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snailsgoingdowntown · 4 months

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Help, I Reincarnated as the Female Lead's Sister in Law!

Re-upload due to complications.

Chapter 1

Dion x Fem! Reader

Warnings: possible yandere themes, arranged marriage, toxic relationship, slight incestual themes due to the content of “Roxana,” blood, mention of murder

Nsfw warnings: Lost of virginity (both parties?), fingering, oral (fem receiving), spit, reader does NOT get to finish, vaginal pain, HEAVY DUB/CON.

Disclaimer: I do NOT condone any of the harmful and dangerous actions/behaviors that takes place in this piece of fiction. These actions/behaviors should not be normalized or romanticized as they are extremely toxic and dangerous.

Minors/blank/blogs that don’t reblog fanfiction dni and don’t span like my posts or you will be blocked.

Overall story summary: you reincarnated into one of your favorite novel-turned-webtoons. However, you didn't want to become the female lead's sister-in-law...

Word count: 4542k

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“The Way to Protect the Female Lead’s Older Brother,” also known as “ROXANA” was a rather dark novel that was adapted into a webtoon. And as luck would have it, the webtoon wasn’t finished, and you don’t remember all the details of the fan translated web novel you found online.

Now, why would that be a problem? Simple:

You reincarnated into it. Not as a main character, or even a servant to one of the families. You weren’t a child of Lant’s or one of his many wives. You weren’t a friend to one of his children, either. Instead, it was worse than most of what was listed.

Whatever God you managed to piss off had a silly little, petty revenge plan that was straight out of a third-rate horror novel with teenage girls fawning over it. And truthfully, if written right, the non-existent novel would have been a banger – but no, instead it was anything but. Or maybe you only really think that because of your position in this world, where your birth was simple, but painful for your mother, and you were lucky enough to be born into a family that loved and cared for and about you.

It was a noble family, to boot. Wealthy enough to live a comfortable life. Two siblings – an older sister who was already married at the age of thirty with a child on the way. The other was a 12-year-old boy who made it his life mission to be the most annoying little piece of shit on earth.

But as you lay on your back, hands holding your nightgown in place, all you could think about was how small Dion Argece makes you feel. The wedding ceremony just finished up hours ago, and here you are, back pressed against silk sheets as your now-husband hovers over you.

(Name) Argece.

What a horrible name and cruel faith.

Inky black hair that falls into his carmine red eyes that held indifference. His wedding-tux was still on, even the outer jacket with the silly lone rose in his pocket. Oh, what a shame – to be married to such a handsome man only for him to be obsessed with his sister and emotionally unavailable.

God despises you.

“Close your eyes if you’re uncomfortable.”

He unbuttons his outer jacket, sliding it off his shoulders and tosses it to the side. You should close your eyes, you think, because his face was nothing but stone. Not even a condescending grin. He doesn’t comfort you, either – at least not in the typical sense.

“Keep still,” his gloved hands grab your thighs and you let him open them, creating space for him to get closer. You want to push him away and run. But what good would that do? Why couldn’t the man just slice something and claim that the blood on the sheets was from your first night?

“I’m scared.” You speak without thinking, becoming stiff as his hands traveled from your outer thigh to the inner, creeping underneath your nightgown. His gloves feel cold and uncomfortable, touch borderline rough. “I – I need a moment. Please?”

He tilts his head, giving it thought. After a moment he removes himself, but annoyance radiates off him. Your heart beats faster as the second’s pass. You remain on your back. The ceiling is painted white, no decorations and the room was bare saved for a dresser, closet, mirror and a random chair by the window.

You will be sleeping in here, from now on.

“Can’t do it? Then don’t.” he’s annoyed, surely, otherwise he wouldn’t look at you like you were an insect. What a wonderful way to start the newlywed life. But it’s not that easy to walk away, and while it sounds like he’s giving you a say-so, he isn’t; if you don’t consummate your marriage tonight, then…

“… I’m sorry. It’s my first time and I heard there would be pain.” You shouldn’t have to explain yourself. But Dion wasn’t exactly known for his… compassion. Or basic human emotions, either.

If this was someone else, would you be able to do it? Where did everything go wrong? This didn’t happen in the novel; Dion didn’t get married. There wasn’t a grand wedding with the Five Ruling Families in attendance. Nor was there a steamy scene with this man throughout the novel, not even in the side stories.

How did you end up here?

“Then relax.” If you weren’t scared of losing your life you would have run him over. It affects everything! Then again, it wouldn’t matter to him – this is a duty. Not something he wanted, you’re sure, and even if he did it would only have his best interests in mind.

“… I’m ready.” You don’t answer him, because it would only lead to a one-sided argument. Even a wall listens better. Despite your wishes, Dion does the same as last – settles in-between your legs, and this time, you close your eyes.

“Good. Try to relax or it won’t fit.” Your cheeks burn at that, mind already picturing how it would look. Many men say things like that, even in your old world. It’s just a thing they said, like with many things. It doesn’t really mean anything, because if it did then…

His gloves are still on, cold and grip tight on your thighs. You were hoping he would be gentler. But as his hands travel up and up until they’re pulling at the edges of your underwear to slide them down, you realize he won’t.

There’s no slickness down there, your underwear dry and vagina even drier. You peek through your eyelashes, watching as he inspects the article of clothing. He tosses it a few seconds later.

“I’m only going to ask once – would you rather keep your clothes on or off?” It seems that with every second reality just hits harder and harder. This was going to happen. Nothing could stop it. And if hypothetically, if he were to stop this, what then?

Even if he sliced an arm to fake the night, what about later? A baby, Lant wants Dion to have a child. No. You couldn’t do that to a child, especially yours.

“On. Please.” You expect him to just shove in a finger or two, watching as your body jerks in pain. Instead, he lifts your hips until your bottom was off the bed and flips the flimsy skirt up. And then there’s a glob of something wet and gooey, legs twitching as it lands on your bare cunt.

“D – did you just… spit?” steading yourself on your arms, you look on in disbelief as your husband just spat on your pussy. A string of saliva hangs from his tongue.

Instead of answering you, much less look at you, his thumb comes into play and spreads his saliva over the surface of your cunt. It’s only when his thumb swipes over your clit do you let out a shaky breath.

Maybe he was feeling generous or maybe he was curious. Dion decided to rub the twitching nub over and over until your legs twitch and cunt clenched around nothing. The glove made it uncomfortable, but even so, you just tried your best to focus on the pleasure. You weren’t sure if he would give you pleasure like this again.

“You’re enjoying this,” he retreats his hand leaving your twitching and needy clit lonely.

A pathetic whimper escapes as you watch your husband take his glove off with his teeth. This man is everything you fear and more, a character that you should have never met. Yet the sight of him lowering his head to lick a long stride against your slit has your legs shaking.

His tongue is warm and slimy, causing your hands to clench the sheets as your head falls back. Another lick and another until it’s flicking your clit back and forth, sending warmth throughout your body. However, despite the pleasure he’s giving you, his grip is still tight, almost painful on your hips.

Your heartbeat doesn’t slow down as he continues. Your fear barely dies down in your chest, even as the tip of his tongue teases your entrance. You shut your eyes tight, a breathless gasp leaving your lips as he thrusts his tongue into your cunt.

“It feels – “a pause as you catch your breath, “weird, it feels really weird and – “

Dion repeats the action until you’re a trembling mess, sensitive from your mental state and the current oral sex you’re receiving. It’s hard to focus on either one, your mind constantly reminding you that you’re in a novel, about to fuck a man who’s jaded and possibly has a thing for his sister –

“Ah… wait, that’s a lot…” he decides to go further, bringing his thumb back and rubs loose circles into your clit. He’s still eating you out, but not like a man starved like you read in erotic novels.

Even so, your husband keeps at it. If it was a good or bad thing was up for debate – on one hand, while it does feel good, everything is moving too fast, your pleas for slowing down falling on deaf ears. It really is a lot, tongue fucking you while those loose circles on your clit become tighter, rougher. Should you just lay back and take what he gives?

Your mother would probably say so. Your sister would just pat your head and smile like it was expected. Normal. Take what he gives, especially if it benefits you in any way.

“…?” your eyes open at his tongue leaving your cunt with a saliva trail, his eyes glued to your twitching sex. His thumb also stops rubbing circles, instead going back to grip your hip as your back starts to become sore. Your ass is still off the bed and if he keeps you hosted up like this, then you really will snap in half.

But then he locks eyes with you.

“I thought you were scared.” Dion doesn’t let you respond, either because he doesn’t care or because it would ruin the ‘mood.’ He latches his mouth to your poor, abused nub instead. And sucks.

“H-hey!” one hand supporting you while the other grabs at his hair, you didn’t expect him to throw your legs over his shoulders. “That’s enough, really, no need to – ugh…” his mouth was warm and soft, but it sends your nerves on fire.

Good. Bad. Good. Bad.

Good, bad, does it matter anymore?

He sucks harder and your fingers tug harshly at his hair. You kick your legs but are unable to tell if it’s from pleasure or the flight or fight response he’s causing you. He doesn’t budge, doesn’t bat an eye, making it his life mission to suck you dry.

“Ah – wait, Dion – “

It’s at your whine of his name does he finally, finally stop, a ‘pop’ when he detaches his mouth from your sensitive and bullied clit. Your husband decides to lick one last long stripe from your entrance to your clit, all the while making eye contact with you. Your chest heaves as your mind settles, arousal overthrowing your thoughts.

“What is it?” Monotone, his voice is monotone and he’s not even out of breath. Your mother lied, there’s not even a hint of pink across those cheeks. It’s fine, though – no, it’s not, it’s baffling how steady he seems when your back is about to break, and you can’t even breathe.

Your eyes travel from his to his hair, where your hand is still grasping the strands. Mind still catching up to your body, you let go and draw your hand back, covering your eyes with it. Your entire body is shaky and legs sore. You’re not used to this position.

“It – it’s enough.” Your husband lets you pull your legs back, feet pressing against his broad shoulders as you bring them back down. The relief is almost immediate, a pleasurable and relief-filled sigh leaving your chest. You allow yourself to rest for a bit, your sensitive cunt and sore legs screaming for it.

“… O – okay, I think, I think that’s fine. Excuse me…” gently, you pull one leg up until your foot is flat against the bed. With a shudder, you trace your entrance timidly with two fingers, getting used to the touch. You’re not sure of how big he was, but you’ll use three fingers just in case.

You gape like a fish when his hand reaches out, grabbing yours roughly. You didn’t even notice the dip in the mattress as Dion got closer on his knees, face inches away from yours. Oh God, now what –

“What are you doing?” clearly annoyed, Dion doesn’t let you look away – not that you were going to – free hand grabbing your face, pointer finger and thumb on each cheek. It’s barely loose enough to leave no bruises. It hurts regardless.

“I – I was… prepping…” part of you wants to pretend that this man doesn’t know how to comfortably prepare you for pentation with his… but you know better. Because an inexperienced man wouldn’t know how to do things with his tongue like that, or where the clit was because –

“Are you still scared?” The hand that was holding yours releases it, opting to sneak its way to your cunt. His fingers were larger than yours, nimbler as they stroke your labia minora. Are the shivers washing over you from nervousness or arousal?

“… I’m scared of the pain.” By instinct, you knew he meant more than scared of sex – if you feared him. Still.

It doesn’t need to be said.

“Scared of the pain?” His eyes glow in the moonlight, bright red with absolutely no emotion. “Why?” he doesn’t break eye contact as his fingers inch closer to your entrance, stroking the opening, making your legs jolt. What a horrible man.

You remind yourself that this man only felt fear as a child – and even then, it probably wasn’t for very long. Nothing lasts for long, in this estate.

“Because I hate it.” You don’t break eye contact either, breathing in when one finger slowly sinks in, your walls now stretching uncomfortably. It’s not as painful as you thought it would be, your wetness mixed with his saliva making it easier. Your nails are about to rip holes in the silk sheets.

Like a curious animal, he tilts his head, curling his finger. It doesn’t feel good, it hurts, but you endure it even when you wince. Dion decides it would be a good idea to spread your legs a bit further, and like a bug, crawls between them even more. You hiccup when he adds a second finger.

They’re bigger than yours, they reach deeper. In your old world, did it feel like this too? You can’t remember.

“It’s going to hurt worse if you don’t let me finish this. Relax your legs before it hurts worse.” Pressure builds in your eyes, but you fight it off. “Save your tears for when it matters.”

You’re tired of him already.

He doesn’t move them, at first. It’s almost like he expects this, because as you adjust to something foreign inside you, he starts to rub at your clit, again. Softly this time, touch firm enough to feel but not hard enough to hurt. Or maybe you’re lying to yourself because you’re wincing, still.

When he starts to thrust them in and out, you force yourself to look at the ceiling, scared to see the expression on his face. You also don’t want to watch the show, scared it’ll already be bloody. Just a bit.

“It’s tight.” He states it like it’s the morning news. “And wet.” Your cheeks burn with both shame and embarrassment, shutting your eyes.

“… ugh…,” groaning, your hand reaches out to grab his wrist. “It hurts, a lot.” You sit up, back against the headboard, avoiding your husband’s gaze. Unfortunately, by doing this, your eyes land on your messy hole, light blood on his fingers as he pulls them out only to thrust them in again.

“It’s normal. The more you resist the worse it gets.” You give up, letting him do as he pleases, shutting your mouth.

The fingering still hurts as the minutes go by, but little by little the pressure eases down and when he arches his hand, he hits something soft and spongy. He’s rewarded the sight of your head banging against the headboard once, shoulder tense as you bite your bottom lip.

If only you could see that look in his eyes.

“Here?” He repeats the action, faster this time. You only nod your head, lips ajar, tongue swiping over them. Your hips have a mind of their own, raising as the heel of his hand rapidly smacks against your clit with his thrust of his hand.

You’re half there mentally and halfway in heaven, momently forgetting just who was here with you, who room this belonged to, and your entire situation to begin with. “Oh - wait, it’s a lot but – “

A third finger is added, and it starts to sting again. Another wince, another groan, but your arousal helps to keep the pain to minimum. All three fingers curl to hit that special spot that makes you see blacked out stars and pussy clench. All the while light blood coats his fingers, a sight he’s already used to due to his lifestyle.

It’s only when he pulls his hand away completely do you return from the skies, a small layer of sweet coating your forehead. Your hands are shaky as you look at him, only to be drowned back into reality when you’re met with those red, indifferent eyes that glow brighter than the moon.

“If you’re ready, lay on your back and spread your legs.” He undoes his pants while saying this, scooting back to give you some room.

With a heavy heart, you do so, laying on your back and spread your legs. You were fine just moments ago, so why is your heart leaping out of your throat rather than staying in your chest? Maybe it was because of the pleasure, or…

You’re scared, again.

You don’t look when something fat and heavy plops onto your pelvis. You don’t look when he brings you closer by your thighs. You don’t look as he rubs the head of his cock against your slick folds, catching on your clit.

“Relax or it won’t fit,” he reminds you before pushing the fat head in. At first, it’s a sting no bigger than an ant bite. But then another inch goes in, and you feel like a sword is cutting you straight up open, your legs tensing and hands grasping his forearms in a futile attempt to stop him.

Your nails dig into his sleeves, and you can feel the skin underneath. The tears build up as your face becomes hot, taking in deep breaths like it would soften the intruding body part.

“Big – it’s too big, it’s not going to fit – “

“… You look cute when you cry.” It’s sinister, teasing and everything that makes your stomach drop. His thumb wipes away your tears that’s already staining your skin. But he stops regardless, if only to shut you up if nothing else.

You think a few minutes pass but it’s hard to tell when he’s still inside, pulsing and you could feel every vein on his cock. It’s thick, it’s big and you don’t think you’re equipped to handle it, handle him. He’s everything that ruins your sense of self, that makes your dreams shatter and fear rot you from the inside out.

But he’s your husband…

But he’s your husband.

“Relax,” he inches in deeper, slower this time, but not letting you get a word in. Your nails dig deeper, and if it weren’t for his shirt, you would have drawn blood. Another inch, another gasp that leaves you breathless, grasping for anything that could keep you grounded. The only thing you could grab was him, however.

“Dion, Dion, you’re going to break me, I can’t – I can’t – “

“You can. You have to.” Was his voice raspy, just now? If so, it worries you, because you just remembered one very important detail – Dion Argece was, if nothing else, a sadist. Be it from his childhood trauma, or if he would be like this regardless of, he loved seeing Roxana cried.

It never occurred to you that he would love seeing you cry, too.

How deep was he? It feels you’re being speared open, his cock bullying its way into your virgin hole. You weren’t a virgin in your last life, but it didn’t hurt like this. It had hurt, felt like you were being ripped, but not enough to make you cry and breathless.

You think you can feel blood trickling down your ass crack. “Please tell me you’re almost there, please…” sniffling, you look up at your husband, the man taking your virginity in the name of ‘marriage.’ A mirror shatters in the back of your mind.

There was a flush across his cheeks. Pupils blown wide and a small grin on his lips. He was enjoying this. Your pain, your tears and perhaps even your fear – he was enjoying this.

It would have been better if he didn’t feel anything, you think. Just a stone statue that was performing its task. But even monsters had emotions, you guess.

“I’m not. Just endure it for a bit longer – I’ll stop once I’m at the hilt.” Was he a liar in the novel? You think he was, otherwise, the overtaking of the Argece family wouldn’t have happened. Lant wouldn't be dead. But things haven’t followed the novel to a T – this was proof enough.

“You’ll stop? Like, completely? You – you took my virginity, so that should be enough. Right?”

You hate it when he keeps wiping your tears away. Or when he slides in even more, your blood coating his stupid dick. You hate it when he brings one hand to toy with your clit, granting you pleasure that was just overthrown by the smothering pain traveling up to your belly.

He doesn’t answer. And that was enough for you to rake your nails down the back of neck, drawing blood in return. He’s making you bleed, so it was only fair if you could too, right?

Deeper and deeper until his balls rest against your bottom and pelvic meeting yours. Surprisingly, your husband keeps his word, letting you adjust to the new feeling. It feels heavy. It feels like a heartbeat, like a rod that was stuck. It felt awful.

How long did it take you to get used to it, in the past? No longer than fifteen minutes max, right? No, shorter than that. Then again, it didn’t hurt this much, but that partner was more loving, more caring, gentler –

“Who are you thinking about?”

The question breaks you out of your daze. You blink, once, before you question him back. He only glares in response.

Panic fills you when he pulls out, pain still there, blood still trickling down. “Wait, you’re – “

“I’m what?” he pulls out until only the head remained inside. You try your best to ignore the bruising grip he has on your hips. You’re going to be sore tomorrow. If you survive this, anyway.

God, if you’re listening, please let this night end peacefully.

“B-big. It’s going to hurt, please don’t…” dragging your hands down from his neck to his chest, your fingers dig into his shirt.

“Hm. A shame, really; you still must give birth, eventually. It’s better to get used to it now than later.” Your mind doesn’t catch up with your body, legs tensing when he slides oh so carefully back in, like he didn’t just push your worries aside like nothing. “Relax.”

“Dion,” hiccupping, you brace yourself, head nuzzling into his chest as your hold on his shirt tightens. When he pulls back out, you could feel every detail, every vein trail, his grith truly opening you. He graces you a mercy, going at a languid pace, minimizing the pain. His thumb never stopped rubbing your clit, either.

It goes like that, for a good while. Slow and steady, your hushed sobs dying on your lips, your husband careful with his thrusts, but not his grip. It was almost comforting, in a way. But you were still scared of him, and of what will happen after this.

“… I have a proposition.”

His hips stop and your ears perk up.

“You want me to stop, correct?” Dion pulls back until he’s on his heels, his cock dragging along your walls. You wince before breathing out. He doesn’t even try to hide the sadistic look in his eye as he sees the dried tear streaks on your cheeks. He almost grins in glee.

“Y-yes…” You don’t let go of his shirt. “Why…?” there’s hope inside you, but dread starts to rot it away.

“Jerk it.”

“…what?”

He was different from the novel. Extremely so, because you doubt that Dion would suggest a thing, much less give you a choice in the matter. That Dion would have either ignored you and this night or take you as is, no mercy, no humanity granted if this took place at the beginning at the novel.

When he doesn’t repeat himself, you pull yourself up until you’re resting on your knees. The sight of blood both on his cock and the sheets make you gag and thankfully, he doesn’t comment on it. Hesitantly, you take him into your hands, fingers barely able to close around it.

It throbs in your hand.

Your blood is coating your hands now, too.

Only silence is between you, your hands working him. Your thumb swipes over his head, circling it before stroking his dick up and down. Your other hand plays with his balls, massaging them. You’re not sure how long it would take him to finish.

Your core throbs in pain, and you become worried over the thought of peeing. It would probably hurt.

You want to sleep.

Without giving it much thought, just like your husband, you spit on it, a glob of saliva falling onto the staff. It throbs harder. And when you look at him, tired eyes and drool still dripping down from your tongue, still jerking him off –

“…Ngh…”

It’s almost cute, the way sperm spurts out and makes a mess on your hands. The very small and fleeting look of embarrassment on his feature is almost enough to comfort you. But when there’s barely a sheen of sweat adoring his forehead, unlike you was still recovering, you’re reminded that your husband was different from you.

There are no kisses, no sweet nothings shared between lovers. No stroking your hair or comforting your trembling form as your legs shake. Or even an offer to warm a bath for you, the warm water soothing your body. There’s none of that.

Not even a smile.

“Welcome to the Argece family, wife.”

Instead, all that awaits you is a restless sleep on a bloodied mattress with a husband who left after cleaning himself up.

Which God despises you so much and why?

#dion agriche #dion argece #Dion x reader #yandere dion agriche #deon argece #dion agriche smut #the way to protect the female lead's older brother #twtptflob #deon agrece x reader

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januaryembrs · 11 months

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LAST KNIGHT IN SOHO | Steven Grant/Marc Spector x Reader [2]

description: She wakes up with a killer headache and a million questions when she realises two things: 1. the man in her room is not infact Steven Grant and 2. her body no longer belongs to her but to the God of Death. [Last Night in Soho inspired]

word count: 9.6k

trigger warnings: GORE, blood, very briefly Reader/Dove has worries of SA but absolutely none happens nor was there the intention of it happening and it is only implied, swearing, talks of infidelity (we love Layla el Faouly in this house so she will stay in the story but not as a romantic partner for Marc/Steven)

main masterlist | series masterlist

authors note: so as promised this is now an avatar!reader series. all the Ancient Egyptian facts mentioned are simply researched off google and some books I have on Egyptian mythology so someone please correct me! Also to avoid confusion Seth goes by many names eg Set/Seth/Setekh and is only really known as God of Death in the marvel comics, not in real mythology! Again, my knowledge of DID is purely researched so if anyone is upset with my phrasing or what I have written please tell me!

Please reblog and comment for your authors!

Marc cradled her wounds harshly, guilty chipping at him when he heard her whimper at the sheer force he was putting on the lacerations.

“Konshu!” Marc hissed over his shoulder where he felt the bird poking at the Jackal’s dead body. He had arrived five minutes too late, barely just pulling the monster off her before it could set its teeth into her leg and start feasting. The dark haired man had been quick to snap its neck, throwing the carcass behind him and tend to where she twitched and writhed on the floor.

