You killed those who sold them, who kidnapped them, who used them as they pleased. You were rather a guardian angel of the women, then a merciless countess... You were deadly, but noone ever saw you, who did, mostly ended up dead, so he wasnt able to tell anyone about you. Most they managed to say with their dying breath was The Blood Countess. Your next target was the Barnes family. It made you laugh how easy it was to get intel on them. It was even more easy to plant microphones on their members. A drink, your dress sliding up your thighs, not showing the countless knifes that you had clasped around them. A few sweet words, and they were ready to give you whatever information they wanted. The perks of being an urban legend you thought. Noone could ever imagine a sweet, slender, pretty little thing like you being the most feared Donna in the world. And that is exactly what made your job this easy. Of course you had a swarm of armed men around you most of the times, but you enjoyed being in the middle of it all, you always took your fair share of the figths. You were just as deadly as your legend stated.
You spent the next few months listening into every little conversation Steve had, you heard all the details of shipments, succesfully busting them, rescuing the women, who you still could, and killing the men who assaulted them, used them, or even just raise a hand on any part of them. You only left the innocent alive. After the 5th shipment busted Bucky was fuming in his office. Throwing his crystal whiskey glass to the door, shattering loudly, shouting at Sam and Steve in anger.
-STEVE YOU'RE GONNA GO AN MAKE SURE THURSDAYS SHIPMENT COME THROUGH. AND IT BETTER DO OR SO HELP ME GOD....
You couldn't help but smirk. He was furious, which meant more and more mistakes, more and more holes in the system, making it easier for you by the minute to get to him. An hour later, you were still in your office in the fmaily villa, when you got a notification of a phonecall Steve had made.
-Sorry to shout at you man. I just can't help it. It is slipping out of my fingers. I have to do the line of business which i never wanted, which took my sister from me, yet i need to get a certain source of income to keep my men alive. I wish i could just... i don't know do business with drugs, or weapons, hell even cars or estates... just not this. You know how their faces are haunting me every fucking night... I really just wish the Countess would come for us and just end it.
-Don't even say that man. She's jsut an urban legend anyway, Sam is currently having a business meeting with the Stark family, it is a high possibility they will let us deal with weapons soon..
You just sat there. If this was true, you didn't have to hurt his handsome face at all. All you had to do is give him opportunity to finish the trafficking, and still be able to give fair wages to his men. It was just almost too easy. With your power, you would be able to make the White wolf, the biggest arms-dealer of the US with a snap of your fingers.
-RUMLOW - you shouted for the head of your security to come in.
-Prepare my car, and arm up 12 men just for the ..... safety. - you smirked at him, rolling your eyes. You knew you could take out his whole family, if you wanted, but you also knew he would never let you out to enemy territory without basically an army.
In 20 minutes you were walking in your black heels and black skinthight dress to your car. You had black stockings with lace pieces hugging your thighs high up. You had knives attached to your thighs, ankles, even had a pistol in your handbag for good measure, however you knew you wouldn't need to use it.
You arrived to the secret Barnes mansion in about two hours, you left your men in reasonable distance not to stir the enemy up. Since you were the prettiest woman they ever saw, somehow noone questioned who were you and why were you in the middle of nowhere, thinking their boss finally taken a woman. You drove up to the etrance, and left your car, banging it's door loudly, as you lit a cigarette and headed towards the etrance, armed men whistling at you from every side as you seductively swayed your hips till you reached the door. A man opened the front door for you, and you lifted a finger to to trace his jawline, making him shift anxiously. - Thank you darling. - as you walked further to the mansion.
You visited a lot of mansions while doing your work, so it was fairly easy to find the office of the Don.
You didn't knock. You have found Steve, Sam, and the White wolf talking over their whiskeys.
-Hello boys.. - you said seductively, earning smirks from them, except for Bucky, who had a frown on his handsome face. Steve didn't recognize you as you were wearing a black wig at the time you planted the bug on his phone.
-Who on earth let you in? I gave strict orders not to let any whores in... - he said, frown deepening, eyes not leaving you.
-Oh why why, i'm not a whore darling.. My little birds chirped you know.... - you said, as you slowly walked around him, putting your hands on his chest, as you leaned in to whisper in his ear.. - didn't you want the Blood Countess to pay you a visit?
His eyes widened, Sam and Steve stood up, pointing their guns at you, while you just chuckled, removing your hands with a caress, taking the whiskey from his hand, sipping it as you walked through the office.
-There's no need for those boys. I'm not here to kill your handsome little Don, in fact i came to do business..
-I don't want to do business with you. - he said cockily, while two guns were still pointed at you.
-Oh that is really sad, i have men waiting for my little signal, eharing every word we say. I would very much consider hearing me out.. - you said, as you throw back the remaining whiskey in the glass, putting it on his desk, lightly running your hand up the slit of your dress while they watch you echanted. They in a blink of an eye you throw a knife just beside Steve's face, succesfully hitting the middle of the painting behind him.
-I also said there's no need for those, if i'd come to kill any of you, you would be long dead.
-Lower the guns boys, we'll talk. - he said nodding at them, with the smallest smirk. - privately..
They knew this was their cue to leave. After they closed the door dumbfounded by your skills, you slowly walked over, pouring yourself and Bucky another whiskey, handing it to him, before sitting down in the armchair opposite to Bucky, putting your leg over the other effectively your leg as the slit in your dress drove higher, revealing the lace and at least three knives.
- So Mr. Barnes... you see, i'm not too keen on killing men who might be more innocent than they seem, even so if they are this handsome. Little birds chirp much.. I'm willing to give you the possibility to became a dealer of estates and weaponry, if you put a stop to human trafficking, and hand over thursdays little shipment to Fury. I guarantee none of your coping men will suffer any grivences if you hand the girls over..
-You don't really beat around the bush do you? - he asked as he sipped the whiskey.
-I know what i want, and i don't have time for playing.
-I can see that.. what's in it for you?
-Saving the poor women, giving them a chance to live, to go back to their families. A chance i didn't have back then. That is more than enough, and i certainly have enough businesses that i won't miss a slice of it if it means your family won't be in the human trafficking business anymore. I also happen to know that you wish to quit it anyways. So here is your chance to do so, the most powerful Donna giving you her blessings eith this one tiny condition.. The coice is yours Mr. Barnes.. - you said as you got up, and took your knife out of the painting on the wall, heading for the door.
-How will i find you if i have my answer?
-I will come when needed. - you shoot a wink, then put your empty glass in Sam's hand, leaving the mansion ever so confidently.
After driving out of the mansion you informed Rumlow that you are leaving, and they are to keep a close eye on anyone leaving this mansion.
Bucky saw your retreating form from the balcony of his office, slowly puffing on his cigarette.
-She's something else boss..
-That she is.. - he said, slowly sipping of the whiskey you poured for him.
-Steve, you'll be leading the handover of thursday's shipment.
-What? You're giving away our only source of income just like that?
-All my men will get to come back safely, and we'll get to do business with the Countess's blessing. We are not gonna do this anymore. I can finally step out of my father's haunting shadow.
-Is this what it is about? A fcking legacy you are talking about, YOUR father's legacy. And you are throwing it away cause a pretty dame walked into your offica and asked nicely?
Bucky turned to Steve, one hand catching his collar thightly, bringing him down until their nose touched, jaw's clenching in ager.
-Don't you fucking dare to defy my orders Steve. Remember your place. You may be my best friend since i was a kid, but even you can't stand in the way of leaving the human trafficking business behind..
Steve scoffed and left, shutting the door behind him with a loud bang, as Bucky continued to stare into the night.
Thursday came fast enough, and just as you hoped, the shipment is given to Fury's men, down to the very last woman there was.
-How did you managed to pull this off? - he asked you over the phone.
-I know what i want and i have my ways of getting it. - was the only thing you said before ending the call. You gathered papers of estated you wanted to sell, along with the few others for the Barnes family to sell, as well as a big truck of weaponry. You arrived at the estate with Bucky's men fully on edge, since there was a huge truck driving behind you. Their touched their intercoms, signalling you that you are expected. You drove up to the etrance, the truck parking behind you, driver remaining in his seat as you headed straight towards the office.
-Do you never knock Miss Carter?
-It is a habit of the weak Mr. Barnes. - you said with a smile, putting the papers in front of him, on his desk.
-These are 100 estates for you family to deal with, as per our agreement, and the truck down there contains weaponry worth over 5 million.
-Happy to do business with you, Countess.
-Oh please, call me (y/n). - you say as you pour a glass of whiskey, then go out to the balcony, lighting a cigarette.
Bucky stoods beside you in silence. You sense his eyes on you, yet he didn't asks what he wants to.
-You can ask your question.
-The same as always. Black van with armed men, chloroform, waking up in a ship with thousands of others, tied up. If you as much as whispered you were beaten up, or worse. After days, and seeing many torture, we were blindfolded, and taken somewhere. It was this mansion, we were roughly bathed, given new underwear and nothing else, then sold to whoever bid the highest. I saw the looks of them, they haunt me to this day, most of the girls didn't survive a week. I was lucky enough to be bought by Lawrence Carter, who gave me another chance at life. I became one of his most trusted assasins in no time, dealing with the businesses he had. He named me his heiress, and new Donna of the Carter family.
You shot down the rest of your whiskey, putting out the cigarette as you finished.
- Our deal only lives while you do not do human trafficking. - You said, as you gave a small kiss on his right cheek, lingering a second longer, drinking in his scent, putting a little note in his pocket, which he didn't even detect, taken aback by your closeness. Then you left without a word.
That night he found himself silently promising to the stars that he will keep his promise to the strongest woman ever to live.
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matched | ten (m)
pairing: alien!ten x black!reader
genre: sci-fi, angst, fluff, romance, smut
summary: the quest for love leads you to a new dating app with a slight twist—and straight into the inbox of someone who’s light-years out of your usual dating pool.
word count: 9.7k
warnings: familial conflict, strained parental relationship, mentions of cheating, prejudice/discrimination based on species, body modifications/alien biology, unprotected sex, oral (female receiving), dom!ten, photography during sex, cumshot, squirting, some spanking
a/n: as always, i lose all impulse control whenever i get a ten request so i have finished this sooner than i expected
i decided to lean more into the romance plotline than stress too much over the realism of the science-fiction elements with this fic, so there are some inaccuracies/impossibilities...but that’s fiction for you 🙃
AM 2074 (After Migration)
You are lonely.
Your last breakup did not end well, to say the least, and you haven’t dated for a while since then. It seemed like a smart move—a safe one—to shun all romantic relationships until you felt ready again. At the beginning, you were glad to be alone for a while, to regroup and rediscover yourself worrying about another person’s opinions on everything you did. To not have to deal with someone else’s drama.
The toll of not having companionship is gradually getting to you, though. Even if your last relationship was a mess more often than it wasn’t, you still long for those good moments, like going on night dates on the weekends and sharing pillowtalk into long hours of the early morning. You hadn’t realized how much you’d missed those things until all the emotions of it crashed down on you at once.
Your friend Malika claims to have a solution for your loneliness. Now, sitting at this outdoor cafe, you’re simultaneously eager and hesitant to hear what she has to propose, knowing her track record for silly plots.
With twinkling eyes, she looks at you and says, “You should try a dating app.” She clasps her hands together and puts them on the table like she’s made a grand announcement. You absorb her words for a few moments, looking out at the street across from you and watching cars—some hovering above the asphalt, some driven autonomously, and many still with human drivers—pass by.
You eventually sigh, your shoulders slumping. “That’s the big solution you called me out here for? People have been using dating apps for decades, that’s nothing new.”
“Exactly! The fact that they’re still popular even in 2074 is proof that they work, Y/N. You can put yourself out there and talk to dozens of guys without even meeting them in person. If one connection doesn’t work out, you don’t have anything to lose, and you don’t have to see the guy ever again.”
“Maybe I’ll lose my sweet time and patience during the process, though.”
Malika shakes her head and types something into her hologram pad, then holds it up for you to see. The hologram displays a dating app called matched—it reminds you of what Tinder was supposedly like before it became eclipsed by more advanced platforms, though that happened years before you were even born. “This one is kinda new, but it’s gotten popular fast and has good success rates. I’ve tried it before and met some nice guys. Give it at least one chance before you hate on it.”
“Ugh, I don’t know...there are always so many weirdos hanging out on those apps. What if I meet someone who keeps a collection of severed alien tentacles in an icebox in their house? Like that one guy who showed up on the news?”
“...Really?” Malika rolls her eyes. “You’re so dramatic. Stop getting in your own way and just take a risk for once.”
You shake your head at her optimism. “I’ll do it because I know you won’t leave me alone about it, but don’t expect me to find some great love story on this app.”
Once you download the app and start making an account, it becomes pretty obvious that this isn’t just a regular dating platform.
Choosing your gender and age preferences is normal enough, and you pass through those screens quickly until you get to one that gives you two new options.
➤ Species Preference
Whoa. Aliens? An alien-friendly dating app?
You weren’t overly familiar with the mechanics of dating apps, and you certainly didn’t consider that ones allowing aliens might’ve existed until now. It had been 15 years since the first contact with aliens was established, and a little less than a decade had passed since aliens began migrating to Earth and taking up permanent residence—and vice versa.
Humans had little problem with accepting aliens’ technological adaptations and claiming them as their own, though they were far less welcoming of the aliens themselves. That resulted in strained interactions between the two species, with aliens trying their best to assimilate and humans questioning their every motive. As far as personal relationships went, interspecies mingling between humans and extraterrestrials was still fairly uncommon—something that only people who were considered to be on the fringes of society participated in. There were “normal citizens of society” who built relationships with aliens, but many of them also kept it solely as a kink or fetish to be done only in the dark.
You decide to check both options. It feels a little scary, like diving headfirst into the unknown, but you are open to it either way. You’ve interacted with aliens before, both as kind acquaintances and near strangers, and they’ve always been relatively normal in the grand scheme of things—beings trying to survive and make a life for themselves like anyone else. Certainly not plotting how to take over Earth as many people have speculated. If they really wanted to, they possess the technology to have done that ten times over already.
You take a while trying to come up with a clever bio and spend an even longer time mulling over which pictures of yourself to choose, but you eventually complete your profile.
The first few matches you make are not very successful.
Whether it’s human guys feeding you terrible pickup lines or alien guys who can’t make it past the language barrier—or who ask you to move back with them to their home planet after two days of talking—you don’t see any potential love interests during your first two weeks of using the app.
You’re not sure what kind of skills Malika used to make multiple good matches, but maybe you need to interrogate her so you can sharpen your own. So you decide to do exactly that.
“Don’t give up on it just yet. Just be yourself—which also means not being afraid to cuss someone out if they come at you crazy. Some of these dudes lowkey like the mean girl shit, though, which is kinda weird.” Malika speaks from the shimmering translucent mirage of your hologram pad as you walk through the park one afternoon. She couldn’t make it out to meet you today, but you managed to snatch a moment to talk to her even if it couldn’t be face-to-face. “You probably shouldn’t expect to find a boyfriend in the first few days—”
“Girl, I don't think anyone was expecting that. Duh.”
“I’m saying, just give it time!”
“Okay, but listen. You didn’t tell me it’s also for aliens. Have you dated one before? You never told me!” You lower your voice then, not wanting anyone nearby to eavesdrop on your conversation and hear that part. You feel kinda bad for even thinking that way, but it’s hard to shake the stigma associated with interacting with aliens.
“Yes, and it was the best sex I ever had, but maybe I’ll tell you about that later.”
“Sis. Don’t withhold tea from me!”
“Someday when you’re not literally standing in the middle of the park, okay?” Malika shakes her head, smiling.
“Don’t forget about it, either.”
“I won’t. And you know what to do if you find a guy. I want to be the first to know!”
“Sure, sure. I wouldn’t hold my breath on it, though.”
You decide to spend some more time on the app after that conversation instead of just deleting it like you’d planned to initially. And one day, you get another new match that catches your eye out of the many others.
“Ten? Like the number…?” Besides the interesting name, you immediately see that he’s an extraterrestrial. From the Sommu race, as it says in his bio.
You click on his profile.
You’re a little surprised by how pretty he is, which isn’t to say the other aliens you matched with were all hideous. But he doesn’t have tentacles coming out of his face or two sets of eyes, either. The most noticeable thing about his alienness is his blue skin.
“Likes...dancing, art, music, okay so we have an artist type here...dislikes...fruit. Huh. That’s...interesting.”
The pictures of him on his profile are all deliberately artistic, as in they aren’t just some half-baked selfies he took with a hologram pad. You grow increasingly curious. It’s safe to say he’s either super into himself or just appreciates the art of good photography, and you figure there’s only one way to find out. You decide to take the first step and message him.
➤ Nice pictures :)
You don’t know when or if you’ll get a message back, since he’s not online when you send it, so you try not to get your hopes up too much. Maybe you should’ve tried to come up with something more cool and funny—nice pictures?—but you try to remember Malika’s advice and roll your eyes to yourself. There’s no point in getting stressed over a dude you don’t even know yet.
You eventually get a reply back from Ten.
➤ thank you 🙏 are you into photography too? you have talent for taking beautiful photos
You giggle quietly to yourself; another line, but it’s definitely one of the tamer ones you’ve received. Why not see where this one goes?
The first conversation you have consists mostly of the regular getting-to-know-you talk, such as your personal interests and favorite things. You get him to talk more about his photography hobby, which he’s eager to tell you all about—as well as his penchant for art.
To your optimism, you and Ten quickly get comfortable with each other. You soon forget about all the other potential matches you have, but those don't matter much to you anymore. So far, you’ve connected the most successfully with Ten, which means you’re more than glad to stop spending your time reading boring messages from guys who’ve only pretended to have things in common with you.
Things go so well, in fact, that he asks you to meet in person not long after you begin talking to each other.
For your first meetup, you decide to meet at a park nearby—the same one you’d been walking through the day you were talking to Malika about that very dating app. You and Ten have talked through the hologram pad on multiple occasions, so you’re more reassured that you’re not starting from scratch with some faceless being. Still, the thrill of seeing each other in person for the first time is undeniable.
“Y/N?” You turn your head at the sound of your name, and you see Ten walking towards you.
“Ten!” You give him a smile, waving at him. You feel a little more nervous than you usually would on a date, though you can’t tell if it’s the good kind of nervousness. You mostly chalk it up to not having been out with anyone in a while.
Ten’s just as pretty up close as he was in the photos and on camera, if not even more attractive; he’s breathtaking in the light of the sun. His hair is styled nicely, meticulously-place strands curling over his forehead, and his clothes perfectly outline his slim body. He looks pleased to see you, his lips curving into a coy smile.
“You could’ve given me a warning,” he says as he outstretches his arms to you. You hug him, but not without a questioning glance on your face. He is warm and smells good, like juniper, which almost makes you forget about your question.
“Warned you about what?”
“How you’re even more beautiful in person.” He says this at your ear before pulling away, and it makes the back of your neck bloom with heat.
“Oh, you’re laying it on thick.” You giggle nervously, shifting on your feet.
“Are you ready to go?” he asks.
“Yes, let’s go!”
You leave the park to go to an aquarium nearby, which is the biggest one in the city. You find out quickly that Ten is easily fascinated by the wide range of creatures there. Despite living on Earth for a few years now, he hasn’t seen a lot of them until now.
You walk through the blue-lit hallways together, surrounded by water everywhere you turn. You observe the different animals up close and from far away, reading information about them from the signs beside their tanks.
“What the hell is that?” Ten says through laughter, looking at the squished-up mouth of a stingray as it floats in front of the glass, baring its pale underside to you both.
“It’s a stingray!”
He scrunches his nose up. “It’s ugly. But kinda cute, too…”
You both end up staying at the aquarium longer than you expected, with Ten wanting to see practically every animal they had on display; plus, you got to see some you weren’t familiar with before either.
After visiting the aquarium, you go downtown—which is otherwise known as food truck central, where you can get pretty much anything you’re craving. This area is always quite busy this time of evening, especially on the weekends. Food in hand, you and Ten end up walking through a few of the quieter back streets where there’s not as many people—streets where the closely-packed buildings give way to the grassy yards and paved roads of nearby neighborhoods.
“Should we talk about our families now, or is it too soon?” you say jokingly. “You know, that seems to be the only thing we haven’t mentioned after talking about everything else under the sun.” You’re not entirely sure why you bring this up while knowing your own relationship with your parents isn’t great, but you are curious to hear about Ten’s family.
“I don’t really know mine,” he replies.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” You feel a little bad about it, thinking there was definitely a reason why he never mentioned the topic.
Ten looks confused for a moment before shaking his head. “No, it’s not like that. Sommu never form close bonds with their parents or siblings.”
You give him a curious look. “Why not?”
“Well, we aren’t born or raised the human way,” he explains. “Our parents have a bunch of us at once, raise us for the first couple of years, and then go off to reproduce again and continue the population.”
You’re startled at that. “Just for a few years? How do you survive?”
“We age faster...both physically and mentally. We become independent around 4 or 5 years old, and we can live without our parents.”
“That’s...definitely very different.” You try to wrap your mind around that information, though it’s difficult. Even with your not-so-healthy relationship with your parents, you couldn’t imagine having no family whatsoever at such a young age. You also can’t even begin to comprehend what it’d look like to be taking care of yourself at only 5 years old, fast aging or not. “But, you said a bunch at once...how is that possible?”
“We are formed inside things like eggs. It’s not like your form of childbirth. See?” And you become flustered when he lifts his shirt up to show his lack of a belly button, right there in the middle of the street.
