#you all know he`d fuck whomever or whatever to get things done

[jikook-yoonmin-trash]

YOONGI X READER (DIRTY IMAGINE)

Rating: E for Explicit

No one asked for this but I'll deliver anyways. I know I'm not consistent but I'm trying to be committed to something to stay sane. Lets go.

🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵

Yoongi had been locked in his studio all week. Being the perfectionist that he was, you knew it would take a miracle to get him out of there. He was working on a new Hip Hop piece with some foreign artist and it stirred something inside, deep and longing. You knew he was passionate and you knew how much he wanted to get this done.

But seeing him so focused and concentrated at the small window of time you visited stirred something in you, deep and longing. Your relationship with him hadn't always been physical, he sought after comfort and companionship, but you'd be lying if you said he didn't turn you on.

Especially on days where he wear shirts that dipped to low, or days where he came straight from his schedule with Bangtan- fully decked out from head to toe with perfect hair and accessories for days.

Like right now for instance.

You weren't sure who was sitting in front of you; Min Yoongi, Suga or Agust D. Whomever it was, you were ready to please.

"Got you some coffee and snack."

Yoongi took a break from writing to look up at you with a little smile. Cute. His hair was pushed back and he looked so devastatingly handsome that for a second you forgot that he was yours, and you forgot to breathe. You couldn't help but notice the thick silver rings on his fingers as he reached for the coffee. You've always had a thing for his hands.

"Thank you babe, wanna sit for a while?" Yoongi asked, looking up at you from mid sip.

With his legs sprawled out like that, it seemed like an invitation- open and inviting. The material of his pants were thick but you could make out the outline of his legs just fine. Perfect legs. Perfect seat.

Feeling bold, you rushed forward and found yourself sitting between his legs. His hands were immediately around you with the gentle sound of his laughter.

"You did say sit." You teased, leaning into his warm chest.

"I did."

Yoongi hummed and swiveled the chair to face his computer. With the coffee set aside and his hands occasionally clicking the keys on his laptop, you both fell into a comfortable silence. Yoongi's head nuzzled against your neck as he furiously wrote down lyrics. All you were concerned about was his hands. He had beautiful hands.

As time progressed, you found the urge to be fondled or even feel him move against you was increasing. Yoongi knew all your tricks. If you tried grinding against him that would only warrant a scolding or worst, him banning any kind of sexual activity until next week. He'd do it, you knew him well enough to not cross him. Especially because he's so busy.

"Yoongi?"

"Mmm." He hummed, kissing your neck.

"You look cute today."

"Mmm, Namjoon called me Daddy. He thought you would like it."

"Namjoon's not wrong."

One of his hand wrapped around you, while the other worked with a pen and paper. He rubbed small circles into your stomach and hummed appreciatively.

"What did you do today beautiful?" His deep voice was calming, you were stuck between wanting to bask in his touches or fall asleep to whatever hypnotic trance he had you in.

"Work was good as usual. I also got my paper done, I'm really proud of it."

"Good girl. You've worked so hard."

You received another kiss on the neck. Before you could respond, his hand dipped under your shirt (his shirt) and cupped both of your breasts in his hands. His ringed thumb swiped over your nipple leaving a cool shocking sensation behind.

"You're not wearing a bra?" His tone was teasing. Had you not seen the small smile tugging on his lips you would think he was upset.

"Hate wearing those."

"Mmm. Anything else I should know." He asked, still fondling your breasts.

"Perhaps a couple things."

"Oh yeah, like what."

You were about to tease him, but the tugging and pinching of your nipple was enough to sedate your urge to toy with Yoongi. It felt really good, especially since you were already worked up earlier.

"Like what baby?"

He was now pressing kisses up your neck with little bites. The pen and paper was abandoned and his now free hand took refuge in the inside of your thigh, prying your legs open.

"Like, I think you should use your hands to make me cum."

He laughed, his chest vibrating against your back.

"Mmm, figured as much. You just sat right on my lap with no hesitation." You were squirming under his touch. "Take off your pants baby. I'll make you cum right here."

Without question, those pants along with your panty were flying to the other side of the room and Yoongi was spreading your legs until they hooked on the handle of either sides of the chair. From his angle, he could see your entire pussy spread out. He could see how wet you were from just a simple touch.

"Dirty."

He sucked a finger and circled it around your clenching core, feeling the heat of your wetness. His finger was teasing you in small strokes and he purposely flicked your clit.

Your body laid flush against his, lifeless even with your head lolled off to the side as he slowly rubbed circles around your clit, missing it on purpose. Yoongi was a nasty tease, he loved drawing out your orgasm and then letting it hit you in waves when you'd least expect it.

"Did you miss me this much? Had to storm into my workplace and demand that I make you cum with my hands."

His free hand was busy rolling your nipple between his thumb and index, tugging whenever he felt like it.

"Not my fault you look so good." You hummed.

"Wanna taste you, let me taste you please."

"Yeaah. Please Yoongi."

In seconds you found yourself being thrown on the desk in front of you. Your legs were splayed out with your hands resting on either side of your body for support. Yoongi ducked his head, laid close to your inner thigh and gazed up at you.

There was a glint of mischievousness sparkling in his dark gaze. He pushed you back hard, your back knocking into the monitor, your hand was busy smashing into the keyboard to find purchase.

"Yoongi!" You hissed, "Your fucking computer is behind me."

His tongue found its way on the inside of your thigh, dangerously close to the new heart beat centered in your hot dripping pussy.

"I will crush your head if you keep teasing me." You threatened. Yoongi had the nerve to laugh, as if he didn't believe you.

"An honorable death for an honorable man."

He finally gave in, and sucked lightly around your clit. His tongue flicking softly at the sensitive spot. You were too busy moaning and heaving, so when he inserted a finger, followed by another you found it extremely taxing to hold back your screams. They were loud and needy. And Yoongi was tending to them.

The thing about Yoongi is that, he knew how to use his fingers and he was an expert with his mouth. Every time he angled his fingers upwards to rub at area that made you see stars, he also added pressure to his tongue. He was sucking and licking your orgasm closer while he finger fucked you. The noises were loud and sinful. The room was heated with wet squelches each time his finger thrust into you.

"Uuuuhgh, Just like that Yoongi. Fuuuuuuuck mee!"

Unable to control the intensity of the feeling, you grabbed onto his hair and pressed him closer- possibly suffocating him in the process. Your hips were grinding circles into his face, finding it easier to chase your own orgasm this way.

"Yeaah!"

"Yeaaaaah!"

"Fuuuuuck Yooongi Mmmmmhhh!"

Your leg wrapped around his neck and pulled him in, locking his head in place as your orgasm hit. It was so intense, your ears were ringing and eyes rolled back as the endorphins wore off. Yoongi was still working his tongue, slowly, sending light shockwaves through your core.

"Baby, I love you and your pussy but please let go."

"No Yoongi, not when you make me cum like that. I feel like I'm floating."

"Oh yeah, I feel like I'm drowning in you."

Reluctantly, you let go. Yoongi's face was glossy with your arousal but he hadn't made any attempts to clean it, only smiling at you in return.

You heard the familiar sound of his belt being unbuckled and the zipper running down. His cock was standing upright, shining with his own arousal. Yoongi looked spent leaning back in his chair. He looked like he owned you and everyone else in this building with his cocky smile and the wicked look in his eye.

"Come sit on my cock baby. Lets finish this song together." He smirked.

And just like that, his cock was nestled into your warm sensitive pussy as he worked on lyrics to his new song. This was going to be a long night.

"You know the rules baby, don't move and don't touch your pussy. If you want something you ask me. Okay baby."

"Yes Yoongi."

"Good girl. This is going to take a while."

#min yoongi #min yoongi x you #min yoongi x reader #bts fic #smut #grapefruit #yoongi fanfic #yoongi smit #bts smut #bts fanfic #i'm not really confident in this piece but lmk if it was okay #jyvadmin

[kyidyl]

Kyidyl Does Archaeology - Part 4

(As before, if you’re only seeing this part 4, the rest of them have the tag KyidylCL)

THE ARTEFACTS

Ok, so I’ve talked about the site and what we’ve been digging in and such, but I’m gonna be honest with you guys: I like lab work exponentially more than field work.  So I am the one who has been processing the vast majority of the finds and ergo have lots of stuff.  That’s why I sometimes make jokes about the stuff in my basement - I’m storing the majority of it here in my basement.  I’ve gotten the question before about ownership, so here is how that works.  The dig is on private land so anything we get technically belongs to the owner of the land.  Now, as far as I know, he has no interest in keeping any of it so it’ll likely end up in the hands of the arch society, who will basically just be custodians of it but not owners.  It might end up in a museum, too.  I don’t really know, but that determination won’t be made until we’re finished, and not by me.  

So every site has its own sort of categories of stuff that you find depending on who lived there (although for ease, archaeologists often categorize this stuff based on location and time - more on that later.).  For our site the majority of it falls into these categories: animal bone, shell, lithics, pottery, charcoal, modern contaminants, and artefacts.  And, to lend a bit of clarity here...lithics are anything made of rock.  So they include fire cracked rocks, flakes from stone tool making, material that was used in construction, material that was crushed to make temper for pottery paste (more on that later, too.), etc.  If it came from a rock it’s a lithic.  

And imma tell you a secret: I hate lithics.  Everyone has their thing, their category of human refuse that they simply do not like.  A prof of mine hated teeth and pottery.  That’s just how it is, and mine is lithics.  I think they’re boring, I can’t tell a flake from a blade, I don’t give a single fuck what material they are, I don’t care about the style or craftsmanship...I just don’t care.  I call them all rocks, and I do it so much that everyone on the site has started accidentally calling them rocks, too, which amuses me.  Rocks, to an archaeologist, means “stone that wasn’t altered or used by people”.  They’re worthless.  Not that I think lithics are worthless - far from it - I just really hate them and this site has so.  goddamned.  many.  Lucky for me, we have a Rock Guy aka someone who really loves lithics and actually has gotten pretty good at flint knapping and just, y’know, is really into rocks.  

And to clarify about artefacts.  When you’re out in the field everything you find is either an artefact or a find.  The collection of these things is called an assemblage.  When you’re doing lab work and sorting through it all later on an artefact is, well...like a thing.  I’m explaining this poorly....it’s a complete object with a specific function.  So, a whole pot = artefact, broken pieces = sherds (not shards, sherds.). Complete arrowhead = artefact, flakes or a broken one = lithic.  Artefacts also tend to be somewhat unique, or at least something you don’t have a lot of.  They don’t always have to be complete, anything that is a specific object can go in here.  Like, for example, this piece of pipe we found: 

To recap, we’ve got pottery, charcoal, lithics, shell, bone (animal - we haven’t found human. But I’m just gonna say bone.), and artefacts.  If you are sensitive to things like that, this is your warning that this post is going to have pictures of animal bone and you should scroll quickly.  

Now, for reference, this is what it all looks like before I clean it and after it’s been dying out for a day or two (the ground has natural moisture, so I basically just open the bags and let them air out.): 

And, yes....I am cleaning them off on an actual antique blotter with real silver edges that my mom gave me for this express purpose.  A factoid I’m only sharing because it amuses me in that sort of “bet they never envisioned this use for this thing” sort of way.  Normally, if I was in a real lab, you’d do this over a metal tray.  When you’re working with an assemblage you never hold it over empty space, you always hold it over the bench and preferably over whatever your work surface is.  That doesn’t mean I haven’t dropped my fair share of stuff anyway, but most of it just lands on the work surface and not the floor, which is why you hold it over a work surface.  But anyway, as you can see, it just looks like a brown, dirty mess.  I usually do a quick sort of the stuff I know for sure what it is and then I wash it with a soft toothbrush and some water.  The rocks I just submerge and swoosh around because they’re rocks and I can’t really damage them and there’s SO FRIKKIN MANY that I refuse to clean them individually.  

So now that you’ve gotten through that long-winded but necessary explanation of terms, where are we at? Since I’m a bioarchaeologist and I prefer things that were once alive to the general detritus of human society, we’re gonna start with the bone.  Specifically, we’re gonna start with how I know those two pits from yesterday’s post are one pit.  This is how: 

This is a deer bone.  Don’t ask me which one bc I’m really not good at ID’ing species and animal anatomy, but it’s a leg bone of some kind.  See how it’s broken? One piece was found in one hole and the other piece was in the other.  Clearly it’s the same animal, ergo the pits are related to each other.  The vast majority of what came out of that particular feature was bone, with the rest being charcoal and the occasional pot sherd.  This means it was probably used for cooking and not as a garbage pit. Also there was food in it, if you recall the cooking accident from yesterday.  but sometimes y’know, stuff falls into the fire pit or it’s put in there as a way of disposing of it.  

But wait, I have more cool animal bones!! 

Ok, so there’s this one: 

This bone has a special place in my heart. IDK what species it is (I *think* it’s a fragment of deer long bone.), but that’s not why it’s cool.  This single bone is strong evidence for the presence of dogs.  =D See that circular mark on the right? That is the impression of a canine tooth from a carnivore.  Human teeth can’t make those marks in bones - our teeth aren’t strong enough to do significant damage to bone, and anyway we tend to crack bones open with rocks (a form of damage called percussion marks.) and not with our teeth.  Those other longer scratch marks are also likely from chewing, not butchery, because they’re in the right places and they’re the right shape.  Now we know this was a settlement, and this bone was found smack in the middle surrounded by human detritus and not on the fringes or outskirts.  There were no domesticated felines in the Americas at the time BC this is from the lower pre-contact level, so what’s really the only carnivore that would be wandering around a human settlement? Dogs.  I love this kinda stuff because it’s so easy see them chilling around the fire pit, talking and eating, teasing whomever it was that spilled dinner, and then tossing the bones to their dogs to gnaw on after dinner.  It’s just such a people kind of thing, you know? All from one small, circular mark.  I actually found more on later bones that came out of other places, so it’s pretty safe to say there were dogs living here with their people even though we have found neither people nor dogs.  

So here’s another cool bone: 

Again, no idea what species it is bc I’m not a zooarch (yes, there are archaeologists that specialize in animals and wooooo boy can they tell you a LOT about migration and eating habits of people.). It’s about the size of half my thumb, IE, not large.  This one is cool, and it’s the only one I have like this, because of that notch you can see vertically in the image on the right hand side.  I don’t know what it was for, but I DO know that it was an intentionally made modification to the bone.  Those striations aren’t natural - natural bone is smooth or has a very specific texture and this isn’t that.  It’s probably not damage done to the bone after it was deposited in the archaeological record.  It has the same patina as the majority of the rest of the bone, which you can compare to the lighter area there on the right hand end of the bone.  That lighter area does not have the patina of age that the rest of the bone does, and is the result of damage in a much more recent time - probably as we were taking it out of the ground.  Small bones are fragile.  So someone gouged this channel intentionally in this bone, either because they were going to use it as decoration or it served some purpose as a tool.  I’m not really sure what though.  Hell, they could have just been bored and fidgeting after eating.  Either way, it’s a human modification to this bone that has nothing to do with cooking or consumption (damage from human consumption is cracks and breaks, not scrapes.).  It could also be a butchery mark, although it’s a bit deep for that.  Butchery marks are there from separation of meat from bone - they’re usually just shallow scrapes.  

Ok, last cool bone I’m gonna show you.  Well, bones, plural.  

Ok so this is part of the same assemblage as the ones above, and if I remember correctly these were the ones that came out of that pit.  You can see the same bone with the canine tooth mark there in the center.  There’s also some interesting things like some pottery on the left and a couple teeth off to the right (one is a deer and I *think* that curved on is a squirrel.), but the really interesting thing is the series of 3 shiny bones that are in the center.  There’s a lot of ways to cook meat, and they all do different things to bones.  You will often find the dry, brown looking ones like you can see here in the non-shiny bones. That’s like...your basic “this bone had meat on it when it was cooked”. Then you’ll see ones that are black, and that’s “this bone probably didn’t have meat when it was cooked, or someone tossed it back in the fire when they were done”. Lastly, you’ll see white bone, and that’s a bone that has been burned at a high temperature for a long time.  Usually it’s done on purpose (you can use burned, powdered bone to make stuff.).  

But the shiny ones were in a soup.  And the reason I know that is *because* they’re shiny.  Bones, especially old ones, aren’t shiny.  I mean...you can see that.  You have to do stuff to ‘em.  And bones are porous, but those weren’t.  They felt like hard plastic. And they get that way by being boiled.  The shiny patina is what we call pot polish - they were stirred in the soup while it was cooking and rubbed against the side of the pot and each other, and it gives them a smoother texture.  

All of these collections of bones tell us what and how they ate things.  I know from what I can ID here (which isn’t everything, trust me.) that they ate a lot of deer and wild turkey (we have an entire almost completely intact turkey long bone.). There is also, I believe, squirrel (I found a portion of a skull and jaw that I’m pretty sure belong to a squirrel), and an assortment of other small rodents and birds.  Lots of birds.  Bird bone is really distinctive, it’s light and the spongy bone has a distinct texture.  A zooarchaeologist can look at bones like this and ID species and age, and from there tell you what time year something was probably killed.  Societies that hunted a lot tended to do it seasonally so that they wouldn’t damage the populations.  Plus especially with fish and stuff they have very specific growing cycles and short lifespans, so they can also tell you a lot about where the people were hunting and when.  Like certain fish will only spawn in certain places, so it’s really informative.  Zooarchs are so important and there just aren’t enough of them.  

Anyway, there are other cool things in the bones but I’m trying to strike a balance here between too much and not enough and I really love bone so I’m going to stop here for today.  Tomorrow is going to be other artefacts (yeah, sadly, even lithics, lol), and what they tell us about the site and the people who lived there.   As an aside: if anyone has any like just general “how do they know this?” sort of questions about history and archaeology those would be fun to answer.  I love to tell people how we do things but I don’t just wanna infodump.  I DO want to explain procedure in what I hope is a readable way because I think understanding how we make the sausage will help people have more trust in science.  So if you have any questions, please, send asks.  If I don’t know the answer I’ll research it or pass it on to someone who does.  

#archaeology #science #bone #animals #native food #native americans #kyidylCL

[sagamemes]

quotes from tabletop games, part i.   thank you to whomever decided in the first game i was in to start collecting quotes being said during the table—here’s a sentence meme featuring 100 sentences that have been said out loud or written down during various tabletop roleplaying games i’ve acted as a game master for, or in conversations surrounding it. sentences edited to fit written roleplay better. it’s a mixed bag, y’all. tw:  implied sexual content and jokes, death and violence mentions.