It was bad. Her thick blood smeared all over the ceremonial armour that would somehow clean itself of the stains like it did with the blood of the others he’d killed.

He’d had blood on his hands before, but not like this. Not an innocent woman that slipped away under his touch, the eyes he’d seen from inside the body batting up at Steven with golden innocence.

He knew how Steven felt about her, the way his heart, well their heart, would pick up when the two of them got even the slightest bit closer. The way doubt ate away at his quiet counterpart, doubt that someone her age would find a man ten years older than her even the slightest bit attractive. She had dozens of men after her, he saw how their eyes trailed up and down her figure when she would be so much as stood minding her business and stacking shelves.

Marc knew despite Steven never admitting to his feelings, despite the fact he’d tried helping him get over his crush by asking his other gorgeous co-worker on a date for him, he knew Steven would be devastated if anything happened to her.

The two of them shared a friendship first and foremost. She was possibly the only person Steven had to rely on that he found comfort in, the only real friend he’d got. And she was good, Gods above Marc could see even when he was on the inside that she was good to him. When she would leave him notes to remind him to wake up on time, bring Steven little trinkets she’d found that reminded her of him. She hadn’t batted a single eyelid of judgement when she’d seen the sand around his bed, or the foot cuff. In fact she’d made a joke about his unique tastes in the bedroom and then asked if he would like to buy mugs together.

She was pure, and kind, and good. It was Marc’s job to deliver vengeance to those worthy of it, and she was the furthest thing from it. And it was his conflict with Harrow that had gotten her into this mess in the first place.

He couldn’t let her be taken from Steven, not like this.

“KONSHU?” Marc called, louder this time to get the God’s attention, “Will you quit poking that thing and get over here?”

The skeletal figure paused, his staff still half way through prodding the corpse out of intrigue as he took note of the pitiful little human dying on the floor.

“She’s a lost cause, Marc. The worm can make more friends. We have work to do,” Came Konshu’s booming voice, the figure walking towards where the blood pooled on the floor messily.

“That is not an option, what happened to protecting ‘the travellers of the night’?” Marc seethed back, compressing the wound harder. But it was no use. He felt the liquid seeping through his clothed fingers, how it pumped out of her rapidly. His heart dropped sadly when he saw she was looking right at him, her eyes wide and wet with fear.

“Steve-” She started. Even so close to death she was worried about him.

Marc’s chest constricted with sadness. Steven would never get over this if she were to die like this, calling for him, clinging to his alter for dear life. It was his job to protect Steven at all costs from the tough realities of life, and watching her die would torment his alter in a way he just couldn’t allow.

“He’s here, he’s okay. It’s gonna be okay,” Marc shushed her, eyes narrowing on the way blood dribbled out her mouth and he heard her chest rattle with a clogged airway.

She didn’t have long left.

“Konshu, do something!” Marc yelled, his hand cradling her neck gently, trying to tip her head up far enough that she could breathe still. “We need to do something now!”

“There is nothing to do, Marc Spector.” Konshu said simply, yet his boned beak snapped to the plinth the two humans rested on, his concave eyes trailing up to the monument that watched over them, “Unless…”

“Unless what? Just do something, she’s going to bleed out any minute now,” Marc rushed, a hand coming to hold her head up more as she started choking on herself.

He had seen gruesome things before, done gruesome things. But this was heart wrenching, watching the one person his alter cared for die so horrifically. Slow. Messy. Painfully.

“I cannot do anything to help the little runt,” Konshu snapped, raising his staff to the behemoth, looming figure behind the two humans clinging on to one another, “But he can,”

Marc’s head whipped to where the bird-faced demon was gesturing, the man’s near black eyes trailing up to the statue of the god watching over the three of them. “Who is that? Anubis? Ra?”

“Seth. God of Chaos, Storms and Foreign lands.” Konshu spoke of his old friend fondly. Marc’s eyes squinted in suspicion at the admiration in his voice. “Sometimes seen as the God of Death.”

If there was anyone who loved vengeance and all things violent as much as the moon deity, it was the one who created it all.

Spector’s heart squoze in fear at the idea of throwing her to a life of servitude like the one he had been forced into. But there was no way of healing her deep wounds in any other way than giving her up to a god that would find use in her survival.

“God of Death?” Marc asked, “Is there no one else who would take her?” Nothing about Seth screamed out that he would be gentle to her. Konshu was bad enough, and he was merely the God of the Moon, let alone the embodiment of violence.

“None that would accept a vessel so weak.” Konshu said darkly, kneeling down behind Marc and calling upon his dear friend in arms, “She is bleeding onto his monolith as if she’s given herself up to him as a sacrifice, he’ll like that,”

“No, wait-” Marc wasn’t sure he liked the sound of a deity so dark taking control of her, but he hadn’t the time to protest any further before his own God’s voice rattled the shards of glass laying on the floor with its volume.

“Seth! Old friend, we have a gift for you,” Konshu bellowed, his head lowering as a sign of respect to his superior. The god killer. The brother slayer. The evil serpent of the Ennead. Konshu could only revere in the footsteps of such a god equally, perhaps moreso, hated by the higher council.

Konshu’s avatar opened his mouth to protest when a snake-like hiss rolled over his back and every hair on his body stood on end. It was like nothing he’d ever heard before, everything warm inside of Marc’s body being robbed at the very sound of it, his breath included.

It was neither man, nor animal, nor monster. A mix between a snarl and a spit of anger from being woken from a deep slumber.

Death overcame the room.

“Konshu,” An ancient voice came from above. For the first time in Marc’s servitude to Konshu, he was afraid to see where the sound came from. What had made such a noise.

What Death looked like when you stared him in the face.

“It is good to see your face, shadow dweller,” The voice of Death spoke, every scratching syllable running through Spector’s body like a fear he’d never known.

He couldn’t face the thing that caused such a feeling, and kept his head down as a result. Down to where she was. Still looking at him with such desperation, oblivious to the unholy conversation happening around her.

The light in her eyes was dimming, the tears slithering into her hairline pitifully. She hadn’t got long left. He’d failed her. He’d fail her if Seth couldn’t get to her in time. Yet the selfish part of him didn’t want him to, wanted to keep her pure and untainted by such a cruel being.

But this was for Steven, he thought. Keep her alive for Steven’s sake.

“We have a body for you, dark one,” Konshu said, gesturing to the girl’s weak body that his pathetic avatar clung to fiercely.

“To see through the afterlife?” Seth questioned, the lights in the museum hall flickering as if indicating he was in every atom of the room with them.

“To have as a vessel, Seth,” The Moon god prompted, his staff gesturing to the pool of blood the two humans sat in, Marc’s arms by now drenched in it. “See how she bleeds for you. I know you feel it as I do, the darkness in her heart, the chaos-”

“Oh,” Seth’s aged voice hummed in delight, “Oh, how her corrupted heart sings to me. You have done well, Konshu,”

That had Marc gripping her body just that bit tighter. What had he done? The god seemed so thirsty for her blood, for her body.

But it was too late now. Death had taken a fascination to her. Two long tendrils of pure, cold darkness emerged from the shadows and wrapped around where her weak state was slipping away from Marc’s arms. Hands that had trusted him to keep her safe fell from his bicep, falling slowly into her lap as the blackness took her.

“Be gentle,” Came from Marc’s mouth before he could help it, not wanting to make himself known to the old god. Her body was raised into the air before the statue, her head limp as it sagged over her shoulders, heavy and lifeless. Shadows wrapped around her limbs, crawling up her nose and under her closed lids like an infection, spreading, consuming, digesting.

“Gentle?” The hoarse voice rumbled with laughter, “She is going to be my most prized possession,”

There was something so peaceful about the way she slept despite the trauma of the last couple days. Marc had flown the two of them back to her apartment, figuring it was a much easier way than getting on public transport with a sleeping woman in his arms. He knew it would garner too much attention, even with the way he’d wrapped her in Steven’s jacket to cover the sight of the blood from the security cameras.

He’d laid her in her soft bed, slipping her shoes off and draping the soft duvet over her body, the whole time she’d not murmured one bit. He would have almost been concerned that Seth hadn’t healed her in time had he not seen the two gods emerging from the dark corners of her bedroom like the boogeymen they were.

If Konshu was nerving to look at, then Seth was something straight out of a child’s nightmare.

Unlike Konshu, he was not bones. He had the body of a goliath man, arms taught with dark muscles, and a small piece of cloth to cover his dignity. Gold chest armour rested over his shoulders and wound around his thick arms. Hair lined his arms and chest in thick mounds, and he held a staff similar enough to Marc’s own god that he could see Seth’s was much more intricate than his counterpart. It had dark hieroglyphs running down the sides, a pointed skull of a jackal atop the weapon with a gold headpiece weaving its way over the animal's forehead neatly.

But that wasn’t what scared Marc. It was the beast’s head that sent chills down his spine. His head was that of a lithe dog, like a Doberman on steroids, ears and snout thin and long as it stared down at him. A predator if ever he saw one. Seth’s eyes were black, brimming with menace and plague, his jaws lined with what seemed like hundreds of teeth sharper than any blade Marc had ever seen.

The insidious smile plastered on the demonic jaws was what got him. As if Seth knew the fear he instilled in him. As if he saw how much he regretted listening to Konshu already.

Seth was every awful feeling you had in your gut before something terrible happened. He was the last breath a person takes as their soul leaves their body, a cold hand of a corpse. A dark shadow in the corner of your eye. A premonition of death. He was every ounce of pain, burden and agony any being had ever felt in the thousands of years they had existed in this small corner of the universe. He was torture and misery hailing down upon the world straight from purgatory.

And she was his now. His to ruin and vanquish as he pleased.

The two gods stood on either side of her bed, staring down at her in fascination as Marc sat on the chair at her desk, his dark eyes flicking between the monstrous creatures.

“Do you need to watch her like that? I thought we had work to do,” He prompted, hoping to take their attention off her vulnerable body.

“Harrow was onto something with this one, Marc Spector,” Konshu chuckled, taking a seat on the window sill to watch Seth caress her head, his hands gentle yet Marc sensed there was nothing kind about the gesture. As if on cue, her face scrunched up, still riddled with sleep, and she twisted in mental torment. His touch alone had given her a night terror, he was the king of chaos after all, “If you saw the yearning for vengeance in that girl’s heart, you’d find her fascinating too,”

“She’s not evil, you don’t know what you’re talking about,” Marc’s jaw clenched harshly as she whimpered and tried to roll away from the hand that poisoned her dreams. His eyes darkened at the sound of Seth laughing to himself at his cruel trick.

“She’s not what you think, runt. She will do well as my avatar,”

Marc finally set his gaze on the unholy deity, the slim, mutt like face staring down at him with inky black slits. He couldn’t hold the stare for long, the creeping feeling of unease that washed over him the moment he met Seth’s eyes was enough to knock the wind out of him.

Tugging on his collar to free some space for breath, he turned away.

“What will you make her do?” He asked quietly, sparing a quick, pitiful glance to her face that had now smoothed out in peace once more.

“Nothing she doesn’t already want to,”

She felt the uncomfortable scratch of jeans against bed sheets before anything else. The detergent, that was almost unscented from the countless years she’d used it, was homely against her nose and she stretched out under the covers to pop the joints that had been curled into the foetal position for however many hours she’d been asleep.

There were about ten seconds between waking up and remembering whatever the fuck happened last night where she remained in a beautiful state of blissful peace. There is a virtue in remaining ignorant, she realised. Remaining unaware. In fact, she would go on to cherish those ten seconds when her eyes took in the same plain wall that had always been next to her bed, when her head was not loud and the air was not tight in her chest.

Ten revered seconds when things didn’t hurt.

Yet by the eleventh second, the whole evening came flooding back to her, ripping through her synapses with the feeling of dread.

The man in the museum that had grabbed her and Steven. The dogs, the running. The creature tackling her, its teeth, oh god, its teeth and claws, the way she’d been thrown through the glass like it was child’s play.

Sitting bolt upright in bed, the early morning sun illuminated the room enough that she barely took note of the figure sat opposite her. Throwing the duvet off herself frantically, she scanned every inch of her body for anything that hurt, that was bleeding and needed immediate attention.

But, as was a recurring theme in her life these days, there was nothing there.

Not a single scratch, or scab, or scar in sight. Her shirt was ripped to shreds, dark red and spattered with something lumpy that she didn’t want to even consider what it was. That would need to be thrown away. But lifting up the torn fabric to reveal her bare stomach, there truly was nothing there that indicated what had happened was real. Were it not for the evidence on her shirt she wouldn’t even believe it had happened.

What the fuck was going on?

As if on cue, she raised her fuzzy head the slightest bit and caught the man sitting at her desk, looking straight at her with cold, brown hues. The short, dry yelp she let out had her lungs wincing, her hands raising in front of her to protect herself from any oncoming attack, before it clicked in her head that it was Steven.

Ofcourse it was. Ofcourse, Steven had gotten her home safely last night.

“Oh my god, Steven!” She rushed out of bed as he stood, though the dead expression hadn’t yet left his face as he stood to meet her.

Marc had barely opened his mouth to explain when he was tackled around his waist by her open arms. She was strong now, strong enough to hug him tightly and have his ribs jitter painfully, no doubt a side effect from becoming an avatar.

The older man had just about talked Konshu and Seth into leaving him to explain to her what was happening, knowing how terrified he was when he first started hearing the God of the Moon addressing him. He knew for anyone so soft to the world, hearing voices and seeing giant creatures ordering you to do their bidding would mean a one way ticket to a hospital ward.

“Steven, I’ve been so worried about you! What on earth happened, what were those things- wait!” She pulled away quickly and checked him over for wounds himself, searching him up and down until she was satisfied he was okay.

Marc would have laughed snidely at her concern, knowing he was more than capable of taking care of himself, had she been anyone else. But it was endearing how her first thought was for his alter’s safety.

Now came the hard part.

“I’m fine, everyone’s fine. How are you feeling?” He saw her gaze snap to his, brows drawing down into a frown at his accent.

“I’m-” She paused for a moment, and he watched as her eyes took in his whole demeanour. He knew he behaved differently to Steven, even by voice alone it was clear, but she seemed to be catching every small manner that he differed from him within seconds. “I’m fine, I could have sworn-” Eyes trailed over his face again as if to confirm her suspicions. She stepped back, shaking her head and bringing her hand to her temple, walking over to her mirror to check for any bruising. “Did I hit my head?”

He could have lied then and there. Marc could have washed his hands of her and convinced her she’d just had an awful fall, that nothing that happened last night was real. But Seth was coming to collect his dues, there was no stopping that now. Marc knew it was already his fault that she was in shit’s creek waist deep, it wasn’t fair of him to just up and run like he did with everything else in his life.

She deserved the truth. As so many people in his life deserved the truth; Layla, Steven. He had brought trouble to their doors and buried his head in the sand the moment he saw consequences. He’d ran away, denied, denied, denied until he started believing it himself in the hopes the guilt so familiar to him would let go of his chest.

But this was different. Dove was the only thing Steven had in his odd little life, the only person who cared for him. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself knowing he wasn’t only fucking up his own life but now Steven’s too, Steven who he had always tried to protect. Nurture. Perhaps he would have left her to the wolves were she his friend. But she wasn’t. She was Steven’s girl. His dove.

“Listen, you-” Her ears pricked at the sound of his new voice again. Marc saw how her posture straightened alertly, and her eyes snapped to look at him in her peripheral vision. Not necessarily panicked, but wary. As if trying to not give away her awareness of his change. A reflex, as if she’d done this before; hidden her fight, flight or freeze response. But Marc being the skilled mercenary he was, was one step behind her, clocking her reaction immediately. “You did hit your head pretty hard last night so I think you should sit down for this, princess.”

She turned slowly to look at him with wide eyes and he almost winced. She knew something was off, wrong. Princess? That was certainly new. Practically a million miles away from the nicknames he’d already established for her. She carefully sized him up with her cautious eyes, looking him head to toe as if to find the flaw that gave him away, the exact thing that made her feel the uncanny effect.

Truthfully, she had been able to tell just from the way he had hugged her. The barely there hand on her sides, the way his body went ironing board stiff in her arms, the way his head was held far away from her as if she were a bad smell instead of falling into the open space her shoulder provided like Steven normally would.

He was looking at her as if she were a wild animal on the side of the road, lame and ready to succumb to a terrible fate any second now. As if he was sorry, as if he’d been the driver knocking her down and had to be the one to see her shrivel pathetically on the pavement.

His voice was colder than Steven’s had ever been, formal. Everything about him screamed unfamiliar in the worst way despite being the double of him. But the way his face seemed tired, not in the way Steven was always tired but like he was tired of everything around him, tense, forlorn. Sorrowful. The way he stood straighter than Steven’s usually slumped over figure, he seemed immediately bigger and broader than her friend ever had because of it.

Whoever was looking at her was not her friend. Foe? She didn’t know, but she knew this man was not Steven Grant.

The next thought struck her harder than the glass wall had. What if it was? What if this was Steven, and their whole friendship over the past year had been an act to get her weak and vulnerable, cowering in her bedroom like a deer at the end of a rifle barrel.

“Who are you?” She murmured quietly, as if she were afraid to approach the clear fact he was not the man she’d known for the past few months.

The stranger took a sigh, raising his hands up to calm her as if to approach a spooked animal. “Look, I can explain everything, but would you please just sit-”

“Are you twins?” She asked, taking a step away from him. Please be twins. Please let me keep Steven, the only one who was ever good to me. Marc stopped in his place, realising his presence was scaring her. She looked pitiful, the warm eyes that had seemed so relieved to see Steven were now on high alert, nothing about her shrunken body seemed relaxed. Her eyes drifted past him to the door, and Marc was quick to realise she was gauging if they were in her apartment alone. “Is Steven here?”

One single beat.

“Yes.” She’d already caught him in his lie. He was hoping to get by on the technicality of his words, but his hesitancy to answer had her eyes snapping back to him in fear, “It’s difficult to explain. He’s here, he can’t talk right now,”

That did nothing to reassure her. In fact, it made it sound like Marc had hurt the one person she’d hoped to get her out of this situation. The man chided himself for his cold demeanour, but he couldn’t help but wince at the onslaught of information that was to come.

For this to make sense, he would need to tell her alot.

He saw it in her eyes. The way her body gave away her next moves, her slight, gentle step towards the door. Her chest puffed out as if she was building false confidence in herself for her next move. To run.

It didn’t matter that he looked like Steven, that he was wearing his clothes. That was not him. Had something happened to him with the invisible dogs? Or the white figure that had haunted her dreams that had held her as she had fallen into that cold darkness? Or was she truly going so far down the rabbit hole she was losing all sense of reality?

Either way, this man was a stranger. And he was in her room. Alone. Unbothered by the blood and gore on her shirt. And he wouldn’t let her see Steven, wherever he was.

A walking red flag.

Another single beat of silence passed between the two of them, before she bolted for the exit.

Maybe it was his military experience, or the fact her innocent face had made it so easy for her to read. But Marc was quick to catch her by the waist, tackling her to the floor and pinning her easily.

The scream she let out was awful. Her newfound strength and sheer terror made it a little more difficult to reach a hand over her mouth but the way she thrashed as if fighting for life clutched at Marc’s chest heavily. A free swipe of her arms, the blood and dirt still buried deep under her fingernails, came up to push his cheek, scratching deep into his skin enough to cause three red marks on his olive complexion and have him hiss in pain.

“Please, STEVEN- Please just let me go- Don’t- STEVEN” She yelled, her legs kicking up to try fight him off. Her eyes welled up as she screamed more, her throat audibly going raw from the sheer effort.

“Shhh. I’m not gonna hurt you, just please calm down,” Marc begged as he put his hand over her mouth. He saw the fear in her eyes that told him all he needed to know. He was a stranger to her, a stranger in her room that had pinned her to the floor.

Of fucking course she was terrified.

Her cries for help were only muffled by his large fingers as his eyes peered down at her in sorrow, “He’s here, I promise. Steven’s here, just please let me explain.”

Her eyes stared up at him through glassy, fat tears. The voice, that voice. The way he held her so gently despite having the strength to hold her in place. The stranger, the same stranger that held her last night was - what? Steven’s twin brother?

Marc watched the moment she recognised him, somewhat. Alteast recognising him out of the suit. It felt too reminiscent of the moment he’d watched her die. Call him selfish but he preferred when she’d held on to him in a fleeting moment of trust than the fear that she gazed at him with now.

“I saved you and Steven last night, from those things, remember me?” Marc asked sternly. Her eyes remained wide and frightened, but she seemed to give up struggling. Her face was the picture of confusion, conflicted whether to trust a familiar stranger or keep throwing her entire weight into fighting him off. “Yeah, see? Now I’m gonna let go of you but you’re gonna need to trust me for all of five minutes. Your life is in a lot more danger than those things that attacked you, and I’m not gonna be able to help you if you don’t listen to me. You got it?”

He felt her body relax the slightest amount, before she nodded helplessly. Marc checked over her face one last time for any immediate signs of fleeing. When he found none he let go, leaning back to stand, rubbing a hand over his stinging cheek. Not bleeding, but raised and hot with impact.

“Who are you?” She whispered, still laying on the floor in shock, her chest heaving with a nausea that had washed over her the moment he had gotten on top of her. Call it a reflex, but the idea of a man who wore her best friend’s face invoking such a power over her curdled her stomach to its very core.

Marc looked down at her, her eyes neither trusting nor looking for a reason to run. She needed to know, he repeated to himself, were it not so important he would have left with no query. No traumatic incidents needed.

But Death was around the corner. Sooner or later he’d appear to her, ask her for things Marc could only dread.

He owed her an explanation at the least.

Sticking out a hand, the same hand that had stopped her squeals for help, he offered her help up off the floor. Her eyes flicked from the tawny digits to his stiff expression in caution. “I’m Marc Spector. Nice to meet you,”

She sipped her tea silently. She liked it strong, unbearably sweet and piping hot. Sometimes she joked with Steven it was how she liked her men too. But she was in no joking manner now, and Steven wasn’t here anymore.

Well he was, and wasn’t at the same time.

They shared a body, that’s what Marc had said. She’d read about stuff like that, seen it in movies, but funnily enough the phenomenon of two people in one body wasn’t even what had her jaw clenched in disbelief.

Egyptian gods walked among them. Lived with them, had their own societies and laws, puppeteering random strangers to do their bidding.

And one, perhaps the worst one she could think of, had her in his clutches.

Of course she’d heard of Seth. She stacked around fifty of his statues a day in the back of the gift shop, his wolf-like face not nearly as friendly looking as one would hope if they’d learnt he was now their master.

If Marc was telling the truth, then that’s essentially what Seth was to her now. A puppet master, a dictator, a tyrant pulling the strings on her every move for the inevitable future.

He was the body of everything chaotic. Nefarious. Evil. Violent. And yet she couldn’t help but sigh at the dramatic irony that she expected nothing less from an ancient god that had taken an interest in her soul. It saw in her what she knew had always grown. What that Harrow guy knew immediately, supposedly the gift of his own god, to see the disruption inside people's hearts. What Steven and now Marc were so blind to.

Seth had seen the pollution that cursed her down to her marrow and licked his lips in glee.

“Are you okay?” Marc’s American accent met her ears. They sat in her kitchen, the small breakfast counter being the only thing holding her up as she rested her elbows on it, barely feeling the way the scalding hot tea slid past her silent lips.