“The human concepts of ‘family’ and ‘relationships’ are...very new to me.” He seems a little embarrassed to admit this. “That’s why I, um, joined a dating app, for more experience...I was told I need to learn to be more…” He searches for the word. “Im...pertinent?”
“So, did that come from a previous partner, or…?”
“Yeah, I’ve had two relationships since I’ve been here.” He seems wistful now, maybe a little sad. “They didn’t work out well. Maybe we were too different.” Before the mood can shift too far into negativity, Ten turns to you with a soft smile. “But maybe that’s not the kind of thing you want to hear while we’re on a date.”
You shake your head and smile. “I don’t mind, it’s interesting to know about.” More than interesting. You want to ask him a hundred more things about what his life was like when he first got to Earth. “Anyway, you can never have too many new starts in life. Let’s enjoy this one.”
At the end of your date, Ten walks with you back to your place. It’s almost midnight at this point, with you both walking all the way back from downtown. You’d drawn more than a few skeptical stares over the course of the day, but you both did your best to ignore those and just focus on each other.
“I’m really glad we got to go out today, it was fun,” you say, hugging your arms to yourself to shield against the cool spring breeze.
“I think I haven’t had that much fun in a while,” he agrees. Ten smiles wide then, the tip of his tongue sticking out from between his teeth, and you have to do a double take.
“Oh, that. Sometimes I forget everyone doesn’t have this...” And when he sticks his tongue out, you see clearly now that it’s split halfway down the middle. Sort of like how a snake’s would be. “D’you like it?” His expression is wicked when he asks this, and a strange heat sweeps through your body.
“Wow.” You cringe at your lackluster answer, but that’s the only thing you can muster up at the moment, too busy internally questioning yourself. You’ve seen body modders with split tongues in documentaries and on the internet, but it’s never appealed to you like this before, and you don’t know what to do with that new realization.
“It’s okay, it takes some getting used to.” He gives you a smile that might be called innocent by anyone else, but to your eyes it’s quite obvious he’s proud about making you flustered.
“Getting used to...yeah, I’m sure.” There are about 15 different questions you want to ask him about that, too, but you aren’t going there on the first date.
“So...can I expect to see you again?”
“Of course.” You smile again at the hopeful note in his tone. “Just let me know whenever you want to go out again.”
Before Ten leaves, he places a hand on your shoulder and kisses you on the cheek. It’s a simple and short kiss, but it still makes you blush beneath your brown skin.
You wave goodbye to him from your doorstep as he goes, feeling like you’ve finally done something right for the first time in a long time.
You’d taken a chance with dating an extraterrestrial, someone so different from yourself and your species, and you figured it would be a new experience. Obviously. What you did not bet on, however, was the idea that you’d fall for Ten so fast.
After three months of dating exclusively, you feel like you could say you love him, which is frighteningly quick for you; though you don’t tell him this yet.
You’ve decided to bring him to meet your family. The idea frightens you, because your parents have never been very receptive to the aliens’ migration. But you are still holding out some hope that maybe they’ll realize all their assumptions were wrong, and that you’ve found a nice man who you love and who you’re sure loves you just as much. Whether he’s human or not shouldn’t matter.
You manage to set a date when all your schedules match up so you can bring Ten over to your parent’s house. Ten is nervous—more nervous than he was when you went on your first date—which you find a little surprising. You’ve gotten used to him being the one who you can lean on, who always seems to know the right answer.
“Do you think it will go well?” he asks, his tone implying he’s not confident of the answer.
“I hope so.” You give him a smile that you hope is reassuring and squeeze his hand.
When your parents open the door, there’s visible surprise on their faces. You’d already told them your boyfriend was not human, which drew doubtful responses when you first said it, but they’re acting as if they never knew that information—as if this is the first time they’re seeing an alien, period.
“Um…hi, mom, dad.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” Ten says, though his own tone is overly formal, like he doesn’t know how he should speak. “I’m Ten.”
Your parents pause for a few moments longer. Finally, the awkward quiet is broken. “We thought you were just messing,” your dad says, though he steps out of the way to let you both come in, if a bit reluctantly.
“I—no.” You’re uncertain how to respond to that, though you don’t feel optimistic about what it entails. Your mother doesn’t say anything at all, just stares at you and Ten like you’re both strangers who’ve just waltzed in uninvited. She goes back in the kitchen to finish dinner once the door is closed, not saying anything to either one of you, and you already feel a cold pit settling in the bottom of your stomach.
Your dad sits in the living room with you and Ten, and another awkward silence ensues as your dad gives a stiff smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. He clasps his fingers together and pulls them apart repeatedly, like they’ll give him the answers for what’s going on.
“This is just a fling, right? Of course you won’t be staying with this ma—” Your dad almost says man but then stutters, thinking maybe the term isn’t appropriate since Ten isn’t human. He makes a vague gesture to fill in the space of the missing word.
“It’s not a fling,” you say, feeling like you’ve had cold water poured down your back. You’re sitting straight and still on the couch, and it’s not comfortable, but you’re too tense to move. Ten is almost equally stiff beside you.
“Y/N, we just want you to make good decisions for yourself.” That’s what your dad says out loud, though the look in his eyes finishes the rest of that sentence: And I don’t think this is a good decision.
“I am,” you insist. “I don’t need to be told that over and over again.”
“Me and Y/N are happy together,” Ten explains, and your dad seems a little shocked that he’s decided to speak.
“Do you truly think you’re what she needs?” your dad asks. You’re not sure what makes you more angry; the question itself, or the fact that he keeps his tone non-accusatory and light, as if he’s only asking something like where do you work? Like the answer doesn’t matter because he’s already made up his mind.
“As long as Y/N wants to keep seeing me, there’s no reason to stop our relationship.”
A sound of displeasure comes from your mother in the kitchen, and your skin prickles. Your dad nods to Ten’s answer, but he does so in a way that conveys he just wants this conversation to be over rather than consider anything that was said.
You deeply regret not leaving straight after that failed discussion, but you soon find out just how bad it can get once you all make it to the dinner table. Your mother is chillingly silent for the first half of the dinner, acting like neither you nor Ten exist, while your dad attempts to make awkward small talk about how things are going.
There comes a point where you can no longer handle the cold sweat and the nerves, and you put your utensils down. Not that you had much of an appetite anyway.
“Why won’t you even talk to me?”
Your mother glares. “You can’t guess? What kind of question is that to ask?”
You falter. You don’t know why she always does this to you. Ask ridiculous rhetorical questions that you both already know the answer to. Now you must sit here and explain why you asked like it isn’t already obvious.
“I’m visiting after I haven’t been here in a while. With my boyfriend. I thought...I don’t know. The least you could do—” Your mother shakes her head at the word “boyfriend,” and you already know everything else you said went in one ear and out the other.
“I still don’t know why you didn’t just stay with Christian?” she interrupts. “He had a decent job, came to see us often, and was NOT an alien.”
“But he cheated on me,” you say, a sickness rising in you.
“That’s what men do sometimes, Y/N. You deal with it and move on. You’re supposed to be strong—fix whatever is making him do it.”
You and Ten exchange a tense look, and there is clear confusion whirling in his eyes, but you don’t say anything to each other. “That relationship is over. I’m trying to do something for myself for once, not whatever you think I should do.” Even saying those words makes you internally recoil, unsure of what the reaction will be, but you don’t take them back.
“You may be an adult but we’re still your parents. Frankly, you need to be with a man of your own race and species—not this blue Martian here. How would you even have kids?”
Ten gives a humorless laugh, like he wants to respond but doesn’t want to make the situation worse or offend you. “You know what, I should just leave,” he says abruptly, rising from his seat.
You get up quickly after he does, but your mom slams her hand on the table. “Y/N, you better not walk out of here.”
You feel defeated and exhausted, like you always do when dealing with your parents and their objections to every single thing you do, but you decide not to give in this time. “Stop treating me like I’m still a child, ma.”
“What does being an adult matter when you still act childish? Don’t come back here crying when this doesn’t work out. I’ve already warned you more than enough.”
“That isn’t going to happen.”
“So now you think you know better than me, when you couldn’t even keep a man the first time around.”
“This is hopeless,” you sigh, feeling wounded and angry at all these cheap shots.
“Y/N, please just listen to your mother for once…” your dad interjects, but you try your best to ignore their protests as you grab your things and follow Ten to the door. You can still hear your mother’s angry complaints as you close the front door behind you, though you’re surprised—but grateful—that neither of them attempt to follow you outside.
The ride back home is uncomfortable and mostly quiet.
“I’m sorry, Ten,” you say, feeling like you’ve been frozen from the inside out despite it being nearly summer. You’re near tears when you speak. Ten shakes his head, keeping his eyes on the road ahead.
“It’s not your fault…” he replies weakly, though his words aren’t very persuasive to either of you.
He still walks you up to your door when you arrive back at your place, trailing slightly behind you. The night air is distractingly humid, wrapping around the both of you like a physical thing. Neither of you know what to say to each other.
When you get to your front door, you turn to look at him. “I shouldn’t have made you come. I should’ve known...”
“I wanted to come,” he points out. “You didn’t make me do anything.” Ten’s tone isn’t outright harsh, but the words are noticeably sharp. Maybe he realizes it, because his face softens as if he’s said something wrong.
You nod. It’s as if there’s a mountainous gap between you two that you just can’t cross right now. “I get it.” You say this almost mindlessly, because you’re not sure what you’re getting, exactly. Your hand rests on the doorknob. You don’t want to end the night on this awkward and painful note, but neither of you are making any progress with this lack of a real conversation. Maybe now isn’t the right time to try to talk about it.
“I think...I’ll just go home tonight.” You expected he’d say that, but the words still make your heart hurt, even if you don’t want them to. He looks like he might say something else, but he just gives you a small nod before starting off.
“Ten…” You don’t know what you want to ask of him or tell him, if anything, but his name slips from your lips like it’s something you can’t keep inside.
Ten stops for a moment and turns back to you. He steps closer again, leaning forward to give you a soft kiss on the lips. When he pulls back, his eyes hold you in place.
He mumbles, “I’m not mad at you,” before leaving.
More than anything, you want to know how Ten is doing, but you’re too ashamed to contact him for the first couple days after that mess of a night. Maybe he thinks you’re just like your parents and doesn’t want anything to do with you anymore. His reassurance at the door wasn’t enough to soothe your worries, and you end up tearing yourself up internally over it—repeatedly recalling the warmth of his lips and wondering if that’s maybe the last time you’ll ever feel it.
Similarly, nothing but radio silence comes from his end. He doesn’t respond even after you finally muster up the nerve to send him a text—a short text, but still a message all the same—and you fear he must really be done with you.
On Ten’s part, he does have one justification for it; he’s preoccupied with dealing with the avalanche of unpleasant memories and emotions that incident resurfaced. Everything about what your parents said and how they looked at him reminds him of his past and ongoing struggles with trying to assimilate on Earth.
Even though he’s often very sure of himself and what he wants, he begins wondering if he’s “enough” for you. Maybe you’ve just been humoring him this whole time, or you’ve decided your parents are right and you’d be better off with another human.
Those thoughts keep him up into the early morning hours, and he soon realizes he doesn’t want to let you go. In fact, he’s not sure what he’d do with himself if you decided to walk out of his life right now, and the idea of it makes him ill. Which makes him feel even more foolish for tuning you out.
Ten’s anxiety over losing you culminates in him standing on your doorstep again after almost a week of emptiness and not knowing how you were thinking or feeling—which has been killing him in its own way.
You’re not quite sure how to feel when you open the door and see him on the other side, but relief shoulders its way to the forefront.
“Y/N, I’m sorry—”
“Can you please—”
You both speak at the same time, your words breaking afterwards.
“You can talk first,” Ten says.
“Come in.” You let him in the door, and the words start spilling before you know how to stop them. “Ten, I-I’m...really sorry. I should’ve known better than to put you in that situation, but I thought…” Your words trail off. You don’t want to let him know just how desperate you still are for your parents’ approval sometimes. Even though it’s a fruitless case. “I just wanted it to go well. I want things to work now, for us. I really, really want things to work for us.”
Ten surprises himself with how quickly he moves to take you in his arms before the last words have even finished settling in his mind. He hugs you tightly. “I thought maybe you wouldn’t want me anymore,” he whispers, like he’s telling you something forbidden.
“That couldn’t happen.” You’re saddened he’d come to that conclusion. “But...it’s not fair for you to leave me in the dark, either. I want to help you...so would you please let me?”
Ten squeezes you a bit tighter, as if you might disappear from his arms. “I’m sorry I ghosted you...it brought back bad memories of how things were when I first got here. When people were more open about treating me like some kind of enemy. I didn’t know how to deal with it.” You tuck your chin into his shoulder and listen to his breathing, his heartbeat, the sound of his words. “Y/N, I’m not sure if I’m very good at love, or if I even know enough about it. Maybe the others were right and I’m kidding myself with something I’ll never properly learn. But, I…” His voice cracks. “I-I think I love you. I don’t want to hurt you.”
Entirely overwhelmed, you answer his admission with a long kiss, cupping his face in your hands. His response to your kiss is automatic, the knots of tension unraveling in your embrace.
“I love you, Ten,” you whisper against his lips after you separate. Here and now, it doesn’t feel too soon at all; there couldn’t be a better time to say it. His expression is a lot of things at once. Relief, happiness, contentment...he’s blushing, but it shows up as a darker blue on his already blue skin. When he smiles, it turns his whole face into a picture of joy.
“I want to go away.” Quietly, you tell him this as you rest your head in his lap.
You’re both lying on your couch, the room dim and the sound of rain occupying the silence. A downpour started coming down soon after Ten got to your place. You’ve sat there just like that and listened to the rain on the windows for the past couple hours, not wanting to do anything else or separate from each other. You knew he wouldn’t want to go home, and you didn’t even have to ask him to stay.
Ten’s been petting your hair the whole time. The motion of his fingers in your kinky strands makes you sleepy, but now the movements pause at your words.
“Go where?” he asks.
“Away from all this. My parents hate me, and they won’t let me have any peace as long as I’m with you. I just want to go away for a while.” Despite you overflowing with love after finally getting your feelings out in the open, the thought of your parents’ disapproval has lingered steadily in the recesses of your mind. You close your eyes against the tears that begin to well up. Ten’s quiet for a few more moments, and then begins stroking your head again.
“Are you sure?”
A few tears fall despite you trying to keep them in, and your eyelids flutter when you feel Ten’s fingers on your face, wiping them away. “Then we’ll go away.”
Ten’s homeland is a planet where the sun—or rather, a star called Proxima Centauri that’s much like the sun—is always out, no matter what time of day it is. There are days where it rains or gets cloudy, but night never falls and the star never dips any lower in the sky, always staying pinned in that same spot like a tack on a corkboard. That everlasting light throws your body clock off, and combined with this weird new form of jet lag associated with space travel, you are a mess for the first week or so after your arrival.
Ten makes a few jokes about fragile human bodies, but for the most part he tends to you as best as he knows how and tells you stories about how he grew up to get your mind off the discomfort. He feeds you these neon green drinks that don’t look like anything on Earth you’ve had before, and although they do make you feel better, you begin to think maybe you should’ve had a wellness plan before running off-planet.
You aren’t the only human who’s ever visited or even lived there, though, which gives you reassurance about adjusting to everything. By now, there’s a small population of human beings living here due to the interplanetary exchange initiated by Earth.
Before you left, Ten told you he had a small home in his homeland. You didn’t quite expect to hear this, since he’d been on Earth for a while now and had no family to return to. Though he’d migrated, he still expected to come back to his planet every so often, if only to visit. Now was as good a time as any.
Although many differences exist, the scenery is much like Earth’s; there are ecosystems with plants and animals and other living beings—like the Sommu themselves. Ten’s homeland is not filled with wall-to-wall technology like you’d expect an alien city to be, based on the small examples you’ve seen on Earth. You might compare it to the tropics back on Earth, with the Sommu yielding to nature’s rightful place in their ecosystem instead of clearing out whole forests or continually mining for resources. Ten is amused by your struggle to comprehend the newness and unfamiliarity of it all.
When you feel good enough to explore, he starts taking you to the beach often. It looks mostly like any other beach, but there are large coral forms that grow out of the ocean, reaching up towards the impossibly blue and constantly illuminated sky. Because there is no moon to guide the tides, the water is eerily still, the surface mirror-like—like a huge lake or pond that extends in almost every direction for miles. You’d almost believe it was a mirror if you hadn’t seen a bird-like creature skimming across the surface as it flew by, creating fleeting ripples.
You swim around a little in the still waters after Ten convinces you that you aren’t going to turn into a fish or something equally scary. He has to hold both your hands the entire time to get you to step in, and he doesn’t let go until you’re confident enough to explore the water on your own.
“Just focus on me, okay?” His smile is bright and shining against his blue skin, and he looks you directly in the eyes as he backs into the water, breaking the surreal stillness of it with his movements. “It’s just like the water on Earth.”
“Okay, okay,” you say uncertainly, gripping his hands and stepping in tentatively. The water does feel like any other water you’ve touched throughout your life, which helps you calm down slightly. His hands stay tight around yours as you get waist-deep into the water.
When you’re finally able to let go of him, he claps his hands more enthusiastically than the situation probably calls for. “Yay, you’re a big girl now!”
You roll your eyes at him. “You’re not funny, Ten.”
On a bright afternoon, Ten lets you into a room of his house you haven’t entered before. You’ve passed by this shining white door several times, but it’s always remained firmly shut until now.
“What’s in here?” you ask as you hold his hand.
“That’s what I’m going to show you.” He laughs and pushes the door open.
You think it’s a darkroom at first, seeing nothing but dim light and the shiny surfaces of what looks like photographs as your eyes adjust. But when he touches his hand to a panel on the wall and the lights come on, you realize it’s not a darkroom. More like a small gallery for all his pictures.
The “pictures” are physical, but they aren’t like the old Polaroids or film photos that have begun fading out of existence on Earth. They’re small crystalline squares that play eternally-moving videos on their glossy surfaces—a bit different from the translucent holograms Earth adopted. You step further into the room to look at them. It’d probably take days to explore them all, there are so many. Different scenes play out as soundless movies, and when you look for long enough, you realize they’re split into different categories. Numerous events within a life.
Many are of the beach, other scenic places around his homeland, oddly-shaped buildings, and plants in colors that there are no names on Earth for. You step closer to one of the walls to look at the collection of images more closely. You actually do “recognize” a select few, linking them together with old memories Ten had shared with you only weeks ago. There’s so much happening in these small snippets of time, so many stories you haven’t yet heard, that you feel like you could look at them forever and not get enough.
“This is...something else.” Your words seem inadequate, but you don’t quite know how to express your sheer wonder.
“I could take some of you,” Ten suggests, from somewhere behind you. “I want to.”
You glance back at him. “Hm, yeah.”
“I’m serious.” Ten comes up behind you to clasp his arms around your waist. He tucks his chin into your shoulder. His lips are close at your neck, and you let them linger there. One of your hands goes to his own hand that’s over your waist, and you run your fingertips over his knuckles as you gaze at the photo wall before you. “I think you’d be the perfect muse.”
“You could do that.” You’re still entranced with it all, and you already know you’ve made up your mind to let him take as many photos of you as he wants.
The next time you go to the beach, Ten takes some photos of you standing near the huge coral forms—or at least as close as you are willing to get—and he laughs at your lingering hesitation.
Still, the crystalline photos he takes of you are the embodiment of perfection. When you look over them later, watching yourself twirl around and strike silly poses in the water, you can almost hear the sound of your laughter twining together and feel the warmth of a star that’s not the sun on your skin.
“What if we stayed here?”
You ask Ten this while you’re lying in his bed, watching a kaleidoscope of shapes on the ceiling. The bedroom window is open to allow the breeze to come in. The ceiling of the bedroom—and every other room in the house—is more like an ever-changing reflection of shapes and colors than an actual ceiling. You might compare it to a mirror, like the surface of the ocean, but you think it’s much more complex than that. Sometimes you can see the distorted outline of yourself in it, like a funhouse mirror. Other times, you see the sky above.
Ten lies beside you with one hand behind his head and the other resting on his stomach, and he turns his head to look at you.
“If we just decided not to...go back to Earth.”
He pauses for a few moments. “Is that a good idea? You have a whole life there...and your friends…” Ten doesn’t mention your family, which you are grateful for.
You sigh. Nothing like a quick injection of reality after letting your imagination get ahead of you. “We’d have to go back. I’d have to tell them goodbye. And sort some other things out. Maybe it wouldn’t happen right now. But, after I do everything I need to do on Earth...maybe I could migrate here.”
“That’s a big decision to make...and it should be yours to decide.” Ten pauses again, like he’s weighing his words. “You know I don’t have many connections on Earth…” In other words, leaving Earth and returning home for good might not be as big of a deal for him as it would be for you.
You sit up and look out the window, seeing how the warm wind stirs the trees outside. “I want to.” You say it almost inaudibly, your words nearly carried off by the breeze. You turn back to him only to find him already there, sitting across from you and looking at you closely. Your faces are only inches from each other’s as he searches your eyes. “What do you want to do?”
“I’ll do anything you want to.” Ten’s voice is earnest, like he’d follow you to Hell and back if you asked, and you believe him.
Resting your hand on his cheek, you kiss him.
This kiss is a little different from the ones you’ve shared before—more yearning. More desperate. You kiss like there won’t be enough time to do all the things you want to do with each other—to each other. His split tongue bumps against yours, caresses it, and it causes a shiver to go down your spine, like it always does.
You end up lying back on the bed again with Ten’s body crowding yours in, legs tangling together and hips pressing against one another’s. Neither of you have made a move to take the other’s clothes off yet, but then he separates from your lips for a long moment and studies your features, from your eyebrows down to your mouth.