❝  holy shit, /i'm/ the professional in this situation.  ❞

❝  i don't think there's a lot of water in her birth chart.  ❞

❝  you know how much I love goading you into bad decisions.  ❞

❝  [i/you] did faceplant.  ❞

❝  i hope you know this is all your fault, [name].  ❞

❝  wouldn't it be nice if you could bite it back?  ❞

❝  [person] could've bonked the knob to death.  ❞

❝  a little bit of making out in the cupboard is not a security threat.  ❞

❝  no-one else can see it, but [person] is definitely being haunted by an ex-girlfriend.  ❞

❝  she's a new yorker, leave her alone  ❞

❝  we've all known each other for about four hours and we're making goblins of ourselves.  ❞

❝  you’re laughing!  [name] is dead and you’re laughing!  ❞

❝  god, what a weird little man!  ❞

❝  i don't speak [fandom/media].  ❞

❝  because, of course, you don't immediately run out of blood in your head—  ❞

❝  technically shoes are skin without feet.  ❞

❝  if it helps, she does have a youtube channel.  ❞

❝  should we even play d&d, maybe we just do therapy instead.  ❞

❝  oh great, what can i do with a dead body?  ❞

❝  the man with no face is just a raccoon.  ❞

❝  or whatever the victorian equivalent of reaching into the fridge and grabbing a block of cheese.  ❞

❝  i do not acknowledge more men than i need to.  ❞

❝  he footless because he got paws.  ❞

❝  [i am/they are] intrigued by the bundle of scarves.  ❞

❝  i thought she landed on her wrists?  ❞

❝  i'm glad i didn't faceplant, at least.  ❞

❝  it is not resistant to bonk damage.  ❞

❝  my interpersonal skills are shit!  ❞

❝  is he made of bees?  ❞

❝  oh well, she's got one of those as well.  ❞

❝  —which is objectively the wrong way to eat books.  ❞

❝  no teeth, no feet. simply vibes.  ❞

❝  we're going to have to listen to soft ballet while we fight this thing.  ❞

❝  that was my third frowny face.  ❞

❝  puff puff pass but instead of getting high you have a coherent thought  ❞

❝  oh yeah, i killed your neighbour, didn't i?  ❞

❝  we're city kids, we know what traffic is.  ❞

❝  give me a gay vibe check.  ❞

❝  THE QUEEN IS MICE.  ❞

❝  doesn't matter which of us die because i'll see you all again on hell.  ❞

❝  you know how when a person's decapitated—  ❞

❝  i don't even have my eyebrows on.  ❞

❝  we will create chaos.  ❞

❝  i heard g-string.  ��

❝  i have a masters degree in library science and i googled  ‘ feetless man ’ !  ❞

❝  am sad. want ham.  ❞

❝  you are the most powerful person in the room with that cheese tray.  ❞

❝  you'll wake up to something you don't wanna see  ❞

❝  buff mice.  ❞

❝  —but it would've been a sexy thing to do.  ❞

❝  THE GAME'S OVER! THE GAME'S OVER! WHY ARE YOU STILL DOING THIS TO ME?  ❞

❝  it’s mice mentality.  ❞

❝  i know the implication was not that we were little beans but shh...  ❞

❝  it's your turn!  ❞

❝  charlie's angels, more like [name]'s headaches  ❞

❝  it's me, the bitch who failed  ❞

❝  i'm really good at that! ... no, i'm not.  ❞

❝  i love this absolutely doomed party.  ❞

❝  unless someone wants to try to overpower two peasants.  ❞

❝  we don't make good leather.  ❞

❝  you could definitely be mistaken for a respectable person now.  ❞

❝  unfortunately, my alibi is dead  ❞

❝  you would not think that english was my first, and frankly my only, language.  ❞

❝  what the fuck happened to my music?  ❞

❝  [name], that's gay behaviour.  ❞

❝  i truly just want u to imagine putting a hand on a titty and feeling a sack of dust through the skin.  ❞

❝  we've conspiracy theory'd this ghost and now it's a feral raccoon.  ❞

❝  does the number of heads you have factor into how easy you are to hit?  ❞

❝  i wanna do something weird.  ❞

❝  are you trying to reason with a drugged cat?  ❞

❝  what die do i roll? the one with numbers?  ❞

❝  i'd avoid plants if i were you.  ❞

❝  i want to be the burger king of a ruined world.  ❞

❝  just because i can be charming doesn't mean i will initiate conversation.  ❞

❝  that scream didn't have an american accent.  ❞

❝  i guess he was just two horses in a trench coat in the end  ❞

❝  make meth, i dare you!  ❞

❝  holy shit, you read french?!  ❞

❝  i've already put down two frowny faces on my notes.  ❞

❝  [person/animal] doesn't have good stamina, actually.  ❞

❝  we've established that the bees are trustworthy, [name]!  ❞

❝  i can't find the fucking d!  ❞

❝  frostbite'll do that to you too. you're not so special.  ❞

❝  we laugh in the face of a vengeful god  ❞

❝  sorry, but for the sake of the mission, i gotta drown everyone.  ❞

❝  i don't know anything about... men.  ❞

❝  i didn't consider all the emotional implications!  ❞

❝  it's a little known fact, but the h in  ‘ goth ’  stands for hrt.  ❞

❝  thank you for giving me an opportunity to murder you.  ❞

❝  don't worry, i'm a very gentle dom  ❞

❝  i'm gonna stay riding it, then.  ❞

❝  just two dudes who may or may not have done a murder  ❞

❝  you can't even count on [name] for numbers.  ❞

❝  'twas the night before christmas and all through the house not a person was stirring, because they were all dead.  ❞

❝  how is that rat bastard looking?  ❞

❝  maybe [name], because he has rights  ❞

❝  maybe [name], because he has no brain  ❞

❝  i'm cruel but i'm not an asshole.  ❞

❝  we're just two cartoon dogs vibing in the fire.  ❞

❝  in the spanish dub, [person a] and [person b] kissed before [person a] left  ❞

#roleplay meme #sentence starters #sentence meme #rp sentence starters #rp sentence meme #* sentences. #* meme.

[kashimos-hajime]

dear... whoever | b.b.

summary: a mandated series of long and short diary entries from the new head of R&D for Stark Industries. 

WARNINGS: swearing, LOTS of fluff, mentions of drinking and sex and hospitals and guns, general fun and witty attitude, small angst, big jealousy, obviously au after civil war. everything after does not exist. pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader word count: 9.5k

a/n: written for @softbiker​ and 100% inspired by @sunmoonandbucky​ with the format. my prompt was let me love you by rita ora and i wrote it from the perspective the singer is singing it to rather than the actual singer. this was super fun to write. enjoy!

July 31/20

Dear…

Whoever is going to read this. So… me, in the future probably. So, it should be dear WHOMever, I think, but it sounds wrong.

Is it too cliché to say dear diary? I don’t know. After all, I don’t WANT to be writing this but unfortunately I am because it’s mandated. Apparently, the psychiatrist that works for Stark Industries thinks it’s necessary that I write down my feelings and show that I’ve adjusted to working part-time superhero, full-time head of Tony’s stupid R&D department.

Something about how that much stress can cause psychotic fractures in the worst case scenario.

Cute.

Anyway, I don’t know what to write. Currently, it’s 4:23AM. The only reason I’m awake is because I have trouble sleeping on the best night. I heard Barnes messing about and because I am the Hermit of the Rec Room Couch (catchy, I know), I can hear him just walking about.

What the hell is he even doing?

To be honest, I’ve never talked to Barnes besides the occasional greetings because he’s the sort to keep to himself, I guess, and, valid. I’m not saying it’s not, considering his history, but you know.

I think I’m a friendly person, and I’m bored. He’s eventually going to hear me writing noisily because of super-soldier hearing or whatever, so I might just get up and introduce myself.

Not that I’ve been working here for years, but whatever.

I’m really bored and hungry, honestly, so a trip to the kitchen would be considered normal (and warranted) in such circumstances.

Fuck it.

Time to make a new friend or die trying. If you never hear from me again, you’ll know why.

.

Aug. 1/20

Dear Jane,

I finally got the time to write in here and you may be wondering why I have named you. Well, after the conversation at roughly 4:30 AM, here are things that’ve changed in a disorganized list. None is more important than the other. I'm just writing what comes to my head.

One: Barnes said he doesn’t really let anyone call him James. I called him James once because I forgot. Profuse apologies followed. He said it was okay and didn’t mind me calling him that. Now, in my mind, I think he’s just saying this to be polite and really just wants me to call him Bucky but he seemed sincere. We’ll see how it goes.

Two: Barnes was awake because his cat woke him up. I didn’t even know he had a cat but it’s a gorgeous white cat named Alpine that Barnes carries around in his half-zipped up hoodies sometimes. It’s adorable. He’s super soft and friendly and I love him already. He showed me all the tricks Alpine could do. Amazing.

Three: Barnes’ favourite movie is the Godfather. Totally surprising there. Please tell me you understand sarcasm.

Four: He said he liked the name Jane when I told him what I was doing up and also in the rec room (couldn’t sleep, writing in my diary) and that I didn’t want to say “Dear diary”

“Why don’t you just give it a name?” he eloquently suggested and Jane was his answer to my question of “Which name?”

Five: Barnes, or James, I guess he is now, is my friend.

Six: We said we’d meet up at 4:30AM or earlier again because I told him I wanted to show him my s’mores dip recipe.

Seven: Wish me luck. Hope I don’t get murdered.

Eight: I think I might be in love with him.

Bye.

.

Aug. 5/20

Dear Jane,

In an effort to summarize what has happened in the past four days, I will open with the fact that James Buchana Barnes is the cutest motherfucker on the planet. He’s super old fashioned, but that’s a given. He opens the doors for me, offers to take my bags up, and in the past four days, we’ve met up at around midnight to just eat and chat. Then he walks me back to my room with a glass of water and I’m left fanning myself because it’s so sweet and he’s so sweet and OH, MY GOD, I am a child.

This feels like a crush. Like, butterflies in my stomach, self-conscious every time he looks at me, can’t stop staring, and wanting to impress him at every turn sort of crush.

AKA, a middle-school crush and I feel completely ridiculous but that is besides the point because he’s just the loveliest person.

Someone should tell him chivalry is dead. Steve thinks he’s just being sweet on me, and Sam says I should flash some ass just to get a rise out of him which would be funny. He’d look absolutely adorable blushing his head off.

We’ll see. I am considering it.

What else happened? I’m drawing a huge blank.

As explained in a previous entry, I was to show Barnes my s’mores dip recipe. Huge success. Crowd loved it. That’s how I learned he has a huge sweet tooth like me. Got an email from Pep about a board meeting which I ignored. If it’s really important, she’ll see me in person. Went swimming with Sam. We started planning Tony’s big Christmas party even though that’s MONTHS away.

But, you know. We’re so busy all the time, it might be worth it planning ahead.

As head of R&D, it’s vital to me that this goes well because they’re fun when they do go well, and a chaotic disaster when they don’t. Also, I have to find a date but details will follow.

I think that’s it.

If there’s more to follow, then I’ll just come back but there really isn’t.

Oh, Alpine found my room. He’s in here right now and he snores. It’s cute, just like his owner.

Okay, goodnight.

.

Aug. 7/20

Dear Jane,

Sam, James, and I went swimming.

Pro of the day: James is ripped and that man was GLISTENING.

Con of the day: I AM STUPID in front of hot ripped men.

Pro of the day: We got ice cream together. Strawberry for me, mango for James because he wants to try new flavours, and Sam ordered some monstrosity with vanilla ice cream, chocolate and raspberry syrups, and a bunch of banana slices. A swirl of whipped cream to finish it off. It looked like diabetes in a cup and that’s coming from me.

Con of the day: James used his thumb to wipe the ice cream off my lip and my brain short-circuited. Sam teased us about it, but James very stubbornly and convincingly said we’re just friends.

Con of the day x2: We are just friends and that is NOT going to change. I cannot explain how much my heart literally fell out of my body in disappointment.

God, and James and I are meeting up at 2AM tonight so he can show me this new stupid stuffed celerey recipe he learned.

It’s not stupid.

It’s really, REALLY cute he researched it.

This sucks.

.

Aug. 11/20

The worst day ever. I don’t want to talk about it but might as well make a note on it. More on it later, I guess.

.

Aug. 15/20

Dear Jane,

Sorry, I’m dramatic. Must get it from working with Tony for so many years.

Let’s just review what occurred on August 11, 2020, at approximately 3:23 in the afternoon.

I learned that James went out on a date. A DATE. From SAM. When James had ample opportunity to tell me at our regular meeting at witching hour over celery sticks.

EXCUSE ME? WHO IS THIS WOMAN?

I’m not even mad. I’m just angry that the man I became friends with only 2 weeks ago and caught feelings immediately for is seeing other people.

I sound like a raging bitch. I promise you, Jane, that I am not. I’m just the insanely jealous type.

No, I’m not.

God, what is happening to me and why does it have to be James.

I never get crushes and the instant I do, it’s for the most emotionally and physically unavailable person ON EARTH.

Also, work was work. I was distracted, drank soup from the canteen, and generally accomplished nothing. Alpine came for some snuggles while James was out. That’s the only good thing.

Thanks, universe.

.

Aug. 16/20

Dear Jane,

So, I brought up this mystery lady over homemade sundaes.

James seems pretty serious about her because he a) apologized for not telling because he wanted to keep it private and asked me not to tell anyone and b) has a second date with her later today.

Oh, GOD. There is no point to this.

.

Aug. 19/20

Dear Jane,

What’s the point of asking someone intimate, personal questions if not because you guys are best friends?

James called me his best friend today. He says he knows me, but if he did, he’d know I feel like throwing up whenever he’s around and that his stare burns through every layer of clothing until I feel like he just knows my secret.

I told him we’ve known each other less than a month, but he said something stupidly charming about “intuition” and feeling and that this feels right and how he knows he can tell me anything and that I was an easy person to talk to.

I should’ve been a shrink.

At least, my trip to Wakanda is going to give me distance. A solid two months of no one else but me, tech, and new faces. Going there to collaborate with Shuri is definitely exciting and taking up more space in my brain than James these days.

Maybe I’ll fall in love with some soldier over there because apparently, I’m catching feelings willy-nilly these days.

See you on the plane, Jane.

.

Aug. 23/20

Dear Jane,

On the quinjet, it’s fairly quiet. It’s one of the things I love about it. The silent yet soft engines that can lull me to sleep. We should be arriving in a few hours so I thought I’d write. I’m getting the hang of this, I think.

There's a press conference later, too, in the trip with the UN and it’s not that I can’t handle it, but that I could’ve done this in my sleep and wished Tony sent someone else. I hate the press, not gonna lie.

Anyway, this gives me time to be introspective.

Is it just me or James always Okay, is it just my imagination that whenever I try to get close to James, he just kinda pulls away? Not in a romantic way. I’m not stealing anyone’s man because girl code, but he won’t even let me just stand near him anymore. It’s like I have an infectious disease only transmitted through physical contact and it’s just weird.

I don’t know.

Before I left, he said he’d miss me and that we should keep in touch through calls (Obviously, I would) and that he hopes I won’t forget him.

So, you say those things but you won’t even let me even hug you?

You’re a manipulative asshole, Barnes.

.

Oct. 20/20

Dear Jane,

I am so sorry that it has taken so long for us to reunite.

In hindsight, I’m a fucking idiot.

I left you on the quinjet which went back to New York and a different quinjet came to pick me up. I came back like two days ago so these past few days have been spent searching for you.

James offered to help, and he seems normal again.

Weird. Guess he was just in a mood with the new girlfriend and adjusting to having me as a friend, too. Guys go through that, I guess.

In Wakanda, I did not, in fact, fall in love with a soldier or anything. I curse every day that I didn’t, trust me. I’m just as disappointed as you are because I just want to get over this stupid crush. For the two months I was gone, it was like I didn’t like James at all like that. Even during calls, I could pretend we were just two teammates keeping each other in the loop. He talked about his girlfriend, I listened, I explained science because he’s a nerd, and he asked questions like he was interested.

It was FINE.

Then, he was waiting for me when I came back to NYC and it slammed into me like Bruce in Hulk-mode.

James asked if I wanted to meet his girlfriend because she’d be coming around for the Halloween party anyway, and he thinks we’ll get along swimmingly.

He really said swimmingly. He is stuck in the wrong era, but we all knew that.

I said yes, to be polite.

Here’s to hoping she’s a vindictive bitch and I am justified in hating her entire being.

.

Oct. 22/20

Dear Jane,

I met her. She’s small and pretty and mature and normal.

If I wasn’t stupidly in my feelings about James, I’d love her, too. 

She’d treat him right, give him a good home to come back to.

Best not to notice the people fighting beside you in that way, I guess.

.

Oct. 25/20

Dear Jane,

God is dead and NO ONE has eyes on the road.

Jesus isn’t even taking the wheel on this one.

It’s a fucking disaster.

I do not want to describe in every little detail the intricacies of dreaming about James Buchanan Barnes fucking my brains out, so I won’t, but this is for the record that it happened and how the fuck am I supposed to come back and see him in his probably gorgeous attempt at his recreation of Brendan Fraser from the Mummy AKA my favourite movie (which HE KNOWS THAT IT IS?? GOD, the audacity.)

Girlfriend (his girlfriend. “Girlfriend” is the name which she shall be henceforth known as in these entries because petty wins are all I have right now) is dressing as Rachel Weisz. Because “couples goals” or whatever.

I wouldn’t know. Sam and I are dressed up as sexy salt and pepper shakers (his idea, not mine) and he made me take the salt stick because I think he knows. Steve’s not dressing up because he’s more focused on handing out candy as Captain America.

Tony is… Tony. Iron Man and all that.

Anyway, I’m out of town in DC for a meeting with the Secretary of State for a few days, but I’ll be back in New York on the 30th so I’ll have a few hours to adjust to being around James again before he dons on that outfit that I know will be totally hot.

He called me his best friend again in his latest email.

Made me smile like an idiot, but I digress.

.

Nov. 1/20

Dear Jane,

Halloween was killer. Sam and I won best duo for costumes because we’re that good. Ate a lot of candy and it seems to be looking up.

I dunno. I didn’t mind James and Girlfriend on the couch that much in the after-party. Mostly stuck by Nat and Sharon and Tony. An ood trio, but a fun one nonetheless.

It was fun, but I still have to go to work no matter how many jello shots and vodka gummy bears consumed.

Wish me luck, not that I need it.

Why do you think Tony hired me?

.

Nov. 4/20

Dear Jane.

Natasha said I smile at James in a way that utterly betrays every emotion I want to hide in my chest.

Note to self: Don’t smile at James, or at his jokes, or at anything he ever does again. Avoid him. Put a stopper on this friendship.

Note to note to self: I can’t. He just makes me smile whenever he’s around and he’s always around. There’s no simpler way to put it.

I’m gonna try this hiatus thing, though. Distance myself a bit. We’ll see how it goes.

.

Nov. 13/20

Dear Jane,

Day nine of this hiatus business and it sucks. I miss my best friend.

We’re scheduled for a mission together, and we’re leaving tomorrow so I was going to have to talk to him during the briefing and the op either way.

Well, glad to know this didn’t work.

.

Nov. 15/20

Dear Jane,

Guess who just got fucking shot!

ME!

Guess even scumbags can’t take a holiday because some stupid arms dealer got a cheap shot on me while I was downloading their whole computer system and other tech mumbo-jumbo I am too high to write about.

James left a few hours ago with the rest of the team, but not before he got me a bunch of ice chips and said he was worried and that he hopes I get better soon. He even promised to get me some flowers to spruce up the room and to say my HEART went CRAZY is an understatement.