“Mhm,” She murmured, hands wrapping delicately around her clean mug. She’d given Marc Steven’s mug, mindlessly making him a tea the way Steven loved his cuppas, only to have the new man wince and spit the liquid back out.

More of a black coffee guy, he’d said apologetically as she visually sank in realisation they were truly completely different people.

“I know it’s a lot to process, I know I freaked out the first time I spoke to Konshu.” Marc explained, his tea going cold with his lack of interest in the drink. He watched her expression meticulously, as if trying to pick over every tiny change in her face as to any hint how she was feeling.

She stared at the white table deep in thought. Blank and empty as the surface itself.

“What will he want from me?” She asked quietly, meeting his eyes for the first time since he confessed he was the other half of her best friend that happened to share a headspace with him.

Marc looked at her blankly. “I don’t know,” He answered honestly. He would love to tell her Seth would be kind and graceful, gentle as he’d put it. He’d love to take it back, dig her out of this mess in any other way than offering her as a sacrifice, a mess he’d made by listening to his own God’s orders.

Marc would love to leave her and Steven in peace to pining and mixed feelings and words unsaid, but he couldn’t. She was in the gates of Hell now, deep in the Underworld. And there was no point of return. No do over, or waking up and pretending the whole thing was a silly dream like he’d been pulling over Steven.

This was out of his hands now.

“He wouldn’t make me-” She paused, taking a deep breath and putting her mug onto the counter to stabilise her shaking hands, “He won’t get me to-” Kill was the word she kept silent, but Marc understood nonetheless. Seth was the god of death and violence and all things lawless. There wasn’t anything Marc could promise wouldn’t be coming her way. His expression must have been grave enough to warrant her to let out a rattled sigh, tucking her hands into her lap to pick at her dirty fingertips. “Oh,” She said simply.

“Look, once I’ve stopped Harrow from raising Ammit, then I can worry about how to get him to release you, okay?” Marc said shortly, running a weathered hand over his tired face.

It was odd, seeing a man look so much like the sweetest guy she’d ever met brush her off as if she were a minor inconvenience. Which she was. She knew he felt guilty for letting his god give her up to the higher being, but he seemed tired of this whole situation by now, reaching his limit on being tender with her.

Marc didn’t have time for this. He was trying to help the poor girl, but the best way he could think to fix their problem was to clear his plate of his own agenda first. Which meant leaving as soon as he could to get the scarab somewhere hidden and Harrow off his back.

Her eyes steeled over at his words, furrowing her brows. “Once we’ve stopped Harrow, you mean?”

“What?” Marc said with a huff, looking at his tea as if it poisoned him, wishing it were a black drip coffee she hadn’t got the money for.

“We can stop him, right?” She asked, an edge to her tone that she’d never used on Steven. Everything reserved for him was purely saccharine sweet and gentle, loving beyond what friends should be.

“We?” Marc bit with a scoff.

“Yes-”

“We?”

“Yes we, what, do you have a French man living in there too?” She barked, slamming the mug down with a blaze in her eye at the disdain he looked at her with, “Now look, I know it’s a little unavoidable for you and Steven, but I’m not one to have people fix my problems for me,”

“Yeah, you seemed to have it completely under control last night when you were bleeding out,” The man snapped, watching her jaw tense with an anger he’d never seen from his time watching her through Steven’s eyes.

They glared at each other for a moment, the red welts on his cheek staring back at her as if to remind her of her new strength. She needed him. Her body felt cold, as if she were carrying a corpse around not her own limbs, her every breath tasted of smoke and rot. She felt like she had bugs crawling over her spine, the hair on her arms never laying still with the goosebumps that dotted her skin. She felt dead. Casket, buried and six feet under. Then again, she sort of was.

“I’d like to speak to Steven, please,” She said quietly, polite despite the fact she was angry.

“I told you, you can’t talk to him right now,” Marc replied, stepping away from the kitchen and heading towards the front door to her apartment, “Look it was nice to meet you but I have work to do. You just stay here-”

She stood up, nearly knocking the mug over as she pursued him, grabbing his arm with a jolt.

Marc could have sworn she nearly ripped his arm out his socket with the unknown vigour she had. He made a small yelp that he choked down as she yanked him back to face her.

“You are not leaving me to deal with a God of Death alone, are you kidding me?” She seethed, unaware of how tight she was grabbing him. She was gonna leave one hell of a bruise, Marc thought, but the desperation in her voice was clear as a bell. “I don’t care if I have to stalk you myself, we both know you can stop this Harrow guy a lot faster if there’s two of us,”

“I won’t be stopping anyone if I only have one arm so would you please let go and stop mauling me, I’m trying to help you here, princess,” Marc retorted, as if to snap her out of her rage. Her eyes fell to where she was gripping him harshly, her hand alone turning the bottom half of his arm red with lack of circulation.

Her face visibly drew back in shock, letting go of him quickly. “Sorry,” She muttered, sheepishly.

Well, that was new.

Marc sighed, looking down at her crestfallen expression. She was scared, he knew she was, but putting her into the line of fire was exactly the last thing he wanted to do after already watching her suffer enough for his mistakes.

But she was persistent. And smart too, he knew she was right in saying they could figure out how to push back against Harrow a lot faster with two brains. At least if she was with him, he could keep an eye on how Seth was treating her.

If he was being much too greedy and insidious, which is what Marc expected from him, then maybe he could ask more of the Gods to step in. Or even the God of the Dead could help them find a way to stop Ammit from being resurrected. What was the point in conjuring chaos if another god was going to end everyone who had it in them?

“Alright,” She perked up instantly, those wide eyes looking at him with elation that he was going to stop being difficult and pushing her away, “You can help, only if you promise to do exactly what I ask of you. We can’t have you going rogue, that will make my whole plan just messy, okay?”

“Aye, aye, captain,” She said smoothly, flashing him a toothy smile, “Thankyou, Marc. Really.”

“Alright,” He nodded, reaching for the door, “Get some more sleep, I’ll call you when I need you,”

The smile dropped from her face as fast as it had come. That phrase was not comforting in the slightest. How would she know he was honest, that he meant his word? Steven always meant his word. Steven she could trust with her life.

This man was not Steven.

She knew it was childish, but she was quick to grab his hand again, gentle this time, not nearly as forceful as before. His empty brown eyes snapped to meet her gaze, the hair on his arms standing to attention as if he'd been electrocuted by her touch alone.

“Promise me?” She asked, eyes wide and imploring him to understand how desperate she was, “Promise me you won’t leave me alone?”

He took a moment to look her in the eyes, her lashes framing the pure anguish held in her sweet face, batting up at him with woeful hope.

He could see why Steven liked her. She was the embodiment of everything good, everything that needed protecting in the world, that needed cherishing and kept safe. He felt her small hand squeeze him in need. Having someone so kind and so blatantly enchanting to look at essentially begging for his refuge awoke something primal in him, something caveman that said I would never let a hair on her head be harmed. Something not even sexual, just purely carnal that overcame his senses as he imagined it did Steven’s, that had him nodding on instinct.

“I promise,” Marc said calmly, squeezing her hand back, before he shut the door coldly and left her flat.

She did not in fact wait for Marc to call her. In fact, by the time she’d woken up she had two missed calls from Steven and a flurry of messages had filled her screen all from one of her four contacts in her phone.

Steven

Are you okay, Dove?

Please respond A S A P

I don’t know what’s happening, they’ve said I’ve destroyed the loos

They said I carried you out of the building but I don’t remember seeing you after we got split up

Oh god don’t be dead

That would make me a proper maniac who killed the only bloody friend I’ve ever had

Please don’t be dead

Dove please message as soon as you can I need to know you’re okay

She huffed a breath of relief. Steven was back. Anxious and worried for her life, but he was back. She had barely a few hours of sleep since she’d seen Marc leave her apartment around 5 am that morning, but by now it was well into the afternoon.

Talk about being dead asleep. No, that’s not funny, she chided her brain.

Rubbing aching hands over her eyes to remove the last remnants of exhaustion from her face, her hands floated over the keys to reply to him.

Yet she could think of no way to tell him just how she felt; as though she were both relieved and dreading the idea that she could now talk to him about everything that happened, that she wouldn’t be alone with his stern counterpart in fixing the situation she had found herself in.

Yet the thought settled deep in her stomach. What if he ran from the very sight of her? It was obvious Seth wanted her out of interest, not just convenience. How he lusted for the cruelty and anguish in her bones. The venom that bubbled under her skin, infecting her brain and thoughts, the part of her that made her a disease, contagious to everyone around her.

Steven could take one look at the woman she truly was and wish for nothing more to do with her. Then what? The loneliness she had always known awaited her? The feeling of being left to the darkest corners of herself she knew waited for a moment of weakness to strike. Is that what she was to be subdued to?

She couldn’t say she was surprised. But she had to see him. Even if to beg for forgiveness of the bitterness that lay inside her, get on her knees and ask him to stay for her.

Words on a screen simply wouldn’t do. Wouldn’t redeem her enough to keep him like she wanted, if she could ever repent at all, that is. She needed to see Steven.

“Let’s just get this over with. You sent these papers but you never signed them.” Layla sighed as she yanked the thick wad of documents out her bag. She had no idea what Marc was playing at, perhaps creating a new identity was his way of running from responsibility again. He was always good at that.

“Did I? Uh-” Steven fumbled for his reading glasses as the vibrant woman shoved the files under his nose.

“This is what you wanted,” The woman, Layla, the only person who could help him understand what it was this Marc guy had plunged him into, said to him with an unmistakable bite to her words.

“Let’s have a look here,” His coffee ground eyes scrunched in confusion as he read over the papers. He brought them closer to his face as if in disbelief as to what he was reading.

“After everything, you told me that we needed to move on,” Layla seemed to have calmed slightly, bitter still but more heavy than anything as she watched him look at her in astonishment.

‘Divorce/dissolution/judicial separation petition’ stared back at Steven, an offer to end a relationship he knew nothing about with a woman who frankly scared him. Yet he could see the pain in her dark eyes as she avoided his glance. The way she’d swallowed her pride to come after this Marc guy to get the papers signed once and for all, though by the sounds of it it was his idea completely.

This little American man seemed to like starting fires and not waiting to find out if they burnt. If people got hurt. Which they did.

Steven was still waiting for Dove to message him back. If Marc had hurt her in any way he swore he would hand himself over then and there, particularly after finding a bloody handgun in his storage locker listed under his name. A gun? A wife? His best friend’s body? Who knows what else this Marc was hiding?

“Divorce?” Steven asked, looking at Layla in confusion, “You- We? I don’t know- You two were married?”

“Yeah, we doing this or not?” Layla snapped, though the gloomy look on her face told Steven all he needed to know. She was hurting. She hated every second of this as much as he did.

He flicked through the pages a few times, clearing his mind on the matter. He felt he had no right to meddle or sign away anyone else's relationship yet this woman looked at him expectantly in a way that had him curling over in near fear. He opened his mouth to ask her more about this Marc guy she was so angry with when a pounding on his door met his ears.

“Steven,” It was her, “Steven, are you home?”

Oh, thank the heavens and every cloud in them. The tension that had grabbed him by the throat and laced it with emotion all morning melted away at the melody of her words. So eager to hear her voice, to convince himself she really was safe, he dropped the papers onto the nearest table and rushed to the sound of her knocking frantically once more.

“Who is that?” Layla asked, annoyed that the papers she’d dragged across the globe had been discarded without a second thought. But her question fell on deaf ears as Steven swung the heavy door open.

The two of them stared at each other for a brief moment, both of them looking equally as shocked, confused and exhausted by the events, yet still not quite believing that they were seeing each other alive again.

“Oh my god- Love-” Steven heaved as she bolted into his arms for the second time that day. Though this time he hugged her back just as strongly as she’d expected. His body soft, gentle, warm with the way he encompassed her figure with his entire being. Not like how Marc held her in the slightest. He squeezed her tight, as if letting go of her again was the last thing on his mind, his hands flat on her spine and his head burrowing into her sweet smelling collar.

God he was so relieved to feel her again. Her face was smashed into his chest, her new found strength bringing him as close to her as physically possible, hoping to everything he wasn’t going to leave her the second he knew about her new, um, condition.

“Steven, oh my god, I thought it was you, the guy in my room- and last night! I was so worried about you- how do you feel, are you okay?” She rushed, unaware of the way she was being watched by two enraged brown eyes.

She had been so enamoured with Steven holding her so close, she hadn’t even seen the stunning woman stood a metre away with an aghast expression.

“Dove, I was so worried, Marc said I had to give the body to him so he could help you, I-” Steven’s voice was clogged with guilty and sorrow as he drew back from her, watching her expression scrunch into concern, entirely focused on his every word, “I couldn’t help you, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, love-”

“Hey, look. I’m okay, see?” She reassured, squeezing his waist lightly, wishing to soothe away the tears building in his waterline, “Marc got to me in time. I’m okay-”

“You met him?” Steven said the same time a new voice met her ears.

“I’m sorry, who are you?”

Her head snapped to her left to where a woman stood, her fists clenched and full lips pursed into a sneer of disgust at her presence. She was gorgeous. Perhaps the most gorgeous woman she’d ever seen. The type of face you’d see on a billboard, effortless and striking, the kind that had even her fawning over her rare beauty.

The woman looked all the more annoyed at her gawking expression.

Layla’s head cut to Steven’s flustered face, looking between the two women in surprise.

“This is-”

“Is this why you wanted a divorce, Marc?” Layla barked, the two embracing each other immediately pulling apart at the accusation that came crashing down on the two of them. “Is this your girlfriend?”

Divorce. The word echoed in her head like a stab to the chest. He was married. Steven, well Marc technically but Steven’s body was married. To the most beautiful woman she’d ever seen. It only made sense. No matter which way he was packaged, whether he was Steven or Marc, he was a god among men even without Konshu.

And she currently looked like a mistress.

“No!” They chorused, Steven turning away from her and leaving her standing in the doorway confused.

“No, she’s my-” Steven paused as the younger woman spoke over him in just as much panic this woman would get the wrong idea.

“We work together,” She rushed, walking towards the woman with her arms up in surrender. Of course this looked bad. Awful. The guilt of falling head over heels for someone else's husband churned in her stomach.

“Me and her work at the museum, well worked I suppose,” Steven said, shutting the door behind her, hoping Layla didn’t start shouting like she had done a few times already. He was as tired of taking Marc’s shit as she seemed, but he supposed it was just as confusing for her to be married to someone who claimed he was someone else.

He just hoped the woman he was enamoured with entirely didn’t get the wrong idea also.

“I’m so sorry, I suppose I should introduce myself,” The younger woman attempted a friendly smile, which was entirely shut down by Layla glaring at her and snarling at her pleasant tone.

“You’re supposed to introduce yourself to a woman before you fuck her husband,” The woman said, leaning over the woman intimidatingly before turning to Steven’s scared mouse expression with a growl.

“I’m not sleeping with Marc,” Dove piped up, though her chest was rattling with the furious nut-brown gaze that met her the second she opened her mouth. If looks could kill, she’d be clinging to the shreds of life that she had left all over again. She saw Steven look at her with reddening cheeks at the inference of her words, “Or Steven! I’m not sleeping with either of them,”

Layla scoffed, looking her up and down, “What? So you’re just his young, pretty co-worker who just so happens to give them fat fucking heart eyes the minute she sees him?”

It was her turn to become flustered now. She felt the embarrassment hail down on her in waves, heat crawling over her cheeks as she stared at the woman who had managed to see her feelings for her husband within seconds. Women had sixth senses for things like that. Which wouldn’t be a bother, except Layla was married to him. Not Steven himself, but his body yes.

This was all so complicated for the half-dead girl’s already mithered head.

Her mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, hoping to god that Steven had somehow miraculously become deaf for five seconds and he truly hadn’t heard what his alter’s wife had just said.

“Exactly,” Layla huffed, reaching to grab her backpack and leave her husband and his mistress to their little roleplay where he was an English, ex-gift shoppist and she was his young co-worker too innocent to so much as tell him how she felt. What a joke.

“Wait, please,” The girl tried to slow her down, as she headed for the door, “Please, I can explain.”

A new knock on the door stopped Layla in her tracks.

“Steven Grant? Can we have a word?”

A female voice. Unfamiliar to either of them.

“DC Fitzgerald and DC Kennedy. We’re here about the disappearance of your co-worker,” The young woman’s face scrunched up in confusion as they said her name. Her full, legal name.

Steven and Layla simultaneously turned to look at her.

“You’re missing now?” Steven whispered, to which she shook her head.

“I spoke to the police on the way over here. Donna gave them my number when they saw you carrying me out of the museum,” She said back in a hushed tone, “I told them I was safe, that I fainted and you took me home.”

Layla’s eyes flicked between the two of them, her mind clicking as the voice on the other side of the door continued more forcefully, “They’re not real police officers,” She hummed quietly.

Steven and Dove looked at eachother. A look of panic passed between them as they shared the same thought; Shit.

“Marc said Harrow had connections all over,” She whispered back, watching as Steven reached for the multitude of locks slowly, if not to stop the fake officer from battering his door then to seem as though he were co operating.

“What are they looking for?” Layla asked, a moment of clarity snapping in Steven’s eyes as he reached into the gym bag he’d dragged from Marc’s storage locker. His hand emerged with the scarab, the same jewel he could have sworn had been plucked from his dream. Layla’s eyes widened, then narrowed at the man in question. “The scarab? What we fought side by side for? So this whole act was so you could run away with your mistress and keep it for yourself?”

“I am not-” The younger of the two started in a tone loud enough to have the officers stop their barrage on the door. Fearing they’d heard her, she huffed and started again, snatching the scarab out of Steven’s hands and turning to Layla, “I am not sleeping with your husband,” She breathed, “But the three of us are in serious trouble if they catch us with this, that’s what Marc said-”

“Yeah, I know,” Layla snapped, glaring at the woman who stared back with a now annoyed expression, “You might be new around here, but I know all about my own husband and his messes, thankyou,”

With the final growl, Layla wrapped a surprisingly strong hand around the girl’s forearm, dragging her to the open window.

“Woah! Woah- I know some things were said but throwing me out a window is a bit heavy, don’t you think?” She exclaimed, her feet sluggishly tripping over themselves as she followed the woman obediently.

Layla sucked her teeth, flashing her a death stare, “I’m not going to kill you, though I’ll wring your neck if you keep talking,” She snipped, pointing onto the ledge the roof offered as a place for them to hide, “Get out, they suspect something already, we’ll see where they take him and go from there,”

Flicking Steven, one last glance, he nodded for her to listen as he called to the ‘Detectives’ that he was complying with their orders.

Be careful, she wanted to say, please just be careful. Please don’t leave me alone.

I love you.

I spent all night worrying about you. Dreaming about you. I want you more than I wanted life again. I want you to know Seth can never have my soul no matter if I am his avatar because it’s not mine anymore, it's entirely yours. My heart that rots and withers beats for you. Not even to sustain this carcass I’m in, just for you.

Please don’t leave me.

But she couldn’t. She couldn’t say a word less she’d risk their safety. Risk the scarab.

So she simply nodded back, and climbed out onto the slanted tiles.

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 month

Text

To a Tea 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Part of the Sweet and Spicy AU

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: A demanding customer grows increasingly needy.

Character: Raymond Smith

The title is a pun, don’t @ me.

Please comment and reblog if it’s not too much. I always love getting to chat about these stories and hearing all your ideas! You all are wonderful and loved.

You don’t often miss work, but that week, a burst pipe throws everything off. A morning spent waiting on your landlord, then the next few hours for a plumber, has things a bit off kilter. Even the next day, you’re not quite back on point.

The patched wall next to fridge reminds you of the disaster and a dingy smell persists. You hope it doesn’t cling to you as you set off for your shift that day. If you can, you want to pick up some hours from others if their up for grabs. Harry doesn’t like Saturday’s, maybe he’ll hand over some.

You try to leave your problems behind as you catch a bus down to the city centre. You get to the tea shop five minutes before the hour. Jenna’s wrapping up the opening tasks as you go to leave your things in the back. You tie on your apron and unlock the front door for the first customers of the day.

At first, it’s a trickle. Never very much at all. The early risers who often come alone or if they aren’t, they don’t speak much or very loudly. The smell of fresh baking and the slow rising sun add to the lazy din.

“Thought the special was strawberry today,” you comment as you transfer macarons from a cooled tray to the display.

“Eh, it was but we didn’t have enough jam,” she shrugs. “Changed the sign, is all.”

“Ah, thought my mind was lagging again. Everything’s been off since yesterday.”

“Eh, how’s the apartment, anyhow? Marilyn said it was something about a leak?”

“Burst pipe,” you explain, “they took out the wall above the sink, buncha clanging all day. When I tell you this place is like heaven.”

She chuckles, “can be.”

“There’s a formal tea booked in the Marigold Room at noon,” she intones, “forgot to mention that. With Mother’s day coming up, suppose we’ll get more bookings.”

“Suppose,” you go to check the schedule hanging on the wall. “Party of twelve, wow.”

“I’ll man the till. Honest, since those ladies at New Years, I’ve hated doing them.”

“No problem, Harry should be here, shouldn’t he?”

“Well, he’s... called in.”

“Again?” You whine as you face her.

“Are you really surprised?” She scoffs.

“No one else to cover? Not even Louisa?”

“Nah, she’s on holiday still.”

You huff, “fine. Not much of a choose then, is it?”

🫖

The tea room is as close to raucous as you’ve ever heard it. You have your back to the rest of the shop as you balance the stacked serving trays with an array of sponge cake, fruit, and biscuits. It’s the typical assortment for a tea party booking.

You’ve already served the tea and the sandwiches, and dessert is the last bit, along with any further pots needed to be steeped throughout. With a partner, it isn’t hard to keep up, but alone, it’s rather overwhelming. Jenna does her best to assist but there aren’t many lulls around lunch time.

Beyond that, the tourists are chatty. You could hardly get away to fetch each course as they wanted to chat about the culture and your suggestions of what they should do next. It’s nice that they’re friendly but still stressful.

You put the trays on the cart and roll it around the counter. As you do, you nearly skid to a halt. In the rush, you hadn’t noticed him. Your eyes meet Raymond’s as he watches you. Intent, intense. You give an apologetic smile and nod in acknowledgement. Jenna wanted to deal with the main room, she’ll have to wipe down his table and do her best.

You roll behind the wall and into the Marigold room. You present the tray and grab it by the ring at the top, lifting it onto the centre of the table. You roll around to gather the empty plates and cups, taking two pots for refill.

You come back out and see Raymond standing, just as he was. He sees you too. Watching, hands folded, knuckles white, jaw set. He’s usually patient but you don’t know how long he’s been waiting.

You roll behind the counter and sigh, clearing off the cart as Jenna steams a tea latte.

“Can you wipe Raymond’s table?” You ask.

“Who?” She furrows her brow.

You glance over your shoulder toward the man in question and she follows. She rolls her eyes, “I tried, I wiped the the table. He didn’t sit.”

“Hm, well... did you wash your hands first?”

“Christ Almighty, what is he a child?”

“Jen, he’s just... you know, my mom’s the same. He can’t help it.”

“You can deal with him. I won’t be arsed,” she sniffs, “he was rude and you know I don’t got time for those ones.”