“Touch yourself for me.”
Your mouth drops open slightly.
“I want to see it.” He takes one of your hands and guides it up under your skirt and between your legs, pressing your fingers against your sex through your underwear, and you look at him with wide eyes, taking a deep breath. He lets go of your hand, and you keep yours right where it is. You’re slightly nervous about his black gaze trained on you, unrelenting and prying, but you begin to move your hand anyway.
Over your underwear, you press your finger between your lower lips, sliding between them and over your clit, and a little tremor goes through your body. You find yourself getting wet more quickly than you normally would with Ten watching you as you tease your entrance. You breathe a little heavier but make no sound yet. One of Ten’s hands reaches out for your ankle, though he doesn’t do anything other than keep his fingers there, a light touch that keeps passing back and forth over your ankle bone.
You circle your fingers across your clit more insistently, your legs tensing as the pleasure mounts higher. Ten’s lips part as he watches you, a heavy breath escaping from his chest. The hand on your ankle slides higher up your leg, just below your thigh, like he wants to slide his fingers into the mix and take over, but he doesn’t make a move to do so just yet.
Finally, Ten reaches under your skirt to pull your sticky panties off, sliding them slowly down your legs and leaving them somewhere on the floor. You want him to touch you again, the brush of his hands against your hips not enough, but he doesn’t grant your desire. “Keep going,” he says, leaning back on his hands, and you can see he’s growing hard.
You bring your hand back to its original place between your thighs, sliding through the wetness more easily and shuddering when your fingertips graze over your clit. You slide a finger into yourself then. A small moan slips out, and you close your eyes, but Ten’s fingers pinch your chin—not enough to hurt, but the sudden touch makes you look at him. “Keep your eyes open.” His thumb presses into your lower lip, and he stares at your mouth for a moment like he’s imagining sliding something hard and hot between your lips.
Ten kisses you on the lips again, and this time he trails the kisses down your body until he’s gripping your thighs on either side of his face. You pause in your movements when he reaches the junction of your thighs, and you watch as he grabs your hand and slips your finger out of yourself. He sucks the slick digit into his mouth, and you cannot tear your eyes away from him.
He lets your hand go and pulls you a few inches closer to his face, dragging you across the bed, and you can barely get your bearings back to sit up again when he slips his tongue through your lower lips. You moan, and he responds to that by repeating it again, catching your clit between the split in his tongue, and wiggling both sides.
“Oh Jesus...oh fuck.” Your hands go to Ten’s hair, pulling on it as you push your hips closer to his mouth, your back curving up. He is alluring tucked between your thighs like this, teasing and sucking your clit with his split tongue and prodding his fingers at your hole until he chooses to slide two of them inside.
His free hand keeps you close against his face as he eats you out, that wondrous tongue sliding against the most sensitive part of your body and making you gasp with boundless pleasure. Little droplets of moisture bead at the corners of your eyes from how good it feels, your stomach tensing and releasing as you try your best to keep still.
He has to keep his grip on your body tight when you come, as you try to squirm away from his tongue because of how stimulated you are. He only lets you go after he’s satisfied himself with licking up all the wet that’s spilled from you.
Then he strips your skirt off for you, because he knows you’re not quite in a state to do it for yourself right now. He peels the rest of your clothes off similarly, which doesn’t take much time or effort to do; you’ve dressed lightly for the weather.
Ten looks at you lying beneath him on the bed, his gaze stuck somewhere between awe and lust.
He slips out of his own clothes with a certain practiced ease. Yes, he’s really blue everywhere. He looks mostly human-like everywhere, too, except for the lack of a belly button.
Ten kisses you deeply as he slips into you, and you clutch at his sides. He tries to keep his pace slow at first, maybe for your sake or to just savor how it feels, but he gives into the feeling of you squeezing around him and starts thrusting into you faster. There is already sweat sliding down to his jaw, though you think it might be because of the heat, too.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” comes out of you in a voice you hardly recognize as your own.
His pelvis sliding against your clit from the proximity of your bodies makes you curl your fingers into the strands of his hair, wanting to touch every part of him you can. His lips go to the sweat-slicked skin of your shoulder, leaving little wet kisses behind as he wraps an arm around your waist and simply fucks into you, his shaft dragging against your walls.
He eventually separates himself from your neck, though it comes with some effort, to gaze at your face again. However, he finds that your eyes have drifted shut.
“Do you wanna come?” Ten asks, softly, gently, like you might break apart if he speaks too loud.
You’re a little winded from how he’s thrusting into you and can’t yet see the motive behind this question—because of course you do—but you answer with a shaky “I-I want to.”
“Then don’t look away from me.” His voice becomes harsher on these words.
“I…” Your lips move without any real words behind them as he thrusts into you harder, sinking all the way into you before pulling out to the tip. You want do what he’s just told you, but you find it difficult with the way he’s intent on burying himself into you, his eyes piercing into your own. “Mmm, I-I…”
You don’t know if you can, but the way he’s kindling your rising heat with each thrust makes you want to try very, very hard. Ten keep his hands on the sides of your face so you cannot look anywhere but at him.
The pleasure bears down on you more with each second, and you try to keep your breathing steady as another climax approaches.
“You’re almost there, come on baby,” he coaxes you, sloppily kissing the corner of your mouth before slipping his tongue in again. The way you gasp against his lips and tighten around him signals him to your orgasm, and he sits back to watch it play across your face, smirking at how you moan his name desperately.
Ten’s continued thrusts make you shiver from the flood of sensations overcoming your body, and you whimper at his movements until he pulls out and comes on your abdomen.
Ten gives you time to recover after you come down from your second orgasm, though he makes sure to lay a few more enamored kisses on your weakened body. He gets off the bed and exits the room after that. You don’t bother to ask where he’s going, because you know he’ll be back anyway.
When Ten comes back, he has his camera with him. The teasing tilt of his lips never leaves his face as he points it towards you. He takes a photo of you lying on his bed nude, with the breeze coming in and rustling the tree leaves and your hair, your skin shining bronze under the light of the eternal star. Then he comes closer, making the bed sink under his weight, and nudges your legs apart. He takes more photos of your lower stomach glistening with sweat and his cum—and photos of him sliding his slender fingers between your thighs and bringing you careening into another bout of euphoria.
The camera is soon forgotten after you come again. Ten climbs fully back onto the bed now and pulls you into his lap. His dick is hard again, and the length of it nudges against your lower lips, making you whimper from how sensitive you still are. He shushes you with a kiss and lifts your hips so he can slide into you, his shaft nudging that soft spot inside you and making you grip onto his arms.
You’re too mushy and dazed to do anything but let him push his hips up into you while you cling to him, your head lolling back. Ten’s mouth goes to the open expanse of your neck, and he wets your skin with his tongue.
The kaleidoscope of shapes above you on the ceiling morphs into one glistening reflection, throwing the blurred shapes of your bodies back to you. It’s like looking through a dense fog. You’re a little caught off guard by it, and you stare up at your nude forms. Ten looks up as well to see the cloudy figure of you cradled in his lap, and he only grins and thrusts up into you harder and smacks your ass in reply.
He grinds into you while he has you sitting full on his dick, and you think he must have set off your internal “reset” button somewhere between landing slaps on your ass and repeatedly hitting your g-spot. Your mind is blissfully, amazingly blank. The only clear thing you can distinguish is how he feels in and around you.
When you come this time, it comes with a gush of wetness that makes Ten whisper several smug praises into your ear for being such a good girl and making a mess on him.
As you quickly find out, Ten’s refractory period seems to be nonexistent, while his stamina is overflowing.
Ten knows how to mix the pain with pleasure in a way that enhances both feelings, and you don’t know if you’ve ever experienced anything more perfect. One moment, he’ll say something romantic and fairytale-like to you before shoving your head into the pillow and taking you from behind in the next moment, pulling one of your arms behind you for leverage as he thrusts into you hard. You want him to do whatever he desires to you, and so you let him hammer into you until you think your hips and ass will be bruised by the next morning.
You’ve never knew that sex could be so carnal and so loving at the same time, but this is all of those things, and it makes you feel so full that you could split at the seams. You scream, cry, and moan more times than you can count, so enveloped by pleasure that it seems like the atoms of your body will simply dissolve from the intensity.
When you both finally become too exhausted to continue, it’s still daytime. Of course. But Ten draws the blackout shade forward and seals all the light out, and so you know it must be time to sleep. Time blends together here. Even if it’s not yet the midnight hour, it will be as long as you deem it so.
“Come here,” he says, and rolls you over on the bed so you don’t have to sleep in the wet spot. You grin in sleepy amusement against his neck as he hugs you to his body. “Let’s stay right here.”
You know he’s talking about sleeping for the next few hours, but you can also imagine he’s referring to your new life—one you’ll create together.
211 notes · View notes
butterfly effect: one
His mouth is slightly ajar, surely shocked to be seeing the girl of his past so far from where he had left her. I myself try to compute what I am seeing, but my brain is running so fast from the adrenaline, the gravity of what is occurring hardly registers.
It’s Harry, and he’s here and the two of you need to get out of there right now.
Word Count: 6k+
Includes: mob!h, mentions of blood, scary dudes late at night, and the set up for my favourite story I’ve ever written!
A/N: guys I am so excited about this story! I swear writing this is the only thing holding me together (so don’t let it flop lmao). It is 2AM pray for me.
My inbox is open for anyone who wants to chat about this series! I love to gab, and constructive criticism is very much appreciated. I want this to be as good as possible!!
butterfly effect masterlist // my masterlist
It is not until it is already too late that I realise I should have just ordered an uber.
Alex was very insistent that I order one home from my late shift at the pub. He had even offered to split the cost, knowing without needing to ask this was the cause of my hesitation. It wasn’t that I couldn’t afford it. Strictly speaking, I could. I was just keenly aware of the amount of material I could buy with the amount a late night uber in London would cost me. I would never take him up on his offer. He needed the money just as much as I did.
“It’s okay, I’m good for it,” I gave him a little smile. He was sitting in front of his mirror in his room, midway through getting ready for work. I had simply come to say goodbye before I left for my shift when he had grabbed me by the hand and demanded I ordered an uber home.
“Babe, you have to promise me.”
“I promise!” I stared exaggeratedly into his eyes as I spoke, emphasising my honesty.
In that moment, I made peace with the money I would be losing from my fabric budget. I calculated this budget, of course, by subtracting living expenses from my weekly income. My best friend wanted to make sure I got home safe, wanted the peace of mind while he was working that I would be fine. Who was I to say no to that?
“Make sure you text me when you get into the uber and once you make it up to the apartment.” My chest flooded with warmth at the love and care in his voice. It was moments like these I really sat back and thanked my lucky stars that Alex was in my life.
So, of course I was just going to bite the bullet and order the uber. Of course.
I couldn’t help but think how quickly I got from our place to work. We had picked the apartment just one short month ago, heavily considering the advantage of its walking distance to my work. The King’s Arms was just one block up and down the road. It was barely a fifteen-minute walk. Shorter than that if I took the shortcut down the alleyway back to our block, saving me from walking further down the road and looping back around. It would probably take me longer to get home via uber, once you account for the time spent waiting for it to arrive.
A ten-minute walk home wouldn’t kill me, surely.
The contemplation was pushed from my mind for the duration of my busy Saturday night shift. It was my least favourite shift of the week, as I spent each week chasing after middle aged men getting rowdy in the excitement of watching whatever sport was on TV. The King’s Arm was small, but it was a local favourite known for its homey pub meals, reasonably priced pints and good atmosphere. Much to my contempt they didn’t keep a large staff pool, preferring a smaller, well-trained, reliable bunch. Which was great in theory until it left me to run around like my hair is on fire on a night as busy as tonight.
I was capable of serving everyone well and in a timely manner, but it wasn’t exactly a stroll in the park. More like a seven-hour long sprint, with a half hour break in the middle.
As the final game for the night ended, the crowd slowly but surely thinned until just a couple of small groups remained.
“Hey y/n, are you okay to lock up by yourself if I head home in five?” my manager, Rachel asked me half an hour before close. “I have some time I need to take back,” she added in explanation.
“Of course, you go get out of here.” I knew she wasn’t lying when she said she had some time to take back, putting in all sorts of extra hours to keep the place in tip top shape. I liked Nicola, and I had certainly been working there long enough to handle a couple of customers and lock up by myself. Even if I didn’t like Rachel and thought she was slacking off, I couldn’t exactly argue. She was both my boss and the owner’s daughter, probably not far off becoming the owner herself.
“Are you sure?” She asked, eyeing the few men still seated, probably triple checking she didn’t think they were any kind of threat.
“Yes,” I laughed, “now scram, before I change my mind.”
“Alright if you insist,” she said, already making her way towards her bag.
“Ring me if you need anything! Good night!” She called over her shoulder as she exited through the kitchen door. The cook had gone home ten minutes earlier, the pub serving only drinks the hour before close at midnight.
“Night!” I called back.
I made quick work of what little cleaning there was left to do, and gently reminded the remaining patrons we closed in half an hour. To my surprise they were agreeable and friendly, one of them instantly assuring me, “Don’t worry love we’ll be out of your hair soon, won’t make you stay back late.”
Usually the kind of people that were in the pub this late had no care for closing time, believing that pertained simply to whenever they decided they wanted to leave.
True to his word, everyone was out with ten minutes to spare and I was able to clean their dishes and tables with the remaining time they had granted me. I locked the door to The King’s Arms at 12 o’clock on the dot and riding the high of such an easy close, took not a moment in deciding I was in fact going to walk home.
To Alex: Just ordered an uber!
I felt guilty lying, but I would rather lie than have Alex worrying over nothing. I would be home in a flash, keys secured firmly in between my knuckles the whole way. I felt far safer on the move than waiting out the front of work for an uber anyway.
I kept a fast pace, left only to debate whether I took my shortcut or stuck to the street. I checked over my shoulder, and seeing absolutely no one around, made a quick right turn into the alleyway between two buildings.
I grabbed my phone from my back pocket as I heard the ding of a text notification. I glance down at my screen, reading as I walk.
From Alex: Amazing! I should be home in a couple hours, text me when you get home safe. Love you x
I don’t register the hushed growling tones as I continue making my way down the alley, still looking down at my phone as I type a simple ‘love you’ in reply. It isn’t uncommon to hear the conversations of tenants on the lower levels of these apartment buildings as you walk down the street. Walls are thin and many windows generally left open. It is easy to consign this particular conversation among the other non-threatening city sounds until I eventually look back up from my phone.
I am immediately faced with a most unfavourable scene, under the single light that illuminates this alley, are the two men who I now recognise to be the source of the argument I had barely registered. The first man is tall, dressed in all black, thick muscles protruding through his t-shirt. He towered over the second man who contrasted him starkly in his bright red adidas tracksuit. The tall man’s presence would be dominating the space, even if he didn’t have his dark forearm pressed firmly against the smaller man’s throat.
I clamp a hand over my mouth, stopping myself from yelping stupidly and drawing attention to myself. They haven’t noticed my presence. A witness to whatever it was that was occurring here.
“See all I’m hearing is excuses, bruv,” the tall man’s accent is distinctly that of someone from South London. His tone is aggressive, but even. He knows he has the upper hand and it is clearly not his first rodeo threatening people. This is exactly the kind of person I could’ve avoided encountering by simply ordering an uber.
I snap out of my shocked daze and start to turn to make a swift and stealthy departure. I’m no fool. I know there is a definitive gang presence around here. I also know, if you leave them alone, they too shall (hopefully)leave you. All hopes of making such an exit are of course foiled as soon as my foot connects with an empty beer bottle on my first step.
The two men’s heads snap towards me instantly. I expect the shorter man to ask for help, to say something, but his mouth remains clamped shut. Gang business. He is in a bigger mess than someone like me can ever save him from. The taller man’s eyes narrow. After the briefest moments of standing there frozen, caught, I spin on my heel and run as fast as my feet can carry me.
I run back to the route I should have taken, cursing myself all the way for being naïve enough to believe that nothing bad could happen to me on something as simple as a walk home from work. That women who were raped, kidnapped and murdered from off the street were somehow removed from me. That was something only on the news in my world. Not something that was possibly about to occur.
My heart hammers in my chest as I make the split-second decision, I am safer running all the way home than running as far as I can from the scene of the crime. I’m going to run all the way up the stairs to my fifth-floor apartment, and I am going to lock the door behind me. I turn the corner back up to my block, not slowing down for a second.
I am so quick in fact, that as I come flying around the next corner towards my apartment, I nearly barrel straight into someone. He was clearly walking with some pace too, because he narrowly prevents us crashing into each other head on, but he is a second too slow in his reaction time because I trip straight over his feet. I hardly even see him, even as I am falling straight over him. All I see is brown hair and a dark suit before I’m staring straight at the pavement flying towards my face. I barely manage to throw my forearms out to break my fall as I hit the pavement at speed.
“Jesus,” the man mutters, but the only thing I can hear is my heavy breathing and my own blood pounding in my ears.
I’m on the ground now, I register for a second before my flight response kicks back in.
I don’t even feel the sting of the scrapes with the adrenaline coursing through me, already attempting to scramble up and get as far away as possible from this stranger. “I’m so sorry!” I manage to call as I pick myself and my keys up, gearing up to get moving once more.
No. It absolutely could not possibly be. There was only one person on this planet who had ever called me by that name.
I stop dead in my tracks. That voice. It’s deeper than I remember but undoubtedly familiar. Familiar seems too simple a word. That voice had echoed around the halls of my brain for years. Even now, six years later, it was not gone but buried, waiting for a simple trigger to spark my memory and bring that beautiful sound back to the forefront my mind. Some days I swear I remembered it like I had just heard it moments ago.
Except now, I really had heard him.
Slowly, I turned to face him.
His mouth is slightly ajar, surely shocked to be seeing the girl of his past so far from where he had left her. I myself try to compute what I am seeing, but my brain is running so fast from the adrenaline, the gravity of what is occurring hardly registers.
It’s Harry, and he’s here and the two of you need to get out of there right now.
Before he can verbalise any of the questions on the tip of his tongue, I grab his hand in my own, and yank him forward as I continue running home.
Realistically, I know that we now outnumber whoever it was that may be coming after me and I know even six years since I’ve last seen him, I am always safe with Harry. He proved that in many ways, and more than once, while I knew him. I was not, however, willing to risk the tall man pulling a knife on Harry. I didn’t even want to put him in a situation where it was a battle of fists. Though I did know from experience he could more than hold his own.
“What’s going on?” he yells as we run down the street, rapidly approaching the exit of the alleyway I had fled.
I gradually reduce our pace until we are speed-walking past the alleyway. Tempted as I am to see if they are still there, I keep my eyes trained forward, praying they aren’t there watching us as we pass by.
As soon as we have cleared it, I’m straight back to my running pace, forcing Harry to accelerate speed once more.
“I’ll explain inside,” I call over my shoulder in answer to his earlier question.
Now that I felt a degree safer with Harry’s presence, I had the capacity to feel thankful I had opted for a boiler suit and converse for tonight to accommodate for the Saturday night rush. This run would have been hell if I had worn a skirt and a heeled boot instead.
“Inside where?” He’s laughing as he speaks and as the fear loosens its grip on me, the déjà vu begins to battle for dominance. That laugh had brightened my every day for long enough to leave a mark on my soul. Fleeting as it was, that single sound reignited the shine it had once left.
His question was answered when we came to a screeching halt in front of my apartment. It took me two tries to input my security code correctly, my brain and hands both moving quickly, but not quite matching up. Eventually, the door clicked, and I was able to swing it open, tugging Harry in after me.
I didn’t stop dragging him along behind me until we had taken all five flights of stairs up to my apartment two at a time.
“y/n…” he attempted to grab my attention when we first entered the building, but I was not to be deterred until we had reached the absolute safety of my apartment. I shushed him, not wanting to receive a noise complaint from my new neighbours. I supposed having such a thought was a good sign, my consciousness beginning to register it was not in any imminent danger.
I huffed and puffed as we landed at the doorstep of apartment 5B, the place I loved to call home. Harry, I noticed, was barely short of breath. He had always been a runner when we were in high school. I wondered if he kept up the habit even now.
My hands shook as I located the correct key on my chain, body still shaking from the excitement of the events of the past five minutes. I struggled to align the key with the lock with my left hand, unthinking of the fact my right was still firmly in Harry’s hold.
“Let me,” he murmured, already moving his right hand to take the key. I said nothing, simply surrendering it over to him.
His hands were steady as anything as he turned the key, granting us entrance into my home. I released a breath I didn’t realise I had been holding. I finally stopped just past the door, my back to Harry as he shut it behind him. I took a few deep breaths, trying so desperately to ground myself.
Was any of this even real? The sketchy characters I could believe in a heartbeat, Harry Styles’ presence, however, was harder to grasp.
But there his hand was, in my own, even if I couldn’t see him.
Harry stood back and let me take this moment to myself, keenly aware of how much I needed it. He knew I needed to take pause and re-centre myself otherwise I would only shut down. He was also aware of my injured state though, even if I wasn’t.
“y/n, you’re bleeding.”
“Oh,” my head snapped back to look at my arm. In the rush to get home, the blood from the scrapes on my arm had run down my arm and dripped into our connected hands. I quickly released my grasp on him. “Jesus, I’m sorry.”
“A little bit of blood never hurt anyone,” he quickly dismissed. “Unless you’re the one that’s bleeding, in which case you better get cleaned up as soon as possible.