He came to my rescue, essentially, as soon as he heard I got pinned. He carried me to the quinjet the instant he cleared the area and stayed by my side the whole time even though the bleeding stopped and I was in good hands. He was just so protective, barking at doctors and nurses. It was embarrassing but also really, really sweet.

Is it weird of me to say that I want him to stay by my side forever? 

I’ve never fallen in love before.

Is it always this fast and this hard? I feel like I’m crashing instead of gently and wonderfully falling. Everything is dumb and awful.

Is this what love is like? Because it hurts worse than getting shot because I think I’m going to vomit flowers or butterflies or something.

God, he’d never love me. We’re just friends and even though we have a lot in common, he’d never. It’s just too much of the past in the present or whatever.

Also, he has a girlfriend but it seems very surface-level. God, that makes me sound like a “one of the boys” type of girl who’s a bitch to one of the boy’s new girlfriends, but I don’t know. James told me they don’t really talk about the deep stuff like we do. But she makes him happy, I think.

In hindsight, one may ask what the deep stuff is.

More on that later. I’m tired.

God, why him?

I HATE THIS.

goodnight.

.

Nov. 16/20

Dear Jane,

James visited again today. He sat beside me and we talked until the nurses had to kick him out. He also brought the flowers.

I asked about Girlfriend casually. I said I liked her.

He said he did, too.

I don’t know why I think he’s lying. No, I do.

It’s because jealousy is the green-eyed bitch from highschool who still shows up in my life because she thinks she’s relevant to society.

That was mean. Unrequited love makes you mean. Side effect noted.

P.S. The deep stuff includes his past, his arm, his memory, his favourite colour. I dunno why that matters. It just does.

.

Nov. 17/20

Dear Jane,

Got out of the hospital today because of advanced technology and all that. Nothing’s left but a scar and residual soreness. James helped me to my room and said to call him if I had a problem.

I joked that he has a girlfriend and for some reason, he got really weird about it. It’s hard to describe. I dunno. Nat dropped by for popcorn and movies.

It’s 2:32AM. I’m wondering if he’s in the kitchen but I’m confined to bed rest so I don’t know. Also, Nat is asleep beside me and I don’t want to bother her.

Hopefully I can get up and move in a few days. Life is boring.

.

Nov. 24/20

Dear Jane,

Sorry we haven’t caught up in a moment. Work’s been hectic and I’ve been working overtime trying to make ends meet. Most days I’m in the office or lab, just trying to get enough things done so I can take time off come Christmas.

James stopped by tonight with Chinese takeout and some sweet buns.

He broke up with his girlfriend, too.

Guess that’s why he was being weird about it.

I tried being as casual as I could asking why, but he didn’t want to talk about it, so I asked why he came by. Couldn’t be for the company because when I’m in work mode, I just don’t talk and he knows that.

He said something about his arm feeling funny so I gave it a quick diagnostics check.

I think both of us knew his arm was feeling fine.

Everything is stupid, life is meaningless, and James’ lips are the prettiest shade of pink in the ugly lights of the lab.

I would very much like to have kissed him, but I didn’t.

Girl code.

It’ll probably be a while before I get another chance to actually have time and energy to write another diary entry. Christmas season’s coming close and Pepper is gonna need help with the party.

Yay, me.

.

Dec. 4/20

Dear Jane,

Morgan asked me in less eloquent words if I had a boyfriend (it was more like “You boyfriend?” But whatever. Who even taught her that word?) and I swear to GOD Nat could not make it anymore obvious looking at James.

Remind me to absolutely throttle her. I don’t care if she’s the infamous Black Widow. She has clearly never seen me hopped up on nothing but a negative amount of sleep and rage/embarrassment/spite/all of the above.

On another note, Pep asked if I was bringing a plus one for the party. I said I’d think about it. Normally I’d just take Sam but he has his eyes on someone at the VA and I like my friends getting laid so no go there.

Might just go alone. I don’t know.

Pep said I should take James, but I don’t really think she knows the truth about that situation. Luckily, Tony instantly rejected the idea and said he’d find me a date if I couldn’t.

Thank the universe for at least placing me in the close circle of the most well-known and richest man in the world because he also gave me his card and said go wild.

He knows me so well. I’m thinking about Christmas shopping when I have another free day, and I’ll pay for that with my own money, of course, but clothes shopping is a free market.

I cannot wait.

.

Dec. 12/20

Dear Jane,

I wish I could show you my haul, but I got so much stuff Happy had to drive to help me. Besides obvious gifts, I also managed to snag a gorgeous dress for the party.

Thoughts on black and gold?

I think it’s beautiful. Hopefully Nat and Sharon think so. We’re having a girls night tonight and showing off outfits, so that’s exciting.

James asked if we could meet up tonight.

I told him I had plans and he looked so downcast.

I dunno. Everything feels weird between us. Like we’re fine, we’re best friends still, but something’s changed when no one was looking. He’s single now. I guess that energy is different because I had gotten used to his energy with ex-Girlfriend.

I don’t exactly mind but it’s not ideal either. I miss summer. It’s much less complicated than winter. Winter, one has to worry about wind and chills and snows blocking roads, black ice, dry skin, freezing fingers.

Summer: there’s just a lot of sun, wind, bugs, and the vaguest notion of being bored.

Look, I love winter. It’s my favourite season. It’s quiet and gorgeous and dreamy, even though it gets dreary in New York. The snow falls slowly sometimes, Christmas is gorgeous here, and I’d rather be cold than sweating buckets, and there are no bugs to bother me. Also, it gives me a good reason to stay in the labs or in my room where it’s warm and toasty.

I just miss the relative simplicity when James and I were just strangers on the edge of being friends, which is, in retrospect, a selfish reason to like one season and hate another.

Well, some philosopher somewhere probably said something about humanity being selfish.

.

Dec. 16/20

Dear Jane,

T-minus nine days until the party.

No date in sight.

Maybe I’ll ask Anderson from HR. We had coffee together a few times and he’s nice. Good catch: smart, not too bad looking, and really nice. I’ll head down tomorrow and ask.

Alpine had purred when I told him my plan and headbutted my hand, so I guess I got the Alpine-Seal-of-Approval.

.

Dec. 17/20

Dear Jane,

Operation: Ask Anderson from HR to Tony’s Christmas Party failed. Granted, it could’ve been because that was a god awful title and that that name, in itself, prophesied catastrophic failure, but also because I was accosted by my best friend.

I wish I meant Sam.

Nope. James caught me in the elevator and we made small talk. Sounds fine, right? Then we turned the topic to the party. Talked about clothes and prospective celebrity appearances and drinks and food. Just about everything, so might as well turn to talks about dates, which meant I had to explain why I was in the elevator in the first place.

Going down to ask Anderson ended in James revealing that he didn’t have a date either.

He doesn’t know who Anderson is, which I thought would be the case, and he popped the question before the doors opened.

Notice how I said “didn't” have a date.

Guess who’s going to the party with James, clearly stated as friends, platonic soulmates, etc.?

Me.

Yippee.

.

Dec. 18/20

Dear Jane,

It’s 3:42AM and I’m in the rec room as usual. I was gonna not write here today but it normally helps me sleep to just write a bit, get what little thoughts are in my head out. Yeah.

I hear James in the kitchen talking to Alpine and it’s making me smile like an idiot.

Oh, shit, he knows I’m in here. He’s making milkshakes.

I am morally obligated by best friend duties to join him.

Goodnight, Jane.

.

Dec. 24/20

Dear Jane,

I’m not sleeping with James Buchanan Barnes tomorrow night.

This is a resolute promise. An early New Year’s resolution.

.

Dec. 25/20

Dear Jane,

Merry Christmas! 

In between jovial festivities, I’ve finally found a little nook that’s quiet enough to write in. We opened presents, had a big family breakfast, went skating and just lounged around, and frankly, I’m exhausted. Need to recharge the old social battery.

Among the assortment of gifts is one that stands out to me. James got me a gift that said “Open When Alone” and I did before I started this entry and it was a fucking necklace. Like, a gorgeous one. It’s gold and thin and it feels wonderful. There’s a little cat paw charm on it and it’s so pretty because he has a matching bracelet for himself and I have still not yet recovered.

It’s just so sweet and it reminds me why I love him.

Yes, love has made me unbelievably sappy. I just heaved the biggest sigh in history.

Unfortunately, I have to go earlier tonight. To the party, as written in previous entries. I remember my oath of one-night celibacy and I intend on keeping it, despite how fucking endearing this gift was, because he said it best: we’re just friends. I’m not about to coerce my best friend into sleeping with me out of a piteous, unrequited love. That’s just gross.

You will either see me hungover tomorrow, or very drunk later tonight. It’s all very depending on how this night turns out.

.

Dec. 26/20

Dear Jane,

Fuck.

P.S. He REALLY does not mind me calling him James. Take that as dirtily or as clandestinely as you wish.

.

Dec. 27/20

Dear Jane,

I spent the entire day in bed with very pleasurable company.

I am SO GLAD we haven’t gotten called in because James doesn’t leave unless to go to sleep in his own bed or to eat, and I do NOT want to explain to the team that James fucked my brains out for two days straight because my heart is bursting.

He’s a good kisser. His lips are soft.

Intimate knowledge of that is now burned into my memory for future reference.

God, this is a dream come true. He doesn’t even question it, he just

It’s like I’m a goddess to him. He treats me like one, at least, and it’s like he’ll do anything I ask. And we act like it’s normal, too. Midnight trips to the kitchen included.

Best Christmas ever.

.

Dec. 28/20

Dear Jane,

I feel like I’m ignoring you but I’m also having the best sex of my life. He’s just… so fucking good and it’s a holiday and holy shit my mind is blown.

Love at first meeting isn’t real.

Well, maybe this one time, it was destiny.

.

Dec. 29/20

Dear Jane,

It isn’t just the sex, you know? It’s the pillowtalk, too. He just makes me laugh so much and everything is so easy between us and it feels real. Popcorn and chips in bed, some mojitos, just each other’s presence. It’s enough like that, you know?

Some quote about how the one you love should be both your lover and your best friend is in my head but I’m too lazy to look it up. James’ head is in my lap and he’s just reading while I’m writing and everything seems perfect.

He doesn’t ask what I’m writing because he knows it’s private and I trust him.

This is perfect.

I think I really am IN love with him.

.

Jan. 1/21

You know that cliché/tradition of New Year’s kisses?

WELL THEN.

Best (and worst) New Year’s ever. I’ll explain more later. I’m too tired and too angry and also sore and bruised.

See you when I’m not hungover.

.

Jan. 5/21

Dear Jane,

I’m finally stable enough to write.

In a crazy turn of events, Barnes and I got into a fight because of what happened after New Year’s Day’s events: I caught him leaving before I woke up and at first, curious questions ensued, and it wasn’t a fight but then it became one and I don’t even know how it happened. I wasn’t even mad. He just started being weird and I got annoyed and we tried and failed to keep our voices down. Luckily, my room is pretty soundproof.

Things just got out of hand and I feel like tearing my hair out. I wanna storm up to him and just yell some more.

Tony came into my room and didn’t say shit about my hickies and the fact that James is avoiding me like the plague. He gave me a really good hug, though and then gave me a few weeks off extra. I don’t know how he knows, but then again, it’s Tony.

He just said love’s tough sometimes.

Yeah, tell me about it.

I’m thinking about just taking a long vacation and disappearing. It seems like a good route to take at this point.

.

Jan. 6/21

Dear Jane,

James is looking at me right now as I write this. I wonder if I should look back or if he’s going to come up to me. We’ll see.

I’m only writing this so it seems like I’m busy. I’m running out of things to say, honestly. Can he just go? What’s the point in staring like that? What’s the point?

I could ask myself the same question. What’s the point in loving someone who’ll never love you? Yeah, he’s sleeping with me but he pulls away every time I try to do something more. Outside the bubble of my room and the small time frame of post-11PM to around 4:45AM, he acts like he’s allergic to intimacy.

It was never like that with ex-Girlfriend.

Maybe it’s something to do with me.

I don’t know, but he keeps looking and I want to get up and leave, but I won’t. I’m not gonna let him win.

.

Jan. 6/21

He didn’t. He just went out. Sam and Steve asked if I was okay because as soon as he left, I got up for the bathroom and screamed into a towel.

I don’t think either of them knows what’s going on, but they have a notion.

.

Jan. 9/21

Dear Jane,

He apologized. Still no explanation as to why, but it feels weird.

I told him I’m going on a vacation to Switzerland. Go skiing or something and asked if he wanted to come.

It was stupid to ask, but he said yes.

Shit.

.

Jan. 14/21

Dear Jane,

Switzerland is lovely.

No work is relaxing. Awkwardness between me and the other traveller on this vacation. Weather’s supposed to be nice when we get there. Sunny snow days, pretty mountains, other Swiss things.

No other comment.

.

Jan. 21/21

Dear Jane,

I lasted all of a week.

Yep, I slept with him again, and yes, he was back in his hotel bed come sunrise.

I dunno. I’m over it. We don’t apologize and hope everything gets back to normal because neither of us want to say anything to ruin it any further and we both have a major fear of the complicated. To be fair, he said he didn’t want to sleep with me if I was completely against it.

Also, I tried calling him Bucky at dinner like ex-Girlfriend (and everyone else) does and he made the most disgusted face.

He said, and I quote, “Bucky? When did I stop being James?”

I told him I was trying something out and he said it failed. Snarky bastard.

I guess if he’s still James, that must mean I’m still special.

That’s the Tony-inherited ego talking.

But it does make me exceptionally happy to play with the idea that I’m special to him. Best friend with convoluted benefits. Sounds like the title of a very long-winded self-help book that doesn’t really help much but that does sound like the story of my life so I can’t complain too much.

We’re going home in a few days.

I’ll probably sleep with him again. Bet Steve’s shield that I do.

.

Jan. 24/21

Dear Jane,

I get three Steve’s shields because I was right every single fucking day.

He’s like a habit I can’t quite kick and don’t really want to.

We snuggled afterwards last night. His arm was around my shoulders, we were naked, I was resting my head on his chest. For a moment, it felt like something couples do and then I fell asleep and woke up alone.

Quantum physics is easier to understand than this but I think we’re being mutually exclusive right now, so it’s almost dating.

I dunno. I don’t mind it anymore. It’s better than nothing.

.

Feb. 2/21

Dear Jane,

I’m absolutely miserable.

I’m still getting laid, but that’s not related. Correlation and causation or something.

Why is New York so dreary and when can everything just stop?

I don’t know. Winter is ending and now it’s in that awful transition phase between seasons and it’s mucky and rainy and disgusting. Tony got these limited edition ice cream flavours though so I’m gonna ask James if we can make milkshakes out of them or something.

He doesn’t like the muck either. That’s not really relevant, I guess.

.

Feb. 14/21

Dear Jane,

I got flowers and chocolate from the department because I think they can sense I’ve been in a bad mood since forever. Then, there was an anonymous delivery and inside was this gorgeous chain bracelet that matches the necklace sort of. I lied and told the department it was from Pepper.

What a wretched holiday.

Yours truly.

.

Feb. 18/21

Dear Jane,

Normally, when boys get their haircut, they look ugly for a day or two after.

Not James.

He got his hair cut shorter and he looks really good. Like unbelievably good. Short hair fits him just as much as long hair does.

No other observations.

.

Feb. 25/21

Dear Jane,

It was Morgan’s birthday party today. James came in one of those brown jackets with the sheepskin wool inside and he looked so good. We mainly stayed apart to prevent any dalliance because one does not disappear from the Madame Secretary’s birthday party and the team doesn’t really know what’s happening behind the scenes except for Nat and Tony, really.

I really wanted to kiss him in front of our friends. I caught him staring a few times, and every time, the smile seemed to vanish off his face.

I’m lying in bed and it feels pretty empty.

It occurs to me that I’ve been in love for a pretty long time and I’m not even in a relationship with the guy.

Energy could’ve been devoted to so many other things and I’d hate being in love if it weren’t for the fact that it’s James.

Again, love making me sappy and all that.

.

Feb. 28/21

Dear Jane,

Jane is such a common name. Some would call it plain yet it means gift from God.

I wonder if James knew that.

.

Mar. 10/21

Dear Jane,

It’s James’ birthday. Birthday sex is a requirement and a desire. I also got him a gift which is a pair of new black Timbs. I hope he likes them. I’m excited for cake, I guess. Morgan did my makeup but I’m gonna have to wipe it off for the small little party tonight.

I think, ordinarily, I’d be in knots because it’s James’ birthday and I love him and he’s my best friend, but I just don’t know. March is fairly boring and contemplative and rainy. Work is work. Helen Cho did a presentation on her Cradle technology. Very cool.

.

Mar. 20/21

Dear Jane,

It’s raining and doesn’t feel like spring. Alpine vomited on my bed a few days ago because he’s not feeling well. James and I took him to the vet and he’s on antibiotics. Poor boy. He’s sleeping in the corner of my room right now while James is away on a mission. I think I’ll just work from my room for a bit until he’s feeling better.

Nothing much to report, which is why I didn’t write anything. The month passed by too quickly. James should be back by the end of the month. I miss him and not because of the sex. No one else who doesn’t work for me or pays me listens to me ramble on their own free will. Talking to screens just isn’t the same.

.

April 1/21

James got back really early this morning and I, by tradition, was awake. I sort of wish I wasn’t though. In true April Fool’s tradition, I made fun of him for being a day late to which he genuinely apologized. I told him to shower and get to sleep but he was in that mood where you’re so exhausted you’re wide awake.

James suggested we make really strong cocktails for each other as a celebration for an extraction mission completed successfully.

Who am I to say no to celebrating?

He really likes grapefruit juice so I made a REALLY strong Grapefruit Paloma. He made this really interesting drink that was purple and tasted like oranges and cranberries. A lot of blue curacao was in it so it was pretty bitter but it hit like a fucking truck which is probably why I didn’t understand anything he said at first.

He told me he loved me.

I think, somehow, he managed to get drunk after the Grapefruit Paloma and two more bottles of vodka. Don’t ask me how because Steve NEVER gets drunk. Maybe HYDRA-brand serum is faulty? I don’t know.

I asked if he knew what date it was. He laughed really loudly, said no, realized, stuttered apologies and then said it again.

It was the most perfect sound in the world and it was the best moment in recent history.

Or, the sickest practical joke.

Consensus not yet reached.

.

April 2/21

Dear Jane,

I asked if he remembered what happened yesterday morning.

He did not.

Sickest practical joke confirmed.

.

April 9/21

Dear Jane,

I’ve been avoiding writing because I’ve felt a whole lot of nothing. Everything is abysmal and James’ confession is all I can think about. Tony’s on my ass about slipping and he has half the mind to put me on paid leave until I get my shit together, both as the head of the department and as an agent.

Drunk words are sober thoughts, all that garbage.

I wish I could live my whole life drunk and honest. Maybe then I wouldn’t be in this situation where I’m stuck in eternal limbo with my best friend whom I’m in love with. Minus the drunk part.

Duty demands I return to this weathered journal until it’s finished so we’ll see. I might be back this month. Maybe not.