“Jenna, I’m kinda up to my eyes,” you dump the used bags from a pot. “I know he can be prickly but just wash your hands and redo the table.”

“Ugh, fine,” she sneers, “but you owe me.”

“Let’s call it even,” you retort as you pour boiling water into the pots mouth.

She shakes her head and huffs, “guess it is.”

🫖

It’s nearly three in the afternoon. It’s quiet. Harry’s on his phone instead of doing the cups and your wiping the empty tables to keep yourself moving. The door opens and you glance over to make sure Harry’s alert. He’s not.

Doesn’t matter. It’s him. Raymond. You stand and clutch the cloth tight in your hand as you greet him.

“Be right with you, Raymond,” you assure him.

He barely looks at you as he goes to wait next to his table. You go behind the counter and mutter under your breath in Harry’s direction, “...dirty cups.” You wash your hands and make sure to clink some of the empty porcelain in an effort to draw your coworker’s attention. He’s still entranced by his phone.

You take the disinfectant wipes and go back out. You approach Raymond as he checks his watch.

“How are you today?” You ask.

He grumbles and shrugs, “fine.”

“English Breakfast, black,” you declares as you finish wiping up, “usual.”

“So you remember,” he challenges as he steps close, closer than ever, before sidling around to sit.

“Of course, I always do,” you smile.

“And last time?”

“Last time...”

“Twice.”

You’re confused. What is he talking about?

“I came on Tuesday and you weren’t here. Then on Thursday, you didn’t even say hello.”

“Oh, well, I’m sorry, Raymond, it was a busy day. Tuesday, I had a personal emergency so I didn’t even know you’d been in--”

“I’ll have my tea now,” he interjects tersely.

“Right, tea,” you confirm and spin around.

“Crooked strings,” he remarks dully, “again.”

#raymond smith #dark raymond smith #raymond smith x reader #dark!raymond smith #drabble #series #to a tea #sweet and spicy #the gentlemen #au

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girlygguk · 1 year

Text

fame - jjk (three)

pairing ; idol!jk x idol!oc.

synopsis ; aera; the main dancer in one of the biggest k-pop groups in the world, Siren. debuting in 2014, it was nothing but immense hard work and perseverance (and being on the absolute verge of disbandment), but she and the four girls that grew to become her sisters pulled through. they did it. now they're performing at some of the most significant arenas and stadiums worldwide. meeting a cheeky, flirtatious and annoyingly gorgeous fellow idol that threatens to break down every wall of protection she's built around herself was not part of the plan. her career has always come first, having sacrificed and jeopardised many relationships and friendships in her journey to debut. so why does this time feel different?

story warnings ; smut, explicit language, violent & possibly triggering scenes.

chapter warnings ; explicit language, fluff, flirty jk

word count ; 3.2k

a/n: thank you sm for liking and commenting even reblogging its SO SWEEETTTT THANK YOU! first jk x oc interaction of the story finallyy

previous chapters ; prologue | one | two | drabble1 | three | four | ...

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

📅 July 22, 2015 — A year ago...

📍 PARK ENTERTAINMENT BUILDING

» Aera's point of view «

• • •

"—Sarang ha neun Aera-shiiiii," my sisters chorused as they clapped to the beat of their out-of-tune serenade.

"Saeng il chuk ha ham ni da!" They cheered, the flats of their palms slapping against the table while they waited for me to extinguish the burning sticks of wax stuffed into the swamp-green-coloured cake before me. I was informed earlier that Ha-Joon led the baking ensemble this morning, so I'm pretty sure it's ninety percent icing. The way the candles were at a thirty-degree angle, almost completely submerged in the desert, only furthers my suspicions.

With a cheesy grin, my eyes flutter closed as I put an end to the candles' lives. Little clouds of smoke whisp towards the ceiling when the flames die out, and I lean back a little to avoid inhaling the fume. "What'd you wish for?" Asami teased, swatting at Joonie's hand when the youngest tried to scrape her finger along the cake's side in hopes of retrieving some icing.

"I can't tell you, or it won't come true." I clichéd, pulling the candles out of the mountain of icing before they sunk like an injured battleship. Dumping the burnt sticks into the garbage can behind us, I turn to our leader as she scrolls through the comments of our current V-Live.

"Can you pass the knife, please, Unnie?" My request snaps her out of her daze, and she leans back from her phone like she didn't even realize she was so close to it. Then, grabbing the knife on the table's edge, she placed the handle in my direction and slid it across to me.

"We're at a thousand viewers!" Hanna screeched, her hand smacking at her knee in glee, and I joined in with the rest of the girls as we giggled at her excitement.

My jaw dropped in disgust and amusement as my assumptions about this cake's ingredients were correct. The knife dragged into the mush, slicing down an alp of icing before hitting a thin layer of cake far later than it should've. My eyes snapped straight to Joon as she bit her lip, her cheeks pink and puffed, no doubt trying to harbour a loud cackle at the look on my face.

My eyes rolled to the back of my head as I let out a breathy chuckle, continuing, or more so attempting, to cut the desert into presentable slices. Slapping each piece onto a paper plate, the girls pull a serving towards themselves as I go, waiting for me to dish up my own before they indulge. I lift the board that the remaining cake is melting on as we speak and put it out of the camera's view before sitting back in my chair with a huff.

Joonie's fork dug into her portion the moment I sat back in my seat, scooping a mouthful of pure icing and consuming it like somebody was trying to take it away from her. I snicker before doing the same, and a slight hum of approval escapes my lips when the fork hits my tongue, the icing surprisingly better and much tastier than I thought. I blame the shitty diet we're on. Cat food would taste good at this point.

Lifting my head, I browse the comments flooding through on our live, and my eyes widen at all the birthday wishes that dominated the comment section. "Thank you guys for the happy birthdays; you're so sweet." I gush, swirling my fork around my plate to try and find a chunk of actual cake and hopefully stop the tears I feel burning at my lower lash line.

I could feel the gaze of Nali on me, and I was failing to find a piece of solid food on my plate of pure topping, which was only making me more frustrated and almost losing the battle with the water pooling in my waterline.

"We couldn't afford two cakes." Nali blurted, and the sound of forks scraping against paper plates pulled to a halt, four heads turning to stare at the blonde.

A few moments of silence passed, and I didn't fight it anymore, my grip on my plate loosening, and I rested it on the table before bursting into a fit of laughter. I seem to have broken the dam because the rest of the girls were heaving over, a chorus of laughs and howls bouncing off the walls of our shitty little cramped office that we cleared out for the v-live.

"It was our first anniversary a few days ago, and if we made a cake for that, we would've blown our allowance then and not had enough for Aera's birthday. So it's sort of a conjoined celebration." Hanna explained to the viewers, wiping at the corners of her eyes to rid the stray tears gathering there from laughing.

Hanna, Asami, and Joon continued breezing through the comments pouring in from the fans on our live, spotting a few familiar usernames and greeting them like they were our own members. Our sweet yet disturbing maknae had finished her cake, her gaze dropping to the left when she saw Asami's unfinished plate pushed to the side, indicating she didn't want anymore.

I felt my eyebrows crinkle slightly, watching my roommate, one spoonful of icing away from a stomach ache and never-ending whining when we try to sleep later tonight, grab Asami's plate, and devour the remnants. You would think we don't feed this girl.

Brushing the hair that had fallen in front of my eye, my gaze fell to the blonde on my right to see her attention was already on me. I give her a small, thankful smile, grateful for how she had drawn the attention away from me for a moment to compose myself. Nali nodded in understanding, her hand finding mine under the table and delivering a soft squeeze that sent a wave of comfort through my body.

It had been an hour or so since we started the live stream, and we still had choreo to work on later tonight, so we responded to as many questions and messages as possible before wrapping up the celebration. Our leader, Hanna, took a screenshot of the viewer count, still giddy at the fact that we hit 1,100, which beat our personal record by far. We thanked our Allures profusely, big gummy grins covering our faces as we sent waves and kisses toward Hanna's phone as she ended the stream.

The sound of my phone vibrating on the table's edge caught my attention as we tidied up the area. Asami took the remaining cake to the kitchen and informed us she'd wrap it and put it in the refrigerator. Ha-Joon finished stacking the used paper plates and all but sprinted out the office door, muttering a quick "I'll help!" that earned a chorus of scoffs and eye-rolls from her unnies.

"That girl will return with a permanent green upper lip," Hanna grumbled, halfway through a thank-you post on our Instagram account with the statistics from today's live.

She pulled me over to get approval for the photos of me she was using for my birthday post, and I set my phone back down before getting a chance to check my notifications. She was scrolling through today's pictures, Nali's phone becoming our camera as we were streaming from Hanna's. I chuckled at how Hanna literally took a hundred photos, my face invading Nali's camera roll; you'd think it was my phone.

Settling on a few, I suggested she use the candid of Joonie wiping the green icing on my nose as the first slide. She nodded ecstatically, murmuring a quaint "yes! i thought so too" before returning to social media manager mode.

Hanna sent the chosen pictures to herself, handing Nali's phone back with a kissy noise causing the visual to retaliate with a playful scowl that paparazzi would pay thousands to capture. They both started to head towards the door, Nali with the full bin liner and Hanna with her phone clad in their hands, before the eldest turned back towards me. "Practice in 15," she announced, not looking up from her phone but her words flying in my direction.

"Okay, unnie." I smiled, and she glanced up from her device, a smirk gracing her lips as she waited for me to face the other direction before delivering a hearty slap to my ass. Winded, I spin around to return the favour but only catch sight of the raven-haired girl sprinting down the hall to catch up with Nali.

"Freak," I mutter, my laugh fizzing out in the room that now only contains me. My abandoned phone remains face-down on the table, and I trudge over, tapping the screen to bring it back to life. Staring at the notification perched at the top of my cracked phone screen, it glares back at me before my phone fades out due to inactivity. I continue bringing the phone back to life, each time staring at the same notification for thirty seconds before the screen goes black again.

15:34 JUNGKOOK FROM BANGTAN SONYEONDAN

Happy birthday Aera 🎂

I click on the notification, and my screen reacts to my demand, transitioning to the messages app. As I think of a response, my nail begins to tap against the side of my phone case in angst, and I almost put my phone away altogether.

It's just a happy birthday message, not a fucking proposal. My inner thoughts are demonic, taunting me as I discover five characters is apparently my limit before I delete everything and start over.

15:38 ME

thank you jungkook

Poetic. You truly have a way with words, Aera. My thumb scrambled to the side of my case, resting against the lock button, so close to ending my misery, before I saw the word 'delivered' change to 'seen' at the bottom of my message. He's fast to reply, almost as if staring at the text waiting for a response.

15:38 JUNGKOOK FROM BANGTAN SONYEONDAN

How are you?

Rolling my eyes at the basic pleasantries, I consider leaving him on read and heading towards the practice room with the rest of my members. Then, against my better judgment, I concede.

15:39 ME

i'm okay, you?

15:39 JUNGKOOK FROM BANGTAN SONYEONDAN

Just okay? It's your birthday, you should be happy! 🥳

15:39 ME

i am happy. today has been great 🥳

15:40 JUNGKOOK FROM BANGTAN SONYEONDAN

You know, mirroring the actions of someone else can often be misinterpreted as a show of affection

15:41 ME

aaaaand you fucking ruined it. i have to go practice

15:41 JUNGKOOK FROM BANGTAN SONYEONDAN

Wait Aera

Can we

Video call later tonight

My heart skips a beat, or six, as I stare at his text. He's so fucking blunt. So forward. It drives me mad. So mad that I find myself sending back a thumbs-up emoji before shoving my phone into my pocket and leaving the office that, I swear, has increased by five degrees in the last few minutes.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

The squeak of my reusable water bottle wrung in my ears as I squeezed the life out of the canister, the chilled liquid it holds trying its hardest to fight the internal burning temperature of my body. I run my hand through my damp hair in an attempt to incorporate air into the strands and allow my scalp a chance to breathe.

We wrapped up practice a few minutes ago; the rest of the girls had scrambled out of the burning suite when we unanimously agreed that we physically couldn't continue today. Hanna led the eager troops to the kitchen to prepare our dinner, and I secured the lid of my bottle shut before tailing the train down our company's hall. Stopping at my dorm once they had just entered the kitchen's quarter, I threw out a quick "i'll be there in a sec, just need to use the bathroom" before ducking into my room.

Snatching my hoodie that I threw on my bed carelessly earlier today, I flip it inside out at lightning speed, shoving my head and arms through the holes in what I'm sure is a personal best. Leaning over my bed with a huff, I grunt in triumph when I feel my phone in my grasp after a few failed attempts to grab it off my bedside table. Shoving it into the pocket of my sweatshirt, I make my way out of the dorm, looking in the direction of the kitchen before turning the opposite way and heading for the exit of our building.

A sigh of ecstasy leaves my lips as the chilled night air envelopes my frame once I push through the bulky door of our building and make my way toward the stony path that lines the structure. My butt hits the pavement with a thud, and I fish my phone out of my pocket; the device's light illuminating a ray of yellow in the darkness of the night as it comes to life.

Clicking on the familiar contact in my list, I hit the video icon and listen to the low hum of the outgoing tone as it attempts to connect me to the desired recipient. No more than five seconds pass before the loading symbol appears on the screen, the background black as the device works to load the picture of the awaiting parties.

I'm staring at the box in the bottom right corner that mirrors my appearance, halfway through pulling the hood of my jacket over my head to shield my matted hair before his bunny smile stately renders onto my phone screen.

My action is pulled to a halt, my hand releasing my shirt's hood as I take in the picture being shamelessly displayed by my busted phone. Jungkook leans against his headboard, clad in a black shirt that accentuates the shape of his arms. Speaking of arms, the one of his that isn't currently busy holding his device up runs through his woolly, fluffed hair before resting behind his head against the board.

"Saeng il chuk—" Jungkook started once my camera connected and displayed my face on the screen. A cringed scowl overtook me as I hushed him, shaking my head rapidly and begging him to stop the birthday anthem.

His cheeky giggle blew through my speaker when I cut off his song, eyebrows raised in amusement, "How's the big 19? Feel any different?"

"Days don't even feel like days right now, so no, I don't feel that different." My response is honest, eyes trailing down to the heel of my sneaker, currently scraping against the gravel beneath me that I'm sure is staining my sweatpants.

He nods in understanding, knowing exactly how I feel at the moment, having been in a similar situation in his rookie days. "Do you want me to call you Noona now?" He quips with a smirk, reminding me that I am, in fact, two months older than him.

My eyes widen as his question catches me off guard, and I do not bother to stop my eyes from rolling to the back of my head while he chuckles hoarsely at my reaction. "I will fucking kill you."

My response only seems to amuse him more, his eyes wide in faux fear, and I feel a smile breaking through onto my face, forcing me to look away from my phone for a moment. The smell of spices invades my nostrils, bringing me back to consciousness, and I glance up at the time displayed on my device.

"I have to go eat dinner," I say, watching his plump bottom lip purse into a pout.

My team probably thinks I am having abhorrent bowel movements right now. However, Jungkook's question pulls me out of my thoughts, his big bug eyes curious as he quizzes, "Why are you eating dinner at 11 pm?"

"The kitchen doesn't close until 12 on weekends, so we usually train later on Saturdays and Sundays." I shrug, shuffling a little until my back is flush against the side of the building. His eyebrows furrow, seemingly taken aback by my answer, and I'm unsure why.

"The kitchen closes at certain times?" His question is low and soft, and I can't decipher the look on his face as he says those words. This had become my reality that I adapted to so quickly since becoming a trainee. I often forget to filter out certain things before sharing with people.

"Do you want me to get you something delivered?" He asks; the tone of his voice is gasoline on the burning flame in my lower stomach.

"Oh yeah? Are you gonna supply food for five people?"

"Yes." His answer is instant, and I admit defeat to the battle with my mouth as my lips curve into a soft smile.

"Don't do that," I shake my head, pulling my knees closer to my chest as the wind picks up, and I hope it blows the phone out of my hand and into the local lake.

"Do what?" His tone is innocent though his features are anything but.

"Don't say shit like that."

"Shit like what?" The corner of his mouth upturns as he senses my frustration, my displeasure only seeming to egg him on.

The loud chatter and laughter of my members pull me back to my reality, and I let the laugh trapped in my throat escape before clambering to my feet, glaring at the boy leaning against his headboard once I steady myself, "I have to go."

Jungkook nods in understanding, looking like he didn't expect to get me for this long anyway. Just as I'm about to say goodbye, he leans up a little, the muscle in his arm tensing as it adjusts behind his head. "Wait, are you guys attending MAMA?"

I knew he meant well, but it didn't stop the unsettling feeling brewing in my stomach, the possibility of being unable to break through in our career despite the work my sisters and I put in daily glooming over my head like a heavy, grey cloud.

"Don't be ridiculous; we could never get an invite to a show like that."

"You will one day." He responds, his tone sure and confident, and I almost believe him.

"Maybe one day." I nod, a grateful smile finding its way to my lips, and he returns the gesture, his bunny teeth peeking out slightly in a cheesy grin.

"Have a good dinner, Noona. Happy birthday," he wishes, and my finger instantly dashes to the disconnect button in reflex. Giving him one final glance, I poke my tongue out teasingly, clicking the red icon that ends both the call and my suffering.

Letting out a heavy breath, I walk back to the entrance of our building, swinging the door open and flicking the lock once it shuts behind me. My head falls forward onto the glass, and I have to stop myself from lifting it and slamming it back down a few more times.

Shoving my phone back into my hoodie pocket, I finally make my way toward my members in the kitchen. The smell that wafts from the kitchen tickles the aggressive hunger in my stomach, distracting my thoughts from other things. Halfway down the hallway, my eyes fall to the back of my head for the umpteenth time this night alone as I grind to a halt. Now I actually have to pee.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

taglist ; @0anodite0

#jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook fic #jungkook imagine #jungkook x oc #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook fanfiction #bts #bangtan #bangtan sonyeondan #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #idol oc #bts idol au #jungguk #jeon jungguk

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fluffysucker · 7 months

Text

Miss Americana & The heartbreak Prince

Bucky Barnes x Reader (AU)

In no world were you meant to be together, but in every universe, you were meant for each other.

A/N: I present you grumpy sunshine wrapped in enemies(ish) to lovers with Beefy Boxer/Biker Bucky.

Written in Third POV. No use of Y/N. However, the reader is referred to as a female. Likes, comments, reblogs are VERY VERY highly appreciated.

Also, I tried to be as inclusive as possible. But my delusion couldn't be controlled I'm sorry.

Ngl this is for me more than anything.

Also, I'm thinking about making this its own universe and maybe write more of it. Tell me what you think

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

You hated Bucky Barnes, and he hated you.

The two of you should have never crossed paths. Your worlds should have never met. But the wall separating you could only hold for so long.

The infamous boxer was a phenomenon in his field. Unbeatable and astute, Bucky Barnes held his reputation with pride. He was stronger than all and the smartest the game had. His jab was as numbing as the winter. His techniques were as calculated as a soldier's. Bucky Barnes was as hard as nails. A legend.

To keep up with the notoriety, it was rumoured that Barnes and his team were also a biker gang. It was never confirmed, but the black leather jacket he always had on, the long hair touching his shoulder or tidied in a low bun, the motorbike barked in front of the gym, and the intimidating sense lingering around him. It was never denied, either.

In the mornings, Bucky Barnes ran a successful gym with his two bestfriends, Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson. Both played occasionally, but only Bucky was the professional, so they were more his trainers. They also trained other players and armatures. They tried to gain other normal customers, but it didn't always work. With a reputation like theirs, attracting customers wasn't easy.

It was usually the same for nights, unless they had matches. Most of their fights were held on Stark's property. He ran an empire, and boxing was the dominant centre, led by the biggest champion. And Stark lets Bucky have it his way, just like he likes. As long as Bucky keeps on bringing these huge numbers into their pockets, both are happy and content.

So it was out of the nature for Bucky to have zero interest in the new restaurant that opened up right next door to the gym. They had their regularly frequented places. The bar run by Romanoff and Belova, a couple of blocks away from Stark's property, was more than enough. He didn't even bother to throw a glance at it. Even after he knew that the owner had come by and given out menus and promised them discounts if they stopped by, there was still nothing.

Until one night. Bucky got carried away in training. He had an important match coming up. He knew his opponent barely stood a chance, but Bucky enjoyed the thriller of the game. The sweat and blood that go into it He didn't remember a time when he didn't want to do this. It was like it was programmed so deeply in his brain. He was made for this.

Everyone left, one by one. Until then, it was only him. After so many hours, he finally got tired. He threw his gloves aside and went to take a shower to remove the evidence of his hard work before going back home. As he was locking the gym's door, he heard his stomach growl, reminding him that he needed food. He was starving. Before deciding to wait and order food once he got home, the big sign caught his eye. They did indeed have a restaurant right next door. He admitted he was too tired to cook or wait for delivery. He needed food, then crashed into his bed. So maybe the closest restaurant would be useful.

Once he stepped in, he felt out of place immediately. His dark clothes and huge frame made him look like a stranger compared to the light-coloured painted walls. Some had flowers, and others had stars drawn on them. There were fairy lights in some corners. The aromatic scent was everywhere. Bucky almost winced at how bright and colourful everything felt. This was an alternative universe that he didn't belong in.

"Hi, how can I help you?" An even sweeter voice rang and caught Bucky's attention, breaking him from his trance of observing the place.

He turned around to find the prettiest girl he had ever seen standing behind the counter. Your beauty caught him off guard. He never believed someone could be so beautiful before. But here you were, standing. Taking his breath away.

He recovered very quickly and moved to stand in front of the counter. With the most loving smile, you handed him the menu. He took a look at the menu and wanted to laugh out loud. Dish names were just as cheerful as the atmosphere.

Out of habit, you started explaining and recommending stuff for him. He interrupted you, putting in his order. You didn't give it much thought but took his order happily.

You apologised for the lack of waiters, as it was almost closing time and it was only you. No answer. With his blank stare, you told him he could sit wherever he wanted. Only then did he notice the empty restaurant. It was just you and him. It was that late. So he took a seat at the nearest table.

Not taking much, you returned with his order. You placed it in front of him with a big smile on your face. You knew right away who that was the minute he walked in. James Barnes. The famous boxer who trains next door You have been praying after your small visit to them that they would be regular customers. The business was doing great. But the more, the merer. Always. Lots of people warned you about the men next door. But you didn't feel like they were as bad as people made them out to be. You were always so trusting, unless shown otherwise. So you were happy that, finally, one of them stopped by.

You moved away, letting him enjoy his food. Unable to fight your nature, you started talking to him as you continued cleaning the remaining parts of the place. No answer again. He didn't even bother to look at you. Okay. Maybe he had a rough day. Not all people are used to chatting.

Bucky was one of these people. His eyes widened as you started talking to him. People were never that friendly to him. People avoided him. Nobody tried to open up a conversation with him. He didn't know how to react. And he was too tired to try. So he practiced his other specialty. Silence. But even if he wouldn't admit it, Bucky found your voice calming. So he let you talk instead of just shutting you up.

You reduced your talking to a minimum. Only little remarks there and then to avoid complete silence. The second time, you heard his voice since he walked in and asked for the check. You brought the paper to the table he occupied, keeping your smile up and telling him that he got the 'neighbour discount' as you called it. You almost heard his scoff as you left him.