“Luckily you have me here to play nurse. Just lead the way to the nearest bathroom,” he gave me a little cheeky grin, clearly trying to lift your spirits. The subtle playfulness is not as natural as it once was, but it is certainly reminiscent of our old dynamic. The surrealism of this whole thing goes straight to my head, clouding my ability to form full, coherent thoughts.
Somehow, I manage to come out with, “I think you mean our only bathroom,” in response.
He grunts a laugh, but he hasn’t missed the use of the word our.
I walk like a zombie, leading him through the hallway past the living room and the kitchen to the bathroom. I hold my forearms up in an attempt to redirect the flow of the blood and prevent it from dripping from my fingertips onto the floor. As I slowly came out of survival mode, my awareness of the stinging of my forearms became increasingly prominent. I was sure my hip and knees were going to be bruised pretty badly too. I really hadn’t managed to slow down at all before all my momentum came crashing into the cement.
“Do you have a first aid kit?” He asks upon our arrival to the bathroom.
“Under the sink.”
My eyes trail over the mess Alex and I had left in our rush to get ready.
I tend to procrastinate getting ready for as long as possible, busying myself with just about anything else. Generally, it will be tidying up the mess I’ve made during the day, only for me to create a whole new one in my hurry to get ready for my shift on time. Alex on the other hand, always leaves plenty of time to perfect his look before leaving for the night. Despite having the time to do so, he never cleans as he goes. Leaving his many products and deliberated outfits spread far and wide. Luckily most of his mess was confined to his bedroom, the only trace of him in the bathroom skincare and hair products (though there wasn’t a limited amount of those, either).
“I’m sorry for the mess,” I speak quietly watching Harry get his bearings, standing helplessly as I bled, hands still raised.
“Nonsense,” he doesn’t look at me as he speaks, jumping into action.
Harry turns the faucet on in the sink before opening the cupboard door and grabbing the first aid kid out. It was actually sort of a miracle Alex and I had one. It had been on a list of “Things You Need for a New Apartment” I had googled, scared we were missing important things. At the time, I had deliberated longer than necessary over whether to get one. I couldn’t remember the last time I had required anything more than a band aid for any given ailment. The deciding factor had been the memory of Alex getting into a couple of scrapes while out over the years. It had never been anything major, the worst injury he ever sustained being a bruised jaw, but it was better to be safe than sorry, I decided.
Turns out, that decision was for the best.
He gently touches his fingertips to my right arm, which had copped the brunt of it. With the softest touch, he delicately guided my arm under the stream of water. As I stepped forward to lean over the sink and wash away the dirt of the footpath, he stepped backwards, giving me my space.
I winced at the initial contact of the water as it ran red. I risked a glance at my reflection. Sweaty brow, the light lazy work makeup I had applied half off my face. I quickly diverted my gaze back to my injured arm. This was not exactly how I pictured our reunion. I had hardly ever even pictured it, I was so sure that I would never see Harry again.
I wondered if this silence was as heavy as I thought it was. Everything about him felt so familiar, yet so different. Up until this moment it felt like being in the presence of a friend, but now I realised, he was closer to a stranger.
I knew the person he once was, a sweet but fucked up kid who had been forced to become a man too early. Someone who had his walls a mile high around almost everyone. Almost. The boy who painted his nails on lunch breaks and was friends with everyone but somehow also no one. Until he was friends with me. Then he was the boy who always sat to my left from the first bell of the school day to the last. Back then, I knew him from the inside out, just as he knew me.
He was my greatest joy of those years. Then he was my greatest heartbreak. Now, he was just some guy I used to know who I had plucked straight up off the street, looking very out of place in what was clearly a designer suit in my tiny apartment.
He looked through the first aid kit as I ensured the entirety of the scrape was rinsed. It extended most of the way from my elbow to my wrist, but more pressingly in my mind, it now stung like a bitch. Once the water rain clear as it ran off my arm, I moved onto the much smaller and shallower scrape on my left elbow, working quickly to get it clean.
Most of the bleeding had stopped, only a few spots on my right arm still dotting with blood. I leaned over the sink to prevent the water from dripping onto the floor.
I cleared my throat, nervous to break the silence.
“Can you please grab me that towel?” I nodded my head towards the black hand towel hung behind Harry.
His eyes snapped upwards from the first aid kit he had been busying himself with. I was sure he had been surveying it more thoroughly than strictly necessary, trying to detract from the awkward energy which had crept up on us. We made brief eye contact through the mirror. My breath caught in my throat. The moment was over as soon as it began as he turned wordlessly to grab the towel.
He holds it in his hand, hesitating before handing it over, “Did you want me to…?” he trails off, growing awkward in his offer. He regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth. She barely knows you, back off, he tells himself.
“No that’s okay,” I speak gently, and he quickly passes the towel to me. I get to work patting my arms down delicately.
“Thank you though,” I add, hating the unsure look on his face. I meet his eye, giving him a smile I hope is reassuring.
“Okay, let’s get you sitting down so I can fix you up,” he returns your smile with a slight upturn of the right side of his mouth.
I relocate to the little dining table Alex and I had bought at Ikea just a week prior. Harry isn’t far behind, washing his hands before joining me to tend to my wounds. He lays out everything he is going to need from the first aid kit before holding his hand out. Like an idiot, I stare at his hand without moving for a beat too long before jerkily offering my right arm up.
He laughs silently as he turns my arm over, analysing it carefully.
“So, do you often go for runs at midnight?” He asks as he unscrews the lid on the Vaseline.
“Yeah all the time. I just don’t normally take people from the street with me.”
“Is that all I am? A person on the street?” He tries to keep his tone light, but I can tell he was hurt by my choice of words.
I expect to feel guilty, but a burst of anger I thought I had long gotten over flares in my chest. It isn’t as red hot and overwhelming as it had been years before – I’d definitely had my fair share of time to cool off – but I’m still surprised by the sting of it.
He was the one that made himself a stranger to me, and now he’s upset when I’m stating the fact that he made a reality.
Despite myself, I tried not to come across too harshly in my response. I was never one for confrontation.
“I mean, I haven’t heard from you in six years.”
He is very careful not to lift his eyes from my injuries as he carefully applies the petroleum jelly. I stare down at him, desperate to catch his eye.
There’s a pause as I wait for him to offer some kind of explanation. Some perfectly good reason why my best friend and first love left town without telling me why, or where he was going, and then never contacted me again.
When he doesn’t fill the silence, I sigh as quietly as I can manage. You don’t really know him, I remind myself. I practically kidnapped him, I can’t just go asking him to rehash history. It was so clear that he was what he had wanted me to be. History.
“I just mean, I don’t really know you anymore. I’m sorry I grabbed you like that, I just,” I hissed at the sting of his first aid, “I was walking home from work and I saw these really sketchy looking guys.”
“Sketchy looking?” He finally looked up at me, raising an eyebrow questioningly.
“Well I guess they didn’t really look sketchy in their appearance particularly, it was more the fact that one of them was practically choking the other. They were arguing over something. I think it was something to do with some of the gangs around here,” I attempted a nonchalant tone, not wanting to worry him. The less phased I seemed, the better. I had caused him enough trouble. The only thing that was probably stopping him from running for the hills and never looking back (again) was guilt.
I go on to explain how I’d kicked that stupid beer bottle and taken off running, “which is when I ran into you. I’m really sorry about that, by the way. I’m so glad I didn’t take you down with me I think I would’ve died of a mix of guilt and embarrassment right then and there.”
“It wasn’t your fault, Ho-“he cut himself before his mouth could form that name he had so affectionately given you. “I’m the one who feels guilty, if not for my big, slow feet you wouldn’t have bit the dust.” I laugh at his turn of phrase.
His face suddenly grows serious. “Your head is okay, right?”
Instinctively, my left hand shoots up to the back of my head, ghosting over the slight bump hidden under my hair. The scar tissue was ever so minimally raised, only perceptible to a knowing touch. I retract my hand bashfully, slightly embarrassed by my knee jerk reaction.
“It’s fine,” I match his serious tone, before lightening it up, “as you can see, I managed to break most of my fall,” I gesture to my right arm he has paused work on.
He holds my gaze for a moment longer, discerning whether he thinks I am downplaying anything. He picks up the dressing, moving onto the next phase of his treatment plan.
“And they don’t feel broken? You can move your wrists okay without too much pain?”
My heart swells at his concern. I stamp out the small joy as soon as it flared up. It’s guilt that’s fuelling him. Nothing else.
I shake my head no. He looks up once more, having missed the gesture in his concentration. “Sorry! No. All bumps and bruises. I’m fine honestly, I probably majorly overexaggerated the whole thing and freaked out for nothing. I’m really sorry about all this, its so late at night.”
“Don’t apologise,” he says firmly. “It’s not your fault and you did exactly the right thing by making a break fo’ it. You never know what could’ve happened. Ya’ know. Out late. By yourself. In the dark.”
My face burned red with shame, but also defiance. I knew what I did was stupid and extremely risky, but I also didn’t think I needed a lecture about it in this moment. The fear still coursing through me and my scraped-up arms were surely lesson enough.
“I could say the same thing to you,” I countered.
We both knew my argument didn’t hold up very well. He was a man out alone at night. There was obviously a risk there, but it wasn’t the same.
We also both knew, I wasn’t really trying to start a debate. Just signalling to him I didn’t want to get into it and wanted to move on.
“I was walking to the tube from a mate’s place,” he explained simply, letting me off the hook.
He had begun to tape the dressing down to my skin, securing it safely. He worked expertly. Even if I didn’t already know, I would have said this was one of many times he had done some at home first aid.
“In a designer suit?” I questioned. There were two things I was asking, but also not saying. Was this the kind of ‘mate’ you wine and dine before going home with them? And what happened to that poor kid from Holmes Chapel I once knew?
“I came straight from work.”
Jesus he wasn’t giving me a lot to work with in the way of details.
“Oh,” I say lamely, not wanting to pry. As much as I could tell myself (and him) that I didn’t really know him anymore and he was basically a stranger, it still hurt to be treated like one. We used to be so open with one another. The one thing I ever kept from him was how I truly felt about him.
“I work in finance,” he offers up after a beat of silence. “It uh- I’m pretty lucky to have the job I do,” he alludes to his financial standing, obviously wanting to acknowledge the contrast comparative to how I knew him. A boy not even of eighteen, fending for himself while trying to complete his high school education.
My face practically split in two with the size of the smile on my face at his words. “I’m so happy for you, Harry,” I say, hoping he can see how genuinely I mean it.
“Are you happy, H?” The question slips out before I can stop it. Internally, I kick myself. Externally, I try to keep my face neutral, yet interested. That’s a perfectly normal question to ask. Totally.
“Um,” he switches to my left elbow, making quicker work of the smaller wound. “I think so. In my experience you never realise how happy you are until you aren’t. But still, I think I am.”
“Good,” I say firmly. “I’m glad.”
“What about you?” He turns the questioning back on you. “What’s your story?”
“Oh, you know. The sad story of the girl chasing a dream,” I nodded my head towards the sewing machine stationed at the other end of the table.
“Don’t say that!” His tone jests, but he is serious as he speaks. “I think it would be far sadder if I discovered that your talent was going to waste. I’m really glad to hear that actually,” he half says the last sentence to himself, concentrating on fixing his dressing properly on the more difficult angle of my elbow.
“There you go,” he gleams as he admires his handy work. “Good as new.”
“Thank you so much, Harry. I’m so sorry for all this-“
“Not your fault,” he quickly dismisses.
“Even so, I’m sorry for all the trouble. I’ll pay for an uber home for you or something,” I try to come up with something to offer him that can even begin to repay him for his help.
“Are you going to be okay by yourself?” His brow creases in concern.
“Oh, Alex should be-“ I smack a hand over my mouth, realising I never texted him to let him know I had gotten home okay.
“Oh fuck,” I remove my hand from my mouth. I gingerly fish my phone out of my back pocket, muscles beginning to protest, the impact of that fall settling in.
Four missed calls and a flurry of text messages. My phone had automatically turned onto ‘Do Not Disturb’ mode as scheduled at 12:30. I hadn’t been notified of any of it and he had definitely assumed the worst.
“Is everything okay?”
“I forgot to text him and let him know I made it home okay,” I don’t look up as I speak, opening our text chat.
From Alex: I’m coming home
Received ten minutes ago.
“Your boyfriend?” He questioned, keeping his face impassive. That had my head shooting up.
“Uh-“ I began, but cut myself off as the unmistakeable sound of heeled feet running up the stairs to our apartment ran out loud and clear.
Before I could even think what to say next, Alex’s key was in the lock. The door swung open, smacking the wall with the force of it.
Both Harry and Alex’s brows hit their bloody hairline I swear. Or more accurately, Lexie’s.
There my best friend and roommate stood, in full drag, light catching the sequins of the pink mini-dress I had sewn myself. If I weren’t standing there with the guiltiest expression of my life, I would be thinking about how stunning she looked.
Harry looked between the two of you, as Lexie did the same. Both trying to catch their brains up to what they were seeing. I myself was at a loss for words. I probably should have started with, “Lex, I am so sorry,” but Harry broke the silence first.
“Wow, you look amazing,” he breathed, transfixed by the look Lexie had created. Drag was an art form, and she was quite the artist. He was not the first to become enchanted upon first look, and he certainly would not be the last.
Lexie narrowed her eyes at Harry, jaw falling slightly open at the audacity of the acknowledgement in this moment. She had little patience for besotted strangers in moments like this. Her narrowed eyes moved to mine, face filling with rage.
“Lex-“ I begin, but am cut off for what seems to be the millionth time tonight with the simple raise of her hand. The close of my mouth is instant. I was not about to make this any worse.
“Bitch, if you do not have a very good explanation for this,” she breathes deeply, trying to gain her composure, “I am going to fucking kill you.”
As soon as he is out of your apartment and onto the street, his phone is in his hand. Fingers not able to press to type the message fast enough for his liking.
From Harry: We need to talk. I saw her.
As soon as the message was delivered, he was returning the calls he had silenced in y/n’s presence. The moment she had turned her back and left him to wash his hands, he had turned his phone to airplane mode.
“Jesus Christ bruv, I thought you were dead,” Michael joked as soon as he picked up.
The two of them had parted ways for what should’ve been five or ten minutes. Harry hadn’t seen it happen, just heard the clatter of the beer bottle as it skated along the ground and the screeching halt in the argument. He had been waiting patiently for Michael to finish working in the shadowy doorway to the side. He hadn’t seen a thing, and he was sure from his concealed position, whoever had seen Mike hadn’t seen him. So, he obligingly offered to take a walk, ensure she hadn’t gone calling the police.
He had just been bored. Ready to go home and have a drink with Michael so he could have a bitch and a moan about work. It always left him feeling better when he returned on Monday. He was killing time, that was all. He hadn’t expected to stumble over the girl who had changed everything.
Harry didn’t take time to explain his extended absence, moving straight along to what he had called for. Just like Mike, he preferred to skip the pleasantries.
“I need you to subtly divert as much traffic from this block as possible,” he didn’t ask. He never asked. It was always an instruction with him. In this business, asking nicely didn’t exactly lend itself to going far.
“What’s this about?” Harry gritted his teeth. He did not enjoy having his authority questioned. The only reason Michael would get away with it was because of their pre-existing friendship. Even then. Harry was not exactly in a forgiving mood. Made all the worse when Mike added, “This isn’t about that girl from the alley is it?”
Michael had his answer when Harry said only, “Get it done or I’ll have your fookin’ head.”
chat with me about butterfly effect!
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Hey this is my first time requesting anything from anyone?? Like ever?? So yeah sorry if I didn’t do this right lol I’m trying. Anyway could I get draco with a fem reader who’s a metamorphmagus? Like she’s super shy and she gets bullied kinda sorta? Like it’s not bad or anything but it still gets to her and she thinks she’s weird for being a metamorphagus. And then he’s like “bruh wdym that’s like so cool” or smth idk I’m tired and I need more soft blonde boy pls
Draco Malfoy x Fem!Slytherin!Reader.
Summary - Being a metamorphmagus definitely had its ups and downs but thankfully you have your boyfriend who will forever be proud of your no matter what.
Warnings - none, just nothing.
A/N Heyy!! When I saw this in my inbox I was like I am first writing this! Anyways, I really hope I didn't disappoint you with this, I promise not everyone is like me! Also, this is quite small. Enjoy reading and thank you so much!
Hogwarts. A home to many. A hell to scarce. An escape to all. The mass of students ever to be in Hogwarts was bewildering, the growing kids learning about discipline, the careless teens, the considering elder ones, the kind professors were all needed for lively experience.
Being a metamorphmagus was something you were rather proud of since you were a child but the moment your hair changed to a bright green when the sorting hat yelled ‘Slytherin!’ and the gasps from the student confirmed one thing - stares till the end of your life.
Having everyone’s eyes on you while you walked down the corridor evidently lead you to duck your head, clutch your books tight to your chest as you walked as though it would avoid everyone’s eyes. The worse than staring was when students older than you randomly talked to you asking you to change your hair, reluctantly and for the only sake of age you changed and never glanced back at them.
“Ms (L/N),” Professor McGonagall's voice rang through your ears, “Can you please tell us the primal use of being Metamorphmagi?”
Your gritted your teeth, she is exactly what hated, “They can have a brilliant scope in being an Auror or in the fields of defence or security,”
“Great, five points to Slytherin,” She said with a smile. You blushed furiously when you heard someone whistle from behind you.
“Mr Malfoy, please keep it down,” Professor McGonagall said, her voice suddenly turning giddy.
“Sorry, Professor! Just couldn’t stop being proud,” he smirked as you whipped your head back to look at him. Professor McGonagall shook her head and continued with the lesson.
You felt a tap on your shoulder and the grinning face of Draco Malfoy was what you were greeted with when you turned. He not so subtly passed you a tiny folded note and smiled cheekily, his grey eyes sparkling.
Chuckling you turned back and put on a facade of concentration as you fumbled with the parchment your eyes still on Professor McGonagall, unconsciously nodding to what she was saying. Looking down at the now unfolded parchment you saw words written in perfect, cursive handwriting that was so Draco.
Meet me in the Astronomy tower at 8.
Astronomy tower. You tried to hold in your chuckle. That beautiful place had become the place you loved more than anything, a place that provided you so warmth and comfort and being in the arms of your boyfriend - Draco Malfoy - in astronomy tower was the definition of heaven to you.
“Ms (L/N),” you heard Professor McGonagall call you once again, “However, I appreciate you being a metamorphmagi, please avoid distracting the class,”
You scrunched your eyebrows in confusion before you realised your hair had turned the colour of platinum blonde, curled and falling to your shoulder. You looked around the class to find all the eyes on you and you were almost sure your eyes would be sparkling grey when you heard the gasp and heads glancing back at Draco and then at you.
You turned behind him to look at him only to find him already staring at you with so my proudness in his eyes. He noticed your discomfort, so, he turned to the class, “What are you lot staring at?” he hissed.
The class turned back to focus on McGonagall along with the few students who actually had the courtesy not to keep staring.
That night after a light study in the library you rushed to the astronomy Tower and just to your amazement Draco was already there, his hands elegantly clutching the metal railing, his finger tapping on it, the clash on his rings against the metal producing a sound as he hummed looking at the shining moon. He still wore his school shirt although a bit messed up. His hair falling in strands. You could keep staring at him for eternity.
Feeling someone’s eyes on him Draco turned around and jumped in horror as he saw you looking almost like a replica of him except for the hair. That was always the part he loved the most when you unconsciously changed your features to copy him, it was his natural hair - the curly and bouncy ones.
“Oh, Merlin,” He chuckled, holding his arm out, “You scared me, darling,”
You struggled to keep the smile on your face as you slowly walked to stand tucked under his arm. Draco noticed it, he always did when you, yourself never knew.
“What’s wrong, love?”
“Do you not just feel like it’s so…weird? Different?” You said, leaning your head on his shoulder, your hand resting gently on his chest.
Draco placed his hand over yours, holding it tight, “Don’t I feel what is weird?”
“Me being a metamorphmagus,” You said, moving as much as closer to him as possible.
His arm that was wrapped around your shoulder tightened, “No, that’s far from what I feel. You know, every time someone looks at you, I just feel so happy, so proud and almost all the time I just want to yell for the whole Hogwarts to hear that this beautiful girl is mine, she is my everything,”
Prying your eyes away from the moon, you looked at him. He was still staring at the starry sky, thinking of all those times when he watched you discreetly, admiring you. The memory of you grinning with bright green hair, the sorting hat still placed on your head was so vivid before his eyes. They were shining even more now with the tears.
Draco chuckled as he looked at you, “I swear,” he rubbed the pad of his thumb under your eyes, “You are so amazing, and every single time you change your appearance I just fall in love with you even more,”
His hand rested gently against your cheek as he cradled you in his arm, “Your not weird, you are so,” He looked around trying to find the accurate word, “Um, cool! I mean you are more than just cool,”
You chuckled, “I love you,”
Draco pulled you closer and gently kissed you, while rocking side to side. Once he pulled away, he laid his forehead against yours, the two of your breaths mingling and such beautiful smiles on your face. He was so proud of you, “I love you so much, darling. You are my everything,”
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“Could you do a one-shot about Spencer and y/n aka his secret long term gf. They have a baby together and Spencer hasn't told the team for security reasons and one day y/n passes by the BAU when returming from a baby check up or smth and she goes to see him (with the baby), completely forgetting that they don't know anything and the baby (who can talk a little) calls him dada in front of everyone and the team is just left in shock. And just pure chaos ensues (aka everyone loving the baby genius)”
Requested by: @enchantedthoughts
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader
Warnings: None that I can think of, just cute dad!spencer
Summary: Spencer and his girlfriend had a child together that stayed a secret for security reasons; but when the reader happens to go to the bureau one day, the visit, supposed to be casual, turns into a surprising revelation that no one expected.