.

May 1/21

Dear Jane,

It rained a lot in April so now the flowers are blooming early. April showers bring May flowers. Guess it has some merit to it.

Limbo sucks. Its inescapable nature, its terrible facade of everything seeming fine when it really isn’t.

Of course, James still makes me smile, but nothing seems really okay when I let myself stop for a second.

I’m going out with Steve to a charity thing tomorrow. Should be a few hours worth of not thinking and free booze. Oh, and James and I made out in one of the quinjets after dinner today.

Felt weird considering we aren’t a couple, but it happened spontaneously as that is the nature of our relationship, it appears.

The cause also happens to be the cure of melancholy. Weird.

.

May 6/21

Dear Jane,

For context, it’s 5:23AM.

Went for a walk in Madison Square and then Central Park with James yesterday, although in my head it’s still today. We met up with Nat for some training at the gym. Got a bit mobbed by fans and the paps who asked if we were dating like we’re the tabloid’s biggest scoop.

We weren’t even holding hands, but I guess it’s just another reason why we shouldn’t be TOGETHER together in public.

We had another deep stuff talk again in bed after the usual business. I wanted to ask what this is between us and if he’s pursuing other options, because I’m not and I wanted to know if I should, but I also didn’t want to ruin the vibe.

He was in a good mood today, and seeing as sometimes he has nightmares, I thought it was best I don’t ruin it. He thinks I don’t notice but how do I not notice? He’s my best friend.

I kissed his cheek when he got up to leave and he kissed me goodbye on the lips.

I guess that means something.

.

May 17/21

Dear Jane,

In a moment of complete boredom, I listened to Imagine Dragons’ new album. It wasn’t too bad, to be honest, but Sharon thought it could’ve been better. Whatever.

.

May 22/21

Dear Jane,

Ran into ex-Girlfriend today. She still has that whole sunshine thing going on still. We had coffee and she asked if I got together with James yet.

I choked on my coffee and nearly died on the spot.

That’s how I learned that James apparently broke it off softly and ex-Girlfriend had, very wisely and knowingly, said that he should chase the apple of his eye before I (the apple) rotted alone and forgotten at the trunk of the tree. Or, as any sane person would say (and ex-Girlfriend DID say), get picked from the tree by another hand.

She said it was quite obvious that I was in love with James even months ago. She also thanked me for being so nice, anyway, and that it must’ve been difficult. What a fucking SAINT.

I set her up with a date with Steve because they have the same energy, honestly, and that’s going down on the 26th barring any emergencies.

Call me Cupid, but I think I just constructed the perfect match made in heaven.

Mentioned this meeting to James minus the apple detail. He asked if she was doing okay, which she was, and seemed glad for that. Between kisses and his sneaking hand beneath the covers, he also asked if there was anything else. Not really much to say on that front.

.

June 3/21

Dear Jane,

It’s starting to dry up consistently, now. It’s getting warmer, too. Sam brought me flowers and told me to at least turn the air-con on if I was gonna be stuck in the lab all day. Oh, the simplicities of summer are hopefully returning. Got out early and hung out with Morgan at the park in the evening.

It’s nice to hang out with someone so blissfully unaware with the stupidity of love. All Morgan cares about is grass and buttercups she grabs from the ground. She doesn’t have to worry about how to tell the guy she’s in love with that she loves him.

Oh, didn’t you hear? Nat said I should just buck the fuck up and tell him.

And Nat is scary when not listened to.

Much to brainstorm about.

.

June 14/21

Dear Jane,

Just here to brainstorm some ideas for future Stark Industries projects and thought I’d preface it with a small diary entry. Nothing really happened. Work’s catching up for some reason and bad guys are acting up. I’ve pulled a few all nighters, not gonna lie.

Really tired, but in a good, productive way. Haven’t thought much on the James front. Gonna have to focus on that after everything calms down.

.

June 20/21

Dear Jane,

It’s officially summer and yet today was awful with only subtle hints of being okay.

So much for simplicity.

In the evening, I read on the hammock on the balcony. No one really bothered me except James, but he’s never a bother.

Steve and ex-Girlfriend (who will now be reidentified as Girlfriend) are pretty cute, and she meshes well with the group. There’s nothing really awkward between her, James, or me, so I guess two people’s summers are going well. Bully for them.

Didn’t really eat. Was too busy working. James got me dinner. Didn’t feel right and just kept working. This whole agreement between us has been very flexible but we really need to fit in a session soon.

I’ll make it work somehow.

.

June 22/21

Dear Jane,

I got my wish and didn’t at the same time. We spent the whole day in the sheets (very blissfully relaxing) and I, stupidly and with very little sleep, let it slip.

In less elegant terms, I told him I loved him. It felt very real and genuine and very-out-of-a-movie, but his reaction was less so.

What did I say? Allergic to intimacy.

He tried to play it off as best friends and even that was uncomfortable, but I, very seriously and very foolishly, corrected him that “no, James Buchanan Barnes, I am IN LOVE with you.”

He left a few minutes ago, saying something about heading down to the gym, but I know he’s just trying to avoid me.

God, how am I so stupid?

.

June 25/21

Dear Jane,

I haven’t seen James in a few days. I thought he was avoiding me but turns out he’s out of the country. Something about protection for whatever dignitary is travelling at the end of the month. I don’t know.

I wasn’t assigned to that op so the details weren’t shared liberally. Sam just said it’d be a while during the ambassador’s entire stay. High threat level which is why the Avengers were contracted.

I just hope he stays safe. I know he probably took off to take his mind off things, but I don’t know how he’s focusing when all I can think of is those three little words.

I love you.

Seems so fake the more I hear it in my head, but his reaction was so real that I think I might’ve just irreversibly messed things up.

.

July 12/21

Dear Jane,

It’s been a hectic couple of weeks. If future me finds this with blotted words, it’s because I am indeed crying while writing this.

James was medically evac’ed last night and transferred back to New York. Helen Cho was flown in from her medical conference in Minnesota where she was showcasing the newest version of the Cradle.

There was an assasination attempt and James is fucked up bad.

Holy shit, I’m so scared. I’ve never been so scared in my life. It’s like an invisible demon has my heart in his claw-like hands and he’s squeezing with all his might. I think my heart might explode.

I just want to hold his hand but he’s so high risk no one’s allowed to see him right now.

The waiting room is too quiet. Steve’s holding on to Girlfriend’s hand so hard I think her bones are broken but she’s taking it like a champ. Nat’s pacing, slowly patting a sleeping Morgan who she’s carrying. Sam and Tony are talking about stuff.

It’s too quiet.

I’m so scared.

.

July 13/21

They got him into the Cradle. Thank God. I think I might cry some more out of relief, but he was conscious for a few minutes earlier and he’s stable now.

It’s really late at night but they extended privileges to me to stay with him so I’m just sitting here, writing. Listening to the Cradle do its thing and the monitors do theirs.

When he was conscious, I was with him. He said some stuff under his breath but the one thing I could make out was “I’m an idiot.”

Granted, he’s right. It was supposed to be Steve or Tony on that mission. You know, people with more defense op experience, but he had to go out and volunteer himself.

I feel sort of guilty.

It’s partially my fault, isn’t it?

I think I’ll try to tuck in for tonight. I wanna be awake when he wakes up, too.

.

July 14/21

Dear Jane,

James woke up today. He’s still in the Cradle (lots of internal damage spread throughout the body) but he’s conscious. He saw me and immediately tried to sit up which was sweet, but when he couldn’t, he just told me to come closer and then told me that he loved me.

I called him an idiot for running away. I told him he really scared me. I told him that I loved him so fucking much. I told him that I feel so guilty and he just held my face and said that it will never be my fault.

He’s so fucking romantic, even when he’s lying down with a wound being stitched closed live in front of my eyes.

Oh, and he kissed me. I don’t think I noticed how much I actually missed him until that moment.

I don’t know how to describe the feeling in my chest. It’s a mixture between super happy and super scared and super, super warm inside. Summer might be looking up.

.

July 18/21

Dear Jane,

We got home today. James is staying in my room. The team doesn’t say anything about it. We’re best friends, after all, but I think they’ve known for a long time that there’s something more. Some of them are just too polite to say so.

I won’t have much time to write over the next couple of days. James has to be kept on a strict, extremely healthy diet and medicine regime.

I don’t care. I’m just glad he’s home.

He’s kissing me a lot more, now. Alpine likes the fact that his two humans are now in the same room. He purrs so loudly, I can hear him from where he’s dozing, curled up underneath James’ chin. He (James) is resting after his second round of antibiotics for the day while I work from my room, and sometimes I catch myself looking back just to make sure he’s okay.

I’m going to go kiss him now.

Be right back.

.

July 21/21

Dear Jane,

It’s almost Nat’s birthday (the 26th). Super exciting. James is back on solids and I’m helping him around with walking. Even with the Cradle and the healing factor, he’s still super banged up, so it’s better safe than sorry.

We had a really long talk about love and stuff. It’s good to finally have it out in the open. It was mostly me talking about my side of things and he just nodded a lot. I know he was listening though.

We also kissed a lot, like seventeen year old couples who are heavy on the PDA, but within the privacy of my room. I dunno. I like the heat of his arms and the way he kisses the shell of my ear when he’s bored or it’s a commercial break.

It feels very natural.

I am very much in love with him.

I tell him that and he always looks skeptical, but whatever. He doesn’t have to say it back (I tell him that there’s no pressure) and he’ll get it through his thick skull eventually that he’s now stuck with me.

.

July 25/21

Dear Jane,

We made cookies in the early AM as tradition for the party tomorrow and I told him that I love him (again, but this time he didn’t run, nor has he the past few times. Fantastic).

While the cookies were baking, he explained everything on his side of the story: how he was scared to be vulnerable, how opening up to me is just different and new and scary and I get it. I really do. I know how it feels to think you don’t deserve good things and sabotage feels like the only way to save everyone from hurt.

He smiled a lot more after that. I guess he’s just glad I get it.

One day, I’ll successfully convince James that he deserves everything good this world has to offer.

Until then, I’ll just keep trying.

P.S. He said, with less hesitation than the first time, that he loves me, too. Best. Day. Ever.

P.P.S. The cookies are so good and I want to devour them all. I could barely stop James from eating all of them. Again: Best. Day. Ever.

.

July 26/21

Dear Jane,

In summary of today:

Happy birthday, Natasha.

James has been given the clear bill of health which is exciting. Also, I asked him about the Jane and gift of God thing.

He knew. “Intuition” and all that. He also said I looked “like a royal dame” in my swimsuit. Smug idiot just trying to be charming.

I love him and that’s the only reason it works.

Back to the festivities.

.

July 27/21

Dear Jane,

Good morning to you and to James who’s still in my bed at a ripe 6:23AM, fast asleep.

Progress. Now, back to sleep.

.

July 27/21

Dear Jane,

It’s now 9:49AM and James greeted me with orange juice and waffles. He said I was cute when I slept. Creep.

He also said he tried so many times to stay in my bed after, before we were like we are now, but he never could, and now he’s upset that he missed out on my cute sleeping/waking up for the day face every time he did so.

He is exceptionally cute when he’s pouting.

I think we’re officially boyfriend-girlfriend, but we’ll work out the semantics on that later. For now, it’s another summer day together. He suggested Chinese takeout for dinner because I have to go dip back into the lab later today to check on some samples.

I agreed and he kissed me in promise like it was our “thing.” I can’t stop smiling like an idiot.

Massive progress.

.

July 28/21

Dear Jane,

He told me I was the only one for him.

Also, he kissed me in front of our friends for the first time. Natasha yelled “FINALLY” and pushed us into the pool. Sam laughed and then I grabbed him and threw him into the pool. Ensuing: a water fight for the ages.

For a day: 10/10

.

July 31/21

Hey Jane,

I think I’m happy.

I’m sorry I ever doubted the effects of writing down my feelings.

James has a romantic trip to uptown planned for our first date and he said it’ll take the whole day so I thought I’d get this entry in the morning. I dunno. It’s really early and the happy thought was the first thing that came to my head.

Weird, but it’s a good weird.

See you in a bit.

#fic: dear... whoever #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fic #bucky imagine #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan fic #sebastian stan imagine #my writing #25 things challenge

[alexmercer2424]

May i pls have angel dust x short male reader and if possible nsfw(hope you have a good day/night) :D

Apparently today is Angel’s unofficial birthday since this day was the first day we saw Angel, even before Hazbin aired for Happy Birthday Angel Dust! Also I hope you’re doing all horrormaniac! <3

HH Angel Dust w/ Smol Male S/O

SFW

No doubt teases you for being small

Even if it’s just a couple inches to a whole foot, he will tease you

Will do the iconic/annoying thing of resting his elbow on your head to prop himself against

Also has no problem picking you up and calling you a little baby

There’s just a lot of teasing

However, if someone tries to mess with you he’ll bark first at whomever

You won’t even get a chance to get a word in

And if you do, it’s usually the both of you finishing each other’s sentences in regards of what you’ll do to said demon

Though you’re more into sharp pointing things rather than shooty things

It’s a fun range between you

You’re also one of the few demons to know about Angel’s problem with Valentino

And as much as you threaten the guy behind closed doors, Angel has made you promised not to get involved

Because like Fat Nuggets you’re one of the few things he actually likes in Hell

So when he’s doing a show or a shoot, just hang out with Nugs and the two of you can plot together

It doesn’t help either that with you being small, Angel can just imagine how easily Val could probably literally crush you

He’s bigger than Angel after all and much more dangerous

So even tho the two of you can play the role of the baddest bitches on the streets

Angel will always watch over the both of your shoulders because of those three V’s…

NSFW

Sometimes forgets you and his job are two different things

So as much as you don’t mind the extra kinkiness and foreplay, his personas get in the way at times

After all, you want him and only him not the character he plays for Valentino

That being said, is much more of a dom than a sub like Val makes him out to be

That doesn’t mean Angel doesn’t like to be a bottom, he loves it still, but he will be a power bottom

Like when he sucks your dick, there will be much more teasing

He isn’t working to just get you off and get some cash, he’s here to work under your skin

His teeth will find your skin and it’ll be a rush of adrenaline every time

Especially since he’s got a venomous bite, yet that has yet to happen

Will definitely edge you because he can now

When he rides you, a pair of hands are holding yours down, a pair is puffing up his chest, and the final pair come out to jerk himself off

Just because he is a “show girl” doesn’t mean he hates it, he loves to give a good show

And personal shows are much better than whatever Val can force him to do

So be prepared to see a little fashion show as well regarding all his lingerie

Tho he won’t admit it he wants to actually feel appreciated in it and the look in your eyes feeds into that part of his ego

The two of you definitely have a stripper pole in your room for him to play on…

Tho he’s done practically anything, he has two preferences on pacing

Either likes it hard and fast because sometimes you just gotta fuck the bad day out of him

Otherwise he likes to take his time because tho he is a pornstar it’s not exactly pleasurable sex and you give that to him

The few times he does too he tends to take it slower

After all he’s not all that used to it

But he’ll make up for the lack of attention with his hands to provide other sensations to build up your pleasure meter

And you can ride him as hard and fast as you want and if anything he’ll just make wise crack jokes throughout

Because surely you’ve got to be a bull of some type with the rough ride you’re giving him

Also will joke about you being smaller than him again

Because this seems more appropriate than you topping him

Jokes all the time about you being small and topping him

So don’t be afraid to call him your bitch after all it’s all in good fun and he started it

All the sex toys

And all the hands to use all the sex toys

Mutual masturbation for you both

And he will definitely help you jerk off if you ask

Also be ready for the surprise that after Angel falls asleep, he will move for cuddles

He doesn’t know he does this, but he does

(In his defense he’s used to Fat Nuggets laying next to him not you)

https://discord.gg/Xr6V4znGXN

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel headcanons #hazbin hotel angel dust #hazbin hotel angel #angel dust #angel dust imagine #angel dust headcanons #HH Angel dust imagine #HH Angel dust headcanons #hazbin hotel angel dust imagine #hazbin hotel angel dust headcanons

[damnlance]

klance angst prompt # 11 please?

Klangst Prompt #11

11. “What keeps you up at night?”

Summary: A lot has happened in the past few days that has Keith’s mind going haywire. And to top it off, they’re all FINALLY on their way home to Earth. Keith should be happy.. but he isn’t.

-

There are so many stars in space, it’s actually quite terrifying.

At least Keith thinks so anyway.

The way that there’s an endless epitome of these twinkly little burning balls of gas for miles and miles, everywhere they go, everywhere they are, these seemingly never ending burning balls of gas following them, surrounding them, consuming them, it’s..

Terrifying.

It’s the middle of the night and Keith’s alone, sitting in the head of the castle ship, staring out into space. He can’t sleep again and it’s the fifth night in a row. Tiredness eats away at the back of his brain but he can’t bring himself to care. Not when a million and one thoughts and worries are itching underneath his skin. Thoughts he’s too afraid to elaborate on because he knows it’ll just make things worse..

The hissing sound of the automatic sliding doors bring him out of his thoughts as slippers being slid across the floor make their way closer to him. Keith doesn’t bother turning around, content to talk with whomever could be awake and looking for him. But as soon as they make their way closer, a familiar scent hits his nostrils and he knows exactly who it is.

Ocean breeze cologne from the space mall. Lance fucking McClain. His boyfriend.

“Thought I’d find you in here.” Lance says with a hint of happiness in his voice.

Keith turns back to look at him and blushes a little from the sight. He’s wearing his pajamas; blue tank-top and silk shorts to match and even though he’s had them for a while now, Keith still gets a little flustered from all of Lance’s beautiful exposed skin. He’s got a blanket wrapped around his shoulders as he comes to plop down next to Keith. The second their bodies touch, Keith curls into Lance’s side like a cat curling up by a fire. Lance welcomes him eagerly and wraps his arm around him, enveloping him in his blanket.

“Everything okay?” Keith asks, staring out at the stars.

“I should be asking you that,” Lance answers. “You’re the one who wasn’t in bed when I woke up.”

Keith nods and shrugs. “Sorry.. just overthinking again.”

“Hey,” Lance quirks up his eyebrow, “I thought that was my job?”

Keith smirks and rolls his eyes. “I’m being serious, Lance.”

Lance smiles a bit. “I know, babe. Just trying to make you smile.”

There’s a beat of silence as they both look out at the stars and space. It’s so blinding and deafening at the same time and it makes the hairs on Keith’s arms stand on end. But he can’t stop the thoughts that come to his brain. Loneliness, abandonment, isolation. It’s all in there. Keith closes his eyes and lets out a deep breath through his nose, putting his head down to stare at his red paladin slippers.

“Something on your mind..?” Lance is watching him intently, gently, not wanting to frighten him into closing off like he usually does. They’ve been dating for about a year, or whatever the space equivalency is to that. Lance confessed his feelings after a successful mission and everyone was high on happiness and how well they worked together as a team. And by ‘confessed’, he actually just kissed Keith silly in front of everyone and when Keith surprisingly and eagerly kissed back, that was all the confirmation Lance needed to know that they had the same feelings.

So to say that Lance knows Keith like he knows the back of his hand is an understatement. He knows Keith like he knows the entirety of his hand.