You had your back to the door, so you only turned around when you heard the door close. You didn't hear his footsteps, and most definitely, you didn't hear his goodbye, goodnight, or even thank you. Now that's rude.

You returned to the table to collect the check. But you found the review note you attached to every check empty. Not a single penmark. And that was more rude. You made sure that filling out the note only took seconds. You genuinely cared to hear people's opinions so you could be better and have the restaurant grow more.

So he didn't speak to you for more than two sentences. Didn't say thank you or goodbye. Didn't fill in the note. Okay, maybe you didn't want them as customers if they were all that rude.

It turns out they weren't that rude. However, Bucky was more rude than you thought.

A couple of days after Bucky's visit, you were surprised to see Bucky with another two men. You guessed they were Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson. The trio was all well-known. You doubted if Bucky was the one to recommend the restaurant. You weren't sure if he even liked the food. And you were right. He would be caught dead if he brought up the fairy world you called a restaurant. Even when it served the tastiest food he had ever had,

It was a slow day. No intense training or excessive fight preparation The three men didn't have much to do that day. So when Steve suggested trying out the restaurant, Bucky neither objected nor showed excitement.

So when they walked in, you couldn't help the feeling of surprise along with the tiny bit of happiness, hoping it would be a nicer visit this time. After preparing their orders and sending them out, you waited for a bit before you left the kitchen to greet them. Not before making sure you looked presentable.

With the small space and their loud voices, it wasn't hard to locate them. You approached them with a big smile and positive attitude.

"I wanted to make sure you were having a good time." You followed up after introducing yourself.

"The food is amazing. This burger is to die for." Steve was the first to compliment you, with Sam nodding and agreeing.

"You have one good chef." Sam added as he took another french fry into his mouth. "Send my regards to them."

"Actually, I'm also the chef." The statement caused a shocked expression to fill in their faces. They asked for details, and you briefly told them how you were the core of the small business as the owner and main chef.

The two men were polite, and they didn't seem annoyed by your chatty personality. In fact, they interacted with you and asked questions to learn more. And all they had to say were nice compliments. Except one.

"So tell me, sweetheart, what was the inspiration for the place? Was it a fairy garden or Disney's latest cartoon?" None of you were ready for the sarcastic comment Bucky threw at you.

You didn't let your smile break in the face of his sarcasm. Nor did you give much thought to the pet name. You put on a bigger smile now, looking at him.

"A bit of both." That's one thing about you: you refused to let the world change about you. You never reciprocate rudeness with rudeness.

"I can tell." Bucky was taken back by your response. He expected you to get offended, but you didn't.

"Thank you. It was my vision all along." You replied, your smile never leaving your face.

And that started your hate relationship with Bucky Barnes.

After that day, the men became regular customers. And it wasn't just the three men. Little by little, it was most of the team. First, it was just to try the good food. Then it was because they wanted to. They wouldn't admit it, but your place was like a breath of fresh air. Something so different from what they are used to. From what they are known for. From what people expected from them. And you never judged them, treated them differently, or asked about the rumours that followed them. So it was a calm change, but much needed.

But their favourite thing was yours and Bucky's constant bickering. Or more Bucky's. Nobody understood why Bucky was doing this. You never partook in his constant attempts to make fun of you. You always had a sweet response to fire back. You truly were the living embodiment of killing them with kindness.

However, he never stopped. Every time he stepped foot in the place, you claimed it was your biggest achievement. He had something rude to say. Something to annoy you with. Something to bother you. Sarcasm and jokes spilling out of him with no end whatsoever.

The number of times you wanted to punch him or snap at him right back was increasing. But you refused to give in. To let him win. He wouldn't be the one to change you. So you kept engaging with him only with gracious things to say.

Besides, you chose to think that everyone had their own battles and demons. And for sure, Bucky looked like he had lots of them. He looked rougher than most. His job made him appear invincible, but he wasn't. Nobody was. So he may drive you mad, but he deserves the gentle treatment you offered all.

Bucky had no idea why he was doing it. Why every time he saw you, he felt the urge to tease you. It wasn't like him. But he didn't fight it back.

"How are you, Tinkerbell?"

"You should buy green carpets. It will finish off the garden aesthetic."

"Here is the princess who got lost."

"The pasta was great, Barbie."

Stuff like this flew from him all the time. And not once did you get back at him. You stayed nice and polite. Your sweet self never crumbling.

There was something in you that drove him insane. Your warm eyes. Your bright smile. Your cheerful voice. Your positive mindset. Your kind heart. Your friendly nature. Your hard work. Your delicious food. Your colourful wardrobe of dresses, skirts, tops, and cardigans. He couldn't pinpoint what it was. Maybe it was all of it.

The deepest part of him knew why he was doing this. He liked you. He liked you so much. From the moment he entered your restaurant alone, the first time And the more he knew you, the more he liked you. You were special. And you were everything he wasn't. He thought if he got closer, he would be tinting you. He would bring darkness to your shine. A moral thing preventing him from speaking his truth. even thinking about it.

So he acted like a teenager. He made fun of you. In hopes of making you hate him. He convinced himself and the others that he didn't like your sunshine personality.

Until one day

It started off like any normal day. Bucky had a match coming up. So they all had something to do. The day was going fine. Up before Peter Parker, who was usually on reception duties, ran in and said there was fire in your place,

For a second, blood ran cold in Bucky's body. He heard ringing in his ears. Were you okay? He collected himself quickly, wanting to check for himself.

He threw the gloves away, almost pushing everybody out of the way to get out. And he was the first to see the chaos in the street. A firetruck was parked, and firemen were going in and out of your restaurant along with some policemen. His eyes were searching for you frantically until he spotted you.

You had some dust on your face and your white clothes. You were checking that everyone was okay and out safely. But you couldn't hide the quivering of your lips or your shaking body.

He couldn't help himself as he ran towards you. You turned as you felt someone approaching you. Without your control, your face softened, and tears blurred your sight once you noticed who it was.

"Bucky." You whispered as a way to ground yourself from all the mess that happened and is still happening.

Following his first instincts, Bucky pulled you into his chest, wrapping your trembling form in his arms and holding you so close to him. And the dam broke.

Sobs fled from you. Tears mixed with his sweat. Your fists gripped his white tank top. Your face hidden away in his chest.

You didn't know how it happened. You had been holding up well enough during it all. You had been managing the situation the best you could. However, when Bucky got here, your mind stopped working. Your mind gave up on you, letting your emotions hit you with full force, breaking down your bastion with no guarantee you would be caught.

But you were. You were braced by strong amrs, rubbing your back, laying small kisses on your hair, and whispering words of comfort in your ears. "I'm here. I'm right here." "You're okay. You're fine."

Your sobs ceased, but your body still shook against Bucky's. Tears remained to fall freely on your face. Bucky's hold was still firm but secure around you.

You only moved away from him when a policeman approached you, informing you that you were needed at the police station.

"I'm coming with you." Bucky's stern voice left no room for negotiation. It wasn't up to debate. He wasn't leaving you.

"I'll grab my stuff in a second." He turned to the policeman standing in front of you, making sure it was okay that he joined. And he got a nod of approval in return.

He left your side, walking towards the gym. He paid no attention to his friends standing by, who were puzzled by the encounter. And true to his words, he came back in seconds, his black leather jacket on, phone in hand, and wallet in hand.

He got to you, letting his hand wrap around your shoulder. The gesture was welcomed by you as you rested your head on his chest. Something about having Bucky spread calmness in you

At the police station, Bucky found out what really happened. It wasn't just fire. It was a robbery. A bunch of armed men attacked your restaurant, demanding money from you and all the people inside. As you are trying to handle the situation without panicking more, it was discovered that one of the customers was a cop, which sent the robbers into an unexpected turn. So they took all they could from the cash register and your own things before setting the kitchen on fire to run away without being caught.

Between talking with the insurance company, the bank, and watching security footage from your restaurants and the street, you spent the rest of the day in the station.

And Bucky didn't leave your side for a second of it.

He didn't leave you until you both got out of the cap in front of your apartment. And he didn't leave until he made sure you got inside safely.

Something about you being hurt sent Bucky into a spiral. Who was heartless enough to hurt such a sweet soul as you? To look at you and not want to give you everything? Bucky would never know. All he knew was that he never wanted to see you so afraid and shaken like today. To not see your smile lighting up your face. So he would do whatever it took to make sure you were always fine.

Which was why you found him by your building the first thing in the morning.

"You have lots of places to go today. Said I would join you."

And up until you were handed the keys to your restaurant brand new after the insurance company had finished the repairs, Bucky didn't leave you. He was always there. Helping you finish papers, going to the police station to identify the robbers, and buying new stuff for the restaurants. Everything. He was there for everything.

And you had to admit. It was lovely to have him. A helping hand you needed. Physically and emotionally. Someone to share this unfortunate journey with. And Bucky didn't bother it for a bit. And you appreciated having him.

So, it only felt right for him to be your first order after the reopening.

The truth was, you never hated Bucky, no matter how much you tried. His huge form, his steel blue eyes, his signature stare, his playful smirk. They all made you feel something. He made you feel something you couldn't quite understand. But it was a pleasant something. He annoyed you so much, but you never took it too seriously. Maybe he hated you, but you didn't.

Now, you didn't need him. You were ready to carry on with your life. He didn't know how to get back to normal. He couldn't. He couldn't pretend you didn't make his heart beat faster. You made his days better. But he was so unworthy of you. And he knew you could never look at him. Maybe you hated him, but he didn't.

He tried to get back to his life. Only training and matches. Only visiting your place with the others who quickly figured out what was happening. He needed to get you out of his mind. That lasted for two days.

When Bucky was closing the gym, he heard something coming from your restaurant. With a frown, he moved to see you still inside. He looked at his watch to check the time again. It was indeed late.

"What are you doing?" He didn't bother with greetings as he entered.

"Hi, Bucky." Your cheerful voice rang through the empty place.

"What are you doing?" He repeated his question, looking at the paper in front of you.

"I'm sending out advertisements and deal offerings to different places." You answered him with a smile.

"Sweetheart, do you know what time it's?" Bucky signed as he looked at you, looking clueless.

"C'mon, let's get you home." He moved towards you, taking the papers out of your hand and putting them down without messing them.

"But I have a lot to do." You tried to protest as he gathered your stuff and helped you out.

"It will still be here in the morning." And he was having none of it.

"I need to get the business going." You added.

"You can do that in the morning, too." Bucky led you out of the restaurant in spite of your complaining.

He took the key from your hand and handed it back to you after he closed up. You expected him to move away, but he didn't.

"How are you going to get home?" He hoped you wouldn't give him the answer he had in mind.

"It's not very far. I was going to walk." And it was it.

Do you not care about your safety, or do you think you are James Bond?

Bucky had to bite his tongue and not scold you right on the spot. He knew you were stressed about the business, so he didn't want to add more.

"Great. I was going somewhere there, too. Let me walk."

"You were?" You questioned him, not believing him, but he nodded quickly.

As a matter of fact, Bucky didn't have anywhere to go other than collapsing on his bed. But over his dead body were you going to walk back home alone in this hour

"Lead the way, princess." The return of the name, but a smile on your face. He may mean it as an insult. You didn't care. It sounded good coming from him.

And the two of you walked.

And somehow, without planning, it became a routine.

Bucky would finish at the gym and come straight to the restaurant. It didn't matter whether it was late or not. He would get in and wait till you were done with the day. Then he would walk you home. Sometimes, he would help with stuff, but most times, you would make him sit down and bring him tonnes of food you prepared just for him.

"You train so hard. Don't want to burn these muscles. Eat and rest."

You weren't stupid. You knew he had nothing to do with where you were living. Yet he still chose to go out of his way, walk you home, and wait until you got in. He was taking care of you. So you wanted to take care of him too.

It felt strange to Bucky. Nobody made sure if he was eating well enough, drinking enough water, and resting enough. Nobody ever did. Everybody treated him like he was a machine. Like he He needed nothing.

Then there you were. Feeding him with delicious food. Letting him relax. Laughing at his jokes. Your hands grazing softly. It was all foreign to him, but very welcome. And he was getting attached. He knew it. How could he not?

He had the sweetest and most loving person on the planet, showing him attention and care.

Bucky counted the minutes until he could be with you. Until he could walk you home, it would be just the two of you. You did most of the talking, telling him about your day or an interesting story you heard. He would tell you briefly about his day.

He loved listening to you. Every detail you shared with him. You were the first in his life to be carefree around him other than his family. You didn't let his stiff demeanour affect your friendly one.

The extra time he spent back to his place from yours didn't bother him in the slightest. He found it reassuring that he knew for sure you were safe at home. It was all worth it.

Every single one of Bucky's friends knew what was happening from the moment he asked to postpone a match to go somewhere with you when you're repairing the restaurant. And it became so clear when he stopped hanging out at Natasha's bar after matches, claiming he was tired. But, in truth, he only wanted to be with you. And the days he knew he couldn't turn it down, especially after a grand victory, he would be glued to his phone until you texted him that you were home. Then he may start celebrating.

Bucky almost punched Steve in the face when he brought up inviting you to one of the matches, or at least to hang out with the whole team at Natasha's bar. Bucky wanted you nowhere near this world. He couldn't imagine you watching him while he was fighting. You would never look at him again. Yes, you were kind, but in the ring, he was a beast. You didn't deserve to see how bad he could be.

That's why he never acted on his feelings for you. He knew he was falling for you. He knew from the start. But you deserved better. So much better.

Your radiant nature had no place near him.

He even tried to stop seeing you, feeling guilty for ever getting close to you. But he failed miserably. You gave him something nobody did. A light in the darkness.

So he bottled it and felt grateful that you even let him be your friend. Or whatever you were.

Before a fact came crushing. You were single.

The days following matches were usually very slow. So he left earlier than usual just to come and wait for you. As long as you wanted. He had a bandage on his forehead and a compression bandage around his hand.

Sometimes you forget what his job was. Until he shows up bruised and bandaged like this. You knew he was strong enough to handle himself. He was the best in the game. But you couldn't help the twinge of your heart at the thought of him hurt.

So you prepared extra food and drinks for him. Once it was evening, you kept your best table for him. You even brought the air freshener with the scent; he commented once that he liked it. Everything to help him relax.

You kept telling yourself you were only doing this because he liked to help everyone. But you knew it was very different. He was very different.

So when he stepped in, your big smile got bigger.

You tried to come and talk with him whenever you could, but it was a busy day. He had no problem. He enjoyed watching you work. You were so dedicated and smart. He wanted you to be the most successful chef and owner in the world.

But maybe he shouldn't have been watching. He should have paid attention to anything else. So he wouldn't have seen the man who had been flirting with you since he walked in.

It was taking everything in Bucky to not get up and throw the guy away. But he heard it. Your answer to his question "Yes, I'm single." And he was reminded of the cruelty of the world. You weren't his. He shouldn't be jealous. He shouldn't have been biting the inside of his mouth when the guy tried to touch your hand as you handed him his bill.

And he most definitely shouldn't be feeling like crying and burning down the world when the guy asked you out and left his number.

Wasn't that what he wanted? For you to have better than him. To have someone who wasn't surrounded by blood and pain. Someone who wouldn't defile your glimmer That guy looked decent enough. Maybe that was your chance to find love.

However, he wanted to tear that paper to pieces. He wanted to punch the guy for asking his girl. But you weren't his girl.

Bucky was conflicted by his emotions. He didn't know what to feel or how to think. So he did the thing he was the best at. He stayed silent.

You noticed right away the change in his mood. He wasn't the most talkative person, but this silence was different. He looked like he was somewhere else. Somewhere, that wasn't so nice.

"Are you sure that you are fine?" You asked as you came to a stop in front of your building.

You only got a nod as an answer.

"You know you can tell me anything. I'm always going to be here."

Your words finally made him look at you after you left the restaurant.

"You are?" His hesitant tone made you frown.

"Of course." You answered very quickly.

"Are you going to go out with this guy?" It was quiet; you almost missed it, but you didn't.

Bucky didn't know what happened. He promised himself he wouldn't bring it up. It had nothing to do with him. But he couldn't. It fell from him.

"Do you want me to?" Your reply was something he didn't expect at all.

You couldn't say you weren't disappointed when Bucky did nothing when the guy started flirting with you. You didn't know what you wanted him to do. But you wanted him to do something.

Instinctively, Bucky moved closer to you, standing right in front of you.

"No, I don't want to."

"Tell me why I shouldn't go out with him."

The space between the two of you was almost nonexistent. You were so close to each other. His blue eyes piercing into yours. His eyes were filled with something so warm that you couldn't quite figure it out.

Bucky didn't know how to answer your question. Why didn't he want you to go out with the guy? Well, he didn't want you to go out with any guy. So he threw caution to the wind and followed his heart.

You almost tripped, but his hands on your waist steadied you. The feeling of his lips on yours was something out of the world. His lips were a bit bruised, but they were soft. It was all so good that your mind stopped working.

Bucky was about to pull away and apologise profoundly when you didn't kiss him back. As he was about to move, your hands wrapped themselves around his neck, pulling him closer to you and kissing him.

The kiss was gentle, and it was filled with emotions. Loving ones. It sent electricity through your bodies. It spread warmth all over you.

Your need for oxygen made you break the kiss, hands still around each other, eyes only looking at each other.

"I thought you hated me."

"Never did. Not for a second, princess."

Bucky's lips smashed against yours once again. And it was like every piece was falling into its place. The puzzle was completed. The rainbow after the rain

You were the shining star in Bucky's dark sky. He may not deserve you, but he was going to do everything in his power to get you to shine more.

Because you were made for each other.

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thejournallo · 24 days

Text

THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN THE VOID STATE AND THE VOID:

tag: @aestheticlizalis

As always, I will love to hear your thoughts! and if you have any questions, I will be more than happy to answer them! If you liked it, leave a comment or reblog (that is always appreciated!). if you are intrested in more method check the masterlist!

Every time I end up talking about the void state, there is a part of me that tends to raise awareness about the void itself. It is a thing the void does not help you manifest, like the void state. In this post, I will try my best to explain how much these two things are truly different.

WARNING: COGNITO HAZARD (For those who do not know, a cognito hazard is a term used to describe an image, pattern, sound, or any other kind of sensory signal that directly causes harmful or undesired physiological or physical effects to one who senses or perceives it. (It is specifically used as a warning when talking about "forced awakening" things like the void.)

You are free to believe or not believe every word I will say in this post, and you are free to not believe every word I say. If, while reading this, you start to feel a negative emotion or a sensation as if you are lost or bodily or emotionally sick, DO NOT CONTINUE READING.

let's get deeper in this rabbit hole shall we?

i will talk breefly about the void state and then i will get in a more detailed way into what the void is, just because i aready explained the void state many times.

the void state:

is a state of deep meditation where you feel like floating and feel nothingness embodies you, making you feel one with the universe helping you to manifest. (Click the name if you actually want to know more.)

the void:

The void is nothing and everything at the same time. Let me explain better: the void is a place where everything is possible and exists, but at the same time is impossible and does not exist. The thing is, the void in itself is a pass to every other dimension because every dimension resides in the void, even the cursed ones or the ones that never will be or never were timelines. As a person with a lot of experience in the void itself, I will tell you that it is not a nice place. Every kind of entity can catch you, good or evil, whatever they might be. As mere humans in the void, we are exposed to a lot of deep-rooted energy that corrupts our bodies in the long run.

As humans, in the void, we can only "survive" in the backrooms.

what is a backroom?

One thing that is definitely more popular than the void itself are the backrooms that reside in the void. The backrooms became popular around 2012 as a SCP thing as images of liminal spaces. But I assure you, they are pretty much real, and they have many levels, not in a specific order. On every level, we can find different things and different entities, as mentioned before. We can find the good ones that will try to keep you safe and the bad ones that will literally try to kill you.

I will also add that the backroom exists because we are the front room, so for every timeline in existence, there is a backroom, and much like the universe, the void is pretty much endless, so there are infinite possibilities for the frontroom and the backroom.

why im i telling you this?

because I talk from experience, and let me tell you some of them were not fun. Still to this day, when I go to sleep, I find myself in the void. Bruh, I don't know how it simply happens. And that's been my life since I was 14 years old. I had my time to understand and learn a few rules to exit the backrooms fast enough or not to be killed.

I will put them at the end, but first, a little check on the main differences that we found out about the void state and the void itself:

The void state is a meditation; the void is an "endless place.".

The void can be a dangerous place, but the void state is harmless.

The void state helps us connect with the universe; the void is not used to manifest.

The void is a constant state of rooted energy, which means, in more basic words, that the energy in the void is dirty, and on the long run, a normal human will not "survaive.". In the void state, it is your energy.

In the void state, we find only ourselves; in the void, we can find an endless amount of dimensions, timelines, frontrooms and backrooms, entities, and liminal spaces. Some are all put together.

If you decide to go into the void state, it is a conscious decision. You can mistakenly enter the void by just falling asleep.

Those are the main differences, just because I can't say much more about the void itself because, as said before, it is a forced awakening, and I don't want people to feel sick with too much information.

if by mystake you enter the backrooms here some rules that will help you get out faster:

Don't scream; you will give off your location to any type of entity. In whatever level you enter, you will find the exit in the same level.

Not every level is scary. Some have flowers and are pretty; others are simple rooms. Those levels are safe as long as you don't hurt yourself. Be careful.

Don't take stairs, and don't jump in holes or on poles. Again, you will find the exit on the same level as you entered.

If you see fluffy entities, look at their eyes first. If the eyes are blue, they are friendly; any other color is to be avoided.

There is only one entity that is 100% friendly and will help you. It looks like a shadow with no features; it does not talk, but you will understand her.

If you hear a sound, go in the opposite direction; if you feel like a sound surrounds you, hide and stay still no matter what; some entities don't have eyes.

If you can't find the exit, pray to whatever god you believe in, and good entities will find you and help you.

On rare occasions, you might find other humans; don't trust them; they are no longer humans.

and I think that I said everything that has to be said. If you have any questions, I will be more than happy to answer them, and I hope you did not feel sick or do any negative things from this post.

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sapphoscorner · 3 months

Text

Edit: please reblog this with some information about demisexuality, I did make a mistake here by saying "Cove doesn't understand sexual attraction" he does, so my bad on that part

SO, I usually don't get too involved in fandom discourse, but with how Baxter fans are acting about the loss in the MDDB I snapped and decided we should have a talk.

(This turned out longer than expected so more under the cut. I BEG YOU TO READ THIS AND TOP UNDERSTAND WHERE THE ANGER AND FRUSTRATION COME FROM.

This is all over place, I tried my best to make this as comprehensible as possible)

Specifically I want to talk about this fandom obsession with him and how, is getting to a point where people are legitimately re-writing the game and erasing Cove existence to have this fucking man instead.

And look, I want to say that I get the appeal, I do, but I don't because Baxter's route is genuinely the worst written one out of the three; Compared to Cove's and Derek's (and Derek treatment in the fandom is a WHOLE OTHER ISSUE) is really not. I'm not here to judge one taste, I am here to tell you that your love for him is ridiculous.

It is genuinely ridiculous how much popular he has gotten and so many of you are forgetting about Cove and how important he is to the story, and generally how he is important to a lot of marginalized people. Some of you keep forgetting that Cove is autistic and demiseuxal and that is such a rare representation to see and it is already erased in the fandom (especially his autism), but now is even more erased because people are grabbing everything that makes Cove Cove, and are applying it to Baxter.