Word count: 1.8 k
A/N: AAAAA TYSM- It’s like, my very very first request, and I was so excited the day I went into my inbox to see that ;;;;;;;- you have no idea how happy u made me by sending me a request- I hope that you'll like it,,
I currently don’t have a child and never took care of one, so excuse me for the mistakes I've did for the behaviour and stuff,,,
(The fic hasn't been checked over so I'm sorry if there's any mistakes.)
When their daughter was born, they didn’t quite expect what had followed next. It was really difficult, but, the only complication that was to be taken into account was to not let anything slip out about her.
As much as Spencer wanted to, he couldn’t mention her at work, after both him and y/n had discussed the possible risks. Of course, the possibility of them occurring are not frequent, but not impossible as Spencer insisted during the chat they’ve had.
He had thought that it would be better to keep her as a secret for security reasons after witnessing what had happened around him; whether with people he was close with, or people he’d encounter with during cases, or at work.
On y/n’s side, she only happened to be working part-time at a small café, she’d mainly take orders and eventually clean, but she wasn’t very close with them, and had her daughter before she began working there, so whether she had let them know or not, nothing much would have changed.
Even though her job wasn’t as dangerous and totally not the same as Spencer’s, it also was preferable not to say anything else, she just decided not to inform her colleagues either.
At first, keeping the secret wasn’t as easy as they’d thought, but the only thing that they both wanted was to keep her safe, and it if meant that they couldn’t share it, especially for Spencer, as his team was as his family, they had to do with it, their child’s safety would go first.
They had managed to keep up with both their works and personal lives; Spencer would often have to take calls where no one could hear nor see him so he could see her.
It really was surprising to see him with a different phone, his old phone wasn’t the one to be usually seen, but he couldn’t resist to see her.
Spencer happened to be less at home than y/n, so video calls were a solution to be with her, in a way.
After that, the sudden change eventually had to be explained, as he wasn’t the kind to even touch a computer usually.
They had wished that the phone would be the only explanation to do, but Spencer’s work had decided otherwise.
Spencer didn’t seem to find excuses that would be seen as serious, or even understandable when the time to step aside for having time with his family when she was born had come.
It had eventually went well, really. More than expected.
Even if he couldn’t be home as he wanted to after he had to go back to work full-time, he really appreciated the little time he’d have with them.
He really didn’t expect all of this to happen at all just a few years ago, but he couldn’t wish for better now.
Both appreciated being with their daughter everyday, they’d get to discover more and more about her and enjoyed every moment they’d spend all together.
She had even begun talking a bit, sometimes some blabbering, or even fairly understandable words; like ‘dada’ or ‘mama’ recently, along with many others, including some invented ones.
They have been amazed by the number of stuff she’d learn each day, and couldn’t wait to see more.
Unfortunately, it’d have to wait.
She had a couple of appointments scheduled to see how she was doing, and happened to have one today, so ‘admiration time’ would have to wait.
Luckily, the appointment was on one of y/n’s days off, which could be attended without having to look for someone to cover her shift, or for Spencer to excuse himself if he didn’t happen to be on a case.
As expected, it didn’t take much time and she wasn’t fuzzy or anything, she was really calm for once, it really wasn’t surprising. She was usually calm in general and wouldn’t cause much problems.
But now that the appointment was done, she didn’t happen to have much on her schedule, and she could either go home or take a walk with her.
The weather seemed nice...ish, but she wasn’t so sure. She could, perhaps...pretend that Spencer forgot something, and go to his work?
That seemed like a good idea, and totally what she wanted to do.
Y/N had first decided to make a quick trip back to the apartment to catch some stuff she’d probably need, before heading to the car towards the bureau, it didn’t take much, just about twenty minutes, and plus, her daughter happened to be a bit sleepy, which was quite nice instead of having her cry the whole ride.
She had never come here at all, only walked by it or saw it when she happened to drive by, but never had she actually stepped inside.
She didn’t even know where to go, and even find where the hell Spencer could be, the only information she’d had was that he could possibly be at the 6th floor, somewhere in a room with desks.
Wow, very helpful.
The desks are literally EVERYWHERE.
She didn’t know what any of them looked like, she had only heard from them, and if Spencer showed her pictures of them, that must have been a while ago, because she barely remembers a single one.
That’s when she began to ask herself what the hell she was doing here.
How was she going to do, if literally, no one knew her, and, now that she realises, isn’t really supposed to be here.
She probably...got herself into a mess. Probably.
Y/N had swore that the universe was against her, because just when she had stepped in the ‘room with desks’, a couple of voices could be heard from the small staircase leading to a corridor.
“Y/N?” A familiar voice asked, which seemed a bit...nervous as well.
She tried her best not to let too much emotions show on her face, as she was literally around at least...eight profilers.
“Dada!” The child that she held in her arms yelled, as she pointed at Spencer.
“Did that child just call him dad, or did I misheard it?” A blonde woman -probably JJ- asked, looking around as if she looked for approbation.
“You didn’t misheard it.” They all said.
In the meantime, y/n and Spencer just looked in the void, definitely realising that the secret they had tried to keep had just exposed them.
They wouldn’t have thought once that their own child would expose them.
“I think we may own everyone here an explanation, no?” Y/N hesitantly asked, looking at Spencer as if he could make the situation less worse than it already was.
“...we do.” Spencer answered, walking up to where his girlfriend was.
“For how long have you been hiding this beautiful girl and that cutie…?”
“Uh...I’ve been with her for...almost four years, and she’s going to be two soon.” Spencer answered, looking at Penelope. “You guys are really worrying me, is something wrong?”
“No, it’s just that...we’re, really, really, surprised. Especially for the child.”
“Yeah, it uh...mainly was for security reasons, for both of them. It if wasn’t for that, you guys would have already known.”
“At least uh...you know me, and I know you guys.” Y/N said, trying to break the silence.
“It’s really wow...she has Spence’s eyes too.” JJ told, a small smile on her face.
“She’s way too cute, no wonder why she’s so beautiful, look at her parents.” Penelope gestured at the couple.
“You really did hide them from us for a while.” One of the men said, as y/n just looked in confusion. “Oh, I’m uh, Matt.”
“Y/N. It’s uh…a bit overwhelming, there’s a lot of people I don’t know. I know names, but not which name to put on who’s face.
“It wasn’t...planned.” Spencer joined, pulling her close to reassure her.
"It's ok, don't worry. It won't change anything, we love you as much as we loved you before, we're happy to know that everything is going well with your small family."
"Yeah, I was aware of that, I've heard a lot of good stuff about everyone, I was just afraid. It's been a while since we got together, and had her, so it sure was surprising to know that your genius had a small family without anyone knowing." Y/N said, looking down at the small girl in her arms.
"It sure wasn't easy. I've had to find an excuse for whatever family member when I needed to take care of her. At least, I don't have to create an excuse about an imaginary aunt anymore." Spencer admitted.
"And also, if uh…we do have another one, you won't have to find a super difficult excuse, that time."
"That, yeah. I've had her before I began working, so I didn't have explanations to do. Now uh...am I supposed to let them know?"
"If you want to. It's already too late here. Our own child exposed us, even, if it was a bit too late to get out of that mess from the moment everyone saw her. Hm?"
"A...bit too late. But, as she was great today, we can excuse her."
"Mhm. We can." Spencer agreed, as he looked at the people around along with y/n.
"So, everything's good?" Y/N asked.
"Of course! We're not upset or anything, it was just surprising at first. But now that I know about you two, you don't imagine the number of gifts and attention you're about to get." Penelope clearly did everyone else know that she wouldn't take her attention off them for a while.
"I can imagine. She's going to have a lot of aunts and uncles now that she has everyone here, she's going to be so spoiled." Y/N joked.
"You have no idea." A black haired woman said, she probably was Emily.
"Do you have time right now? You could stay for a bit, we don't have much to do." Spencer asked Y/N, to which she was quick to answer by nodding.
"Yeah, I am. Plus, after that, I don't think that I would get to go home before answering a million questions." Y/N said, trying to not look more stressed that she already was.
"Yay! We get to spend more with them!" Garcia said, visibly excited at the idea.
Even though nothing of that was planned to happen for a while, it went well overall. Of course, they would have preferred to wait a bit more, but they can't do much now.
The positive point is that she'll get to talk about her freely now, especially with his co-workers now that they know.
They've all been surprised, but very welcoming. They all reassured her and she really liked their presence.
Y/N really knew what Spencer meant when he considered them as family, they really were as a real one, and now, she gets to be a part of it along with their daughter.
The unexpected visit turned out to be a surprising revelation, that again, surprisingly turned out into a joyful mess.
Tags: @homoose ;
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~Notes: Oof, I know I have so many prompts in my inbox and I appreciate them so much! But I wanted to write something after dinner in dedication and a gift to the lovely Remus-John-Lupin!!!!!!!<3<3<3 I love you RJ and I appreciate you and your friendship so fucking much, so this is just a strange little gift from me to you in thanks for how kind you’ve always been to me since I joined this crazy fandom, ILY and you’re my favorite slag!!!!
Sirius silently reminds himself that he in fact likes Lily, he thinks she’s a total knock out and is happy that his brother is finally getting to date the girl of his dreams. He likes her damn it,! And one does not commit battery to folks that they like.
Assured that his pure irritation won’t bleed through his words, Sirius tries again in his most charming of inflections. “All I want is his number.”
“No,” she repeats, casually steadfast while poking at her salad— Not even bothering to flick her gaze up at an increasingly irate Sirius.
“Why are you being so fucking difficult!”
“Why are you still bitching about this,” she counters, finally giving him her undivided attention, even if it’s her glaring at him like she’d like to skewer Sirius on a stick.
“Hey guys, let’s chill.” James tries to mediate, laughing awkwardly between the pair of them, hand raised in concession and glasses going a bit skewed.
They promptly ignore him.
“I like him. What is so difficult to understand Evans? Aren’t you like supposed to be some brainiac or some shit?”
“It’s been like two months Black,” she says pointedly, grip on her fork tightening while her mouth curls unpleasantly. “That’s way past your ordinary infatuations, so why the hell do you still even care.”
Sirius bares his teeth, pinning her with a glower that once made an old school yard bully of Regulus’s actually piss his pants. So of course Lily doesn’t even flinch. “He’s cute.”
“You’re a dog.”
“You’re being a total ass.”
“And you’re a bastard.”
“But you love me though.”
“So you’ll give me Remus’s number?”
“Dream on.” she says with a lofty sniff and haughty flip of the hair, discarding her barely eaten lunch before swaggering over to where a group of her friends from the STEM club are sat, including Alice Flores and Dorcas Meadowes.
“Guess you’re back to square one Pads.” James says, unhelpful as fuck, so Sirius only flips him off before snatching back his calculus homework from a pitiful looking Peter.
Sirius thinks of himself as a reasonable sort of guy.
He isn’t one for holding grudges or obsessing over perceived slights. He’s brilliant whether he’s playing linebacker on the field or taking a exam in class.
For fuck’s sake, Sirius can be plumped down in any and all social situations without warning, and can have the room eating out the palm of his hand within the first five minutes.
In layman’s terms, he’s decent and driven and downright charismatic. Mix this all together, and well Sirius thinks he’s a pretty fantastic fucking package— if he does say so himself. He can have his pick of the lot, truly. Especially when walking down the halls flocked by his best friend turned second brother on one end and little Petey, who’s a great hype man, on the other. So its only poetic justice that the one person who’s been able to swallow up all his attention is the one person who doesn’t even give him a second glance most days.
And that’s fucking ridiculous.
This is ridiculous! He is fucking ridiculous! No, record scratch. Remus fucking Lupin is the most ridiculous part of this all!
Remus lupin with his delightfully disheveled hair the color of gold and his crooked grin that’s everything darling in the world, and his big doe eyes that sometimes flare with green specs when he’s especially passionate in class or when he’s chatting with Lily in the halls. Remus lupin who’s only just moved here to Murray Hill from a small town in southern Illinois and who toppled Sirius’s world upside-down while he was at it.
The first time they met was completely on accident.
It was the week before classes began, and Sirius had only just come back from his family trip to their villa in Rome, and he was only meant to meet James at the coffee shop that Lily was working at now. They were suppose to head to the city and go out drinking to celebrate the start of their senior year. Sirius was suppose to find a nice, college aged girl to fuck because he’s given up on the boring lot that infests Hogwarts these days. It was suppose to be easy and fun and he was suppose to stay stringless and unattached as ever.
But that didn’t happen.
Instead, Sirius walked into the Howling Moon and was met by the sight of the most lovely, most gorgeous boy he’s ever met. Hand to God, it felt like one of those slow motion moments in a Romantic Comedy when the disgruntled, wayward lead first sets their eyes on that love interest— the one to out shine all others, the one who turns everything inside out and makes it all glitter gold.
“Hey there,” Remus had grinned like the fucking sun, slipping the pen from his ear and hand poised over the cups lining the counter. “What can I get ya?”
“Oh, erm— Yeah. Just a caramel macchiato, iced.”Sirius’s ordinarily smooth baritone almost fucking cracked while ordering, and Remus’s beautiful eyes had glittered.
“Would’ve taken you for a dark roast sort of guy.” He said, and Sirius swears that it was playful and flirtatious and a little mischievous too.
Sirius was in love.
“I’ve been known to partake in sweets, you know, if they catch my eye,” he replied, eyes lingering meaningfully up and down Remus’s slighter frame.
“What a come on,” Remus had laughed, head thrown back to show off his long neck and Sirius was so fucking gobsmacked at how it quite literally sounded like all the most splendid instruments woven together.
He had ducked his head, so unordinary bashful but so beyond pleased. “What can I say beautiful, you bring it out of me.”
“”Cute.” Remus had chuckled, cheeks going a fetching red and scribbling down the order. “Definitely one of the more interesting one liners I’ve gotten today.”
Sirius ignored the flare of jealousy over that, considering that he hasn’t gotten to even kiss him yet, and he should probably take this slow if he doesn’t want to screw it up. “Has anyone of those bastards mentioned how your eyes put the brownies on sale to shame?”
“No one as hot as you if I’m being honest,” Remus retorted, ringing him up and sinking his teeth into his plump bottom lip. And fuck, Sirius knew he was in trouble from then on.
They had talked for over half an hour about nothing at all in that tiny bistro while Remus was busy exchanging the coffee pots for a fresh batch and rearranging the baked goods, and it was amazing.
Sirius has always been someone who couldn’t sit still, who had to be fluttering all over the place to feel like he was actually headed somewhere, like he was getting something finished. But for the first time in too long, just sitting there, still and silent and besotted while Remus chatted about his hometown and moving half way across the country and his eccentric mother— Well Sirius felt completely balanced, completely calm. He felt like just as long as Remus was their chatting with him and smiling in that beguiling way of his, that Sirius could actually breathe without pressure. Like he knew what it meant to have a center.
So of course, right when he decided that he was going to snatch him up— to ask him out on a date before anyone else from their shitty class filled with degenerates and dick heads could— Lily of all people had swaggered in, and gave him a caustic sort of glower that plainly said, keep the fuck away.
Ordinarily Sirius would’ve completely ignored her warning, would’ve unashamedly and excitedly chased after the cutest fucking boy he’s ever laid his eyes on with an absurd sort of zeal. But he under estimated just how much sway Lily was able to cater with Remus in the few weeks they worked with one another before he had met him. So instead of starting off the year with a brand new, insanely pretty boyfriend wrapped around one arm, Sirius has just spent the past nine weeks pining like a fucking love sick loser. Like he was starring in some cheesy John Hughes movie from the damn 80s!
And this will not do, this is not all right, not okay at all.
Sirius needs to figure out a way to get close to Remus, and outside of Lily’s overbearing claws. Something that only Remus likes, that Sirius can partake in to prove himself worthy.
As he promenades down the hall towards his free period, Sirius creates a mental check list of the things he knows Remus enjoys.
Remus enjoys poetry, and Sirius knows that he’s part of the school’s award winning Forensics team. But they meet during the football practices so Sirius couldn’t even try to impress him in that arena until the spring. He also knows that Remus likes history, that he’s going to end up majoring in classics in University, but Sirius really doubts his ability to memorize the Iliad in the matter of a few hours— He’s good, but not that good.
“Jesus fuck is this hard,” he mutters nastily to himself, tugging at the ends of his dark hair before ramming straight into a display outside the southern wing of their preparatory school’s building.
He winces, not so much for the throbbing in his toes, but because of Marlene’s snappish attitude when he makes it so that the table shakes.
“Keep your head out your ass Black,” she scolds before going back to filing her nails. And Sirius is about to snipe right back at her— That is until he catches on the bright poster adorned with small rainbows and the words, GSA FOOD DRIVE spelt out in large lettering.
“Pardon?” Marlene asks, nose wrinkled indelicately as she eyes him like he’s about to puke on her brand new Doc Martens again like last weekend. Holy shit, she should really get over it by now.
But Sirius is smart enough and tactful enough not to mention his thoughts on the matter, only smiles down at her with pure elation. “Marls, what if I said I had a brilliant idea to help our lovely GSA.”
“I’d accuse you to only doing it to try and get in Lupin’s pants since he’s our new VP.”
Sirius grapples for his chest, feigning indignant. “You pain me my old friend.”
Marlene snorts. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
“That’s neither here nor there.”
“So are your chances with Lupin.”
“You’re a sick fuck McKinnon.”
“What do you want from me you gnat.”
“Let me help with the fundraiser.”
“What’s in it for me?”
“I’ll tell Lily to get Meadowes to notice you?”
Marlene glares at him now. “We’ve been fucking for like a month you prick.”
“Oh— Erm, then for some of that good old Bi unity?”
Marlene suddenly looks so very shrewd and Sirius hates how every fucking woman in his life could eat him whole for breakfast. “Absolutely not.”
“Fine, what the fuck do you want.”
“You cover Fabian’s costs for the goods when we go to that rave for 2KBABY in January.”
“Eh, didn’t you guys use to fuck?”
“Yes. But I don’t see the connection?”
“He won’t even give you a discount on the good shit?”
“Oh he does,” she leers, blue eyes glinting wickedly in the hallway light. “But I’d rather see you pay full price for’m.”
Sirius glares down at her, and repeats himself. “You. Are. A. Sick. Fuck.”
Marlene just lies back in her seat and returns to manicuring her nails. “Well if cheekbones isn’t worth the bother?”
“Fine,” Sirius all but growls out. “But we do this my way.”
“Scout’s honor handsome,” she absolutely beams, and Sirius reminds himself that this is all for Remus and that’s worth it at the end of the day.
It’s a week later, right before Thanksgiving break hits, and Sirius is sat in front of the cafeteria, smirking at the line of mostly pink faced girls and a few others amongst their midst, who have all queued up in front of him. A dollar in each of their hands, though he does see that a few have fives and even tens or more, and he doesn’t know how to subtly tell them that all he’s promising is a quick peck of his lips, and absolutely no other groping— including of his legendary ass or admittedly perfect abs.
“You’re just really enjoying yourself, aren’t you.” James hisses besides him after the latest girl— a blonde sophomore who’s decked out in Lulu Lemon for their only non uniform day of the week— scurries off. “Just a ego trip.”
“Jealous Jamie darling?” Sirius boasts, tipping back on his chair while Marlene collects the cash from the next five in line so that they can clammer closer towards him.
“I can’t believe all of them want to kiss you,” Peter marvels, round eyes completely in aw.
“I can’t believe you think this is how to get Remus’s attention,” Lily interjects huffily, lips set in a moody pout while perched on James’s lap to Sirius’s left.
“I bet you would’ve been in line if you weren’t dating Jamie here.” Sirius counters, smug as all get out, and laughing when all Lily deigns as a adequate response is her middle finger.
Sirius is on cloud nine. He can’t believe he didn’t think of this sooner! Remus loves all this shit, from the club to the charity. This is perfect! This basically guarantees that he’ll finally get a good smooch on him. And once their lips finally touch, Remus will surely feel the swarm of butterflies in his gut just like in those Harleyquin romance novels his cousin Narcissa would always read with a dreamy look on her face during their various Family vacations.
“You’re not gonna get him this way.”
“He’s not gonna know what hit’m Evans,” Sirius retorts, completely self assured.
One should never bet against Lily Marie Evans.
Sirius knows this now. But he still hates it with the passion of a thousand burning suns.
By the end of the lunch hour, Sirius’s earned over sixty bucks to the GSA’s fundraiser fund, and absolutely zero potential boyfriends who look like golden angels and make Sirius’s knees weak.
“I told you,” Lily says in that sing-song sort of voice that is so not appreciated right now. “Remus is not the type to kiss you in front of a huge crowd and after like a bunch of others. That’s not his style.”
Sirius is moody as all get out, and he’s irritated that he’s just wasted five dozen perfectly fine kisses on folks who aren’t Remus, so he doesn’t bother to hide his irritation when he gripes back at her, “Then tell me what the fuck is his style.”
Miraculously, that actually proved enough to get Lily to slow down her stroll, and cock her head curiously at him. “You actually care.”
“What the fuck have I been trying to tell you Evans!” He nearly shouts.
“I just thought— You know. That it was a game.”
Sirius’s face goes stoney, and he juts his chin away from her. “It’s not always a fucking game, all right. It’s not a game with him— I like him. I like Remus.”
“Oh,” Lily says very quietly, her face pulled in a thousand different directions before settling on something akin to solemn. “You should go to the music room for your free period today.”