Keith shrugs and tucks his long, black hair behind his ear.

“I’m scared.” He says so quietly, Lance doesn’t think he hears him right.

“Scared?” Lance frowns. “Of what?”

“The stars..” Keith decides to say as he pushes himself away from Lance, and the blanket, to stand up and walk over to the large castle windows. Lance stares at the back of his head, those perfect eyebrows arched in confusion.

“The stars??” Lance chuckles nervously. “Uh, hate to break it to you, love, but we’ve been in space for god knows how long and you haven’t seemed that scared to me.. I think..?” It’s quiet as Lance waits for an elaboration. He watches as Keith bounces from foot to foot, arms crossed over his chest as he holds himself, shrinking in on himself. But he doesn’t say anything, most likely getting his thoughts together.

“Keith,” Lance’s voice is calm. “This is like, the fifth time in a row you’ve been up pacing this room like a madman. So.. what keeps you up at night? You can tell me.”

Keith stops pacing and looks at the ground. “Do.. Do you ever feel so small when you look out at all those endless stars?”

Lance thinks for a moment. “Yeah,” he nods, “All the time.”

“But..” Keith turns around now, facing his boyfriend. “Do you ever feel lonely? O-or scared? Like there’s just too much stars and space and it’s just you and no one else..?” He stops to really examine Lance’s face and is surprised to find him staring with a hint of sadness in his blue eyes. Like something Keith has said has punctured a sensitive nerve and it’s now throbbing painfully.

“Sometimes..” Lance finally admits after a beat of silence. He sits back on his hands and stretches his legs out in front of him, crossing them at the ankles. “The first time I realized that we were actually stuck on the other side of a wormhole, it was all I could think about. I mean.. I left everyone behind, thinking that we would just be back in a few days. And that’s when everyday for me became scary and lonely..”

Keith nods, listening. He twists the ends of his hair and chews on his lip before responding.

“And do you still feel that way?”

“A little,” Lance looks at him. “But now that we’re finally going home, I’m relieved.”

Keith’s shoulders tense up at the mention of home and he rubs the back of his neck. “Well.. that’s still how I feel. Even now that we’re going.. going h..” He can’t say it. That place has never even been a home to him. All that Earth has ever done is bring him sadness and loneliness, taking everyone he’s ever loved away from him.

Lance finally gets it now.

“Babe,”he stands up, dropping the blanket from around his shoulders, “Do you really feel like that?”

Keith nods.

“Even.. with me?”

That gets Keith’s attention and he looks up, feeling a lump form in his throat.

“No, Lance,” He crosses the empty distance between them and immediately grabs Lance’s hips, pulling them close. “I could never feel that way with you. You make me so happy! It’s just..”

Lance eagerly waits for his response. Patiently. Nervously.

“I don’t have a home to go back to.” It’s said so quietly that Lance could have sworn he dreamed it.

“What? Keith,” He catches Keith’s gaze by grabbing his perfect, chiseled jaw in his hand and forcing those beautiful violet eyes to look at him. “What the hell are you talking about?? Don’t you know that we’re your family?? That I’m your family?”

Keith’s bottom lip quivers. “B-but you've got your mom and d-dad and siblings all waiting for you! And Hunk has his family and Pidge has her family, everyone’s got someone waiting for them.. I wish my father was waiting for me.”

Lance can only watch as his boyfriend, the love of his life and the thief of his heart, silently cries just a few centimeters away from him. It shatters his heart.

“Baby,” He says, voice strong and a small bit wavering. Keith looks up, tears and snot running down his face. Lance’s heart breaks some more. “You are my entire life. You have my heart, my soul, my everything, and you mean so much to me that it absolutely scares me.”

Keith sniffs once, blinking more tears down his cheeks.

“A life without you in it,” Lance continues, placing his warm hands on either side of Keith’s neck, “Is the worst thing that could happen to me. Worse than getting stuck on the other side of a wormhole, trillions of miles away from home.”

“Really?” Keith’s voice breaks a little as a small smile creeps up on his face. Lance swoons leaning forward to kiss Keith’s forehead.

“Yeah, love.” He smiles. “Really.” He wipes Keith’s tear stained cheeks with his thumbs and leans in close to press their foreheads together. “And baby??”

“Hm?” Keith stares into those blue eyes he loves so much, nostrils full of the ocean breeze scent he loves so much.

“You’ll never be without me,” Lance whispers, just for Keith to hear. “When we make it home, you’ll have me. You’ll also have Shiro and Pidge, Matt and Hunk, Romelle and Allura and Coran. Even your freakishly hot galra mom!”

Keith laughs, his eyes crinkling closed into cute little crescents and the sound light and airy, going straight to Lance’s heart. Another kiss is pressed to Keith’s forehead as Lance moves to tuck his bangs away from his face and behind his ear.

“You’ll always have me, okay?”

Keith nods, leaning forehead to capture Lance’s lips in a searing kiss. Lance kisses back, every word he said to Keith showing in his kiss. They pull away and hug each other, Keith burying his face into Lance’s shoulder.

“Thank you, Lance.” He whispers. “I love you.”

And Lance smiles, a light blush coming in on his cheeks.

“I love you too, Keithy.”

-END-

(send me a klangst prompt!)

#klance #lance mcclain #lance (voltron) #keith kogane #keith (voltron) #lance and keith #keith/lance #raes klangst prompts #klangst prompts #klangst prompt 11 #klangst #langst #angst #writing #hurt and comfort #damnlance #raeasks #damnlancewrites

[harry-writings]

The Edge of Tonight

- The one where Y/n reaches her breaking point and ruins Harry’s special night

TW: drug use of a family member, mentions of overdose 

Masterlist

-

Tonight is really important.

Harry has a mandatory meeting that addresses his next leading role in an upcoming action film. This is his biggest acting opportunity since his role in Dunkirk—his career only seeming to get better with each audition and he couldn’t wait to discuss the next character he has to take on.

Everyone is there—between his managers, the directors, and all the other actors involved in the making, tonight is a really big deal. Harry hasn’t been this excited since his last movie, and to be honest, he never thought he’d end up being a part of something like this again.

He’s amazed at it all, really. There’s a certain type of hustle he’s already found himself getting comfortable with, despite his overwhelming introverted-ness. The cast and crew—everybody, really—is really welcoming, and to know that this will be his life for the next year gets him even more excited. 

At the main table—where everybody talks individually to get a proper grasp on the characters—he makes rounds with as many people he can; asking questions and getting all the clarification he needs in regards to the film. And even though everything he’s doing is work related, there really isn’t anywhere he’d rather be at the moment.

He’s two hours in—half of his questions still unanswered and the director has yet to discuss the majority of the making. They’re walking to take their seats for the mass presentation—where they go over their film location, get their scripts, all the nitty gritty that comes with being an actor—when Harry’s phone starts to ring. 

Normally, considering the situation that he’s in, he’d ignore the call and wait until his meeting was over to get in contact with whomever was in need to reach him. But as he stares down at the unknown number on his screen, something doesn’t feel right. His stomach tightens and he doesn’t necessarily know why. It’s just a goddamn phone call made at the wrong time.

And he really wants to ignore it—really should ignore it—but he can’t dismiss the mysterious feeling inside of him as it vibrates, for now the second time in his hand.

He sighs, looking around for somewhere much more private. He quickly walks away from where the crowd his heading, finding a secluded section near the bathrooms while he makes sure to answer the call.

He barely has any time to say anything before he hears her.

“Harry, please don’t hate me.”

Y/n’s voice sure as hell was the last thing he expected to hear on the other line as it evidently speaks through tears and worry. To hear her in that way makes his heart drop to the pit of his stomach and his palms sweat against the phone, the thought of the unfamiliar number somehow slipping from his mind as it’s now raided by concern.

He thinks of the worst possible scenario she could be in for her to be calling in such a state. Despite her saying “please don’t hate me” hints at the fact whatever position she is was her fault, he can’t help but to panic at the mere thought that she’s in danger and he’s not close enough to save her in time.

“Darling, what’s wrong? Are you alright?”

Y/n wishes he didn’t sound so concerned for her because when it comes down to it, she doesn’t deserve the benefit of the doubt Harry always gives her. Everything that’s happened, the whole reason why she’s here, is because of something she had done. It was necessarily her fault, but it was her stupid decision that brought her into this mess, and she doesn’t want to take advantage of his heart. 

Especially not now, not during one of the most important nights of his career. She can’t take advantage of what he always gives her because he’d never forgive her, no matter how much she really truly needs him right now.

“I’m at the police station I—" She stomps her feet on the ground because she knows what she’s in for now that she confessed her whereabouts. She’s more than upset with herself, too, because she knows that she’s being a burden on a night so detrimental to his career. “I fucked up, Harry. I’m so sorry.“

He really doesn’t know how to react. He doesn’t really know if he can react. Neither of them have ever been put in a position like this—he almost thinks this whole thing is a figment of his imagination—his brain trying to bring down his spirits because this role is just too good to be true, just too, too good, and his body can’t handle it.

And there’s just no way. The only thoughts swirling in his brain are what could she possibly have done? What did she do to end up there, all alone, with nobody to help her?

His hand is rubbing against his face harshly, sucking in a deep breath as he tries to wrap his head around the situation. His fingertips press against his closed eyes, trying to fathom the damage she possibly could have done.

“What did you do?”

Even though he was remaining as calm as possible, she can hear the disappointment in his voice. Her eyes squeeze closed as she chokes back a sob, holding the telephone closer to her ear as she tries to come up with something better than “I knocked a girl unconscious while blindingly drunk.”

“Assault.”

The breath is knocked right out of him. How the hell could this have happened? Y/n? Assault? She’s always been such a good person, always doing what’s greatest in her heart and making sure those around her are safe and content at all times. She’s a big believer in treating others the way she wants to be treated, so putting people before her was in her blood—in her nature —like she was born for those around her. 

Her wholeheartedness was one of the many reasons Harry fell in love with her. She was just so goddamn easy to fall for and he admired the effortless aspects of her love and fondness. He knows deep in his heart that there must have been a good reason, a really good reason, Y/n would have assaulted somebody—he really does believe that—but he just can’t shake the anger out of him right now.

She knows what this night means to him and his career yet she’s finding her way to ruin it. And if he didn’t love her so much, he would finish off his meeting and make her wait, make her learn her lesson to not be so goddamn careless and stupid, but he just can’t do that. No matter how jaw-clenchingly pissed off he is, she means the most to him and he would never be able to live with himself if he were to keep her in any danger any longer.

He sighs again, resting his forehead in the palm of his hand while his elbow is placed sturdy on the wall beside him. He feels dizzy and his brain is moving much too quickly for him to comprehend any rational thought. There are so many endless possibilities as to what could happen to her—what could happen to them—after this gets resolved.

“I’ll be there soon.”

It takes him nearly five minutes to get his head screwed on straight and muster up the courage to tell the managers that there’s been a family emergency. Although they seem hesitant to believe him, he’s sure they’ll be reading all about Y/n’s arrest on social media if it happens to become public.

And that’s just another thing that’s really getting on his nerves. He’s an extremely private person, always tentative about shining light on his personal life. It took him months to make his relationship with Y/n public, and although she’s done nothing but respect his need of privacy, this entire situation is going to interfere with that. And possibly this new upcoming role.

Everything about tonight makes him more angered than he’s ever been in his life and it’s almost overwhelming him. And God, does he want to put some sense into Y/n, but he can’t even think about being more upset with her than he already is until he knows that she’s okay.

            -

When Harry arrives at the police station, they already had Y/n sitting on a bench near the officer’s room. His eyes instinctually look for any visible scars or damages on her skin, but besides the few bruises on her arms and a busted lip, she doesn’t seem too hurt.

What he really does notice, though, is how tired and out of it she looks. She looks lifeless upon the bench, her eyes refusing to move from the wall in front of her. The color of her skin is paled and her eyes are sunken in with exhaustion. She’s still crying, too, but doesn’t make any attempts to rid the tears falling rapidly down her cheeks.

“Sir, are you here for Y/n Y/l/n?”

His gaze breaks away from her figure to meet with the police officer standing beside him, who’s holding files of papers in his hands with a stern look on his face.

Harry nods quickly, not bothering to clarify much more than he has to. The officer nods in response, pointing his head over to his desk—implying Harry to follow him into the room. He leads him over to the empty chair, making sure to close to the door to prevent any leaked information.

Harry makes himself as comfortable as he possibly can in the circumstances that he’s in. The officer is extremely intimidating and making it hard for him to communicate properly. He just wants to know what the hell is happening so that he can put his worries to rest and bring Y/n home.

The officer is flipping through papers on his desk, not making any move to sit down or reassure Harry in any way. He can physically feel his heart beat harshly in his chest and the sweat surface on his palms.

“And you’re the boyfriend, correct?”

This time, the officer finally looks up to where Harry’s is sitting across from him. He nods tentatively, unsure of really what to do or say. He figures that wordless gestures are enough unless he’s asked for details.

The officer writes something down on paper—perhaps confirming his presence and here to bring Y/n back home. He coughs slightly before finally giving the answers Harry desperately, hopelessly needs.

“Since she’s had no prior criminal record and was under the influence of alcohol, we’re letting her go with a three-month probation. Thankfully, for her, the woman didn’t press any charges. If she doesn’t cause any trouble within the next three months, we’ll drop the record from her name. Got it?”

Although confusion is still buzzing through Harry’s head and there’s still so many questions to ask, he doesn’t say anything in response. Between the gloominess and tension in the small room and all the intimidation flowing through his veins, he’s almost scared to speak out.

The officer doesn’t look very promising, either, even though he hasn’t been harsh on him. It’s all just too much happening at once and he can’t understand it all.

Harry obeys all the officer’s orders in regards to the instructions of Y/n’s probation. It doesn’t take much longer than twenty minutes to get everything clarified, but his legs are shaking impatiently. He really just wants to get out of here.

And when Harry finally walks out of the room, the officer that was standing by Y/n leads her over to him. Her steps are hesitant and slow, almost unsure of her movements. She still hasn’t looked up at him but Harry barely notices—either that, or he doesn’t really care.

He grabs her wrist between his fingers before he practically drags her out the door. He isn’t walking that fast, but Y/n’s still a bit drunk and she can barely see where he’s going through all her tears. It seems as though the world is moving too fast for her to keep up.

         -

The entire car ride is filled with tense air and Harry’s shallow breathing. She knows there is nothing she can say to make the situation any better, but she just wishes he gave her something to work with. She’s never needed anybody the way she needs Harry right now. Ever. 

And when Harry doesn’t talk, that’s when he’s really had it. He doesn’t speak much to begin with, so when he’s silent and refusing to talk things out with her, he’s building himself up—it’s the calm before the storm. Everything he wants to say is being swallowed in his own throat, just waiting to explode all at once.

“H, please say something.”

He grips the steering wheel tighter—so tight that his knuckles turn white and his wrist pulses under the pressure. Not a reaction in him gives her a reason to believe he can even look at her in this moment. She’s unintentionally pushing him over the edge and she doesn’t know if she’ll be able to live with herself for it.

“What’d you want me to say? Got nothing to say to you right now.”

She throws her head back on the headrest as a cry spews past her lips. Her feet are kicking at the glove compartment and she really thinks she can break down right then and there. She really fucking needs him to be there for her and tell her everything is going to be okay.

“I’m so sorry, I swear I didn’t mean to ruin your meeting because I know how important it was to you, but I swear I—“

“Y/n, please. It’s taking everything in me not to yell at you right now and I don’t want to be so bloody angry that I can’t see the road. So please, that’s enough.”

         -

When they get home, Harry doesn’t open her car door like he usually does, nor does he wait up for her before going inside. She pouts at this, feeling neglected and utterly upset that she’s made him so angry.

But she needs him right now—now more than ever. There is so much more to the story than he knows and she can’t stand the fact that he won’t let her talk about it. She needs his comfort and his love to keep her steady in the midst of all the chaos happening in her life, but she knows that’s the last thing he’ll give to her right now, no matter how much she relies on it.

Her bottom lip trembles as she closes the front door shut, meeting a house full of slamming cabinets and the sound of his rushed footsteps. She tentatively follows the glimmer of light that meets the hallway from their bathroom, slowly opening the door wider as she’s met with a counter full of first aid kits and Harry’s moving body.

“Just because I’m pissed off at you doesn’t mean I don’t care. Sit on the counter, your knuckles and lips are cut.”

She complies silently, hitching herself on the edge of the counter until her bottom legs are dangling and her back is slouched against the mirror. And before she really has time to get comfortable in her position, he’s already grabbing her hand to clean the dried blood off.

There are so many things he wants to say but doesn’t know how, not without sounding like an asshole. He loves her too much to keep her crying the way she has, and loves her too much to make her feel worse about herself than she already does. But really, what the fuck was she thinking?

He sees the regret and guilt in her eyes and it pains him. He knows that it’s partially his fault—why she’s so saddened—but this isn’t something he can forgive her so easily for no matter how much he wishes it was.

He’s at his boiling point and he can feel it—partially mad at Y/n, partially mad at himself. The cotton swab that was once gently patting her cut knuckles is now moving more harshly from his aggressive movements—not enough to hurt her, but enough for her to know that he’s having trouble keeping it all together.

“There better have been a really good reason as to why you’ve done this, Y/n—acting like a proper idiot. Do you have any idea how this makes you look?”

She shrugs, a pout on her face as she refuses to answer. She knows it’s not worth trying because this is his blow and she doesn’t want to push him any further. She’d rather take it as it is now rather than make it worse—something she wouldn’t be able to take.

“You know what this night meant to me and you know this could have been the worst possible time to cause some shit like this! And you were drunk, too! You were proper fucking drunk and alone! You know how you are when you’re drunk, damn sensitive, have no sense! And look where you ended up!”

He slams his fist on the counter next to her legs, the gauze falling from his hand from the impact. He still isn’t looking at her—hasn’t once looked at her since they’ve left the station—and it breaks her heart in two. 

It hurts so bad, for him to be right in arms reach and not being able to hug him and kiss him and tell him just how sorry she really is. 

His shoulders are tightened, jaw clenched, face nearly red, and fingers in fists from all the anger. And Y/n begins to cry.

“I had to sacrifice my time, my future, my career because of your fucking irresponsibility! This isn’t even goddamn like you, Y/n! And if the media finds out, guess whose ass is on the line! Mine! It will all turn shit for me and my possibility for making a life for us all because you decided to physically assault somebody!”

Y/n’s head is hung low at the point, not having the strength to look at him the way he is now. She never wants to see him this frustrated with her—because of her—and it just makes her feel worse than she already did.

And normally she would still listen to his lectures, only because she really deserves it and doesn’t find it in her heart to turn anything around on him, but she has to say it. No matter how embarrassing it’ll make her look—no matter how bad it’ll make her look—she needs to tell him.

If she doesn’t, he might not ever forgive her.

“My mum overdosed.”

It’s almost a silent confession, spoken so inaudibly Harry almost doesn’t hear it underneath all his rage. It doesn’t make any sense, and he almost thinks he misunderstood her somewhere because it just doesn’t make any goddamn sense.