That is also not touching the fandom treatment of Derek and how overly criticize his route his compared to Baxter's, like...DEREK'S PARENTS ARE GETTING MORE SHIT THAT BAXTER CANONICAL BIGOTED PARENTS LOL, WHAT IS THIS?? Are you guys serious?? I've seen a fanfic with Irene being transphobic, why the fuck would someone write that when Baxter's mom is right there?

And Derek shitty treatment doesn't end here because people are straight up erasing the guy and not ?? talking about on how well written he is ?? He is not erased sorry, he's forgotten, no one cares about him. And when people care is a) rare or b) so criticize to the point where is no longer a criticism but just you bitching about it.

And it doesn't end there! Baxter is so talked about that people are more interested in him making a cameo in OL:N&F than the main characters of that game, THAT'S HOW THINGS HAVE GOTTEN, We've gotten to a point where people cares more about some white man than Qiu or Tamarack, which are way more interesting than him as characters but neither of them are white skinny man so lol, who cares about them.

AND TO TOP THIS SHITSHOW IT SOMEHOW GETS WORSE FROM HERE BECAUSE PEOPLE DON'T EVEN ARE CARE ABOUT THE INTERESTING ASPECTS OF BAXTER'S CHARACTER!!

Everyone is molding him like clay to create this, confident rich white boy when he is not?? and that's...the whole point of his route?? That he shouldn't need to put up this mask and to actually be a fucking human being?? THE FACT THAT HE IS A QUEER KID WHO HAD TO CUT OFF HIS PARENTS AND HAD TO BE INDEPENDENT FROM THEM AND LEARNING TO NOT DEPENDENT ON HIS PARENTS? (monetarily wise that is)

And like, people forget the man is queer, he is queer, he's a queer person who had to hide who he is to his parents and then had to cut them out for his own sanity, and no one mentions it.

The fandom as a whole erases queer identities,when this game is literally made FOR queer people don't you love it when straight people come into our spaces and erase our identities lol, that is a problem that more people should acknowledge, alongside the fact that Baxter's stans have taken over this safe space, overtook the main love interest, and ignore the genuine interesting aspects of Baxter's character to make him their own little doll they can play with and not appreciate a guy who is trying to learn how to stop being that mask everyone in the fandom has fallen over.

And I know, I know , I will get shit for daring to go against your favorite white boy, but consider that some of us played this game because an autistic character was in it, consider that this game is queer friendly and the fandom is also erasing that queerness to make horny fan fiction**, consider that some of us fond comfort in Derek and Cove's story and now we see everyone overtaking their stories by a white boy (that you can find in every other game), consider that his talk is tiring, consider also the fact that Baxter is technically queer and no one ever talks about it, consider that this game was a safe space for marginalized people and now it no longer feels that way

**with horny fanfiction I mean people re-writing Cove whole personality (and sexuality if we're being honest here) and making him this...horny big man when...he is not? He got stressed out by simply having to share a bed with MC, he's extremely shy around the subject of sex and he gets incredibly nervous about it.

I personally think that is due of both his queerness and autism (and yeah his personality, but autism affects ones personality so lol, sue me) since demisexuality means he genuinely doesn't understand how people can feel sexual attraction, and mixing that with autism means he probably doesn't understand the SOCIAL pressure around sex and having sex.

Granted that's speculation on my part but as someone who is (probably) autistic and asexual I can tell that, at least a majority feels this way and Cove is literally is the type to have this kind of mentality, he does not understand how Baxter can flirt with him after mere seconds of knowing each other

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nicoline1998enilocin · 9 months

Text

The moment it became unbearable

PAIRING | Fiancé!Bucky Barnes x Fiancée!Female!Reader

WORD COUNT | 1.4K

SUMMARY | Your anxiety has been getting worse the last few weeks and you've reached your breaking point. When your emotions are at the point you're having a panic attack, Bucky is called away from his mission to help you get through this, just like he'd done so many times before.

WARNING(S) | This is your official trigger warning. Do not proceed if any of these topics upset you. Lots of angst, reader is going through a pretty severe episode of anxiety, mentions of blood/bloody knuckles, mentions of a panic attack, Bucky being the best fiancé ever, and lots of cuddles and fluff in the end.

A/N | This is a very self indulging fic because my anxiety is getting pretty severe, so I just need to write my problems away. I understand it completely if this fic is not for you and you choose not to read this, there is plenty of other work that might be more suited to what you're looking for! 💜

A/N 2.0 | I want to thank @suzipanini for giving me the idea to write this fic, and for always listening to my complaining whenever I need to do so. You're an absolute angel sent from heaven and I love you! 🖤

Likes, comments and reblogs will be very much appreciated 💜

Main Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist

You had been feeling like something was wrong for a while, but you just couldn't quite place your finger on the problem. Some days you started to eat a whole lot more, overstuffing yourself even, other days you barely ate anything and were content with a few small snacks. Some days you're the light of everyone's life, other days your mood has turned so sour everyone stays as far away from you as possible. And to make everything even worse, Bucky is on a long undercover mission which means he can barely talk to you if he can at all.

Your physical appearance is also starting to get worrisome, your nails have been bitten to the point that they're bleeding yet you continue to bite them, and there's nothing left of the beautiful manicure you had done not even a week ago. Your anxiety is eating away at you from the inside out, and now you're starting to return the favor to your body by starting your bad nailbiting habit again. All the while all you can think about is how bad your anxiety is getting, and the one person you want to tell more than anyone is not here. And he's not going to be here for another few weeks if not months.

The feeling of impending doom is creeping up more and more, and you're trying to get some of it out of your system by going to the gym, and that seems to work. However, it seems to work a little too well because you're starting to overdo it, your knuckles are completely raw and bloody from how much you've been hitting the punching bags lately. Anything to keep the voice inside your head from telling you everything is going to be doomed. That you're doomed. And it works for quite a while until Steve starts to notice something is wrong.

You were bandaging your knuckles in the locker room attached to the gym in the Compound when Steve happened to walk in. He was getting ready for his workout when he heard you hiss at the feeling of the bandages getting taken off your wounds, and he immediately walked over to see what was going on. ''Y/N?'' he said but you didn't hear him. You were so much in your head you didn't hear anything, you didn't see anything other than your hands and the blood on them, you didn't notice anything other than the constant voice in your head telling you will never be good enough.

It wasn't until Steve walked around you that you even noticed he was there, and you got so scared you accidentally jumped and fell backward off the bench you were sitting on. ''Fuck!'' you yelled as your head hit the floor behind you as you fell with a loud thud. ''I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to startle you like that!'' Steve quickly apologizes but all you can think about is getting away. Away from Steve, away from where you fell, away from the Compound even. Away to the one person who could pull you out of this spiral. But he is still away on the undercover mission, and won't be back for weeks, if not months.

''P-please, leave me alone,'' you say as you start crying softly. You don't mean for Steve to leave you alone, no. You want the voices inside your head to leave you alone, for the anxiety to leave you be and let you live your life. ''No, no, no, leave me alone! Please, leave me alone!'' you say, covering your ears as you're spiraling into a panic attack. ''Y/N, please listen to me,'' Steve says but you shake your head because you can't do this anymore. ''No, GO AWAY!" you yell at him, but he doesn't. Instead, he softly picks you up despite you trashing in his hold to let you go.

''Let me go! Put me down and let me go! They need to stop! Please tell them to stop!'' you say as your panic is completely taking over and you don't know what's real and what's not. The voices in your head are winning, and you realize you're fighting a losing battle. What you didn't realize, however, is that Steve has called Bucky back from his mission already, and he will arrive soon. After explaining what's going on Bucky gave instructions to Steve about how to handle your episode, which he is doing. And the person you need most is coming home to you. Not in a few weeks or even months, but he will be home in less than an hour.

When you and Steve arrive at your bedroom, he puts you down on the bed where he just holds you in his arms, soothing you by rubbing your back and whispering sweet things to you, despite you not hearing him. It may not be Bucky who is soothing you right now, but he is also doing a damn good job of soothing you. Your crying and panic haven't stopped, but suddenly you feel a shift again, and you feel a different pair of strong arms holding you as you're sitting down on the bed again. These arms are so different in fact, they don't even feel the same compared to each other. Bucky's home. You're back with the person you need more than anything.

For the first time in what feels like forever you dare to open your eyes, and you're looking into the eyes you've been so desperately longing for all this time. The eyes that seem to calm your mind down without saying a single word. ''Hi pretty girl,'' he says, but you don't hear him yet. All you can hear is the anxiety in your head telling you how he's just doing this out of pity, but you know deep inside he isn't. You knew he loves you, and he does this to make you feel better. He places a soft kiss on your forehead, followed by a kiss on each of your cheeks.

It calms you down, and you finally take your hands away from your ears, wanting to hear his voice. ''Y-you're home…'' you croak out, your voice barely there to say it, but he hears it. ''I am, doll. And I'm sorry you had to go through this without me by your side,'' he says and he lifts one of his hands to cup your cheek, rubbing his thumb softly over it and you're calming down enough for the voices to disappear. ''I love you, so much. And I can't tell you how much I can't wait to marry you,'' he says, which earns him a small smile. The smile he loves so much.

''Love you too,'' you whisper and you lean forward for a kiss. It's soft, slow, and gentle, everything and more you need out of it right now. It isn't rushed, it isn't heated, it's perfection. Bucky is by your side again, and the world seems to be just a little brighter. ''Shall we go take a shower together? Or did you maybe want to take a bath?'' he asks, even though he already knows the answer. He likes giving you a choice, and between these two you will always choose a bath. ''Bath,'' you say and he nods. He gets off the bed with you in his arms and runs the bath while you're sitting on the counter.

''Alright, let's get you out of these clothes and bandages,'' he says and suddenly your cheeks get heated at the thought that Bucky will now know what you've done to yourself when he was gone. He slips you out of your clothes and out of his tactical gear before pulling the bandages off of your hands, and revealing the damage there. He doesn't say anything, instead just placing soft kisses on the affected areas to notify you it's okay. You're going to be okay. The two of you get into the bath together and you're sitting with his chest against your back, his arms wrapped around you and your head resting on his shoulder.

The voices have completely disappeared, and you're feeling like your old self again. All you needed was Bucky, and now that he's back you're okay again. ''I can't wait to marry you either,'' you suddenly say, thinking back to what he said not too long ago. ''You'll be the best husband I could ever wish for,'' you tell him and he lets out a soft laugh. ''And you'll be the best wife I could ever wish for,'' he says as he captures your lips in another kiss. ''I love you, doll. More than I've ever loved anyone,'' he says and with that, you sink back against his chest, your head resting on his shoulder and his cheek resting against your hair. Finally, you're complete again.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff

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sapphosclosefriend · 2 years

Text

- Commendation -

Pairing: Professor! Wanda Maximoff x Student! Fem! Reader

Genre: smut

Summary: your professor, known for being kind and cheerful, has a hidden side she reveals only to you

Word count: 3057

Warnings: bottom! Reader, top! Wanda Maximoff, legal age gap, kissing, SMUT, clit stimulation (r receiving), oral on a strap (r giving), strap-on (r receiving), hair pulling (r receiving), rough-ish sex

A/N: this story contains smut, so anyone who isn’t 18+ DNI. Ok so in my country, when you prepare your university graduation thesis, you choose one of your professors as a “mentor”, meaning that they will help you through the entire journey of writing it. I genuinely don’t know if this happens in other countries’ universities as well so I wanted to clarify it just in case. Istg the struggle was real with this one I don’t know why. As usual, likes, reblogs and comments are very appreciated! Enjoy <3

Masterlist

You still can’t believe that in a couple of months you’ll finally be graduating from university. After years of stress and tears you are finally able to see the light at the end of the tunnel, life outside of this school. It’s gonna be easy from now on, only two more exams left and then the long awaited thesis.

You have been working on your dissertation for some time now, hoping to finish it as soon as possible and be able to focus only on preparing yourself for its exposition during the weeks prior to your graduation. Thankfully, you’ve been able to secure yourself a place in Professor Maximoff’s list, feeling happy to be able to work with one of the most competent and notorious academics of your entire university. You also may or may not have had a small crush on her since that time she read your essay to all of her classes and called you “inspirational”, but that’s a completely separate thing.

You actually pride yourself in being able to keep the intellectual admiration and the simple schoolgirl crush you have for this woman very separate, or so you did.

You still vividly remember what an experience it was the first time you had to attend your first ever scheduled meeting only with her and just thinking about it makes your heart beat a bit faster than normal. What surprised you at the time was the sudden nervousness you felt at the thought of being alone with your professor, which you, back then, interpreted as simple eagerness to learn as much as possible from the woman, not necessarily a lie but certainly not the whole truth. You didn’t even know why you did all that stuff before leaving to go to her office, but you still remember the blush that inevitably spread over your chest when your roommate asked you if you were going on a date or something. Ok, maybe the face masks and the waxing weren’t really needed, but, in your defence, you’ve always put a lot of effort in your appearance.

You actually remember very few moments from that day, maybe because of the terrible heat that was plaguing the city or maybe because of the unforgettable view of your professor leaning back on her chair with her arms crossed as she listened to you explaining the main ideas you already had for your dissertation. Seeing the state you were in, and blaming the hot weather, she even offered you a glass of water, which, instead of cooling you off, only made you feel warmer when little drops of condensation fell from the glass on your chest, making you shiver even more when knowing she was now right in front of you, leaning against her desk.

Despite you literally being a hot mess around her, you were grateful for the bright smiles she always threw at you, being kind of a signature thing of hers, as she was known for always being able to make all her students feel at ease.

In spite of the struggles you had to go through, it was a really productive and satisfying encounter, the first of many more.

As time went on, with hours and hours spent working on your thesis, you started feeling a little bit more at ease with her. Of course you still felt a shiver down your back every time she greeted you in her office, getting a bit more personal each time, with her arm starting to sneak around the small of your back while leading you to her desk. You tried to focus on working hard to impress her, though, as to show her that you weren’t just some flustered girl who once wrote an incredible essay, but a student worthy of her time.

With your work progressing and you getting more comfortable in the now familiar space of her office, you didn’t even realise it when you stopped sitting in front of her and automatically started taking a seat next to her, getting the two of you much closer and giving you a clear view of her beautiful smile and her slightly wandering eyes every time she chuckled at your occasional nervousness.

Everything changed that day, which you still remember extremely vividly. It all seemed quite normal, with you showing your professor the information you added to the thesis during the weekend. Even her closeness seemed somewhat familiar. As she was leaning closer to you, trying to take a better look at the words on your laptop, you couldn’t keep your eyes from exploring her face, moving from her eyes, to her cheekbones and finally getting to her rosy lips, which looked even more tempting than usual thanks to the thin layer of gloss on top of them. You were able to break out of their spell only when you noticed them curling up a bit, making your eyes dart up and meet hers, now focused on your face. As soon as you tried to excuse yourself, though, nothing came out of your mouth, leaving you there with your mouth open and unable to let any words out. At the look on your face she simply left out a small laugh, that you probably would have missed if you weren’t so close to her, and gave you her beautiful smile that you were now so familiar with. As a couple of seconds passed, you were only able to whisper a small “sorry” as something changed in her eyes, giving them a darker look, almost hungry.

You were still trying to get your thoughts in order when you felt a soft hand on your leg, caressing the skin right above your knee, incredibly close to the hem of your skirt. As you turned your head to look at the gentle touch, you immediately felt her moving even closer to you and running her nose from the base of your neck up to your ear, making a shiver run down your spine as she left out a low hum against it. You simply couldn’t move an inch, especially since she started moving her hand higher and higher at an agonisingly slow pace, making mush out of your brain and your muscles incredibly tense as you grabbed the armchair so hard your knuckles turned white.

It was almost as if the thick air surrounding you was pulsating simultaneously with your heartbeat, making it impossible for you to make out any of her soft whispers. All you could register were the occasional nipping at your lobe and her fingers now grabbing your inner thigh, right under your throbbing centre, making you let out a small whimper at the sight of her hand now fully under your skirt. As she started lightly running her index finger over you through your underwear, she noticed you getting even more tense than before and your lower lip caught between your teeth as your breath started getting more and more scattered

“Let me hear you sweetheart, let me hear your pretty voice”

Her low whispers only made an even stronger shiver run through your entire body, as the knot in your lower stomach tightened almost painfully, making it impossible for you to hold it all in anymore. As you threw your head back and left out a loud moan she suddenly pressed directly on your clit and started rubbing it in tight circles while leaving little kisses on the now exposed column of your throat, moaning at your ragged breath. The small groan she left out at the feeling of your wetness getting all over her fingers even through the fabric of your underwear, her intoxicating perfume and the feeling of her lips now pressed against your temple only added to your pleasure.

Sensing your peak quickly nearing and being in need of some stability, you went to grab her wrist between your legs but were stopped from doing so when you reached your climax, which made your hips buck in her hand and caused you to let out one last strangled moan. Trying to collect yourself as much as possible, you leaned your back on the chair and left your head fall back while you tried to get your breathing back to normal, but shivered once again as she took her fingers off of you to gently grab your chin and turn your still titled back head towards her, getting you to open your eyes only when you felt her lips pressing against the corner of your mouth.

In that moment, with your body still euphoric but your mind much clearer, it all hit you at once. Professor Maximoff, your professor, just got you off, she just touched you here, in her office, which could have potentially been accessed by anyone at any time. For what you know, someone could have just opened the door while you were in such a compromising position and all your past years of hard work could have been thrown out of the window just like that. You’re ironically not even worried about the action in itself, yes, you probably would have considered it inappropriate if any other professor of yours tried to make such a bold move, but you must admit that, coming from her, made it feel way too exciting.

Sensing your uneasiness starting to get a hold on you, she immediately tried her best to reassure you, informing you of the student after you having called off, before leaving a simple peck on your cheek, which successfully put a stop to the rambling in your head and finally made you realise her closeness, once again. This time, some unknown boldness took over you, making you lean forward to press your lips on hers in a quick kiss, which she immediately tried to deepen, taking a hold of your jaw with her hand and moaning at the feeling of your tongue on her lips. With the kiss quickly growing hungrier and messier, hands wandering on each other’s bodies, you were so lost in one another that the sudden sound of a notification on your phone made you jump and fully break the kiss.

Nothing else happened that day, you just left her office after realising how long you had been in there.

With time, though, your meetings started getting later and later at night, taking advantage of the loneliness of the building to appreciate each other as much as you wanted, as taking the risk of moving your activities to your or her home was still a big no.

One thing you were able to notice with your encounters was the different demeanours she displayed to you in such intimate situations, leaving space for her deep desires to take over.

Today you are supposed to meet up at her office once again. It is different, though: you just officially finished writing your thesis, meaning that you technically don’t need your professor’s help anymore. She still confirmed your meeting to “make sure that everything is on track”, but you know what she seeks from you going there.

Your knock on her door echoes through the corridor of the empty building, giving you a sense of comfort knowing that there is very little possibility of someone accidentally catching you two. There is still a small sense of uneasiness deep in you, though, knowing that, now that your academic work is officially over, the chances of spending time together could be more difficult to find.

You are pulled out of your thoughts as the door to her office opens, revealing her figure hugged by one of her signature black suits with her sleeves rolled up, giving you a clear view of her beautiful hands adorned by a couple of rings and her manicured, short nails. There is a small smirk on her lips when your eyes move up to meet hers, before she moves to the side to let you get in, closing and locking the door as she follows you inside.

You can sense her eagerness when she doesn’t even let you put down your bag, taking it herself as she presses her front against your back and starts kissing you from your shoulder up to your neck

“There has been an unexpected event, I don’t have much time, I’m sorry”

“I can come another day, I don’t want to keep you here”

Your small, trembling voice makes her smile in your neck as she lightly sucks your skin between her kisses

“No, I wanna fuck my good girl, I wanna see you cum for me”

Her words and the particular hard squeeze she gives your hips make you let out a small yelp, turning it into a low moan when she pulls you hard against her front, letting you feel the bulge in her pants. The groan she lets out and the way she starts panting against you when you keep moving your ass against her strap lets you know that she’s probably wearing the one she loves, with an end right inside of her.

All of a sudden she moves away from you and walks to her desk, leaning against it and signaling you to move closer. You already know what she wants from you, so, as soon as you reach her, you immediately kneel before her and unbutton her pants, lowering them and her underwear just enough for the dildo safely secured to the straps on her hips to sprung out. Seeing the way her hips buckle when you simply pump it in your hand a couple times, you just start licking it to get it thoroughly wet while looking up at her. Your ministrations don’t last long, though, as she soon reaches down for your hair, roughly pulling it to move your head back to warn you, her stern look being enough for you to stop with the teasing.

As soon as you wrap your lips around the head of the dildo and lower them, using your hand to push it further, the action makes the other end move inside of her, deliciously stimulating her. The low moans she lets out as you bob your head on her faux cock only make you wetter and more eager to please her, so you try to take as much of her as you can and, as you lower your head all the way to the base of the dildo, you’re satisfied to hear her let out a small “shit” at your action. As soon as you pull back and take a breath, she roughly grabs your hair in a makeshift ponytail, signaling you to keep up with the pace. With one end of the dildo repeatedly hitting the back of your throat, it doesn’t take long for her to cum, giving you what would be the most beautiful view of the woman above you if it wasn’t for your slightly watery eyes.

Right after coming down from her climax she leans down to kiss you and the desire and lust you see in her eyes as you pull back makes you jump on your feet to fully press your fronts together and kiss her even more deeply. She immediately moves her hand between your legs to cup you through your underwear and, hearing you moan in the kiss, she sneaks her fingers under the fabric to suddenly plunge two of them inside of you, trying to get you ready for the quite large dildo.

Not being able to hold herself back anymore, though, she soon lowly groans and turns you two around, pushing your shoulders and bending you over her desk, before hurriedly lifting your skirt over your hips and taking off your underwear.

You can’t hold back a moan when you turn your head and catch a glimpse of her putting the fabric in the pocket of her blazer, before taking it off and revealing her wearing a tank top, showing off her beautiful arms and shoulders. Feeling her sliding the faux cock over your folds, making the tip bump on your clit each time, you cross your arms and lean your forehead over them, waiting for her to finally push into you. When she does you try to hold back a whimper at the large intrusion, but cry out as she pushes the rest in one quick go

“How many times do I have to tell you to stop doing that? I wanna hear how good you feel when I fuck you with my strap”

You don’t even have the time to respond, as she instantly sets a quick pace, making it impossible for you not to let out loud moans at the way she deliciously pumps the dildo into you. The sounds she lets out perfectly combine with yours, creating a symphony of desire that makes your head spin even more as she keeps a tight hold on your waist, pulling you back against her to meet each one of her thrusts.

With the raw desire she’s displaying, all you can do is reach for the other end of the desk and hold tight onto it in order to ground yourself as much as you can.

You soon feel her pace getting more erratic and her breathing more laboured as she gets closer to her climax, so you try to push back against her, only to be unable to do so when she harshly pulls your hair, getting a particularly loud moan out of you and making your back arch even more. All you can focus on are the beautiful sounds she’s making and the strap repeatedly hitting the sweet spot inside of you as you start panting even more when she moves her other hand from your waist to you clit to quickly rub it

“Come on baby, I wanna see you cum all over my strap”

It all hits you like a hard, rough wave that takes all your breath away and makes your legs shake and when she straightens up and sees your disheveled state and your arousal running down your thighs, the coil in her stomach tightens even more, snapping after a couple more of rough thrusts.