Sirius quirks a brow at her, frowning while he asks, “Why?”
“Just trust me S,” she says, reaching over her hand to squeeze his forearm.
Sirius watches her walk off, hand in hand with James, and he feels a strange twisting to his heart when he imagines a very similar image— only with him and Remus and punctuated by plenty of kisses to the cheek, and jawline and lips too.
The music room is towards the back of the school, in a separate building along with the theatre and main auditorium.
The early autumnal chill lashes against Sirius’s face while he makes the track to the room, continuously chanting to himself that he actually trusts Lily and this is gonna be worth it if there’s a merciful God up there.
Once Sirius clammers in doors, he rubs his cold hands together, and shakes out his hair.
The first thing he hears is the soft strumming of a guitar, and finds himself in front of the music room after following its melodic toon.
Through the window he can spot the form of Remus bent over the instrument, his thick curls getting in his eyes and his steady hands plucking a few chords as he sits cross legged atop the piano.
Sirius feels his heart lodging in his throat at the sight of him, so beautiful and perfect and warm looking in that scarlet sweater. And he knows in his bones that this is some sort of unspoken blessing that Lily’s given him, so with a deep breath, Sirius opens the door and strolls in.
Remus starts slightly, going flushed once his eyes catch on Sirius’s own.
“Oh Sirius,” he greets, the corners of his mouth tipping into a smile that doesn’t ring true. “You pulled away from the haram?”
“That’s a bit much? Calling them a haram,” Sirius says cooly, hitching up besides him and swinging his long legs. “I just did it to help you.”
“Oh— Yeah,” Remus nods. “The GSA appreciates all the help we can get.” His words are quiet, and he’s rinsing a hand through his curls, so Sirius can tell that he’s a bit nervous. And it’s impossibly cute, but also not on. He doubts that he’ll ever get his kiss if Remus won’t even look at him in the eyes.
Gingerly, Sirius sets the pad of his pointer finger beneath Remus’s chin, lifting his gaze upwards. “Not the GSA— Though I appreciate the club’s work and your part in that.”
“Oh,” Remus says again, lips pursed and his throat pulsing when he swallows down. “Then—“
“I did it for you Remus,” Sirius repeats heatedly. “I did it because I’ve been mad for you since ever meeting you in August, and I can’t get your fucking face or name or lips or ass out of my head. And I thought that if maybe I pulled a dumb stunt like that, you would actually kiss me along with the lot of those idiots who can’t even hold a candle to you.”
“M—My ass?” Remus questions, voice going pitchy and face bright with emotion.
Sirius laughs, booming and bombastic. “You have the best ass I’ve ever seen Remus Lupin and it’s really obscene.”
Remus shoulder checks him, looking down and then back up through his lashes at Sirius and it’s a sight Sirius wish he can keep with him for the rest of his days.
“So you thought I’d want our first kiss to happen after you’ve just made out with half the school?”
Sirius grimaces, bending down so that their lips are only inches apart. “Listen, I can be a complete dumb ass on occasion.”
“Don’t forget arrogant.”
“And brash too.”
“Also you tend—“
Sirius places a soft hand over Remus’s supple lips, glaring teasingly at the other boy, who’s grinning like the cat who’s caught the canary, his eyes teeming with laughter.
Remus Lupin is going to be the death of him, Sirius knows it.
“Listen Lupin, I’d like a shred of self respect here, so I can actually muster up the courage to ask you out on a proper date already.”
Remus perks at that, so Sirius moves his grasp.
“You wanna ask me out?”
“Depends…. You wanna continue that little rant until I’m blue balled and gutless.”
“Hmm,” Remus inches closer, setting his hand over Sirius’s on the piano. “Nah, I think I’d rather do this.”
He leans forwards and Sirius barely has enough time to gather his bearings when he feels Remus’s mouth over his own and it’s literally every starlit promise and sugar burnt secret and sunlit afternoon all rolled into one. And Sirius feels his heart thud an uneven staccato when he grabs for either end of Remus’s waistline and plunges his tongue into his own and he lets himself get lost in the overwhelming feeling of it all.
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Hi, first off I ship Zutara and I come in peace. I was pointed your way by a friend when I asked for people who ship kataang who are nevertheless willing to hear different views. I have lurked on blog a week and finally got up my nerve to ask how you or any other Kataang can deny that the last part of book 3 was completely Zutara but then stopped abruptly with no buildup? You can finesse tone on text so I'm not being sarcastic or bitchy, it is a serious question (1/5)
In The Southern Raiders, Katara realizes she has been wrong about Zuko. In Ember Island Players, she realizes Aang is not as mature as she thought he was, and in the finale, Katara does not care a whit that Aang is gone. I am serious and as someone who is no Aang stan but likes him, I’m actually annoyed by how little anyone cared about his disappearance. It went from “Aang’s gone!” to “Okay whatever, let’s find Iroh so he can kill Ozai.” (2/5)
Katara was all over Zuko (honestly, again not being a jerk) in the finale until for whatever reason, she wasn’t. She was giving him a pep talk about Iroh, she was going with him to Azula, she was healing him and saying he saved her not the other way around. I genuinely don’t get why this isn’t seen as romantic. I will grant you that Zuko would not have allowed Azula to kill anyone but I feel the point here was Zuko realizing his life was pointless if Katara was killed. (4/5)
And then literally at the end, Mai shows up after Zuko not talking about her at all for six episodes and declares herself Zuko’s girlfriend. And Katara kisses Aang after being annoyed with and by him arguably since The Southern Raiders. I get that Kataang “won” and I’ve made peace with that, but ... I can’t understand why Kataang shippers are okay with such a crap story. I swear on my gmom [sic] if they’d done this for [Zvtara], I’d be mad as hell. So I don’t understand, I really don’t. (5/5)
As always, I shall begin with a disclaimer: anon, you do not have to agree with this post. No one has to agree with this post, as it is strictly my own thoughts on the subject matter raised here! As per usual, I will not be putting this in the main tags - much less the Zvtara tag! - because I have basic fandom decency, lmao. If you (the general you, not anon specifically) do disagree with this post, that is totally fine, I simply ask that you are polite in expressing your disagreement (if you choose to do so at all! no one is expected to, lmao. i promise).
Alright. Formalities are out of the way!
I’ll admit I giggled a little bit when you say you lurked on my blog for a week, because I’ve actually talked about this subject numerous times in the past! I just found it funny you hadn’t stumbled across any posts about it yet, lol. So, as a heads up, know that I will be providing several links in this post since - again - this subject and related subjects have been analyzed a multitude of times before. I highly recommend reading them all! Mostly because I don’t intend to spend forever restating what’s been said over and over and over lmaooo. I will provide the resources, but it is up to each individual to take advantage of them.
To begin: your ask actually contains a few logical fallacies, anon! I do not mean this as shade or to belittle you - I fall victim to this issue all the time myself. Anyone who writes analyses or participates in debates does! Humans are imperfect and often like to cut corners to reach a conclusion. It is nothing to be embarrassed or ashamed about because - as the existence of your ask in inbox indicates - you are willing to learn more. So kudos to you, my friend!
Alright. So what logical fallacies am I talking about here? (For the record: specific definitions of logical fallacies were taken from here.)
1. Hasty Generalization.
“A hasty generalization is a general statement without sufficient evidence to support it.” Numerous claims are made in this ask that I have absolutely no doubt you believe to be true, anon, but there really isn’t any concrete evidence to support it! I will go into more detail later, of course, but let’s quickly look at one example:
“In Ember Island Players, [Katara] realizes Aang is not as mature as she thought he was…”
For the time being, I will ask but one question: from the show itself, not fanon, how do you know this?
2. Causal Fallacy
Ah, this guy. My own worst enemy, tbh! “A causal fallacy is any logical breakdown when identifying a cause,” of which there are several types. “One causal fallacy is the false cause or non causa pro causa (‘not the-cause for a cause’) fallacy, which is when you conclude about a cause without enough evidence to do so.” In your ask, you claim:
“I will grant you that Zuko would not have allowed Azula to kill anyone but I feel the point here was Zuko realizing his life was pointless if Katara was killed.”
Again, for the time being, I will ask only one question: from the show itself, not fanon, what led you to believe this statement?
“Another kind of causal fallacy is the correlational fallacy also known as cum hoc ergo propter hoc (Lat., ‘with this therefore because of this’). This fallacy happens when you mistakenly interpret two things found together as being causally related.” In your ask, you claim:
“Katara was all over Zuko (honestly, again not being a jerk) in the finale until for whatever reason, she wasn’t. She was giving him a pep talk about Iroh, she was going with him to Azula, she was healing him and saying he saved her not the other way around. I genuinely don’t get why this isn’t seen as romantic.”
I will ask one question: from the show itself, not fanon, why would you believe these are indicative of romance? (Consider the context the show is situated in, too - e.g. the war, Katara being Azula’s only available match in skill, etc.)
The reason I bring up the issue of logical fallacies is again not at all to make you feel bad, anon!! You were simply trying to express your point to me and I greatly appreciate you taking the time to do so. See, your ask actually presents a larger fandom trend:
Misconstruing fanon as canon.
What you have offered to me, anon, are fanon conclusions. To clarify: there is absolutely nothing wrong with fanon. I adore fanon interpretations (an example I have used in the past is Kuzaang - like, I don’t care that there’s no canon basis! I do what I want lmao!), but a line has to be drawn between exploring fanon interpretations and expecting everyone to take that fanon as canon. Again, anon, this is not your fault! It is not any one person’s fault, lmao. It is an issue of fandom as a whole, and all of us fall victim to it.
With that in mind, I will break down the different components of your ask. I will also do my best to be brief - as aforementioned, I and others have analyzed this issue numerous times before, lmao. To avoid confusion, it would be best to read through each or at least most links as they are provided!
Firstly, there are two posts I have made in the past that almost directly answer your overarching question here in this ask. Please read them prior to continuing, as I will occasionally reference them:
This post explains how Zvtara was not built up from TSR/EIP-onwards, and how their supposed “canon enemies to lovers arc” is a completely fanon construction.
This post explains the issue of the “canon Zvtara” rhetoric from rabid zkers (and you, anon, are absolutely NOT one, in case you were worried).
Alrighty. With that out the way, let’s get into it!
“In The Southern Raiders, Katara realizes she has been wrong about Zuko.”
Gotta start by saying that TSR is not about Zuko. TSR is, first and foremost, about Katara. Katara does not realize she was wrong about Zuko, because here’s the truth - she wasn’t wrong about him. Zuko did horrible things to the Gaang. Katara was not wrong to hold him accountable for that. What Katara does realize is that holding such rage so close to her chest is bad for her. This rage was not solely anger against Zuko, either; it was of course about Yon Rha, too, but it was also anger towards Kya and Katara herself. Essentially, TSR is where Katara realizes she has to forgive herself. Zuko is only one part of her journey (similar to Aang’s role in the episode, if a different end of the spectrum).
This post explains how TSR was fundamentally about Katara.
Additional resources about TSR:
This post explains Aang’s comments to Katara in TSR and how Katara herself recognized their validity.
This post explains why both Aang and Zuko were important to Katara in TSR.
This post is an extensive breakdown of Aang and Katara’s relationship within TSR.
“In Ember Island Players, [Katara] realizes Aang is not as mature as she thought he was…”
You provide no context for this claim, so I’m going to work with the assumption this is about their reactions to the play itself and the infamous kiss!
There is something important we must keep in mind when discussing EIP: the play they watch is literally imperialist propaganda. It is meant to demean the entire Gaang, and indeed it does exactly that. You mention Katara and Aang specifically, so I will recap what I have explained before about their depictions in EIP: Katara, an indigenous woman, is hypersexualized and portrayed as overly emotional (and thus “irrational”). This reinforces the Fire Nation sentiment that women of the Water Tribes are less intelligent and less suited for “responsibility” than Fire Nation women. Aang, a pacifist and the sole survivor of genocide who is also canonly the male character most comfortable with femininity and spirituality, is portrayed as a flighty, airheaded woman (this is a well-known imperialist tactic meant to emasculate the target, seeing as masculinity was often equated with power in fascist regimes; thus, they effectively belittled Aang before the FN audience). This reinforces the Fire Nation sentiment that the Air Nomads were foolish, weak people who deserved to die.
In other words, of course Aang and Katara were upset about how they portrayed in the play. It is understandable that tensions would be running high and consequently that mistakes (we all know the one) would be made.
This post explains how EIP belittles each member of the Gaang (and why the play is not indicative of Zvtara).
This post talks specifically about EIP and their portrayal of Aang and Katara.
Now onto the kiss. As everyone knows and no one has ever disagreed with, Aang was wrong to kiss Katara. Point blank!
But what people do misunderstand is Katara and Aang’s feelings regarding the kiss. Given your above quote, I assume you believe Aang kissing Katara supposedly made her realize that Aang wasn’t as mature as she once thought. On the surface, this seems like a logical conclusion! But digging deeper reveals… well, there’s nothing that indicates this conclusion at all. Even jumping ahead to the finale, when Zuko has doubts over Aang’s return, Katara demonstrates her faith in Aang (although of course she’s nervous - I won’t deny the obvious, lmao) as she says, “Aang won’t lose. He’s gonna come back. He has to.”
In other words, nothing in canon suggests that Katara believes Aang is immature because of what happened in EIP. She still trusts in his return, as she did even before she knew him (and arguably is more confident in him now, given the 60~ episodes of them growing closer). Furthermore, when Aang does disappear, Katara doesn’t have an outburst about how “immature” it was for him to “run away again.” The viewers know Aang didn’t run away, of course (fans who insist he did are not worth arguing with, anon - they don’t understand the show, rip), but that is a luxury the rest of the Gaang is not afforded. And yet even though Aang has vanished off the face of the planet, Katara still believes he will save the world. If anything, that signifies the utmost confidence in his skill and maturity!
To go back to the kiss itself, this post explains the true source of Katara’s conflict in turning down Aang (hint: she says it herself in the episode! you know, the whole war going on) and why the EIP kiss did not sink Kataang’s relationship.
Additional sources about EIP:
This post explains how the EIP kiss was resolved through narrative parallels.
This post explains how the EIP kiss is so often blown out of proportion.
“… and in the finale, Katara does not care a whit that Aang is gone. I am serious and as someone who is no Aang stan but likes him, I’m actually annoyed by how little anyone cared about his disappearance. It went from ‘Aang’s gone!’ to ‘Okay whatever, let’s find Iroh so he can kill Ozai.’”
As I already touched upon, Katara didn’t need a soliloquy to emphasize her connection to Aang once he disappeared. She trusts that he will return. She says so herself. I guess I just don’t understand how you got from Point A, Katara has consistent faith in Aang, to Point B, Katara and the rest of the Gaang didn’t care about Aang’s disappearance. It’s honestly a bit more like Point A to Point Z, lmao! If you would like to expand on your logic here, I would love to hear more!!
There are a few specific aspects I want to note about your rationale, though. You argue the Gaang moves from ‘Aang disappeared’ to ‘let’s find Iroh,’ but the Gaang actually went from:
1. Aang disappeared!
2. They search the entire island for him.
3. Okay, they couldn’t find him, so they track down June and have her try to find Aang.
4. June says to them, “No, I mean he’s gone gone. He doesn’t exist.” (And she clarifies to Sokka that she doesn’t mean dead, either - she means Aang has totally blinked out of their world.)
5. Only after all of this do they decide to track down Iroh.
The Gaang cares immensely about the fact that Aang is gone, and you could actually argue they waste time by trying to track him down. They don’t give up until June essentially tells them that some Spirit World shenanigans were involved. Even if you don’t think they reached that specific conclusion, I have to ask: What else were they supposed to do? They were told Aang didn’t exist! How are they supposed to fix that?
Well, they can’t. So they do the next best thing: they find Iroh, the man who knows Ozai better than anyone and is also one of the most talented firebenders in the world. In my opinion, that’s a very logical step to take.
“Katara was all over Zuko (honestly, again not being a jerk) in the finale until for whatever reason, she wasn’t. She was giving him a pep talk about Iroh, she was going with him to Azula, she was healing him and saying he saved her not the other way around. I genuinely don’t get why this isn’t seen as romantic.”
I’ll be blunt here, lol: in my opinion, nothing of what you listed in your ask is inherently romantic.
Okay. I am going to assume you’ve read the first two posts I linked earlier (“Zvtara did not have an E-L arc” and “the ‘canon’ Zvtara of rabid zkers has issues”), because I do not intend to rehash everything they contain, lol. Consequently, I presume you realize by now that there was no canon romantic interest between Zuko and Katara.
And as I always say, just because there wasn’t a canon romance doesn’t mean people can’t take fanon routes! Of course they can! That’s the entire point of fanon! But fanon is not canon, and I am strictly referring to canon in my discussions.
You claim Katara was all over Zuko, which in itself I don’t think is an accurate assessment, because she doesn’t really do anything with Zuko outside the three points you bring up (other than the June gag, which I addressed in one of the aforementioned linked posts). So I’ll go ahead and break down each instance you provide!
1. “[Katara] was giving [Zuko] a pep talk about Iroh”
Katara asked Zuko if he was okay. She asked him if he was genuinely sorry. She reassures him that Iroh will forgive him. That’s… all. Not to diminish the significance of this conversation, but it’s not exactly an intimate, romantically-charged discussion (unless fanon-ized). But on that note, let’s tackle the canon significance of this moment!
Katara knows firsthand the challenge of forgiving Zuko. And she knows that Zuko understands how hard it was for her to forgive him (note: Katara’s anger was totally justified, and anyone who disagrees is probably a rabid Zuko stan lmao). She also recognizes that Zuko is terrified it will take Iroh the same struggle to forgive him that Katara went through. This scene is not related to romance at all. It’s about compassion. It’s about Katara and Zuko’s friendship having progressed, slowly but surely, to the point where she’s not afraid to extend empathy to him anymore (seeing as the first time, beneath Ba Sing Se, did not go so well; you know - Aang died and all). It’s about Zuko recognizing his own fallibility (and the audience recognizing how much he’s grown). He questions how he can even face his uncle after all he’s done to the man, which is a far cry from his entitled attitude in TSR, where he demanded to know why Katara didn’t trust him when everyone else had forgiven him.
To make this moment, this moment about Zuko’s relationship with his uncle who is all but a literal father to him, this moment of vulnerability, of guilt, of remorse, of growth, to claim this powerful moment is about a nonexistent romantic relationship? In my opinion, that is incredibly reductive to what this scene is supposed to signify. And again, there is nothing wrong with people exploring such a possibility in fanon, but in canon? Nah. It doesn’t track.
2. “[Katara] was going with [Zuko] to Azula”
Don’t forget that at first, Zuko planned to take on Azula alone. He doesn’t request Katara to accompany him until Iroh tells him that he’ll need help. As such, Zuko’s immediate agreement with Iroh is reflective of his personal growth (Book 1 and 2 Zuko would have argued and insisted he didn’t need any help). It also demonstrates, however, that Katara was not obsessively on Zuko’s mind. He doesn’t choose Katara until Iroh points out that Zuko will need assistance in taking Azula down. This means that Zuko’s choice of Katara to join him is a tactical decision, not an emotional one. And by all accounts, it’s a damn good decision! Zuko witnessed firsthand beneath Ba Sing Se a) how powerful Katara was (e.g. that wave after Aang died) and b) how Katara was the only one who could take on Azula*.
Of course, besides the fact that Katara was the only match for Azula, who else was Zuko going to choose? Sokka and Suki, while talented in their own right, were no competition for Azula. Toph, while the greatest earthbender in the world, was needed to metalbend the airships. Katara was the only (and the best!) option.
Also, on their trip to face Azula, the only thing they talk about within their three lines of canon conversation are Azula and Aang. Not exactly a romantic flight, lmao.
*Zuko never saw Aang fight Azula on the drill.
3. “[Katara] was healing [Zuko] and saying he saved her not the other way around”
Actually, this is what the transcript says:
Zuko: Thank you, Katara.
Katara: I think I’m the one who should be thanking you.
You’re right about how their lines refer to them saving each other, but you posit it as a romantic moment, when the lines are actually pretty straightforward. Zuko thanks Katara as she heals him from the partially-redirected lightning strike, and Katara thanks him for trying to redirect the lightning away from her and in doing so saving her life. In terms of canon, there’s nothing romantic about this, lol! (Which I talked about extensively in the E-L post, if you need to reference it again.) The reason being is that you have to take the show itself into context when you do analysis. If there was no canon romantic buildup between Zuko and Katara, why would these lines in canon (not fanon! fanon is free rein, lmao) be interpreted through a romantic lens?
Well, they wouldn’t be interpreted as such. Plain and simple.
“I genuinely don’t get why this isn’t seen as romantic.”
Because looking through a canon lens, they aren’t romantic. That’s all. You are of course welcome to view them as such through a fanon lens!! It’s just about recognizing the line between canon and fanon.
“I will grant you that Zuko would not have allowed Azula to kill anyone but I feel the point here was Zuko realizing his life was pointless if Katara was killed.”
I asked earlier what content in the show itself led you to believe. I have wracked my own mind, and I cannot think of anything that would point to this conclusion. Zuko was in Katara’s good graces for 5 episodes. That’s 8% of the show. Not exactly a lot of time for Zuko to start believing his life would be pointless if Katara was killed, is it?
This post explains the improbability of Zuko having a crush on Katara within canon.
This post explains how Zuko’s racism towards the Air Nomads in TSR and the finale is, well, exactly that - racism (and not a sign of a crush on Katara).