“What?”

She sighs, lifting her head but still not having the courage to look at him. She lays the back of her head against the mirror, tears falling silently from her eyes as she stares emotionless at the wall beside him.

He’s already calmed down some and is now staring at her in confusion. He’s not even entirely sure what she just said and his patience is wearing thin when she takes a couple of moments to fully explain herself.

“I got drunk because my mum overdosed. She’s been like this for too long—you know, being addicted. It was only a matter of time before it got to that point, where too much wasn’t enough. That’s why I never had you meet her— because I never wanted you to look at me differently or look at me like there’s something so terribly wrong with me.”

Harry’s hands are running delicately up and down her legs, listening intently to her words. There’s a furrow between his brows as he takes everything in, allowing himself to process everything she’s saying before he finds the right words to say back to her.

“And I know, getting drunk wasn’t the answer, but it wasn’t the problem, either. Some girls from my high school had found out—I guess maybe from their friends or parents? I’m not so sure. They’ve made my life miserable for as long as I could remember and this was their perfect opportunity to make a fool out of me. You know, ‘look at the drug addict’s daughter’ and ‘maybe this explains why you’re so fucked up.’”

Harry instinctively reaches his hand out to her tearful cheeks, cupping the skin between his fingers as if to reassure her that he’s there for her. His own eyes are overflowing with tears and he swallows the lump in his throat harshly.

“Oh, baby.” He whimpers.

She really could have stopped there—he didn’t need any further explanation for what she’s done. He’s already forgiven her and is more than ready to console her and be there for her for as long as she needs. But she needs to keep going, he knows that. He sees the words fighting past her lips and he’s not going to keep her thoughts unspoken.

“They started insulting my family, insulting my mum, insulting me and they just kept going. They just wouldn’t stop, and people around us were looking and I was so embarrassed and so upset, Harry. I just needed one last push until I cracked, and that’s when they mentioned you. Saying how you don’t deserve a mistake like me—saying that I must be fucking up your life the way my mum fucked up mine.”

She purses her trembling lips tightly and squeezes her eyes shut, trying so desperately to control the sobs that dare leave her mouth that her wobbling chin meets her chest. Now that she’s started, there’s no way for her to stop, but she doesn’t know if her body can take it.

Harry slowly drifts his hand to the back of her head, slightly digging his fingertips into her scalp and rubbing in soft circles. He’s never seen her this horrible and he’ll do anything he can to make it stop. His heart is hurting for her, his chest is burning with guilt, and his eyes are tearing with sympathy and he never wants to let her go. No, not tonight.

“And I didn’t need that, Harry. I didn’t need to hear that because my biggest fear is becoming what my mother is. I love her so much—I love her so fucking much even though I shouldn’t because she picked her addiction over me! I’ve always been neglected! She never loved me like I loved her and I never want to do that to you, Harry! I never want to do that to you.”

She punches at his chest almost passionately, to show him how much she really means it, because he might not ever trust her now. 

But Harry scoops her up in his arms, keeping her as close as possible as she drowns herself in her hysteria. Her hands are shaking against his chest, lips pressed against the crook of his neck, and legs wrapped around his waist as he shushes her in an attempt to calm her down.

His lips pepper chaste kisses against her skin, an endearing reminder that he’s not going anywhere anytime soon.

He buries his head in her hair and cradles her into his chest, his hands running feverishly all over her back. She doesn’t deserve anything that’s been given to her tonight—including everything he’s said—and she doesn’t deserve all the pain and worries she’s been going through.

Hell, she doesn’t deserve any bit of this and he wants to fix it now—has to fix it now.

Because how could he have missed it? How could he have been such a shit boyfriend to not take notice in Y/n’s toxic relationship with her mother? How had he never asked questions? How had he failed to be there for her for so long?

“Baby, baby, look at me. Look at me.”

He’s cupping his hands over her cheeks to ensure that her eyes meet his. And when they do, his heart breaks at just how spent she looks. The light in her eyes has burnt to a crisp and it seems as though there’s nothing left in her.

And despite how devastating it is, he still looks at her in the most loving way. It almost makes Y/n smile, but instead of the tug on her lips to do so, she feels the tug in her heart.

“You’re never going to do that to me, you understand? I know you more than anybody and I know how much you love me. It’s in everything you do, and even if you didn’t love me, you are not your mum. You’re so much stronger than you think you are and I am not letting you live your life in constant fear of turning into somebody you’re not. I’m not letting you do that, not when I’m here with you.”

She lets out a whimper, and despite the evident pout on her lips, she nods in understanding.

“Don’t deserve this, not one bit.”

His thumbs are rubbing against her cheeks while he presses a passionate kiss on her lips, and something about the common gesture is enough to settle the constant fear in her thoughts. And when his lips move to settle on her forehead and his hands tuck her into his chest, the weight in her chest seems to disappear.

By now, all her tears have been shed and all she’s left with are heavy eyes and a nearly boneless body. This day has consisted of almost too much chaos and she needs to end.

She hums softly, slowly moving to kiss his neck before resting her chin on top of his shoulder, closing her eyes at the sound of his breathing.

“I love you so much, H. Can you take me to bed? Need you.”

Her fingers tug at the collar of his shirt and he laughs softly at the gesture. It’s one of the sweetest things she’s ever done, and it’s in that moment he questions how he’s gotten so damn lucky.

She truly is the sweetest girl he’s ever known, and really is the most beautiful sight to see. And she’s all his. No matter what she does to make him angry, or what shit is going on in her life, she’s his greatest blessing and he’ll do whatever he can to protect her.

Not just for tonight, but for every night for the rest of their lives.

#harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot

[anonthenullifier]

How would Wanda and Vision (and Billy) react to Tommy being taken by that mutant experimentation facility that wanted to turn him into a weapon?

When I saw this, the entire story immediately formed in my head and I had to write it. Thank you for the ask, I had a lot of fun doing it! I hope you enjoy :D.  

Warning: story has some strong language 

------

It took an enormous amount of convincing for them (Vision in particular) to agree to leave the boys alone for the weekend. There were many hours of whining and conversations about how they are sixteen now and how they need to be treated as adults. Surprisingly, it was Tommy who flipped the narrative by presenting them thoroughly researched details of their current private island get-away. In the back of his mind, Vision knows he should be more than just mildly worried about what antics they are getting up to and if they are remembering to eat and sleep, except that would mean ignoring the murmur of the ocean and the wistful smirk on his wife’s face and the way her curls sway in the salty breeze and the adorable wrinkles that have formed by her closing her eyes to fully enjoy the soft caress of their freedom. Though he can efficiently consider all of this at once, he would rather take Wanda’s near constant advice to live in the moment. So he does, scooping up her hand and bringing it to his lips. “Would you care for more sangria?” 

Wanda pops open her left eye to look at him. “That depends.” 

“On?” 

“Whether you deliver it in your speedo.”  

Vision contemplates the request, not in a serious manner, but in a theatrical show of potential uncertainty despite both of them being aware there is no physical way for him to resist the insatiability sending scarlet flares across her iris. “At the Maximoff resort,” her eyebrows perk up at the lathering of poshness and the implication of the direction of their evening, “we do pride ourselves on catering,” a shrug of his shoulders dissolves his prior floral shirt and Bermuda shorts into the little teal number from their honeymoon so many years ago, “to our guest’s every need.” 

“That’s good because I,” before he can grab her glass, Wanda fishes out one of the inebriated peaches, sliding it into her mouth with a saucy wink, “have lots of needs.” 

“I will return momen-” the thought hangs limply in the air as he watches Wanda freeze, her back straightening out and hands gripping the armrest of her beach chair as her lust cracks and gives way to a distant stare. Whatever she sees is not on this beach, may not even be in this universe. “Wanda?” Each passing moment crawls up Vision’s spine, prickling his skin and sending his mind into a whirlwind of unease at his ignorance of the issue. After what feels like five minutes but is actually ten seconds, Vision kneels in the sand beside her chair, haltingly bringing his hand to hers, “Wanda what is it?” 

“Tommy.” 

All joy leeches immediately from his mind, replaced only by a frigid shroud of concern. “What’s wrong?” 

To the untrained ear, the whirring and sputter to Vision’s left would be no different from the tropical breeze dancing around them, but Vision’s auditory system is functioning perfectly so he turns expectedly towards the blue portal of their son. “Mom,” Billy rushes through and the fact he’s barefooted and wearing sweatpants with a pajama shirt only unsettles Vision further, “Dad. They took Tommy.” 

Wanda’s head snaps to the side to stare in the general direction of their son, her eyes still miles away despite her voice trembling with rage in the present, “Who?” 

“I don’t, I don’t know.” Nervously he brushes a hand through his hair, “He went out for a run and then I felt,” Billy’s eyes are wild, tinged with blue, much like Wanda’s own get when she struggles with overwhelming emotions, “we were connected, you know, like you say we should be and-” 

Vision has known anger in his own life, whether it is in the way he never hesitates to decimate those who harm Wanda, or in the calculated attacks of logic he uses on politicians and other officials who are being discriminatory and lecherous, or even in the calm, but firm words he uses to discipline the boys, but this feeling now, this dropping of his stomach and the roiling, severe heat that flows through his synthetic veins and the complete and utter single ideation of causing pain to whomever did this...this is new. “Can you track him still?” 

Pinched eyes, a shaky nod, and a prismatic cloud confirms the question. Not wanting to pressure their son more than he, no doubt, is already doing to himself, Vision directs his attention to Wanda, recognizing the same fury in the serious scowl on her face and he does a less than admirable job of remaining calm when he assures her, “We will get him back.” 

 “I think…” Billy’s neck cranes to the right as if he’s trying to peer around a corner, “I found him.” 

The strain in his voice kick starts Wanda out of her seething and into action, “Let me help.” Scarlet twines its way through Billy’s electric blue seeing glass, seeming to clarify the situation even if Vision stands helplessly blind next to them. “Vizh,” he snaps to attention, taking in every piece of information and constructing a mental diagram of the situation, “there’re six armed guards,” Vision’s fingers curl into a tight fist at the number, “two holding him, two flanking those, and two in the back near the door.” The people are added to his schematic. “It’s a small room.” 

“Looks like an operating room.” 

Billy’s addition is helpful and causes Vision’s body to become denser, his feet burying in the sand as his mind churns through the tactical options instead of getting mired in what might befall Tommy if they do not hurry. “Billy, you are going to portal us there. Let your mother and I eradicate the targets.” 

Only the surprised warning in Wanda’s, “Vision” alerts him to his harsh vocabulary. 

“I mean we will subdue and neutralize the targets.”  

Billy doesn’t care about the terminology, still focused on his connection to his twin. “What should I do?” 

It is tempting to tell him to remain here, safe on the beach, but if all Vision feels is a need for retribution, he imagines Billy’s own feelings are similar and being sidelined will only increase his worry. “You get your brother.” With a hand on each of their shoulders, Vision draws them in for a pre-fight huddle. “The most important thing is to get Tommy back safely.” Synchronized nods confirm the obvious goal. “The second most important outcome is that we make these individuals rue the day they decided to target the Maximoff family.” Battle ready smiles meet his words, all of them ready to tear the world apart if that’s what it comes down to. “Let’s get your brother.”

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

 Tommy is pissed. For one thing, mom and dad are never going to trust them alone again and that’s utter crap because it’s not his fault some shady ass organization was apparently creeping on him and waiting for him to be alone. He was even following dad’s stupid running route of highest visibility to cars and he was wearing the even more idiotic reflective vest because he was damned if he ruined their earned freedom. It is going to be so vindicating to inform dad that the vest gave his position away.   

Another point of annoyance is that these assholes used some sort of electrified net to catch him and it hurt like hell and they somehow have restraints that can withstand his powers. This was clearly well planned and that is a little flattering but mainly it’s infuriating. “Do you assholes know who I am?” Of course they do, but clearly they haven’t much thought through what kidnapping him would mean for their own well-being.  

The guard to his right doesn’t directly acknowledge the comment, instead asking her superior, “Can we please gag him?” 

Good, he’s glad his charming banter is annoying them. “You all are so fucked once they get here.” 

The superior also pretends like he’s not talking. “Get him on the table and sedate him.” Great. “He won’t remember anything once we’re done.” Not ominous at all.  

“Do you have to get training for how to be a villain?” He’d really, desperately like to speed away now, but not even vibrating his molecules is working on these shackles, so he needs to take the Stark approved quippy distraction strategy. “Because the delivery of the threat was a bit halfhearted. I’m not even scared.” A lie but they don’t know that (hopefully).  

The two guards gripping his arms drag him to the middle of the room where there’s the stereotypical solitary operating table with leather straps and a blinding fluorescent light above it (does someone make their living doing interior decorating for bad guys? If they do, they suck at it because this is drab and uninspired). Tommy resists as best he can, flopping his body in the opposite direction of their tugging all while sending out a mental SOS. Truthfully he doesn’t really understand Billy or mom’s telepathy, he just knows one of them always shows up eventually when he thinks about wanting company. And he really wants them here right now.  

A taser is rammed into his back and he crumples forward with an irate, “Assholes.”  

Almost giddily they strap him onto the table, the leader grinning down at him through the military grade face shield. “Halfhearted or not, you’re ours now.” 

“What does that even mean?” The man moves away without even the decency to shrug, radioing to someone that the subject is subdued and ready for the procedure which Tommy is most certainly not ready for whatever they plan to do and so he squeezes his eyes shut and sends out a very, he thinks, clear cry for help.  

When he receives an answer in the form of a thought dropped deep into his brain, one that says  We’re almost there , Tommy knows he should play it cool, bemoan the fate he is about to befall and rub the egos of the sadistic bastards around him, but he can’t help himself, turning to the guard tightening the strap across his chest, “You are fucked.” He turns his head towards the other guard, “You’re fucked too.” And then he just channels Oprah herself and spreads it to everyone. “And you’re fucked, and you’re fucked, and you’re fucked.” A shimmering portal opens up on the far wall right next to one of the door guards, to whom he shouts, “And you are most definitely fucked.” Before the promise is fully out the guard is pulled through the portal with a strangled scream, the wall closing up milliseconds before the others in the room turn towards the noise.  

Mr. You’re Ours Now glares at Tommy and then instructs the rest of the room. “Orders are shoot to kill, do you copy?”  

“Affirmative,” answers the guard next to him.  

That’s how this is going to go? Well then a very sarcastic, “Good luck” to them.  

Luck is not on their side because another portal opens and the second door guard is pulled through, dad phasing through the man’s body and solidifying just in time to punch another guard so hard it shatters their visor. Shit.  

The room erupts in chaos, a scarlet mist descending around them, the guards try to shoot but their guns are ripped out of their hands. And then there’s dad’s vibranium gleaming as he phases in and out of mom’s carefully crafted cover, the frantic and pained screams of the guards echoing as they fall, and this, this is how you do drama because if Tommy wasn’t the one being rescued, he’d be praying to whatever god might take mercy on his soul. “You okay?” Billy’s voice cracks with concern which is just really sweet.  

“Took you long enough.” 

And the concern is gone, “I was doing the responsible thing and getting backup.” 

He should be gracious right now because he is actually thankful but, “I don’t think you can call it backup when they’re the ones doing all the work.” 

There’s the steely gaze Billy’s perfected, “Do you want to be rescued or not?” 

“Thomas,” dad hovers beside him now, the transformation of his terrifying rage into fatherly concern contorting his features into a mildly upsetting scowl. “Are you injured?”  

It’s not often he’s the absolute center of attention and if he were to lay it on a bit thick it would be wholly understandable because he was the one who was rudely kidnapped, but he also has never seen his family this worried before so he defers to downplaying the experience. “Just a bit sore,” while also being truthful, “They electrocuted me a few times.” 

Finally, someone removes the straps and then dad breaks the constraints around his ankles, allowing him to blissfully stretch and shake out his muscles. Billy helps him sit up and the sight he’s met with is unexpected. “Why are you in a speedo?” To be fair, mom is in a beach cover and Billy’s in pajamas, but at least they’re clothed.  

“Um,” it seems the choice of clothing skipped dad’s mind, his hands running haltingly over his bare chest, “it was a tactical choice meant to bewilder and divert attention.” 

Scary, rage filled dad is gone and replaced with the normal, dry humored and dorky one, a fact that comforts Tommy far more than he’d ever admit out loud. “Sam’s never taught us about the tactical speedo.” 

Dad’s shoulders rise up a half inch and then fall with grace, “It is an advanced skill meant only for the most stalwart of Avengers.”

Which would be more believable (still not close to it, but marginally more so) if he didn’t instantly morph into his uniform when the door opened and the rest of the Avengers came inside, dressed and ready for battle. 

Mom directs them, “Vision has downloaded the schematics and files and will share them with you.” A chorus of chimes indicates the message has been delivered. “If you don’t mind,” mom wraps her arm around Tommy’s shoulder, easing him off the bed and helping steady him with her powers, “we’re going to leave the rest to you all.” 

Sam’s, “We got it covered,” absolves them of any responsibility in taking down the rest of whatever shady organization this is.

Even though Tommy would love to be part of an actual Avenger’s mission, he’s okay with sitting this one out…for the most part because as they walk towards Billy’s portal, Tommy shimmies free of his family’s helping hands long enough to stare smugly down at the broken nose of the leader of the assholes, “Told you you were fucked.” And then they leave, certain that the message was loudly received: no one messes with the Maximoffs.  

#scarlet vision #wandavision #wanda maximoff #vision #billy kaplan #tommy shepherd #billy maximoff #tommy maximoff #mine #ask anon #To anyone else who has sent me an ask - I promise I am working my way through them! #The maximoffs

[scatterpatter]

Corren - 1 through 100 - You did this to yourself.

FUCK YOU *UN-IRONICS YOUR ASK*

UNDER THE FUCKING CUT

1. What do they smell like?

Bad. Do you think their party is able to regularly take showers? I thinketh the fuck not. ... Pine and old books when he can self care tho.

2. What is their voice like?

Listen I know Corren, being taller, would be more likely to have a deeper register but you'll tear "tenor Corren" out of my cold dead hands

3. What is their biggest motivator?

Spite.

4. What is their most embarrassing memory?

When he first met his BFF Alondra, he was so antisocial and good at ignoring people that she actually got the impression he might have been hard of hearing. She never let him live that down. (one day I'll finish this fic i promise)

5. How do they deal with/react to pain?

"I will keep all of my pain in here, and one day I'll die." ... Okay but listen he's squishy so he takes like one hit and is bloodied up. Someone get him a healer. Pls.

6. What do they like to wear?

He likes his cloak. Its weighty and soft(well. WAS soft. got a bit of wear and tear these days.) and like. Who doesnt love cloaks.

7. Which of their relationships have impacted them most positively?

Ohhhhh fuuuccck this one's tough. I might have to go with Torvid honestly. While the entire party has had a positive impact on him(and trust me I was this close to picking Alistair), Torvid's been more of the one to call him out on his bullshit and to, oh I don't know, talk about your emotions? Ever??? Yknow BEFORE they become too much to handle and he absolutely breaks down???

8. What’s the weirdest thing they’ve ever eaten?

Alistair's cooking.