All you can hear in your blissed out state is her panting against your back as she tries to catch her breath, before she lets out a breathless laugh

“Shit, I might have to keep checking up on your work for some more time, sweetheart”

@fxckmiup (shit I forgot to tag you sorry, Idk if you've read this already😥)

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff smut #scarlet witch #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch x fem!reader #scarlet witch smut #marvel #mcu

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hotjaneaustenmenpoll · 2 months

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Welcome to the HOT JANE AUSTEN MEN bracket! We have just finished voting on all the HOTTEST Jane Austen Gentlemen and Rakes from all the many TV and Film Jane Austen Adaptations.

After nearly two months of voting we have our Winner! Thank you everyone for taking part and all your propaganda I will be taking a little break for a while but look out for more polls in the future...

All polls—including ongoing polls, previous rounds,mini ask polls—can be found in the #hotjaneaustenmenpoll tag. Every poll in the Hot Jane Austen Men Tournament is tagged with the hot regency man and the year his adaptation was made if you need to search for a hot man in particular.

FAQs:

“Where is [my favorite Jane Austen man]?” Have you checked all the polls in the tag? Have you done a tag search for him? Only some of the actors are tagged but if you search for his adaptation and the year he was in it you should find him! If you still haven’t found him, he probably isn't in this poll.

“WHERE ARE THE HOT JANE AUSTEN MEN. I want to see all the hot men competing in one place! -

The Final

Third Place Poll

Semi-Finals Master List!

Quarter-Finals Master List!

Round Three Master List!

Round Two Master List!

Round One Master List!

“Who is included on this list?” We started with 64 opponents readied their duelling pistols to defend their own hotness but only 8 remain! I included men from Pride and Prejudice 1940/1995/2005, Sense and Sensibility 1971/1995/2008, Emma 1996/1996/2009/2020, Northanger Abbey 2007, Persuasion 1995/2007/2022 and Mansfield Park 1983/ 1999/2007 as well as a couple from Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, one from Sanditon and one from Love and Friendship/Lady Susan. Most are the main hero/anti-heroes but there are a few others scattered in too.

Have you included Spin Offs ?” The only strictly none Jane Austen adaptation I've included men from is Pride and Prejudice and Zombies because it is set in the correct time period, the characters are basically the same in terms of personality and I thought the casting was great! In terms of Sandition, Sidney Parker is the only man I have entered as he is mentioned in the book as well as the TV so sadly as much as I love the other Sanditon Men they aren't included!

"Can I submit hot Jane Austen men?” Submissions are now closed! But my ask is still open for propaganda...

“I have additional propaganda for the hot men!” Great! Send me an ask, tag me in gifsets, fancams etc or reblog the poll and add your propaganda to it. Also feel free to send in any book propaganda!! I'll try to boost as much propaganda as possible

WHy is the propaganda so uneven on this poll? To stay impartial I only add propaganda to the main poll that has been sent in before each round's polls open. If you submit any after then I will reblog or post and add to the winner's propaganda in the next poll. If it's uneven it's because you never sent any in, not because I'm being biased.

"How have you paired up the men ?" I did start to try and vaguely seed the men but I will be honest I did get a bit slap dash towards the end which means a couple of the match-ups are maybe a bit too even but fun I hope!

If you’re submitting propaganda for your hot man, I don’t accept propaganda that is of the actor outside of their Specific Jane Austen Adaptation but I do accept propaganda from them in their respective books. I would love to be tagged in gifsets and fancams, and I'd like to boost propaganda that tells us why your Jane Austen man is your favourite :)

I won’t post or boost negative propaganda. If you really hate that a certain hot man is winning, send me positive propaganda for their hot opponent. I may make exceptions if your propaganda is of another Austen character bad mouthing him though...

If I see repetitive, trolling, and/or bigoted remarks in the comments, I may block you from this bracket. If you want to point out a hot man’s flaws or misdemeanors, that’s fine, but if I see consistent bad-faith trolling, you will be blocked.

On that note—if you have an issue with a poll, offer a solution! I'll do my best to keep the poll happy and fun, and I'll block people being dicks. If you don’t like a poll photo or a description, offer one I can use instead.

“My FAQ isn’t on here :(” send me an ask! I'd love to hear from you guys—just please check these basics first.

Thank you for being here! Enjoy the tournament.

And Thank You @hotvintagepoll for the inspiration!

#hotjaneaustenmenpoll #jane austen #pride and prejudice #sense and sensibility #persuasion #emma #northanger abbey #mansfield park

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fairytale-poll · 3 months

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WINNER ANNOUNCEMENT POST!!!!!!!

Before I get into the winners, I want to thank everyone who participated in Cinderpoll!!! Everyone who wrote propaganda, who sent asks and wrote comments in the reblogs, even if you just voted thank you for making Cinderpoll as fun as it was! It couldn't have happened without you <3

Now, onward to the winners!!!

The first congratulations will be to the winner of the Mod's Choice poll: Hatsune Miku from Various Songs!!! The Mod's Choice poll is less popular than the main tournament or the loser's bracket, but it's important to me, so it's on here. Here's to Miku Miku!!!

(Technically the Mod's Choice poll is still open at the time this announcement is made, but it looks like she's winning and it's almost done and if it changes I'll edit this post)

The next congratulations is a bigger one. It's the winner of the loser's bracket, Brandy as Cinderella in the 1997 adaptation of Rodgers & Hammerstein's Cinderella!!! Many thought she was done dirty when she lost in Round 1 of the main tournament, so I'm glad she was able to take this reward at least. You know what they always say, it's possible! :) Congratulations Brandy as Cinderella, you defined a generation!

Now we're onto the winners of the main tournament.

We have the two bronze place winners. In 3rd place, we have two popular characters-- one of which I feel as though very few expected to get here. That one was of course Mofurun as Mofurella from Mahou Tsukai Pretty Cure! But that cute little teddy bear, who I have been told is transgender, did it! She made it to the podium through the power of being a cute teddy bear! The other 3rd place winner is Missy Piggy as Lady Holiday from The Great Muppet Caper. The beautiful and talented diva herself, is it no surprise that she made it this far? Honestly, if she was here, she'd probably karate chop me not for giving her the gold (and that's why we love her). Congrats bronze medalists :)

Here is the big one! The runner-up!

It is none other than Cinders from Once Upon a Time (in Space) by The Mechanisms. Cinders had a lot of energy going into the tournament, as she was the second-most submitted character and another Once Upon a Time (in Space) character got runner-up in the last tournament, and she defeated some other big names in the tournament including Cinderella from Into the Woods and Linh Cinder from The Lunar Chronicles (who was the most submitted character). Her fans were passionate and campaigned for her fiercely, and with that, she landed all the way up to the runner-up!!! A very high honor indeed, congratulations Cinders!!! Not bad for a character who doesn't have any official art of her.

There is one character, however, that managed to drum up even more support than Cinders from Once Upon a Time (in Space).

The gold medalist, the winner of Cinderpoll, Tumblr's certified favorite Cinderella, and the unofficial official best Cinderella--

CONGRATULATIONS TO ELLA OF FRELL FROM ELLA ENCHANTED!!!!

I am more than pleased, as Ella of Frell was one of my favorite (if not THE favorite Cinderella in the tournament), and I am so glad that so many other people loved this book. Honestly didn't expect her to make it this far, much less win! I encourage all of you to read it if you enjoy reading! :) Good job Ella, you deserved the gold!!!

Once again thank you everyone for a great poll! I'll start submissions for the next one sometime in the next week.

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anki-of-beleriand · 10 months

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Bad Liar ch. 4

Summary: Life is about lessons, and Wanda has been learning some harsh facts that had define her life and taken her to a place in which she was given a second chance. Then, all of a sudden, she meets you, and she realizes why it's easier to lie to yourself than to accpet what's right in front of her.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff/ Female!reader - America/Kate - Mentions of past Vision/Wanda - past Natasha/Reader - Some Female!Reader/Carol Danvers - past Shuri/Female!reader

Warnings: Slow burn - Enemies to friends to lovers - Mentions of abusive relationships - Toxic relationships - angst - drama - mentions of abuse - more tags as the story progress.

Author's note: In the midst of celebration R and Wanda cross paths once more, and this time around something changes, and after that nothing would be the same. Some clarifications, R parents died almost two years ago from the moment the story takes place, and her relationship with Shuri ended almost 8 months before meeting Wanda.

Thank you so much for reading, commenting, liking and reblogging the story guys! Remember that English is not my mother tongue, so forgive my grammar, spelling and funny mistakes.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 16 - Chapter 17 - Chapter 18

Chapter 4

Shaky foundations

The sound of muffled conversation resounded in the empty balcony.

The cold breeze of the night brushed away the pearly drops of sweat pouring from her face. The sweet freshness of the rainy air filled her lungs, while her heart tried to slow down the heavy beats against her chest. She clenched her eyes close trying to stop the world from spinning too fast, too unsteady under her.

Laughter and music tried to deafen her, but the ringing inside her head made it impossible for the buzzing to kick her senses completely. Her trembling hands rested upon the stony rail, her knees buckled up under her weight and the sobs she was trying to hold back came forth with a defeated sigh.

The night had started out pretty well.

Natasha had lent her a beautiful dress that complemented the figure she forgot she had. Her hair had been put up into a ponytail, with light makeup and low heels, Wanda had entered into a world of glamour and power she had only witness under the shadow of Vision.

Wherever she looked, she would recognize people from the news and the magazines, the parents and contributors of a school that was destined to raise the future of the nation.

There were no cameras, no press.

It was only them enjoying a light evening in one of Tony Stark's convention centres. Natasha Romanoff had kept her promise to never leave Wanda's side, the woman took her by the hand around the room filled with people eager to meet the new English teacher. By now, Wanda realised that her students had not been afraid to talk about her, and her name was in the lips of many proud parents that praised her work with their offspring while promising money, status… Power.

It was too much, too soon.

The last time she had been under so much scrutiny Vis had taken her back home with an anger and hatred Wanda would not forget any time soon. She still had the scars on her back, the souvenir of a man that had claimed property on her by any means possible.

You are nothing more than a common whore, fucking disgusting I have to throw up everytime I have to touch you… The only good thing about you, it's what you have between your legs.

Wanda shivered under the memory of that particular night. The scars on her back burnt with the remembrance.

"You are safe." Natasha had noticed her distress as soon as it happened, Wanda had grabbed the hand of the older woman taking into the comfort of her sympathy.

"Now, lift that chin up and let's meet with the real people of money around here." Natasha winked at Wanda leading the young woman down the hall towards the main table.

Up until that moment, Wanda had not met with any of the school board members in full. But as they approached the table, Wanda realised she was about to have her world turned around by the people shooting at her curious glances.

"Romanoff, as always, your taste in women is impeccable." A dark haired man declared, his smile bright and full of mischief with dark glasses and a flirty attitude, Wanda recognized Tony Stark almost instantly.

"Shut it, Tony." Natasha shook her head, and while the gesture seemed familiar and teasing, Tony could see the warning glint in Natasha's eyes. "This is Wanda Maximoff, the new teacher for the Special Class."

"Mr. Stark, it's an honour…" Wanda stretched her hand clumsily, her cheeks burning red when the man lowered his shades to lock eyes with her.

"If what Romanoff says about you is the truth then, the pleasure is all mine…" Tony stretched his left arm showing the rest of the people at the table, there were three empty spots, and soon he lifted a single eyebrow at Wanda. "Please, Mrs. Maximoff, we were waiting for you."

"And, Y/N…" A woman with light brown hair said smiling at Wanda. "But she must be fighting with her sister over the phone."

"As always." Natasha rolled her eyes pointing with her hand to the woman. "Please, meet the only woman that can put up with Tony, Pepper Potts."

"I resent that!"

Wanda soon found herself meeting everyone at the table and being part of a group she never thought would be this… Amicable to her. Sitting right beside Tony and Pepper was Loki's older brother and guardian Thor Odinson and his wife Sif. Then, there was Steve and Bucky, the legal guardians of the Captain of the football team Sam Wilson. To the other end of the table was Clint Barton and his wife Laura, who were in charge of the exchange students program and then there was Kate's mother, Eleanor was the CEO of one of the most important security businesses in the nation.

Wanda had been overwhelmed by the full presentation, and she had tried to hide her awkwardness behind a tentative smile and stumbled words. Everyone was kind, commenting on Wanda's best traits while directing the conversation to general matters that the redhead thanked silently.

Finally, Wanda sat just beside Natasha with an empty spot by her side, she furrowed her brows glancing at the blond-haired woman sitting on the other chair.

"Finally but not least, that's Carol Danvers, Y/N's companion." Natasha stated, Carol tilted her head stretching her hand to greet Wanda.

"A pleasure to finally meet someone normal amongst this lot." Carol said, winking at Wanda.

For some reason, Wanda smiled at the comment looking around the table then at the empty spot. Carol waved her hand while pointing with her head to the other side of the room.

" Y/N is the one with money, not me." Carol returned her attention to the table, everyone was already engaged in conversation waving the two women alone. "And, this is my first event, just like you."

"Good, I was afraid this could be too awkward for me to suffer alone."

Carol let out a soft laughter, Wanda relaxed a little, finally finding her confidence as she engaged the other woman in small talk.

Everything seemed to be going well, Wanda was finally finding a spot in between her awkwardness with which she would work while trying to enjoy the evening until a familiar voice broke her bubble of happiness all of a sudden.

"I swear to God my sister is impossible to deal with when she is around your brother, Thor." You came in putting your mobile away while dropping on the chair, you furrowed your brows turning to the gaping woman glancing at you with disbelief, anger and uncertainty all in a single glance of emerald green.

" You!" Wanda finally sputtered, you raised a single eyebrow tilting your head to see Natasha highly shocked at Wanda's reaction.

"Me. Yes, as far as I know, Princess." You replied mockingly, Wanda clenched her jaw jumping startled when Natasha leaned over.

"Do you know Y/N?"

"Know?" Wanda turned to Natasha with a hint of disbelief tainting her voice. "Do you remember the… The…the bi… The rude woman I met on my first day here?"

You leaned back on your chair watching with growing amusement the red-head's reaction to your presence. Everyone had their eyes on the both of you, Carol sneaked her hand under the table placing a hand on your thigh while cocking her head with curiosity.

"I do…" Natasha trailed off before shooting you an annoyed glance. "It was you?!"

"It was me what, Tasha?"

"You were being a bitch to Wanda on her first day here!"

Wanda opened her eyes wide at Natasha's words, her cheeks colouring red as now the attention of all the presents at the table were on her. You made a face while taking a glass of wine while shrugging.

"I wasn't being a bitch, she just couldn't take it that I was faster and smarter than her." You replied tilting your head to the redhead. "Really? You have been complaining about that?"

"It's not… I didn't…" Wanda scoffed at you, obviously affronted to be this close to you. "God, who are you anyway?"

Natasha winced at the question, everyone turned their attention to you but all of a sudden you were very busy playing with the red beverage on your glass.

"Wanda, let me introduce you to Y/N Y/L/N, who recently became the head of Alchemax Corp." The introduction was quite simple, but Wanda just as everybody else on the planet had heard the story of such a company.

She kept her eyes on you, though it looked as if you were unfazed by such revelation. Money was certainly something you didn't lack, but by the time Wanda met you it wasn't something you reek of. For a brief moment, everyone was pretty silent, and you growled rolling your eyes while shrugging while drinking your wine in a single sip.

"Right, nice to meet you, Princess."

Carol furrowed her brows at the nickname, while Wanda turned away flustered without knowing how to react.

In the end, she went for the most familiar emotion she related to you. Anger.

"Not my pleasure, unfortunately."

"Woah, you really make up for good first impressions, Y/N." Tony chuckled, lifting his glass to you before turning to Wanda. "She is not very nice when you know her at first but, after a while, she warms up to you, right Romanoff?"

"Shut up, Tony!"

You disconnected yourself from the conversation soon after, the tension between you and Wanda was still quite palpable for you, but it seemed for everyone around the room it was a thing of the past. The hand on your leg drew circles, trying to help you reach a comfort you didn't feel.

"So, besides fighting over food at the supermarket, and crashing your car against your neighbour's, you're into teaching teens, Princess?" You asked after a while, everyone at the table was either busy eating or had left to go around the room and socialised.

Wanda blinked a couple of times, her attention drifted from the plate in front of her to you. The infuriating smile dancing on your lips made her blood boil, Wanda scoffed leaning back while looking around for some back up.

She was alone, though.

Tony had dragged Natasha away with him, and Wanda was left alone with you to her left and a pretty boisterous Thor to her right. You tapped the table with your fingertips, your gaze travelling down the features of the young woman sitting beside you.

You had noticed her beauty before, but right now she was looking stunningly beautiful. There was a light of innocence on her that made her cute, it made your heart flutter with something akin to attraction and the mere thought scared you a little.

"I am a teacher, yes." Wanda finally gave in, the fork in her hand putting away some of the food she would not consume that night.

"I see." You whistled impressed, the glint of teasing in your eyes warning Wanda your next comment would be a stupid one.

"Smart, even though you're an awful driver." You chuckled, lifting your hands in a sign of peace at her enraged expression.

"You…" Wanda took a deep breath trying to control her anger, now that she knew who you were she would need to measure her words. You could see her effort to keep her tongue controlled and a part of you hated it.

"Why are you so…infuriating?"

The question came with a tired huff, the redhead woman didn't even dare to look at you but instead of waiting for an answer she just stood up and walked away leaving you with an empty mind and a yearning heart.

"Hey, did you know Hope is here?" Carol sat to your side, her hand placing itself in your thigh.

Your eyes popped open, turning your head you went to look around for the woman before settling your eyes on Carol who was giggling at your reaction.

"I mean, here in the country and the city, silly not here-here."

"Oh, no, I didn't know…" you mumbled, frowning a little. "She didn't call me…I mean, not that she needed to is just…"

Carol softened her features, placing a comforting hand on you. She leaned in to place a kiss on your cheek while her hand played with your hair.

"I'm sorry, I thought you guys were talking again."

You offered a terse smile, the air around heavy and hot.

"I think it's complicated." You tried to cut off with the topic, but Carol would have none of it. She knew your friendship with Hope was something you had treasure from an early age, but things had gone out of hand after your last relationship.

Carol frowned, taking a sip from her beverage before speaking.

"I thought that after everything was cleared up, she would side with you instead of being a bitch about it."

The world came to a stop, Carol knew she had made a mistake the moment her clear eyes fell on you. Your hand had grabbed the glass of wine tightly, the memories assaulting your senses.

"Things have not been the same since Shuri, I wasn't her only friend… And for Hope it was harder to understand the whole situation." The name of your ex-girlfriend rolled out of your lips with the same pained expression it usually did.

"She is not being a bitch she just…she doesn't need to lose her two oldest friends for something like this."

It was enough to make Carol stop, your body tensed completely and the moment was broken. Carol pursed her lips leaning back to fix her position on the chair, the warmth in her eyes turned to pure cold and you knew you had broken an unspoken rule between the both of you.

"Y/N…" Carol started but you stood up.

"I think I'm going for a drink." You finally mumbled leaving the table behind, Carol staying there her eyes glancing regretfully at you glass full of wine.

______________________________________________________________

Wanda was not sure how she ended up in her current predicament, what she did know was that her heart rate had increased exponentially and her body was sweating profusely at her current situation.

The man standing before her was huge, with big muscle arms and an imposing figure. His eyes were black, and while his smile appeared to be kind there was a strange tension around her eyes that made people doubt his intentions. Simon Williams had set his eyes on the new teacher the moment she crossed the threshold of Stark's convention centre by the arm of Natasha.

The woman didn't look gay, mostly shy.

Which was perfect for him, shy women were terrific in bed and usually easier to convince than regular ones. After he finally got his chance at the redhead, he realised this one would be harder to crack. She was not only shy, but a bitch. Almost unresponsive, and kind of dull, Simon decided to go all in with his open flirtatious nature and his comments, he wanted to make it clear to the woman what he was looking for. And if that didn't work the way he wanted, he could always toss in the name of his father and see how this would ease the woman's attitude.

Wanda from her part was trying to locate Natasha with her eyes, but so far she had failed miserably. No one had noticed her in this dimly lit corner, and she was certain the huge man was hiding away her frame and probably the expression of pure terror she was sporting at the moment. The young woman winced, her body froze completely while her eyesight went blurry when Simon placed his hand on her forearm, leaning in his hot breath filled with alcohol and hit her in the face.

"So what do you say, Princess?"

The nickname under his lips, with the suggestive tone and his deep guttural voice made Wanda shivered in fear. She felt trapped. And the only thing she could see at the moment was Vision hovering above her, punishing her for, once more, bringing the attention of a man. For being the whore he always thought she was. For Wanda the man in front of her didn't look that different from Vision, he had the same dangrrous vibe, the same threatening gestures. Wanda was scared, and didn't know how to get out of that situation.

"By the heavens, Simon, are you tormenting another poor soul with your breath and macho persona?" Your voice broke the fear Wanda was in, her heart leaped in hope when she saw you frowning at the scene.

Simon Williams stepped back, his annoyance evident on his face and the mocking curve on his lips.

"L/N."

You were unimpressed by his height, looking him up and down you then redirected your eyes to Wanda who was still frozen in the spot. You tilted your head noticing the sheer terror on her face, the eyes wide open and the rictus on her lips. Simon had not made note of this, of course, he was a brute that thought with his dick and not his brain. If he had one.

"I thought you were with that dyke friend of yours, the blond one." Simon slurred mockingly. "She dumped you already?"

You smirked, your eyes turning to ice while you started walking around the table, never leaving the eyes of the man in front of you.

"You know what's the difference between you and me, Simon boy?"

The man clenched his jaw, lifting his chin to send a defiant glance your way. Your tone never changed, but you had walked around until you were in between Simon and Wanda.

"That I don't get dumped by black bitches?"

You chuckled, a humourless laugh that was followed by a glance of pure amusement.

"That your mother loves me more than she does you."

Wanda didn't know what happened, the only thing she knew was that soon a deafening crash was heard and the big man had launched at you with rage and unsteady footsteps. You had grabbed the red-haired woman dragging her to the side, and the man had tripped on a chair and landed on a marble table that ended up on the floor.

Your hand had closed tightly around Wanda's wrist, and by the time Wanda was finally aware of what was happening panic rose to her throat and with a harsh slap she freed herself from your touch and ran away from the scene.

Wanda put a hand on her mouth, tears fell freely on her face while she tried to grasp her sanity. She could only think of what had happened, of the mistakes she had made through her life… Of the slap that was going to get her fired..

She had her eyes closed, breathing was getting harder and harder, the sobs strangled in her throat. She gasped when two hands placed tenderly in her shoulders, she had expected to see Natasha not you.

"Stop it." You spoke calmly, softening your features without losing your firmness.

Wanda tried to breathe, but it was getting difficult and the tears full of memories were not helping her case.