And, of course, as has been said a million times, Zuko taking the lightning for Katara out of romantic interest would completely undermine his redemption arc. Since it has been said over and over and over, I will be brief: Zuko taking the lightning is significant because it is a selfless act (one of his only in the series), and it directly parallels his selfish act of choosing not to intervene when Azula killed Aang with lightning beneath Ba Sing Se. This moment demonstrates Zuko’s growth, how he has learned to accept unconditional love from Iroh and the Gaang and Mai and even Ty Lee and sure, even from Appa and Momo, too. To make this moment of pure selflessness about a nonexistent romance? To force a fanon romance in replacement of canon redemption and canon platonic significance?
Such a decision speaks wonders about a person’s priorities, in my opinion, as well as how amatonormativity impacts them.
Furthermore, Zuko’s choice cements Katara’s position as his surrogate sibling, as she is Azula’s primary foil. Zuko chooses the sister who heals over the sister who harms. I won’t go too much into it here, because it has already been talked about extensively before! Thus, I offer you this post that explains how Zuko and Katara - in canon - are positioned as surrogate siblings as well as Azula’s role in this matter. I also offer this post that lays out through screencaps how Zuko and Katara - in canon - treat each other like family.
Additional sources about the final Agni Kai:
This post in part discusses fanon misinterpretation of the final Agni Kai and why such a lens is not true to canon relationships.
This post explains why the final Agni Kai is not intended to be romantic.
This post explains how the final Agni Kai is primarily about Azula and how reducing it to be a big Zvtara moment is detrimental to both her and to Zuko and Katara themselves.
“And then literally at the end, Mai shows up after Zuko not talking about her at all for six episodes and declares herself Zuko’s girlfriend.”
This point could probably get a post of its own, lol, but fortunately I and others have already written a few! I will link them below - first, however, I question your choice of “declares.” Technically, yes, Mai does say outright that it doesn’t hurt how the new Fire Lord is her boyfriend, but your phrasing implies Zuko resisted her proclamation. When… he doesn’t. In fact, he embraces it, asking if that means she doesn’t hate him anymore (read: he asks if they’re back on good terms again). Zuko clearly doesn’t have a problem with the girl he loves wanting to be with him again - so why do some parts of fandom so adamantly insist he does? (Not you, anon - I am referring to the rabid fanoners, lol.)
Also, regarding how Zuko hasn’t talked about Mai for six episodes, we’ve gotta be realistic with this assessment in terms of canon:
1. It was the crux of the war. They were either going to live or die. There was no time for romance at this point! Sokka and Suki weren’t professing their love on the battlefield, lmao, so it’s not exactly strange that Zuko didn’t bust into a monologue about how he missed Mai. I think they were just a little bit distracted by the possible end of the world, lol, and all that jazz.
2. Zuko probably thought Mai was dead. He knows what Azula is like. He knows his sister doesn’t have time for people who get in her way (Aang can testify to this, lmao). So can you blame him for not wanting to think about how the girl he loved had died (to his knowledge) to save him?
You gotta cut the kid some slack, lol. Anyways! Additional sources about Maiko:
This post breaks down the notion of Maiko and “deserve.”
This post rationalizes through a canon lens why Mai’s arrival at the palace surprised Zuko.
This post is the mother of Maiko metas, explaining in tremendous detail why their relationships works, is relevant to canon, and was well-implemented for what its role was.
“And Katara kisses Aang after being annoyed with and by him arguably since The Southern Raiders.”
What in canon has led you to the conclusion that Katara was annoyed with Aang? What specific moments from TSR to the finale made you think Katara was annoyed with Aang and remained annoyed with Aang? Are there any, or are you thinking about fanon interpretation? (Canon vs fanon strikes again!)
In TSR, Katara explicitly thanks Aang for understanding her perspective. Nothing there is indicative of annoyance (and as in the links provided earlier, she was not angry at Aang/Zuko/etc. so much as she was at herself. well, she was a little bit angry with Zuko, lmao). In EIP, Katara is understandably angry at Aang’s decision to kiss her, but Aang completely backs off, and we see in the part 1 of the finale that there are no hard feelings or weird tension between them. Katara in fact actively expresses concern for Aang after Zuko sporadically attacked him when she demands of the firebender, “What’s wrong with you? You could have hurt Aang!” Even when Aang and Katara do butt heads later in the episode as Aang tries to think of a way to defeat Ozai without killing him, Katara doesn’t stay frustrated. Like I said - when she and Zuko are flying to Azula, she demonstrates her unwavering faith in Aang through her belief that he will return. So… where is the annoyance that you feel was present?
With all this mind, i.e. looking strictly at canon, Katara wasn’t annoyed with Aang during this time. Thus, Katara kisses Aang because she loved him. Because he backed off and gave her the space she needed to make a decision about if she wanted to be with him (hence Katara being the one to initiate the kiss). Because the issue was never about if she reciprocated his feelings (they both knew they loved each other) but rather it had to do with the war. At the end of the finale, the war is over, and there is nothing that prevents them from being together. Simple.
This post explains how Katara’s feelings for Aang develop throughout the series (and were not neglected, as rabid zkers like to claim, for some reason? again - you are not one of them, anon).
This post also covers Katara’s interest in Aang throughout the series.
“I can’t understand why Kataang shippers are okay with such a crap story.”
I mean, you definitely don’t have to ship Kataang. It may not be your cup of tea, and that’s totally okay! But as the above links demonstrate, Kataang was a fantastic story. It was well-implemented into the narrative from Day 1. The soulmateism is unparalleled!
Also, it’s worth noting that A:TLA itself was essentially pre-written. The writers knew how the story would end from the get-go, including that the show would end with Kataang. A few Zvtara gags were thrown in to add a sense of “who will Katara choose?” drama as the show aired, but Zuko and Katara were never planned to end up together. One reason so many newer fans are fine with Kataang from the start is that there’s no tension of waiting a week for a new episode when you can watch all 61 episodes straight through on Netflix, lmao. It’s even more obvious now than when A:TLA was airing that Aang and Katara will end up together, if that makes sense. (Although I talked about this in the E-L post linked earlier, so you probably understand this point already, as it was explained in detail there!)
All of this is to say that Kataang is not a “crap story” in terms of writing (again, personal taste is a different matter) because it was woven in from the beginning and had powerful narrative significance! (Kataang represented numerous complementary components of the series, such as yin and yang, push and pull, air and water, Oma and Shu, etc.)
Now. If you really and truly want to understand why Kataang shippers like Kataang, anon, consider reading some Kataang fanfics or exploring some Kataang headcanons. I read fics involving Zvtara more regularly than you might think, lol, because… well, it’s just a ship. I understand the appeal of romantic Zvtara and I can actually appreciate it when it’s well-written! I’m sure if you’re willing to put in just a little legwork (you don’t need to go the whole mile, lmao - ‘tis just fandom), you’ll realize why people like Kataang, even if it isn’t exactly your thing. You have the range, anon!! You got this!
I hope I managed to answer your questions, my friend! As always, you do not have to agree with anything I have said here. It is totally fine if you and anyone else disagrees! Everything above is simply my own perspective on the matter. Thank you for taking the time to read my response and all the different links I provided! I hope it has expanded your understanding of the subject at hand!
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hi there! let's play a game :D tag your moots, and name one special trait about them and why you love it. let's go!
there’s so many things i love about them 😭 heLP HAHSJJDDJ
@starglitterz - i love how you’re always so kind <333 it makes my heart so happy every time i see you on my dashboard and inbox SOBS i love how you’re having fun when you’re playing with me! AAAAAAAA let’s play moreeeee omg 😭😳 i love u so much! *MAKES OUT WITH YOU* /j unless..
@bookuya - i love how you’re always there for me through highs and lows hellooo?? 😭‼️ i love everything you do and thank you for always letting me rant without making me feel unloved <3 SCREAMSSSS
@simplyxsinned - you’re just.. amazing!! 😭❤️ i love how you’re always making me laugh and smile even on bad days <3 ALSO YOUR DRAWING FOR ME 🥺 AAAAAAAA I’LL FOREVER TREASURE IT I LOVE YOU!
@razorsangel - i love everything about you!! rawr 🦖 but i love how you’re always talking to me even though im always annoying you <3 GOD REALLY TOOK HIS TIME MAKING YOU 😩❤️ YOU’RE AMAZING I WILL FIGHT EVERYONE WHO DISAGREE. EVEN YOU 😠 thank you for coming into my life! i love you very much hellooo?? 🤨 HAHAHSJJS *coughs drop the fanfic coughs*
@velionqs - i love how you’re always sliding onto my inbox and just drop nothing but sweetness 😩❤️ you make my day SO MUCH better!! i love you so much my love! MAHAL KITA SOBRA!!
@dilucbar - i love how you’re so fun and chaotic HAHAHA PLEASE we immediately became friends because of conyo thoma SCREAAMS MAHAL KITA BABE KO 😩❤️ *umiyak*
@mika-zuko - i love how honest you are!! HASHSJSS please your words are like mind opening to me and i love that. i love you! also omg i remember the tra*ma bonding we and aeri had on discord 😭
@childes-rainedrop - i love how you’re always so fun to talk to PLUS you’re so kind and sweet !! LIKE FR IM ALWAYS SMILING WHEN IM TALKING TO YOU 😭❤️ *i expanded the day care* HAHHSJSSJJSJS I LOVE U SM
@urujiako - i love how you’re always so positive and sweet!! like fr tho how do you stay so positive all the time 😭❤️ I ADORE YOU SO MUCH AAAAAAAA i love you so much!!
@childeluv - i love how strong you are!! :)) i know you’re going through a rough time but you keep on moving forward and i really love that about you! you inspire me to stay iykwim!! you also inspire me to write even moreeee!! 😭❤️ i love you so much!!
@3rdgymbros - i love how you’re literally so sweet HELOO?? 😭 IT MAKES MY HEART MELT JUST TALKING TO YOU I LOVE YOU SO MUCH! tbh i was scared to interact with you at first because idk if you wanted to be mutuals or not HAHAHHAJSJS
@aelatus - i love how sweet and caring you are!! you make feel loved and cared about 😭❤️ thank you for literally existing my love!!! i appreciate you so much!! you have a special place in my heart!!
@yanbub - i love how chaotic you are!! AAAAAAAA every time i see you talk about literally anything it makes me smile! CAN WE PRETEND THAT AIRPLANES IN THE NIGHT SKY LIKE SHOOTING STARS 🥺❤️ HASHHSHHS I LOVE YOU SO MUCHHHH!!
@eternism - YOU’RE SO FUN TO TALK TO AAAAAAA im so happy you’re my friend darling 😩‼️ you’re so sweet and i love you so much!! *hugs you* *kisses you*
@i-li - PLEASE WE’VE BEEN MUTUALS SINCE I FIRST STARTED HERE OMG 😭❤️ i love how you’re literally so talented and kind and sweet!! thank you for making genshin layouts you literally saved my life with themes AAAAAAAA I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!!
@tendous-socks - BREASTIE 😩‼️ I LOVE HOW YOU’RE LITERALLY SO FUN TO TALK TO HELLOOO?? we’re literally so chaotic together i love you so much!! i hope you get yanfeeeiii!! ALSO PLEASE I WANT TO PLAY WITH YOU BUT WE’RE ON DIFF SERVERS SOBS
@ayakazu - i love how sweet and funny you are HAAHHAHAH you’re also talented you should write babes i love you so much!! <333 LET’S PLAY AGAIN SOME TIME !!!!!!! ALSO YOU’RE THE FIRST PERSON THAT REQUESTED ON MY BLOG AND IT BLEW IT HELLOO?? 😭❤️ THANK YOU SO MUCH <333
+ more! but idk them that much still :’(( i love you guys!! <333
so sorry i sound emotional 😍
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Hello, how are you doing today ? I hope that you are having an amazing day ! If you are then, yayyyy ! If you are not, then that's okay ! It gets better. You are appreciated and loved and so is your work.
I was wondering if I could please place a request, if that's okay with you?
I know you don't free write for avengers but I am hoping that you do write for Dr Stephen Strange.
If you don't, feel free to ignore.
If you do, then great !!!
This prompt/request is really weird sorry !
🔮 Prompt 🔮 ~ idk honestly , a drabble ???
💕 Character 💕 ~ Doctor Stephen Strange
🦋 Details 🦋 ~ ( some backstory ) Another infinity stone is found that is pretty much war/chaos. It's pink and Reader has the stone imbedded in their heart which gives them very strong powers. Reader is in a battle with strange and he realizes that reader is pretty much a walking infinity stone ( kinda like him, Wanda, vision, Thor and ironman )
Thank you for considering this request ! Have a great one :))
Dear Reader & Requester! Thank you for your kind words!!! I pride myself on being able to write for any fandom! I don't limit myself, if I haven't seen it or played it or read it, I research it until I am comfortable writing it! So I will gladly take your request, and put it towards my Follower Event!
PAIRING: Doctor Stephen Strange x F!Reader
SUMMARY/PROMPT: See above <3
Trigger Warning(s): Violence | PLEASE TELL ME IF I FORGOT ANYTHING!!! I want to make sure readers are fully aware of what they are getting themselves into when they read this…
NOTE: Sorry if this isn't what you expected, I'm hoping this finds you well love! I kinda went with it with the reader's powers, I hope that's alright. I'm also super sorry if it's super short... Though after doing this, I have realized I will be doing more research on him.
IMAGE CREDIT: Google I DO NOT CLAIM OWNERSHIP OF THESE IMAGES. If these are yours or you know who the creator(s) is please INBOX me and let me know. Thank you.
My Master Masterlist | Taglist
REQUESTS: 500 FOLLOWER EVENT REQUESTS ARE STILL OPEN UNTIL AUGUST 15TH!
War, war changes people. But when you're at constant war with yourself, you're constantly transforming, sprinkle in a tiny bit of chaos, and you're a weapon of mass destruction. That's precisely what you were. People wanted you gone, and all you ever did was try to be good, but when you discovered your powers, it got out of hand. It was just something you couldn't control.
Standing on top of the building, you stand there, staring down Dr. Strange, your hands in tight fists. He stands there on the other end of the building.
"You can't keep doing this, Y/N. You must be stopped!"
"You can't stop me, Strange, no one can. They've tried, and they've all failed. You will be no different."
"Perish if you must, Y/N. There is no other way!"
Your mind raced. You didn't know what was going to happen at the end of this. You were just alike, and even you didn't know it. All you knew was that you had these powers, and when it got out of hand, people started coming for you, but those people either died or were injured beyond any repair.
At this point, it was to the death.
"There is no escape!" Strange growled as he threw an invisible force at you.
As the force pushed you back, you felt it wash over you heavily, and you growled, standing back up, and with all of your might, you open your hands, stretching your fingers out, and pink balls of energy form in your palms. The pebbles on top of the roof started to shake. As they begin to lift, you let out a loud scream which caused the roof to shake slightly, and you threw your energy at him. The pebbles fly at him, and he brings his arms up to protect his face.
Shooting you a look, he takes a moment to watch you as you drop to your knees, your nose starts to bleed. He slowly walks to you, grips you by your throat, and forces you to stand looking into your eyes. He searches you for a moment. He tilts his head as your eyes start glowing pink, and his eyes grow big; tilting his head to the other side, he slams you down onto the rooftop, and you are gripping at his arm.
You begin to panic, and you look over his face, and you cry softly. "I can't help it, just do it, just get it over with."
"With great pleasure." With a sudden tightening against your throat, but, suddenly he stops. Looking over your face, he loosens his grip and lets out a breath. "You possess... a stone." His head tilts, his brow furrows. He puts his head against your chest and listens carefully. "You're like me... just, placed differently. That's why you can't control it." He tells you.
Looking over his face, you look at him like he's an idiot, you back up, pushing yourself against the air vent, and look at him, furrowing your brow, you shake your head. "No... that's not true."
"I know one when I encounter one. It's in your eyes. That's why you have such strong powers- that's why you're- special."
"No." you shake your head and look down at your chest. "What now?" you ask.
"Well, for starters, you need to learn to contain yourself. You can't go around like a madwoman." He chuckled a bit. "You need to understand what you are, and your capabilities, and do good rather than bad."
"There's no hope for me, all I've done is bad."
"There is hope, trust me?" he extends his hand out to you.
You look over his hand, and his face, and you nod slowly taking his hand.
"I trust you."
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Dystopian Larry Fic Rec
Inspired by some of the lovely people and fic recers on here, I’ve decided to start making my own fic recs. If you’d like, you can request recs in my inbox and I’ll see what I can do <3!
Please read the ratings and tags to these fics (because some of them are dark or have dark themes) and enjoy!
You Try To Be Everything (I Need) by lululawrence - @lululawrence (NR, 36k)
Wars, and rumours of wars, were nothing new for the world in the twenty-fourth century. The fighting had evolved over the years, and rarely did it involve traditional weapons. A group most widely known as the Southern Powers gained strength amongst portions of the western European continent and spread quickly.
There was a fight the Southern Powers didn’t expect coming from the north of England, though. Resistance came in the form of an organised underground; a group comprised of people with the Touch that did the best they could to enforce a line that would not be crossed. Slowly, that line was moved from the Channel to boundaries further and further north. It seemed only a matter of time before the Southern Powers took over everywhere.
Until that time, people did the best they could to live their lives in some semblance of normality. For Louis Tomlinson, that sense of normality was about to change when his best friend, Harry Styles, goes missing.
Louis embarks on the journey of a lifetime where he uses his newly developed abilities to search for his friend, even when it takes him to places he never thought he would see while surmounting trials he never could have imagined.
I loved the way the magic and technology in this fic intersected in such a unique way and the way the world was built was extraordinary!
red hands by reveries_passions - @dystopianharry (T, 132k)
I’ve never told anyone,” Harry murmurs, voice so soft no one else would be able to hear, if it wasn’t just the two of them.
“But you’ve told someone,” Louis says firmly. “And that’s not gonna fucking happen around here. You don’t speak a word of it, or someone’s going to kill you, and we can’t let that happen.”
a dystopian au in which harry, an ex-soldier who’s escaped from his government run camp, accidentally stumbles across the biggest rebel movement in the country, and louis, one of the rebellion’s mysterious leaders who appears to hate him, seems to simultaneously have an obsession with keeping him alive. or: harry is wanted for treason, niall hasn’t changed in four years, liam is always smiling, and louis is angry. like, really angry.
The plot of this is just *chef’s kiss* in so many ways! I love the way the characters interact with each other and I’m weak for Niall and Harry’s friendship in this.
Love After the End of the World by writing_practice - @mercurial-madhouse (E 158k)
“Wait. Just so I’m clear in me fucking noggin,” Niall says. “An international worldwide takeover is well under way and the only thing standing between having hot showers and a second end of the world is us five fuckers?”
Society shattered when all electricity suddenly cut off across the globe, plunging the world into darkness. Now, Prometheus Industries is the sole remaining supply of power, a saving grace to those who survived Lights Out. As fugitives in no-man’s land struggling to break into Prometheus HQ, death lurks around every corner for Louis and Zayn. Things get complicated when a routine recon falls apart and Louis collides with Harry and his mates Niall and Liam, survivors with their own agenda.
When staying alive is already a constant battle, the deadliest weakness is to be in love. For Harry and Louis, finding each other sits on top of the endless list of What Else Could Go Wrong.
This just came out in the most recent Big Bang (that’s still on going so you should definitely check that out) and this fic is so amazing! I think it does a great job of just really immersing you in the world the characters exist in. Love After the End of the World is also a Soulmate AU and I love the way those parts come together. It also has an amazing prologue called PROMETHEUS RISING (M 5k) that I enjoyed immensely set in the same world!
at last, at last by suspendrs - @suspendrs (NR 41k) Locked
“Come with us,” Tommo says, stopping at the other end of the gymnasium, near the doors. “Don’t let them make you suffer any longer. Come with us, and be human.”
Before Harry has even finished thinking it through, he’s on his feet, gaining the attention of every single person in the gymnasium. What has he got to lose, anyway?
Or, Harry is born into a cult in a post-apocalyptic world, and Louis is the leader of the rebel group tasked with the mission of shutting them down. Together, they make a rather effective team.
This fic does a great job of making you feel like you’re experiencing with the characters, like I could practically smell what the characters were smelling! The world it’s set in is so cool and the entire fic feels so well thought out and everything is so consistent!
my love will never leave you by we_are_the_same @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed (T 10k)
In a world where memories are used as currency, Louis will do anything it takes for Harry to get better.
I loved the idea behind this. Like the entire world is so brilliantly done! And it was all based on ONE word (because of the wordplay challenge). Even though it’s set in a different world everything feels so grounded and realistic and I really really like that about it.
a prayer for which no words exist by Eliane (M 34k) Locked
"Louis is a few seconds away from blowing up a rather important section of the New York subway when he sees Harry for the first time."
In this fic the characters motivations are so clear (to the reader) and I love how it goes from Louis accidentally sort of, kind of, kidnapping Harry to them becoming friends then more. I also love how no matter where they are the fic has a real sense of place. This is part 1 of landscapes of war. The entire series is really good!
Who Painted the Moon Black by throughthedark (E 95k) Locked
“People died,” Harry whispers so quietly Louis strains to hear. “People died, and I killed some of them. How does life just go on after something like that?”
Louis shakes his head. “I don't know. It just does.”
Hunger Games AU where Louis Tomlinson is district six's victor from the 69th Hunger Games and Harry Styles is district seven's victor from the 72nd Hunger Games.
This fic is a hunger games AU that both people who have and haven't read/watched the Hunger Games can enjoy. I like how it explores the world of the Hunger Games in a way that isn’t explored in the Hunger Games canon. It’s really intense (like the E is for the darker themes and violence) and I enjoy it a lot. There is a happy ending (as the author assures in the tags) and I really enjoy all the struggles that the characters go through.