9. Describe the way that they sleep.

Good luck finding him NOT cuddled up with at least one dog. Tbh he just enjoys cuddles in general.

10. What is their favorite food/kind of food?

FUCKIN. GIVE HIM A GOOD STEAK. THIS BOY IS MOSTLY CARNIVORISTIC.

11. What do they feel most insecure about?

As tempted as I am to say "His cooking", it's actually his singing.

12. How do they like to dress?

"Comfort over flashiness tbh. I gotta go ADVENTURING in whatever I wear after all."

"... Also don't you DARE perceive me as cishet."

13. How do they react to feelings of guilt?

Call him a genie because he will BOTTLE THAT SHIT UP.

14. How do they react to/deal with betrayal?

Denial :D

15. What is their greatest achievement?

Shrike: Killing his dad

Me: NOOOOOO

EDIT: WAIT THIS WAS ANSWERED IN Q99 WHAT THE HECK

16. What are they like when they’ve gotten too little sleep?

Somehow more of a dick than usual. Snappy and cranky and just. Mrehhh.

17. What are they like when they’re drunk?

Doesn't get drunk often, but when he does I imagine he's actually giggly and a little clingy. It's cute :)

18. What kind of music do they enjoy?

*Opens my Corren playlist* Oh yeah. It's either full edgy alt rock or indie alt "depressed millenial" tracks.

19. Are they right or left handed?

FFFuuhhhhck uhhhh well

Looking over my old art I can't seem to pick a dominant hand(I've even drawn him handling his sniper with either hand???????????) so like oops guess he's ambidextrous.

20. Fears?

The dark, the ocean, dying alone and forgotten, his friends losing their trust of him

21. Favorite kind of weather?

Rain!!!! Especially cool rain like what people often get in fall months.

22. Favorite color?

Indigo!!!

23. Do they collect anything?

Books :3

24. Do they prefer either hot or cold weather more?

Cold weather by far.

25. What is their eye color?

Electric blue!

26. What is their race/ethnicity?

Well his race is a homebrew race known as Marelienth. Uhhh ethnicity? Idk he's from a mountain town way up north *shrugs*

In human aus I imagine him as half-Mongolian half-Norwegian so ayee

27. Hair color?

Black!

28. Are they happy where they are currently?

No :D He loves adventuring with his party don't get me wrong but he still has a lot of trauma to unpack. ... Also he was just possibly broken up with soooo. :/

29. Are they a morning person?

NOPE.

30. Sunrise or sunset?

*motions to above question* Sunset.

31. Are they more messy or more organized?

More organized, actually!

32. Pet peeves?

*unravels a list. It's all shit the party has done. Mostly Alistair.*

33. Do they own any objects of significant personal importance?

HOOUSIDSJFK- HE- Y-YEAH HE SURE DOES

His amethyst pendant used to belong to his brother, Julian, and he gave it to Corren right before they were separated so you BET it's sentimental as shit and he wears it daily.

34. Least favorite food?

Mecha's usually a great cook but one time trolled him with some absurdly spicy curry he couldn't handle and he's never forgiven them.

35. Least favorite color?

Hmmm. Maybe... yellow?

36. Least favorite smell?

He spent a year with his party in a damp cave and no showers, so uh. I'll give you a guess.

37. When was the last time they cried?

Literally last night in our game's timeline :D Full breakdown and everything!

38. Were they with anybody the last time they cried?

Torvid :D He was there to comfort

39. Tell us about one of the times they got injured?

One time they were in combat and Corren took a few hits and was down to about 2hp or so. He had a temporary level thanks to Kieran, which boosted his HP a little bit. When he teleported them to a safe town, though, well... Torvid was waiting for them so that's cool. But uh. Yeah that temporary level wore off then and there, dropping Corn Cob to exactly 0hp and he just- flopped down face first in the snow and started dying then and there KJNDKLFNSLKN

40. Do they have any scars?

:)

Do you want to talk about the scar over his eye from a fight he got in with his dad or like. The scars on his limbs from the time he was literally experimented on.

41. Do they struggle with any mental health issues?

:)

Undiagnosed+Untreated Anxiety, Depression, DPDR, PTSD, just to name a few

42. Do they have any bad habits?

Running away from his problems, definitely.

43. Why might someone dislike them?

He's a pretentious nerd. He can be a dick if he doesn't care about you.

44. Why might someone love them?

He's an adorable nerd! He's a hopeless romantic and oddly enough an optimist. He's passionate and driven too!

45. Do they believe in ghosts?

Well ghosts are like- a canon proven thing in his world sooo. Yeah.

46. Is there anyone they would trust with their lives?

His party. Well- most in his party.

47. Are they romantically interested in anyone?

Nethyl :)

48. Are they dating/married to anyone?

He's dating Nethyl and they're in a happy and healthy relationship :) *politely ignores canon*

49. Do they like surprises?

NO >:(

50. When is their birthday?

Heroya 5th! I think. I don't wanna check, assume it's this.

51. How do they usually celebrate their birthday?

"You guys celebrate your watchdays?"

Jokes aside, he mainly just treats himself to a nice dinner and a new book or something :)

52. Do they have any family?

Two older siblings: Julian and Mila. His parents are Andreas and Fanya!

53. Are they close to their family?

... *Coughs*. He was close with his siblings, but Mila died and he hasn't seen Julian in 30 years. Was close with his dad but last time they saw each other, they fought and Corren might have killed him so. ... Yeah. :/

54. What is their MBTI type?

FUCK uh. I... N... T... J? INTJ. Sure.

55. What is their zodiac sign?

In Sekrezia: The eagle

In our world: Uhhh. Idk. Capricorn????

56. What Hogwarts House would they be in?

Uhhh. Ravenclaw??? I know almost nothing about HP :/

57. What D&D alignment are they?

THIS ONE'S EASY- lawful neutral!

58. Do they ever have nightmares? If so, what about?

:)

Used to have typical nightmares, nothing special. Nowadays though he often dreams of being underwater. Not drowning, though. It's... weird. He doesn't like those.

59. What are their views on death?

He's a necromancer lol.

Death is inevitable, though. It's a necessary part of life. Death is not an entire loss, though. One lives on in the memories others carry of them, in the love they hold in their hearts. Death is complicated, but that's okay.

60. What is something that they’re sure to laugh at?

Alistair :)

61. When bored, how do they pass time?

Dog time :)

62. Do they enjoy being outside?

... Ehhhhhh?

63. Do they have an accent?

Technically??? It's an accent from where he's from but like. I just barely tweak my own voice when I rp him so? Damn Corren I'm sorry you've been cursed with east coast dialect.

64. Upon seeing a slice of chocolate cake, what is their first reaction?

"Damn who's the rich bastard here?" (cake is kinda a delicacy in their world- not like elites only but not NEARLY as common as it is here)

65. If they knew they were going to die, what would they do/say?

Reassurance mode to whomever he's with. "Hey, hey, it's okay. I'm okay. Remember what I told you, death is a natural part of life, yeah? I don't have any regrets, I'm okay... Just. Thanks. For giving me a chance. Thank you. Thank you."

66. How do they feel about sex?

I SWEAR he's allosexual. I'm just bad at writing allosexuals.

67. What is their sexuality?

He doesn't really know how to pin it down, so he just calls himself "queer". Definitely not straight, that's all he knows.

68. Do they become squeamish at the sight of blood?

AHAHA no. He's hella desensitized

69. Is there anything that they find really gross?

Skulking cyst. Look it up at your own volition. It's. NO.

70. Which TV Trope(s) best describes them?

It's 12:21 in the morning and I'm NOT about to scroll through a bunch of tv tropes just. just. NERD stereotype.

71. Do they enjoy helping people?

Yyyyes? Only really if it's the people he cares about.

72. Are they allergic to anything?

Bullshit.

73. Do they have a pet?

WINGTHARA!! HIS SKELE-DOG!!!

74. Are they quick to anger? What are they like when they loose their temper?

Oh yeah he's all bark and no bite. He usually just throws a little fit and/or yells.

75. How patient are they?

More than he should be :/

76. Are they good at cooking?

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

77. Favorite insult? Do they insult people often?

Oh yes he insults the others all the time. No particular favorite, he likes so spice it up.

78. How do they act when they’re particularly happy?

Stim. Stim. Stim. His eyes get all sparkly and he. He.

79. What do they do when they learn about other people’s fears?

He will do everything in his power to assure they won't ever have to deal with their fears alone- You afraid of spiders? It's his job to get the spiders from now on so you won't have to deal with them.

80. Are they trustworthy?

Oh yeah. He's like Rapunzel- doesn't break promises.

81. Do they try to hide their emotions? Are they good at it?

Oh yes he tries to hide it. And yes, he's awful at it.

82. Do they exercise regularly?

Yes and no? No like- exercise regimen, but the amount of travelling and fighting they do is just- a workout in and of itself

83. Are they comfortable with the way they look?

Yeah! He's cute and he knows it baybie!!!

84. What are some physical features that they find attractive on people?

He,,, he likes someone who's physically stong,,, Muscles are,,, aaaaa >///>

85. What kind of personalities do they find attractive?

Someone he can nerd out with :)

86. Do they like sweet foods?

Impartial to it. He won't turn sweets away but he's not crazy about them either.

87. What is their age?

43, the equivalent of- I think someone in their mid 30s?

88. Are they tall or short or somewhere in between?

He's 6'8" :) Which is actually normal for his race

89. Do they wear glasses or contacts?

Sometimes! I like to think he has reading glasses or something like that.

90. Do they consider themselves attractive?

HE'S CUTE AND HE KNOWS IT.

91. What is their sense of humor like?

Julian tainted his sense of humor and now he finds the most dumb shit hilarious. Think very millenial/GenZ humor like "I wish I was Jared, 19"

92. What mood are they most often in?

"I don't get paid enough for this" or Fear.jpg

93. What kinds of things anger them?

People who don't keep their FUCKING WORD. Oh and like. Yknow. Half the shit his party does.

94. Outlook on life?

Again he's??? Oddly an optimist? In the "Things will get better and that is a fucking THREAT" way, but still optimist!

95. What kind of things make them sad/depressed?

Talk about his family :) Or the fact that his boyfriend might want him dead :)

96. What is their greatest weakness?

He's squishy as fuck. He goes down easy.

97. What is their greatest strength?

He's extremely intelligent and great with magic and his sniper!

98. Something that they regret?

Not doing more to stop his brother when he tried to resurrect their sister

99. Biggest accomplishment?

Either convincing an entire town his name is Torren or accidentally convincing some very OP people that he's secretly a dragon.

100. Create your own!

FUCK YOU I SPENT LIKE 2 HOURS ON THIS. NO PROOFREAD. IVE ALREADY DESIGNED CORREN'S AND NETHYL'S HYPOTHETICAL KIDS. ANYWAYS THEY'RE TWIN IRINAGA AND I'VE NAMED THEM AFTER THE DNDADS TWINS: THEIR NAMES ARE LARK AND SPARROW.

#LONG POST #LONG LONG POST #Corren #FUCK YOU DREWSKI <3

[countessofbiscuit]

For the ask thing: N, T, W for tcw :)

ヽ(゜∇゜)ノ

N: Name three things you wish you saw more or in your main fandom.

An appreciation for how massive the GAR really is — even if you subscribe to the ridiculously low-balled canonical size of the army, Fives has no reason to be chummy with everyone, ffs. If Anakin and Obi-Wan weren’t attached at the hip, Rex and Cody would hardly ever lay eyes on each other because there is such a disparity in rank (which should indicate a wildly different brief, but lol, this is TCW, where a marshal commander leads from the trenches and a mere captain has a seat at the strategy table). Obviously, this is just a personal gripe: I don’t actually care how people choose to approach the GAR in their stories, this is all about having fun … *I* just have more fun reading fics that are somewhat grounded in realities.

Mating cycles/heats — idk it just seems to me that this fandom with a plethora of alien species to play with doesn’t explore reproductive diversity and weirdness enough. 

Tolerance of clonecest (or whatever the hell you wanna call it, I use that term as shorthand; whether or not clone-on-clone maps onto IRL incest taboos is an essay for another day) — it’s just … it’s interesting to me that folks are more squicked by the possibility that two identical walking war crimes may frot because they have no one else and find some small measure of comfort in each other than, idk, the brutal realities of their lives where death, mutilation, and maiming are omnipresent — and this pervasive idea that clones are the Goodest Bois just out there wearing flower crowns and frying only droids all day makes me : \ This isn’t an exhortation for people to just ‘get over’ their squicks, but I do believe in examining them. 

T: Do you have any hard and fast headcanons that you will die defending? 

Headcanon: Cody is not a born-again Mando nor does he have any time for whatever watered-down Mandalorian bullshit filtered down from the Spec Ops wing. 

Question this headcanon first sought to answer: Why doesn’t Cody wear a kama? 

Id-scratching Justification: He loves this thighs.

Plausible Justification: He likes his legs to be unencumbered for roundhouse kicks. 

Solid Justification I’ve adopted from kaasknot: He earned his advanced-recon stripes in ARF not ARC school. 

My Meta Justification: The line clones do not adopt Mandalorian culture or language wholesale. 

I can’t even qualify this with “call me a RepComm snob, but …” because there’s even LESS foundation for the clones-are-vode idea in the new canon. From where would they have imbibed it? Outside the brief nod to Fenn Rau’s pilot instructor days on Kamino, new canon has not given us any reason to believe the line clones had Mandalorian trainers. And even if you discount new canon’s Jango-is-not-a-Mandalorian heresy, Kamino would not be at pains to emphasize their products’ connection to a culture so perennially at odds with their client (the Jedi/Republic). 

Upon deployment, really almost anything goes; but to say that clone culture wouldn’t hold up pretty firm in the face of other galactic cultures is a little demeaning, and however much people absorb in their search for identity, why would the clones have immediately glomped onto Mandalorian concepts? Why not Corellian? Or Kuatian? Or Chandrillan? Or hells, even Force traditions? Someone may have pointed out to the odd clone, “hey, y’all were made in the image of a notorious Mandalorian!” and set some wheels turning, and sure, Boil was resourceful enough to do his own homework and decide that he quite liked the precepts of a certain group of Mandalorian paramilitary extremists and wanted to slap their sigil on his helmet, but there’d be such a diversity of osmotic experiences in an army of millions/billions spread out across a galaxy that I simply cannot buy the idea that the clones all woke up one fine day thinking of themselves as Mando or Mando-adjacent. 

Setting aside new canon, which I find deathly dull, I prefer RepComm, with its assertion that many of the RCs are born-again Mandos after their sergeants (indeed, the Republic almost has a fifth-columnist problem in Spec Ops with the True Mando influence of the Nulls and certain Alpha ARCs), but the average line trooper view of that mentality is “y'all are a fucking cult.” 

The line troops would identify firstly as brothers and soldiers of the Republic, and they would’ve had close to 0 touchpoints with the Prime Clone. In fact, many might resent the connection, especially deeper into deployment (“What has Mandalore ever done for me? They're a bunch of loose cannons — if they aren't refusing to lend a hand, they're actively leading Sep militias for pay. Fuck the lot of them,” etc. etc.). It would have required a shitton of cultural and linguistic leakage from the Spec Ops wing for the bulk of the line troopers to know even more than a handful of words in Mando’a at the time of Geonosis. (I can believe swear words would’ve been adopted hella fast, if only to fill a vacuum.)

But again, the army is not a monolith, and I am fully on board with the idea that some Alpha ARCs made it their mission to teach Vode An to every unit they came across and the sheer epicness made it wildly popular, and that they spread certain words and concepts (vod, shebs, di’kut, Manda, oya, kara, kandosii, etc.) like a rash. Or a company or two got teamed with a Mando sergeant and two squads of RCs for a month and were belting out “Coruscant'a aden mhi” by the end of it. Or a division found itself with an Alpha-ARC XO when their Jedi General's CC got popped two weeks after Geonosis and Alpha-89 wouldn’t rest until every trooper knew Dha Werda Verda by heart and backwards. Just … show me the work — why should I accept that Bly speaks fluent Mando’a in the bedroom? WHY? Invest me in your clone-culture worldbuilding!

ANYWAY, to bring this back round to my die-on-this-hill headcanon about Cody … he doesn’t like kamas or feel compelled to wear one. Setting aside fun Cody-was-an-Alpha-trained-spec-ops-intern-for-a-month-and-hated-it backstories aside, I just don’t think the dude had the time of day for all that the Manda are watching us warrior brethren, hold your buy’ce high vode, one tribe one dream osik. His identity is wrapped up in overseeing the Third Army and serving as General Kenobi’s right-hand man; on balance (if we’re trying to be realistic, see: above), Cody interacts more with natborn officers and Jedi and fellow CCs than your average ground pounder trooper, and Obi-Wan and Republic officers certainly aren’t going to wax lyrical about Mandalore anytime soon. Obviously, Marshal Fucking Commander Cody is well within his rights to read whatever he wants and talk to whomever he wants and adopt whatever beliefs and language he wants. He has all the resources at this fingertips and clearance that would probably make a lot of natborn admins in REPINT weep. But I don’t personally see him going Mando, though it amuses him to watch Rex try :p The minute Cody earnestly starts using Mando’a in a fic, I’m usually out.

W - A trope which you are virtually certain to hate in any fandom.

Hmm. I spent a good hour’s walk thinking about this and came up blank. Hate is a strong word anyway, and if it’s well-written, I can be sold on anything. But, I can almost guarantee I will never click on ABO unless it’s been recc’d or written by a friend. Not because I have any moral objection, just that it doesn’t interest me and good characterization is often lost to the mandatory ABO dynamics.

… on the flip side, I will ALWAYS click on Fuck-or-Die :D

#felt like essaying i guess #commander cody #clone troopers #GAR #clonecest #asks

[mwolf0epsilon]

Two birds, one stone part 2! Warning for gross stuff and you know, zombie typical behaviour.

Summary: It was every man for himself down in hell, and yet Norman still found the time to care for others.

---

[[MORE]]

     If there was something Norman had learned from his pops, it was that it really paid off to be a bit of a Swiss army knife when it came to skills.

Between the pseudo-military training, Norman's own uncanny ability to hide in plain sight and stalk around silently, and the multiple things he knew that made him basically self-sufficient, he was a good (if not the best) person to be allied with in this sort of situation.

Which really begged the question of why he was doing this anymore.

     The world had ended. The dead rose out of their graves with a taste for man beef, spread a strange infectious disease that made you switch to the brain-munching side, and then society had collapsed.

It had happened so quick that he and everyone in the studio had been trapped.

New York was no place to survive a zombie apocalypse, and Joey Drew Studies wasn't stable enough to even serve as some sort of safe haven.

Everything fell into place of this new world order in a matter of weeks, and the few that could hole away did their best to survive on their own.

It was every man for himself down in hell, and yet Norman still found the time to care for others.

He'd established trading systems with groups within the studio, and even shared accomodations with whomever was desperate enough to engage socially.

They never stayed. He didn't mind.

Those who ended up as those gruesome things were put down and mourned, but otherwise everything was strictly business.

And then Sammy happened.