Wanda tried to calm herself, but it was almost impossible. Then, your arms wrapped around her and the woman started crying non-stop until she almost fell to the floor. You held her steadily in your arms, the sound of the party going on inside the room was not enough to quiet Wanda's cries.

The moon was already igniting the skies, the light rain falling on the ground and while the night was completely cold you could only feel the warm body against yours. The trembling of the thin frame, while her tears covered your blouse and her hands held onto you as if there was nobody.

Whatever story was behind those tears, whatever story was behind those green eyes you wished there was something you could do at the moment. That there were words that could stop her suffering, but there was nothing you could do.

While the party continued right outside the balcony, you held onto Wanda offering the only comfort you could at that moment. Your arms and a protective embrace against the cold and rainy night.

______________

Carol stood right in front of you with her lips pressed together, and her hand grabbing the small purse she had taking with her. The idea of a perfect, romantic night with you went to hell the moment you two discussed at the table but she thought the night was young and she would get the opportunity to redeem herself.

Now that your car had an unsuspected guest waiting for you to go in, Carol was sure trying to get to talk to you was going to be more difficult than before. You stood in front of her, scratching the back of your neck in the same nervous way you did whenever you felt lost. Carol nodded turning away before her whole face changed and she offered you her best smile.

“I understand.” Carol let out a breathy laugh, her hand brushing away her hair before she stepped closer to you, you grabbed her hand putting her closer.

You tried to hold back your expression, there was just something wrong about the situation.

“I…I will make it up to you, Carol.” When you put her closer, and your lips brushed against hers it made you trembled. “Call you later? Perhaps, we can go out tomorrow…or you can come over and have some lunch with me and America?”

The words were out of your mouth before you could stop them, Carol seemed pleasantly surprised at this and soon she was kissing you with more passion. You smiled through the kiss stepping back, Carol blushed lightly licking her lips while nodding.

“Yeah, I would like that.”

“Good then, talk to you later.” You stepped back finally turning around going to the car, Carol’s voice stopped you just before you went in.

“Be careful.”

Carol wanted to add something else, but she refrained herself waving at you. With a last gesture, you went into the car and soon you found yourself driving down the streets towards Wanda’s house. The woman was sitting right beside you, her head on the window and her hands wriggling together nervously; you were tempted to say something, anything at all, but Wanda had not talked since the incident in the room and her breaking down in the balcony.

The car ride was very silent, the tarnish windows didn’t allow for a good sightseeing in the city but Wanda didn’t care. She was just trying to forget what had happened, how stupid she had been for breaking down and for letting a stranger get to her the way he did. How would she take care of her children if she couldn’t even face some stranger? How would she change her own life if she was still so afraid?

She was weak.

And Vision was right.

She couldn’t do any good without him by her side.

“I lost my parents to an accident.” Your voice broke Wanda from her thoughts, the woman jerked away turning to you before her eyes focused on the lane that was right in front of her home. You leaned back not even looking at her, your voice was flat, as if this story was something you weren’t especially thrilled to be sharing at the moment.

“I was young and…I have to take care of my sister, and then stop doing what I wanted to do because I’m the head of a big empire and…I am the only one that can…” You trailed off lifting your head while glancing at the roof of your car. “There is so much paperwork! God, I hated it, you know?”

You turned to Wanda; the woman was half listening to you not really understand where that conversation was going.

“I hate it.”

Wanda furrowed her brows, her arms wrapping around herself. Silence filled the loneliness inside the car, you shrugged, turning your attention back to the road.

"There are things we can't change, I guess."

"We just had to live with them." Wanda mumbled in the end, you snorted, shrugging again.

"I guess we have to."

Her eyes flickered tentatively to the side, then she finally faced you and there was nothing you could read on her face. She was looking different, though the fear was hiding behind the glistening tears in her eyes.

"Thank you."

You smiled at her, nothing too friendly, just polite. The woman earned your sympathy that day, it was pretty obvious by the reaction she had that things had not been easy for her. Whatever happened in the past, Wanda was still a work in progress.

Nothing else was said, and soon Wanda exited the car and went down her entrance directly to her home.

You would sit in your car for a couple of minutes, before you realised that the redhead had been tormenting your thoughts since she left the car. By the time you were back home, your back against the door you couldn't stop thinking about the night.

About Carol.

About the incident.

And most certainly, you couldn't stop thinking about Wanda and how you suddenly felt overprotective of the redhead. With these confusing emotions pouring out of your mind, you turned off the car and went home. ______________________________________________________________

America stretched out, her mouth opened wide with a deep yawn while her eyes almost dropped with tiredness. She tried to get a glimpse of the piece of paper in front of her but was almost impossible to make out the words without seeing the blurry figures of the letters.

“I think we should call it a night.” Kate mumbled noticing Loki was already fast asleep right beside Kamala, the both of them were cuddling with Yelena taking pictures and giggling like mad.

America snorted nodding tiredly, her eyes soon drifted to the twins and Balder that were fast asleep on the sleeping bags she had fixed for them. Taking care of the boys had been quite easy, America was always surprised to see just how well-behaved the Maximoff twins were; she didn’t want to comment much about it, but she had also seen the look of fear in their eyes, the way they turned to the clock and the door whenever they heard a noise of a car driving by.

“You’re thinking of that again.” Kate leaned in, her hand placing softly on top of America’s one.

For a brief moment, America glanced at their hands while her cheeks burnt lightly. Kate leaned in resting her head on her shoulder, her eyes centring on the form of the twins before she lifted her face to America.

“I just…I can shale the feeing they really had it rough for a while.” America furrowed her brows, her heart beating hard when she felt Kate shifted closer to her. “You should see him on that first day, and Mrs. Maximoff is sometimes…just like them.”

“Well, my sister is keeping everything tight in her office, and I haven’t been able to get much of her.” Yelena slumped on the sofa; her eyes gleaming mischievously to the pair sitting at the other side of the room.

“I can try to do the investigation online.” America and Kate jumped startled; Loki was glancing at them with the same mischievous glance Yelena was shooting at them.

“I thought you were asleep!” America shifted on the chair, her sudden movement putting her away from Kate who couldn’t help but lower her gaze hurt.

Yelena sat watching as America stood up, she stretched before babbling away having some drinks before they could discuss the Wanda Maximoff situation in further detail. Kate crunched up her nose, rolling her eyes slightly annoyed by this.

“…And, if you think you can find something without getting caught…”

“Excuse me?” Loki straightened up rather offended. “Are you doubting my abilities?”

America rolled her eyes trying to evade Kate for a moment, “of course no. But I do think that if they found out about that…”

“We could get into a lot of trouble.”

Kate hated the passion with which America dealt with the situation, ever since the new teacher showed in their lives it was quite evident for everyone in the group that America was quite found of her. Kate knew it was stupid, but whenever America got something into her head she went all the way until she got answers; her passion was one of the things Kate loved the most about her.

“I guess, there is not escaping this then.” Kate mumbled offering a weak smile to America, the young woman opened her eyes quite shocked but happy.

“That’s the attitude, Kate Bear!” America wrapped her arms around the other woman, wriggling her eyebrows before letting go and walking to Loki.

“We could always go to her home and look for information.” Yelena chimed in playing with her phone.

“Why is it breaking in and some minor crime with you, Lena?”

“Excuse me? You’re the one hacking into private records.”

“I am not hacking into private records.” Loki retorted. “I will do it, but…”

The discussion went on and one, America sat near the window her eyes narrowing lightly at the sight of a car parked nearby. Kate sat beside her, chuckling at the discussion that had just woken up Kamla and Balder.

“You think this is stupid and that I shouldn’t mess around with this, right?” America could see Kate was not comfortable answering her question, but she didn’t need to it was obvious that Kate didn’t like the whole situation.

“I just think that you are thinking too much about Mrs. Maximoff, that’s all.” Kate shifted uncomfortably, her hand placing on the young woman’s knee.

America lowered her gaze for a moment then she just shrugged lightly.

“I just…I think there is something else, and the twins…” America lifted her face only to lock eyes with Kate. “I just think…”

“Here comes, America Chavez, the defender of the unfortunate and those who don’t have a voice.” Kate chuckled resting her head on the back of the sofa, her eyes taking in the soft features of the young woman sitting in front of her, on the bashful smile on her face.

“When you said it like that, sounds cheesy.”

“It is cheesy.” Kate shivered when America grabbed her hand leaning closer.

“I just have a gut feeling about this, you know? Kate, you should have seen the fear in those kids. I just want to make sure…”

Kate didn’t need to hear anymore about it, America had already made her mind and whether she liked Wanda or not, there was something she couldn’t take and that was a kid sad or suffering. America had been there, and that usually made her a sucker for helping people around her; and as always, Kate was there to help her up.

If she was to be honest, America was not sure as to why she was so adamant in finding more about her neighbour and teacher. There was just something inside her that told her it was necessary; it was the right thing to do; so she went with her instincts and decided to take a look into the case.

“I guess I can also help in the search, I know that Jack would be more than happy to help me out and we can see if there is anything to know about her.” Kate felt butterflies fluttering around her stomach at the sight of America’s smile; the brunette offered a shy smile before looking away to the street.

“Thank you, Kate. I know you don’t like this, but…maybe if I get my curiosity satiated it would be easier.” America furrowed her brow when her eyes fell on the form of your car, it was parked right next to your house. “Is that my sister?”

Kate had already noticed this, she leaned in pursing her lips while recognizing the plates.

“Looks that way, why is parked over there?”

The question went unanswered, at that moment Kate’s phone rang and America’s vibrated on the table. Wanda was letting America know she was home, while Jack was telling Kate they were ready to pick her and Yelena up. Soon, Loki was also picking up his stuff while the conversation turned to the project and what they should do the next day.

You stayed inside your car for a moment, the night had been tiresome and confusing. The woman living next door was not leaving your mind, and all you could think off was how to forget the whole drama you certainly didn’t need.

Your phone vibrated, your eyes drifted to the screen to see the name of Carol and Natasha there. More than a couple of messages, and missing call from your sister. You sighed tilting your head until you were looking into the yellowish light coming from the house next door.

“You gonna stay there all night, or are you coming inside, doofus?” America rested her weight on the car, there was a light frown on her face but otherwise she was just looking tired and happy to see you there.

“I don’t know, are you guys making a ruckus like last time?” You exited the car chuckling when America winced at the memory.

“Nah, we were really studying and babysitting.” America put her jacket closer, her eyes went to your car then to the neighbours home, you turned your head focusing your attention back to your home.

“How did it go? Why are you here in the cold?”

“Well, I saw you get here but never get inside…everything good?” America placed a hand on your forearm, her concern stare pierced right through you knowing there wasn’t much you could hide from your sister.

“Yeah, I just…it was a strange night, you know?” You rested your weight against your car. “I’ve got into a fight with Simon Williams and then…well, Carol and I got into a discussion over Hope…”

“Whoa, quite the night…” America chuckled nodding towards the house. “I only stopped a couple of fights and tried to distract the kids from doing something stupid.”

“The twins and Balder?”

“Humph, Balder and Loki.” The both of you chuckled at this, America rubbed her hands glancing back at the house then at you.

“I’m going to take the twins to their home, Kate and Yelena are coming with me and Loki is waiting for Thor.”

You nodded pointing to your car, “need a ride?”

“Nope, they really do live next door, you know?” America observed with utter care your reaction, you tensed completely furrowing your brows while lifting your eyes the light next door.

“You mean…” You trailed off remembering the children crying in the car, and the fact your neighbour had mentioned the kids before. “Wait, that woman is your teacher?”

America rolled her eyes making a face, “well, duh, I thought you knew.”

“I didn’t.”

There was nothing else you could say, and soon you were remembering those brief encounters in which she mentioned her kids, in which you heard the cries from the children. And it was obvious you were overlooking something about the woman you had insulted and mocked ever since your crossed paths on that supermarket a couple of months ago.

The woman you had defended that night, and the one you had tried to comfort that night. The sound of our phone called your attention, the name on the screen made your heart jumped in anticipation. Carol Danvers.

America took a closer look at you, her lips pursed as you put the phone out ready to answer.

“Try to not take to long, and it is really cold tonight. Take a jacket and make sure the kids are wearing something warm.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You nodded at your sister before picking up the phone, “hey, you, how did it go?”

America watched as you walked into the house, the door was left opened and the young woman stood there wondering…and then, all of a sudden…planning.

This ought to be interesting.

___________________________

There were only dark clouds with freezing winds disturbing the activity of the inhabitants of the city.

You wrapped the scarf tightly around your neck, your eyes lifting to the sky observing the gliding clouds right above your head. It had been almost a week since the party and the incident, and in all this time you could only think of was the woman living right next door.

It was ridiculous.

The woman was just someone quite easy to torment, and while she might be attractive she wasn’t that extraordinary. She was not that important. She was not even a friend or anything at all, she was just your neighbour, and the mother of the kids America couldn’t stop talking about.

God, if she had kids she was most probably straight as an arrow and might even had a lover boy around.

You jerked startled when a hand placed itself on your shoulder, standing right behind you wearing a black coat and a black beanie and liner gloves. There were bags under her eyes, but her smile was tentative and a little shy, behind her was her car and you could see the small heads of the twins through the window.

“Hey, I…” She started trailing off when you didn’t even react, just stood there watching at her with the same unreadable stare you had been sending her way whenever you two found yourselves on the lane. “I was wondering…”

There was a moment of silence in which you shifted one foot to the other, your lips curling lightly into an easy smile while there was a teasing glint in your eyes.

“Gonna talk anytime soon, Maximoff? I need to be somewhere else.” You observed as her cheeks burn lightly, she looked away before the warmness in her stare was replace by a familiar coldness of annoyance.

“I was just wondering if you were okay.” She said stepping back while turning to her car. “I see that you’re still the same jerk, so have a good day, Ms. Y/L/N.”

You watched the woman get into her car and leave without anything else left to say, you grabbed your keys cursing mentally at the fact your heart was beating so fast and all of a sudden you were back into high school talking to the most beautiful woman ever.

Really, Maximoff was not even that good looking, and the meek personality of hers was not attractive at all.

“Hey, you okay?” America frowned watching you from the passengers door, you turned sharply nodding.

“Yeah, why?” You asked approaching the car and getting inside, America sat beside you narrowing her eyes.

“I don’t know, you have been weird as of late. Anything you want to share with me?”

“Nope, nothing at all.” You sighed leaving the house with music blasting through the speakers. “Any plans for tomorrow, kiddo?”

America shrugged watching her phone, “Mrs. Maximoff asked me to babysit, and later I think I will meet with Kate, why?”

“Oh, okay I…” You trailed off biting your tongue before you could ask about the babysitter job. “I think I’m going over to Hope’s.”

Here America tore her attention from her mobile, she was highly shocked at your words and you could tell the young woman was dying to ask a hundredth questions. But she knew better.

“You really are going?”

“I figure…I figure we need to talk, right?” You shrugged looking at America out of the corner of your eyes. “Besides, I miss her, so I think it is time to patch things up with her.”

“I guess you’re right, and it will give you the chance to talk about whatever is up your ass.” America mumbled, you snorted shaking your head.

You loved America, but if you started telling her about your recent idiocy you wouldn’t hear the end of it. And, knowing America the way you did, you knew she would snoop around only to give you a chance to be out there and be happy again.

Snow started falling that same night.

The news broadcast the miracle of White Christmas as if it was something everyone should be grateful for. But in reality the only thing it did to you was bring sore memories of the accident in which you lost your parents. Life had been different two years ago, and everything had been brighter back then; now all there was for you were problems.

You lifted your gaze to the office building in front of you.

Hope Van Dyne had built her little practice off scratch as soon as she was out of her parent’s watchful eye. She was one of your oldest friends, and the person you had gone to when everything went to hell; right after your parents died and you had to take care of America she had been right by your side with Shuri but after what happened…

You sighed.

It had been almost a year since you had seen or talked to Hope, and you missed her. Finding out she was back in town was hard on you, and that Carol was the one telling you this was even harder. Pressing your lips together you left your car and went inside the building, with hope bubbling up your chest that this meeting would be different to the last one you had with her.

The office was empty.

It was warm inside, and the place was looking cozy with a coffee maker and some warm water at the ready for anyone that would come in. Your eyes lifted to the camera right at the corner, the small red light blinking on a corner that served as a bell to announce the arrival of new patients. You stepped inside looking around the sofas and the chairs, the space Hope had build in a couple of months she had been back into town.

“I thought you would never come.” Hope stood by the door of her office; her eyes softened when you finally turned to her. “I’ve been meaning to call you, but…”

“You misplaced my phone number?” You asked, offering a half smile.

“I wasn’t sure you wanted to talk to me, Y/N.” Hope stepped inside the waiting room, her feet taking her to the coffee maker where she served two small cups.

You took the one she was offering, while looking around the room with a smile.

“I’m glad to see you here, Hope, and I love what you did to this place.” You took a sip from your coffee looking down to the floor. “This is your dream come true, I’ve been hearing you are quite the success around here.”

Hope allowed herself a small smile, she sat down in one of the love chairs in the corner, her eyes never leaving your passing form. It had been a while, but you were just like she remembered you; and whether good things of bad things had happened between you two, she was still your best friend and she knew you even better than you knew yourself.

“Thank you.” Hope wrapped her hands around the cup of coffee smiling softly. “It was really hard, I started it back in NY but I didn’t want the big life in the big apple, I want something…homey. So I came back.”

“I can see that, it’s good to see you again, Hope.” You trailed off not knowing what else to say, Hope sensed your hesitation and soon came the questions you were dreading to hear from her.

“And you, Y/N, how have you been?” Hope leaned forward, her eyes never leaving yours. “I’ve heard you finally took care of the business and that you have been dating Carol, how is it going so far? How is America? How are you, really?”

You snorted sitting down as well, shaking your head you lifted your stare to the ceiling holding back the tears trying to form in your eyes.

“I’ve been…better, I guess.” You tried to lie but Hope was a pretty good psychiatrist and either way, the idea of coming to Hope was to be honest with her. With you.

“It’s been hellish at work., trying to get the ropes of the business. And America is fine, you know her, she is more of a fighter that I am.” You allowed yourself a bitter smile, “she is the one holding me tight and feeding me.”

“The youngest ones are always the responsible ones.” Hope chuckled tilting her head. “I’m glad to hear you have her trying to keep you from starving to dead.”

“Yeah, she is a good kid. Good grades, good friends, she even got a job now.”

“She does?” Hope was highly surprised by this, you didn’t need the extra money of course, and hearing that America was working was something she had never heard from someone that could actually buy whatever they wanted whenever they needed it.

You leaned forward, and something in your posture and the way your eyes gleamed told Hope this was a story worth listening to.

“Yeah, twins. They live next door and she has been rocking it.” You shook your head shrugging. “The mother is this young woman, teacher at her school and…well…she is…nice, I guess.”

“You guess?”

You rolled your eyes shaking your head, “I’m not one of your patients, Hope.”

The other woman chuckled, “I know that. It’s just…It has been a while.”

“I know.” You hesitated for a moment before speaking again. “Look, I was thinking maybe dinner? Or coffee?”

“I’m not one of your girls, Y/N.” Hope laughed at the horrified face you put on at her suggestion.

Somethings never changed.

And the both of you were glad some things stayed the same.

“Please, ugh…would be like hitting on my sister.” You rolled your eyes, turning to Hope. “So, what do you say?”

“That sounds perfect. I have an appointment today, and then Scott and I are going to my parents place but what about next week?” Hope said tentatively.

“That’s alright then, I can squeeze you in my schedule and we can really have a talk.”

“And you can tell me about Carol, and what was really going on in your life.” Hope said trying to get more out of you. Your posture, the tension around your eyes and the sudden shifted of your body told her everything she needed it to know.

“Right, Carol okay…yeah, sure we can talk then, I…hope you still have my number then?”

“Right under the emergency one, yep.” Hope declared standing up.

You stood up as well ready to say good-bye when the door of the practice open and in there came Wanda Maximoff in all her glory.

The woman stood there with her auburn hair covered by the same black beanie she wore the day before, with a black coat on and her cheeks red for the cold. Her green eyes opened wide at the sight of you, you were just as shocked as her, and once more your heart rate increased, and the horde of butterflies in your stomach didn’t help to improve things.

“Oh, I-I’m sorry, Doctor Van Dyne, I didn’t know you were busy, I can come later…”

“No, no…I’m not a patient.” You replied rather quickly, you turned to Hope lifting a hand in a gesture of good-bye. “I’ll text you, and we can arrange that date, don’t bail on me, Van Dyne.”

“Oh, I hope I didn’t interrupt…” Wanda started again, she hated the fact all of a sudden seeing you in a place she thought was a safe place for her you came all of a sudden making her heart speed up, and the tingles in her chest and abdomen increased.

“You didn’t, Maximoff, don’t sweat it.” You winked at the woman patting her awkwardly on the shoulder. “I’ll be going, have fun!”

Hope held back her laughter when you almost crashed against the door in your hurry to leave the place. Wanda stood there rather awkward, out of place while her lips quivered trying to say something. Soon you were gone, and Wanda was left there wriggling her hands nervously with her stare lingering on the door.

“I’m sorry, Doctor Van Dyne, I didn’t want to interrupt…” Wanda started but Hope shook her head standing up and going to the coffee maker again.

“You didn’t interrupt nothing, Wanda, no need to worry.” Hope poured another cup of coffee she offered to the woman still standing by the door.

It had been a couple of weeks since Wanda had come in, the woman had not improved at all and Hope was having a hard time trying to reach out to her because of that. Seeing her back into her practice, well Hope thought perhaps something had happened for the young woman to be here.

That you two know one another was complete surprised for Hope, and your reaction and hers…well, that ought to be interesting to dig in.

“Y/N it’s an old friend, we were just catching up.” Hope pointed to the sofa on her waiting room, Wanda furrowed her brows but took the offering chair. “I think we could do our session in here today, no one else is coming and well, I find this sofa so comfy, what do you say?”

“Yeah, yeah sure…that’s…nice.” Wanda sat down with the cup on her hands, she bit her lower lip for a moment before speaking again. “So, you and…Y/N…are friends? I…that’s a surprised.”

Hope held back her reactions; she offered a simple nodded emptying her cup.

“Yeah, we have been best friends since forever.”

“Oh, I see.” Wanda pressed her lips together tilting her head, she frowned while her mind tried to tie up more questions to know more about you. Wanda hadn’t come today to talk about you, she was there to talk about what had happened.

What you had done, what Wanda had done.

“So, how did you two meet?” Hope asked all of a sudden, she was looking curious but nothing out of the ordinary.

Wanda shook her head, she opened and closed her mouth before speaking again.

“How did you…I mean, I don’t know her.”

“She did call you by your last name.” Hope chimed in, her amusement mixed with curiosity was making her look at the situation under a different light.

Wanda blushed lightly looking away, she remembered you calling her by her last name. Your eyes, your smile and that infuriating tone of voice…

“Right I…forgot.” Wanda tried to smile but it came like a grimace. “We’re…we’re neighbours.”

Now, this particular piece of information was quite interesting, then a light bulb came into Hope’s mind and she couldn’t hide her surprised this time around.

“Oh, she is the neighbour you told me about! The one that got on your nerves by being…”

“A bitch, Yeah, that’s her.” Wanda broke into an easy smile, she lowered her eyes and soon, Hope found herself hearing a story she was not asking for.

______________________________________________________________

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