Nobody Marks You by graceling_in_a_suit @graceling-in-a-suit (T 33k)
“The plan is: we’re gonna put on a play. Now, I see some doubtful faces–” Louis looked around and found zero doubtful faces. Liam looked intrigued, Zayn looked bored, and Harry looked scarily blank. “But this is what’s happening. We’re gonna do some fucking acting, we’re gonna perform our hearts out, and we’re not going to think about anything else. The past, the future; none of it. All we’re going to think about is... “ Niall trailed off, eyeing the bookshelf to his left. He closed his eyes and reached a hand out towards it, running his fingers over the covers before pulling a book out at random. “William Shakespeare’s Much Ado About Nothing.”
AU: Five assholes stuck in a bunker put on a play.
This is one of my absolute favorite fics. I just love the way the characters interact and they way the story is told. It’s nonlinear so you jump around in time and it shows the way the character's relationships change throughout. I’m a sucker for Much Ado About Nothing and though you don’t need to read it to fully appreciate the fic I think the use of the play throughout is genius.
@1dfanfictionbookcovers has a really cool cover for the fic as well HERE
With a whimper by kitundercover @kitundercover (M 132k)
Dystopian AU. Louis has been alone for too long to remember how not to be, and Harry has too much to worry about to deal with a scrawny, wild, stranger.
The man grips his arm tightly. “You’re not going to say anything.” It’s not a question.
Louis shakes his head, his body twitching.
“Fine.” Large green eyes survey him before letting go. “It’s cold. Take this. Wear it.”
Louis can’t help another flinch as the man’s long scarf is wrapped around his tender neck, it’s still warm. He touches the soft material. “Thank you.”
The man bears his teeth. “Don’t thank me. Don’t ever thank me.”
The thing this fic does really does is showing emotional reactions. Louis’ inner monologue is so well done and I really like the plot of the story.
these bountiful silences by tommoandbambi (T 123k)
they live in a world where they can only say four words per day. harry meets some people that don't want to live that way.
I really, really, really, like this plot and the story! The world that the characters exist in is so interesting and I just love the way in which it is a dystopia.
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A Failed Hit [Bucky Barnes x Reader]
Summary: Being an ex-assassin and now a vigilante for hire is a ruthless job. Your latest assignment makes you realise that maybe your reputation isn’t fit for the Winter Soldier’s.
Word count: 2.2k
Warnings: swearing, angst, light violence
I’m thinking of turning this into a series. Let me know if you liked it and you’d like to read more. If enough people want this, I’ll be more willing to commit lol.
Please tell me what you think! Any feedback is greatly appreciated.
Killing came easily to you.
Recruited by one of the most feared mob rings at age of 12, credited to over 2 dozen assassinations, then leaving at 24 without getting killed, being on the run for 4 years, before finally becoming a vigilante for hire- it was safe to say that you knew a thing or two about killing.
The reason you called yourself a vigilante for hire and not a straight up hitman was because after all the killing, you developed a conscience. You knew that you couldn’t just wake up one day and choose to be a different person, so you swore to kill for the right cause and to defend innocents. You couldn’t quite let go of the killing just yet. A girl needs to be payed after all.
And you got many dirty people to kill. You especially enjoyed killing racist and misogynist men. Something deeply satisfying in seeing their sorry asses squirm under your razor-sharp knife.
You were amazed at the $800k bounty you received in your inbox in the dark web. Normally you were never payed more than $20k for even some of the most notorious drug ring leaders. You eagerly clicked the message but you then realised who the bounty was set for.
“Oh, fuck me,” you muttered as your hands started to sweat.
James Buchanan Barnes.
You had been assigned to kill the Winter Soldier.
You parked your motorbike a few blocks away from the brooklyn address you had been given. You took your suitcase which had your rifle equipment ready. You wore your long coat which concealed your stealth suit that carried 7 knives and two guns hidden around your body and with your mask covering half of your face ready to go.
You were more than prepared. You never killed with your rifle. You liked to handle things more... personally. Hence, the knives.
But this was the Winter Soldier we’re talking about. You’d have to be a downright idiot to not keep your distance and take every single precaution possible. Otherwise, it would be suicide.
You made your way through the dark moonlit alleys to the building opposite Bucky’s apartment. You climbed the stairs to the roof and looked down at the window behind which, your target would be somewhere. The curtains were shut but the lights were on which meant that he was inside. You positioned your rifle and aimed it at the window. All you’d have to do is to somehow lure him to the window to get a direct hit.
As you sat there on your knees, adjusting your equipment for longer than you needed you began to think about your target’s past.
Bucky Barnes’ ledger was filled with more red than probably anyone else in the world at the moment- certainly more than your own. But he was also recruited by Captain America himself. But he only did that cuz he missed his old friend, you told yourself.
He fought Thanos and was now officially regarded as an Avenger. But one right does not justify all of his past.
He was brainwashed by Hydra for years. None of his kills were really ever his own. But he still did them. No matter how brainwashed you are, you’re still making those decisions, right?
Your hands shook as you adjusted your already perfected aim for the fifth time. “For fuck’s sake, just get this over with already.”
The paycheck was too tempting.
But if you were doing this all for the paycheck, where did your moral compass lie? If the money was all that mattered, were you really a vigilante or just a cold-blooded hitman?
You clicked the silencer on your rifle and aimed at the wall just over the window. Taking a deep breath, you gritted your teeth as you finally pulled the trigger.
There was no sound of the rifle going off but the impact of the bullet hitting the wall overhead was loud enough for the whole block to hear.
Had your target been a civilian, they would’ve immediately rushed to the sound, maybe even opened the window and if not- at least approach it enough for you to pick up on their shadow against the curtain to get a direct hit. But Bucky Barnes was no ordinary civilian and you don’t know what made you think your plan would even work in the first place.
You waited as you looked through the eye-piece of your rifle for 30 more minutes, trying to pick up on any movement. The patience of a sniper.
But evidently, not patient enough.
You packed your equipment and took off your coat, revealing your black stealth suit. You climbed your way down the building and up to the one opposite. You tried to find a window of his apartment you could break into safely. You found one and peered through it. Again, the curtains were closed but the room was dark. For all you know, the Winter Soldier could very well be waiting in that very room. The thought of it gave you goosebumps. Hanging from a railing under the window, you pulled out your digital lock breaker that could pick apartment locks easily and quietly. The window opened.
You took a deep breath while pulling out a knife from your thigh and then jumped through the window.
You entered the dark room as silently as you could. An ordinary civilian would not have heard a sound but the Winter Soldier with his hightened senses must have heard you. You had to make this quick.
With one hand on resting on the gun on your thigh holster and the other carrying your knife, you looked around the dark room. The room was clear and the opened door, revealed the rest of the apartment in darkness too.
Oh, he sure as hell knew you were there.
And he was waiting. At this point, you couldn’t tell who the prey and who the predator was.
You kept to the walls and silently made your way to the door of the room and peered out. Going out in the open would make you very vulnerable indeed but you were too late to back out now. The only way was forward. You stepped outside cautiously and made your way towards the living room. You needed to occupy the biggest space possible to have the most leverage.
Suddenly, a metal arm wrapped itself around your neck making it almost impossible to breath. You tried to keep a grip on your knife as you gasped for air but it fell out out of your hand. You managed to hook your leg underneath his, making him fall over but not before him pulling you down as well. His grip on your neck loosened just enough for you to slip under.
You managed to get on top of him, scratching his flesh arm in the process. You brought your knife down down, going for his neck but he dodged it and kicked you in the stomach. You yelped in pain as you got off from him. You took one of your guns out and aimed for his head but he had a gun aimed at you at the same time.
You stood there in shock as you recognised one of your own gun in his hands. You dared to glance down at your other thigh holster to see the gun was missing.
“Looking for something?” the man in front of you said.
You tried not showing a hint of nervousness in your eyes as you gripped your gun tighter. You may have the high ground here but the Winter Soldier has quicker reflexes. You were stuck.
With the gun still pointed at you, he started to get up from the floor. You backed away a bit but were still determined to hold your ground. You couldn’t show any sign of weakness.
“Why don’t we stop playing with these toys and just talk,” he said. He didn’t sound condescending or threatening at all. He seemed surprisingly calm. Was this a trick?
Gun still pointed at you, he slowly lowered it. After some hesitation, you decided to do the same. He threw the gun away. You watched as it fell onto the kitchen floor. Of course, he doesn’t need a gun. He has a metal arm.
He backed away a little, settling for a comfortable distance for two people who just tried to kill each other.
You both stared at each other for a few moments, waiting to see who would speak first. Well, it sure as hell wouldn’t be you.
“Who are you?” he said, finally breaking the silence.
You raised an eyebrow at the silly question.
“Yeah, ok... wrong question,” he said. “Why are you trying to kill me?”
You just stared at him.
“Not much of a talker are you?” he said, looking down. “I get it, I was the same too-”
“If you’re going to give me a speech on how you were the same as me and that there’s some kind of redemption arc possible, I suggest you try again,” you finally said.
He looked up at you and to your even greater surprise, laughed a bit. How is he this relaxed? And why does he look so good when he smiles? Get a grip on yourself.
“Well, I suppose an assassin such as yourself would know by now that you’re cornered.”
“You don’t even have a gun,” you pointed out.
Bucky smirked, “Do you really think I need one, doll?”
You gulped your nervousness down as it finally started to rise up. He was right. Even with 6 knives and one gun still on you along with 16 years of elite training, you were still cornered.
There was no choice but to give in. You had been selfish which made you make probably the biggest mistake you had ever made. You had to come clean.
“My client offered me $800k for your dead body,” you said.
He whistled, “That sure is a lotta money. Do you know who your client is?”
You shook your head. “No, but I’m assuming that it’s probably like a small organisation or something. That’s a lot of money even for the most blood-thirsty person.”
Bucky furrowed his eyebrows as he thought hard about something. You caught up.
“Are you thinking that HYDRA has anything to do with this?”
He looked up at you. “But then you would have to be one of them,” he said.
You scoffed. “I’d never be part of an organisation like their’s. Maybe they don’t have anyone left that’s ready for action.”
“Really?” he said, looking you up and down. “Can’t really tell the difference.”
“I’m not an assassin,” you said, maybe a bit too defensively. “I’m a vigilante for hire to kill bad people.”
“Did you memorise those lines?” he said. “I know what reciting lines sounds like.”
You stared at him. Now, instead of nervousness and quite genuine fear for your life, you were getting angry.
“And how would you define bad, exactly?” he said, making his way to the only couch in the room.
“What do you mean,” you replied, still standing.
“I mean, a self proclaimed vigilante with a skill set such as yours can’t have chosen this line of profession if not to... make amends.”
Your breaths quickened. “You don’t know a thing about me, soldier,” you spat.
Bucky visibly stiffened a bit at you calling him that but continued with a calm voice, “No, I don’t. But you’ll find me to be a very observant person. Especially in the future.”
Now you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. “What makes you say that there’s a future?”
“What makes you say that there isn’t?” he said.
“You’re not... you’re not going to kill me?” you said hesitantly. You cursed yourself for showing him weakness.
He seemed genuinely confused before laughing again. God, that stupid damn beautiful smile.
“No doll, I’m not going to kill you,” said, smiling. “But if you try to kill me again, then you’ll find that the world’s too small for you to hide for long.”
And you sure as hell believed him.
You looked behind you at the open door of the room you had entered from. You looked back at the Winter Soldier and saw him gazing intently at you. You didn’t quite understand what was going on or why he decided to let you go instead of killing you on the spot but you were too high on the euphoria of not being killed to care for any of that at the moment.
You slowly walked backwards to the door and then turned around to dash for the window when you heard his voice again.
“Hey!” he said, making you turn around. “What should I call you?”
You didn’t know what made you reveal your alias but you did.
“Delilah,” you answered.
“Well,” said Bucky. Why was he still fucking smiling? “Something tells me we’ll meet again soon.”
He saw the corners of your eyes crinkle as now you smiled underneath your mask. “I’ll see you soon then, soldier,” you said, looking over your shoulder.
You smirked in satisfaction, seeing his smile drop and clenched jaw.
Without sparing a second glance, you darted to the open window and jumped out.
A/N: I’ve wanted to write a bucky x assassin reader fic for weeks! I’ve got a few ideas but I’m still not sure if an entire series would be worth it. Let me know if you’re interested in that, then I can start to seriously prepare for it.
Requests are open! If you’d like to be tagged under all my posts, please message me.
Shameless self-advertisement: Alpine : who doesn’t want to see the feared Winter soldier with a white ball of fluff?
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this was a request, thank u so much to the person who requested this!!
a/n: wow, another actress!reader prompt i get carried away with! what a shock! i might make a part 2 to this if i feel like it, cause i think it deserves a second part! lmk what y’all think of that. as always, my inbox is open and feedback is always appreciated. love u, thank u <3
summary: actress!reader is tom’s lover in the movie they are filming, but things off screen are a little rocky
warnings: angsttttt and swearing
word count: 2033
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this was it, this was the big break you have been dreaming about for years. Your journey as an actor started a little over three years ago, and you loved every moment. what you didn’t expect with this journey, was how much time it actually took to have a significant role. you had gotten roles here and there throughout the past few years, but nothing quite like starring in a movie alongside the famous tom holland.
you were so excited, not only because you had finally booked a big role, but because tom was your love interest in the movie. you felt a little weird about it, because tom was someone you had been a fan of for quite some time. you really admired him as a person, and the skills he has as an actor.
The day of the chemistry reading with Tom was a nerve racking day, if you had no chemistry with him, you wouldn’t have gotten the role. everything depended on how the two of you interacted during that read. you remember the day like the back of your hand.
you walked into the room, and was greeted with a group of people sitting down at a table, facing you. there were two chairs sitting in front of the people, who you assumed were the producers and casting directors. you had no idea who the chemistry read was going to be with, because everything about this audition process was extremely secretive. you weren’t even sure what movie you were auditioning for, just the characters name, and a scene to perform. someone sitting at the table asked you to sit at the chair, and you did as asked. you were really uncomfortable, you remember that much. the audition anxiety was quite prominent this day, you knew that everything depended on this.
so, when Tom Holland walked into the room, you did your best to keep your cool. Which, for the record, was very difficult.
“Hi darling,” he greeted. His warm smile spread across his face, and his eyes twinkled in the light of the room. He sat down in the chair across from you, then put out his hand. you shook his hand, you couldn’t stop staring at him.
“i’m y/n, it’s nice to meet you,” you let out, plastering a smile on your face. his hand was still wrapped around yours, but you barely noticed. the two of you stared at each other for a considerable amount of time.
“i’m tom holland,” he responded. “it’s so nice to meet you, y/n.”
“yeah,” you whispered, not breaking eye contact. “you as well.”
he dropped his hand after the moment the two of you shared. The two of you sat in silence as the producers and casting directors talked amongst themselves, figuring out which scene to perform. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you, even when you were talking to the producer, and had your back turned to him, he couldn’t stop staring.
the scene the two of you performed convinced everyone in the room that you were perfect for this role. You never knew this, but after you left the audition, everyone made fun of Tom for falling in love at first sight. He made sure to brush off these remarks, as he had a girlfriend whom he loved very much, but deep down he knew they were right.
a couple of months went by before you heard anything about the audition. this part was brutal, because you thought that the role had been given to someone else, due to the radio silence. you remember talking to your agent right after the chemistry read, how you nailed it, and knew that you had gotten this role. instead, you had come to terms with the fact that this wasn’t meant to be. there was someone else with more chemistry, who had played the part of tom’s lover, instead of you.
but then the phone rang one night, and you answered it to your agent telling you that this part was yours. that you would be working alongside Tom, and that your hard work had paid off.
The long days on set were catching up to both you and Tom, you were struggling getting through your scenes with one another. everything you did, tom would have a reaction to.
“I think you should react angrier to my line,” you explained. “i just think that would be more convincing?” you looked at tom with kind eyes, this scene was a particularly difficult one to get through.
“okay,” he scoffed. he rolled his eyes at you, and you were certain that you wanted to punch him.
“I'm just trying to make the scene work, Tom,” you shot back. He had been acting like this since the beginning, and your tolerance for his behavior was growing thin.
“got it,” he responded. He never looked you in the eyes anymore, except during scenes. every time you went up to him when you weren’t filming, he would brush you off. sometimes, he would just walk away without responding. everything about this was so... cold. where was that chemistry the two of you had when you first met?
“I'm going to get dinner, do you want to come?” you asked after the scene was finally done, and you had wrapped for the day. Tom looked up from his phone to look at you, then moved his eyes back down to the glow of the screen.
“i can't,” he responded. you stood across from him, and shook your head.
“okay.” you couldn’t even look at him, and just walked away before saying something you didn’t mean. you thought working on this movie with tom would bring the two of you closer, but the reality was that you barely knew him.
“he’s just so fucking intolerable,” you informed your friend over the phone. “i will be talking to him, and he’ll just randomly put his hand up, and walk away to answer the phone. who does that?”
These phone calls happened almost every day, because Tom acted like this- every day. there was still two months left of shooting, and you really could not see how you were going to survive this. you didn’t understand why tom was unbearable, considering his girlfriend was insanely kind. you loved when she was around, because she actually included you in things. she invited you out to dinner with them, hung out with you in your trailer, everything. you just really admired her.
A few days later, Tom came onto set with the worst attitude he has ever had. every time you spoke, he rolled his eyes at you. your chairs were next to each other, and when you sat down next to him, he moved his chair away from you.
“are you fucking kidding me?” you yelled. “this is getting ridiculous!” you stared down tom as he looked back at you, and his eyes showed a glimmer of concern. you were furious though, absolutely fueled with anger.
“you could at least use your words!” you commanded. Tom fully turned around to look at you, then opened his mouth.
“leave me alone, y/n,” he hissed at you. “i could not make it more clear that i’m not interested in building a relationship with you, at all.”
your heart sank with those words, even as an actor, you couldn’t pretend that didn’t hurt you. you couldn’t hide the pain that came with that statement, either. you sat in the chair, arms crossed, and stared at the set to distract yourself. you watched the crew move props for the scene you and tom were doing, and then remembered you had to do a scene with tom today. you sighed, you couldn’t think of something you wanted to do less than be beside tom for hours.
“whew! the set looks good, how are we all feeling?” the director called out, then looked between you and tom. she stood there in silence as the two of you didn’t answer her question.
“alright! it’s gonna be an interesting day!” she exclaimed, then walked away. “tom and y/n, take your marks! we don’t have all day!”
the two of you grudgingly walked to your marks, standing across from each other, but not daring to look at one another.
“let’s be a little bit more warm, your characters are in love!” the director called out, then called “action!”
the two of you “acted” in the scene, doing your best to pretend you were in love. you could hear the groans escape the director as you kept falling flat in your line delivery.
“okay, cut!” the director yelled. “okay, wow, let’s take a little break, and revisit that!”
you nodded in agreement, and left set to go back to your trailer. you sat on the small couch, and placed your head in your hands, taking deep breaths. you were so confused, you didn’t know what you did to make Tom hate you so much. you were always kind, and patient with him. always willing to go out of your way to help him out, and at first he was this kind, patient person too. Then, he started to close himself off to you, and then just grew hostile.
you took one last deep breath, then left your trailer. you saw tom walking towards the set as well, and you stopped in your tracks. no, you couldn’t do this scene with him. not today. Tom had noticed you stopped walking, because he looked back at you. it looked as if he was contemplating something, but ultimately decided against it, because he continued to walk to set.
“what is going on with you today?” Sarah, the director, questioned. “this isn’t like you.”
you shook your head, you could feel the frustration and sadness building inside of you.
“tom is just so fucking unbearable,” you explained, your breath growing shaky. “Everything I do, it’s just not good enough! He's so mean, too. He dismisses everything I say!” yeah, everything that was building inside of you for weeks was coming out right here, right now. “like, today i sat in my chair next to him, and he picked up his chair to move away from me! i don’t even know what i did!”
tears were starting to form in your eyes, and Sarah grew extremely concerned.
“i’m so sorry, i had no idea he was acting this way,” she responded. you shook your head.
“it doesn’t matter, he’s acting like a toddler right now,” you admitted. Sarah looked at you, then looked at Tom who was walking over to the two of you.
“what the fuck do you want, tom? What is it now? are you going to yell at me because we’re behind on filming?” you shouted at him. He stood across from you, then shook his head.
“Okay, let’s do this somewhere else,” he said. He took your arm, and the two of you walked to a more private area.
“let go of me!” you grunted. “you’re such a dick!”
“okay,” he responded. the two of you stared at each other, no one spoke or moved for several moments.
“is this your plan to make me hate you?” you questioned. “if you want me to hate you, your plan is fucking working!”
Tom took a step back, your words definitely stung.
“It was just easier to pretend I hated you,” Tom replied. you looked at him, tilting your head in confusion.
“pretend?” your voice cracked, and tears started to stream down your face. “why would you do something so cruel?”
you were hurt, so, so, so fucking hurt. you couldn’t decide what was worse; him actually hating you, or him pretending he hated you.
“i got scared,” he confessed. “You made me feel things I have never felt before, and that really scared me. i also have a girlfriend, and i love her so much, but i was worried if we became close i’d develop feelings for you.” he paused, staring at you and analyzing your face. He brought his hand up to your cheek, wiping away the tears. “i think it might be too late for that, though.”
@zspideyy @lilhoodhippie @hollandfanficlove @th45 @lmaotshollandd
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