     Sammy Lawrence, once head of the music department now the very last to have managed to escape down into the lower floors after the hoard overwhelmed his group, was not the easiest person to get along with.

He complicated things with his ornery disposition and volatile temper, but he was a decent conversationalist when he didn't shove his own foot in his mouth and he had connections with the survivor group down in the Harbour.

He could hold his own well enough in a fight that Norman was sure he had his back, and with help that didn't seem too keen on leaving the projectionist often got a bigger hawl of supplies when they both went scavenging.

It was a mutual agreement. You scratch my back, I scratch yours. And soon enough it was Polk and Lawrence instead of just Norman going on his usual duties.

And that evolved further.

In the lonelier nights, there was more to be done than just share a cot for warmth

Call it desperation, call it basic human needs, they were more than just companions or allies.

They were partners.

No matter how much they bickered, it was almost always in a loving fashion.

Like an old married couple…

Of course, nothing good ever lasted.

Not in the literal end of times.

-

     Norman hummed as he heated up some bacon soup in the stove he'd managed to fashion out of a few parts and scrap. The Bendy clock on the wall read that it was half past eleven, so he knew Sammy must be aching for some grub.

He'd not been doing well. Not since he came back from his last solo run to the Harbour.

Norman knew why, but let the other keep quiet about it. He knew the ex-music director would admit to it soon. Especially with the speed of his degradation.

He'd caught him coughing blood just an hour prior.

Three more and he'd turn. Like the rest of them had, before Norman put them down.

  "Soup's almost done." He looked over at their shared cot, where Sammy was curled up under several ratty blankets.

He was shivering weakly, trying to breathe with lungs that were steadily filling with fluid. The raspy wet sounds painful to the ears.

  "M'not hungry…"

  "Oh, we both know that ain't true." Norman continued to stir the pot. "Might as well gimme a chance don't yous thinks?"

  "Norman…"

  "Sammy I know the symptoms…" he poured some into a bowl. "I'm not mad, just sad yous would rather waste away like this…"

  "D-didnt want to bother… Was s-stupid and…" he coughed up some gunk. Choking slightly on his own blood and whatever else was coming up. "And got b-bit. D-deserve it…"

  "N'aw… Don't go bein' so harsh to yourself. Shit happens." He walked closer and set down the bowl. Sammy's eyes were red and starting to bleed. His stage of infection was progressing quite rapidly. "Eat… Yous going to be famished soon enough, might as well fill you up a bit before it happens."

  "You shou-should put me down." The blond reached for the soup, slurping it up eagerly. Nerve damage, he couldn't feel it burning his mouth or lips.

  "Woulda asked me before if yous really wanted that." Norman stretched lazily.

  "You're right… I uh, call me p-petty but… I wonna t-take Joey down with me." He coughed and spat out a thick glob of indescribably foul-smelling tar colored blood. Gross. "If I'm g-gonna end up like t-the rest of those things… I wonna e-eat the greedy fuck w-who left us to die…"

  "I can respect that. I'll help yous with that." He reached out and entwined their fingers. The blond seemed to appreciate the gesture.

  "You t-think I'll be a-able to get him?"

  "Knowin' you? I'd say yous got a pretty good chance…" he chuckled.

  "Flatterer…" Sammy laid back down and closed his eyes, suppressing another cough and instead letting Norman thread his fingers through his messy hair. "Just don't end up le-letting me bite you… T-this shit's painful..."

  "Noted… Sleep well Sammy." He planted a kiss on his partner's sweaty forehead. "Love you."

  "Lo-love you too…"

-

  "Norman that's disgusting." Susie was slightly appalled, but no less opposed to watching what used to be Sammy Lawrence dig its teeth into a very much dead Joey Drew's neck.

  "Yep." Norman shrugged. Both of them had been bit in an altercation with a hoard up in the Heavenly Toys department, but that hadn't deterred them from reaching their end goal. Joey's office.

Susie was the newest ally he'd acquired, and had been dead set on killing Drew since he'd damned them all.

It was a shame their quest for revenge ultimately doomed them both as well, but hey… Sammy seemed pretty happy to devour his ex-boss as a mindless corpse. It couldn't be that bad.

  "You think we'll turn fast enough to get in on it?" The petite brunette pointed at the feasting zombie. "As the ultimate fuck you to Joey?"

  "Who knows… Took Sammy five hours to turn." He did feel a bit sluggish, so it was definitely taking effect. "Least he hasn't snapped at us in a while. Think we might be startin' to smell like the rest of 'em…"

  "Damn… Oh well, Joey's probably not a five star meal anyway…"

  "Probably not."

The world had ended. The dead rose out of their graves, Sammy was one of them and soon Norman and Susie would be too.

He wondered if his zombified self would remember his fondness for either, or if it would recall any of the skills he'd had.

Probably not.

It was every man for himself down in hell, and yet Norman still found the time to care for such things.

Funny how some things just didn't change.

#Eps Writes: #Bendy and the Ink Machine #BATIM #Norman Polk #Sammy Lawrence #Susie Campbell #Zombie AU

[xtrashmammalstefx]

Father To Son (Brian May x Reader, FLUFF!)

Part 11 of The Queen Repertoire

WARNNINGS: None

Notes: This one is as fluffy as Brian’s hair. Oh and in case it isn’t obvious Y/D/N = Your Daughter’s Name. Enjoy!

Brian knew something was wrong when Gwilym accidentally hit the wrong chord on Red's duplicate, for the third time. They had been playing Fat Bottom Girls, to see if Gwil had gotten the movements and chords right. He'd done pretty good the day before and the scene with that specific song would be shot in a days time, so the time crunch was real. It wasn't that reasoning that caused him concern, though. No the reason Brian was so concerned about the young lad was because he was the spitting image of himself many years earlier, and lord knows the thoughts going through his mind at the time were ones he wished on no one, especially the young lad he'd grown to love as a son.

“Alright, alright,” Brian put Red aside in her case and leaned forward. “What's wrong son?”

Gwil looked up at the elderly Queen member, his blue eyes almost teary with frustration. “It's-It's nothing,” he said. You can't lie to Brian May though, after all these years his bullshit detector was full proof.

Brian sighed. “Son, believe me when I say that shielding yourself from the people who care about you during your time emotional turmoil is never a good idea.” He took the guitar from Gwil and put it back on the stand behind him. “Now, tell me.”

Gwil sighed. “Have you ever...found yourself feeling romantic towards someone you shouldn't have?”

Oh boy have I. Brian thought to himself.

“Absolutely,” he said smiling.

“Wait really?” Gwilym gawks at him.

“Of course,” Brian laughed. “I'm human, not perfect, and when it came to matters of the heart stubborn as hell...” He then went on to tell him the same story he'd told his children.

Back in the early seventies when Queen had just found success with their first album and were planning the second this girl came around his and Roger's shared flat. He called her Y/N/N and Brian had known her since Queen's early days performing the local pub as Smile.

He quickly grew to like her and found her to be one of the most important women in his life. He met her friends and she met his. She met his family but...he never met hers. Apparently her parents were of the strict variety, and lived by their religion; Christianity. Brian, not being raised by wolves, always respected other peoples beliefs, and had told Y/N/N so. Her parents, however, refused to be in the same room with a 'heathen' as they so kindly put it. He tried to speak with them on the phone and kindly explain that he respected their values and just wanted  to know who to thank for bringing Y/N/N into his life. Sweet and friendly as Brian always was. They had none of it though.

They told him to stay away from them and their daughter (he refrained from reminding them that Y/N/N was an adult and free to do whatever the fuck she wanted with whomever she wanted) and threatened that they would introduce him to her father's gaming rifle (the crazy old bastard was a hunting aficionado which Brian abhorred).

He hung up the phone shocked with Y/N/N sitting beside him blushing with embarrassment.

Eventually he'd fallen in love with her but was dead scared of her parents; their threat having haunted him badly.

Now that he and Queen were back home from their first lengthy tour, seeing her lovely face was a sweet, sweet relief.

Brian threw his arms around her. “God, I missed you so bloody much.”

“I missed you too, Bri,” she said reaching up and pecking him on the cheek. The kiss made his heart ache, and his body crave more.

He then escorted her to the old sofa in the sitting room. Brian had been home alone, since Roger had gone out for yet another pointless shag. “Would you like anything to eat or drink?”

“No, I'm fine,” she said. Brian then sat down beside her. “Mum called me earlier.”

“Oh? How is she?”

“Pissed,” Y/N/N said almost groaning. “Apparently she'd gone to the music shop in our town to get a Sinatra record for my dad's birthday and saw Queen's album had taken over. She said she inspected it out of curiosity and was perfected disgusted at the titles. Then she saw your name and damn near shrieked at me when I pointed out that you had worked your arse off on that album, and that I had to work overtime to comfort you when the stress became too much. She said I was to come home immediately and go to church with her and my father so that the pastor could 'rid me of the demons you placed in me'.”

“Jesus,” Brian gasped. “What did you say?”

“I told her I would do no such thing,” Y/N/N said looking over at him. “That if I did have demons in me it was because of her and dad, not you. That you, in fact, put a stop to those demons, and replaced their darkness with love. She lost it of course but I shut her up,” Y/N chuckled.

“How?”

“I told her I would marry you,” she said. “That I would love no other man but you, and if she and dad didn't like it, oh well. My mind is made up. I love you Brian. I want to be with you. Forever if possible.”

“So what did you say?” Gwil asked.

Brian smiled.

He wasted no time in bringing his lips to hers. He kissed her hard, and all the feelings he'd been holding back were now coming out in a flood. After a while he pulled back breathless. “I love you more than my own life, Y/N/N. And I'm tired of letting the world stop me from having many happy years with the woman I so desperately love.”

Y/N smiled and brought her mouth back to his wrapping her arms around him. He picked her up and carried her to his room.

“Um Bri could you not talk about the sex? It's a little TMI and out of respect for you I really don't want that image in my head,” Gwil said.

“Sorry son, I got carried away,” Brian said. “The point is if you truly love someone you shouldn't let the world get in the way of that. I almost did and I completely regretted it but all was well in the end, thank the stars.”

“What happened to Y/N/N? If you don't mind me asking?” Gwil asked curious.

Before Brian could answer and older woman, gray in the hair but as beautiful as always, called out his name. She approached him and gave him a peck on the lips. “Y/N/N, darling what are you doing here?”

“Well our Y/D/N wouldn't stop raving about your younger self and how I definitely need to meet him,” she said.

“So I dragged her here to show him off,” said Y/D/N from behind the old couple.

“Oh hi, uh, Y/D/N,” Gwil said nervously. He smiled at her and it was a look Brian knew all too well. Oh bloody hell.

“Hey Gwil,” Y/D/N smiled at him.

“Son,” Brian said getting Gwil's attention. “Remember what I told you.”

Gwil looked at him wide eyed as if silently asking, “Are you sure?”

Brian merely smiled and gave him a single nod. Gwil sighed with relief, his smile slightly bigger now.

“Um Y/D/N I was actually wondering if you were free tonight?” he asked her.

“Yeah I am,” Y/D/N smiled.

“In that case will you please join me for dinner?” he asked nervously.

In answer Y/D/N stepped up and brought her lips to his. Brian and Y/N stood by awkwardly, and Brian couldn't help but feel that paternal pang in his heart as he watched his daughter kiss the man of her dreams. His baby was all grown up and he was so not ready for it.

Finally Y/D/N pulled back. “About damn time you asked me.”

Gwil smiled and kissed her back. Brian took this time to escort his wife to the other side of the stage to give the kids some privacy.

“She gets that from you you know,” he said.

“I know,” Y/N/N smirked.

The movie finished filming and their love kept on blooming. Eventually Brian stood by as his little girl took Gwil as her husband. He and his wife looked on remembering the time when it was them at the altar (her parents hadn't come and pained her to no end, and she vowed she would be there for her sons and daughters on their special day, no matter what).

A year later Brian and Y/N/N visited the young couple who now had a baby boy named Brian Harold May-Lee.  

“We're you this nervous when you became a dad?” Gwil asked as he held his son in his arms.

“Yes, but love trumps fear, and I love all my children more than anything,” Brian said.

A word in your ear, from father to son hear the words that I say I fought with you, fought on your side Long before you were born

Gwilym sang to his son.

Brian smiled and sang along.

Joyful the sound, the word goes around From father to son, to son

Both Brian and Gwil looked at each other thanking the stars that they had each other, and that little Bri had them. Father to son, to son.

As it will be for many years to come.

Taglist: @okaykathryn​ @fairestkillerqueenofall​ @onceuponadetectivedemigod​ @boherahpsody​ @thebohemianpenguin​ @ihatethespacebars​ @madsthegroupie​ @freddie-bulsara-queen​ @rose-de-jaune​ @xxkellsvixen19xx​ @valeriecarolinaw​ @5sos-wdw​ @hearttshapeddboxx​ @spicyarreagaa​ @fluffffffffffff​ @pleasingiswhatweaimfor​ @hatemylifesofuckingmuch​ @jollyavacado​ @painandpleasure86​ @haileynicoleseavey17​ @queenlover1997​ @rrogerrz​ @peachyywine​ @mrsmazzello​ @hannafuckingsucks​ @zwiezraczek​ @night-writer-writer​ @theborhapboysawakenedmywhatever​ @tinywildeace​

#brian may imagine #brian may x reader #gwilym lee #fluff

[goldeneyedgirl]

Fic-Mas Day 8: The Dark & The Unknown

Um. Wow. I wasn’t expecting such a response to Hybrid! So I guess I should get working on posting more of that fic officially? :D

I’m going away overnight, and I’m not taking my laptop, so I’m queuing up tomorrow’s post now - hopefully, it will work, but you might end up with Day 9 ridiculously early!

Here we go...

(The beginning of another ‘Alice isn’t human’ fic; I was aiming for some kind of witch or revenant with this fic. It actually evolved into something huge and then devolved into something that is kind of more along the lines of Shadow to Light in length and detail. It just worked better. This is also like the closest I will ever come to writing a sex scene, so... yeah. -- indicate scene change, // indicates that I haven’t finished the chapter/scene/there’s stuff missing.)

She arrives at Forks High suddenly, a tempest in a teacup.

The whispers find them in the carpark, of the ‘weird’ new girl. No one is racing to befriend her, not like with Bella. Jasper can’t decide if Bella is pleased that the attention has finally been diverted from her, or disappointed she is no longer being fawned over. Curiosity at her replacement overwhelm her other feelings.

None of his other siblings really care. Why should they? He only really takes note of the news because of the curiosity, judgement, disdain, superiority, and slight jealousy that roll off the population at large. Whomever the girl is, she probably won’t be wriggling away from potential friends, like Bella did.

He doesn’t think about her again that morning.

--

The whispers are like smoke, gathering and smothering the crowds. There are the younger girls, spitting cruelty; there are the boys egging each other on, to ask her out. Murmurs about her clothes, and hair, and make-up; about why she moved and who her family are. If she was smart or pretty or friendly.

But he doesn’t see her; just the same faces, the same complaints, the same stew of emotions. The new girl is like a pebble tossed on the surface of a still pond. The only relief is the knowledge is that eventually, the water will settle again.

--

She is like a supernova, simply appearing in the halls before lunch period, and his mouth goes dry. He doesn’t know what other people see when they look at her, but he is entranced. She is not the meek-looking pariah he expected, the nervous teenage girl navigating unfriendly seas.

She is a goddamn revelation.

She walks down the hallways like she owns them. Her mouth is lush and scarlet; obscenely shiny and enticing. She seems indecent, almost – the sickly white of her skin, the black of her hair and her clothing, and then the red of her lips.

The emotion streams off her so strongly, he can almost see them – black mist streaming behind her, undulating with her movements. She is terrible and glorious, and in over one hundred years, he’s never reacted to someone like this. He wants to be close enough to smell her hair, to see if it’s the sweet-sour scent of moss and rotting flowers that he imagines. He wants to peel the black cloth and lace from her body, and trace his path with his tongue. He wants to rip out her throat, and see if she tastes as rich and luscious as she looks.

She is a disaster.

He leans against the lockers, staring at her as she passes him. Her eyes are violet, and she meets his gaze evenly, the corners of her lips quirking upwards. But she doesn’t stop.

It’s a good thing that he doesn’t share his morning classes with Edward, because if he could hear Jasper’s thoughts right now, he’d kill him on the spot.

//

The forest behind the school is silent; just her breathing, and the slight wind. No birds or wildlife, none of the hum of the traffic or of the school.

They don’t undress more than necessary, her skirt slid to her hips, and he takes her roughly against a tree, flakes of bark falling into the dirt. She is hot and slick, and silent as he fucks her, his fingers digging into her hips, a growl rising in his chest. She is every bit his fantasy; the smell of damp flowers, the sweetness of her flesh, her willing supplication. His fingers tear through the lace of her tights as he grips her thighs, and the heels of her shoes must be bending, she’s digging them into the backs of his legs so hard.

//

He knows she isn’t a vampire, but he doesn’t really acknowledge it until the day he catches her sitting in the empty hallways of school during lunch period, wolfing down candy from the vending machine, her little tongue darting out to lick the wrapper. There is something almost disturbing about the way she eats, as if it is the last time she will see food and drink. There is a can of soda, and several wrappers scattered around her.

//

It is no different from their other encounters, except in little ways. She looks tired, more brittle. Her dress is short and black, but hangs from her body, the lace of the hem brushing a bare strip of thigh that he wants to lick. The circles under her eyes are coal-black, making her eyes seem abnormally large; her lips pale and almost blue. But he never questions the way she paints her face, the way she dresses herself.

She accepts his kiss with a sigh, her lips quirking into something that is almost a smile against his, as he slides her dress over her hips. He groans when he finds her bare underneath, nothing but the wool of her dress and the lace of her tights, and she is fucking delicious.

He is on her instantly, and her sighs and moans fill the silence. Is this how he is supposed to feel when he finds his mate? Her lips trace his throat, and he cannot imagine wanting someone more than this. He wants to possess her, wants her in every way she can give.

That realisation makes him feel like the bottom has dropped out of the world, and he snaps.

It is a moment of pure, exquisite instinct, and he sinks his teeth into her smooth, white throat. Her flesh parts without resistance, her blood rushing to the surface, as he drinks deeply. It rolls down his chin, down her neck, her blood is everywhere. It is the darkest red, and he is in ecstasy. Sex and blood, the two things he has abstained from for so long surrounds him, and he gorges himself.

And then he realises the terrible thing he has done.

The blood is everywhere, all over the leather of the car, splattered on the windows, seeping in her hair and her discarded clothes.

Her eyes are still open, staring at nothing, her skirt still hitched up around her hips. Her lips are slightly parted, as if she had something left to say.

The dark, bloody gash from his feeding taking up more than half of her slim throat, the chain of her necklace falling into the viscera of her ruined neck.

Panic isn’t an emotion he is used to, and this is rapidly spiralling away from panic to sheer, unbridled terror.

Carlisle. Carlisle can fix this.

The idea strikes him suddenly, and he oh-so-gently redresses her. No one will find the car, not tonight; this is very technically still Cullen property and a back route no one outside the family should access. He gathers her up carefully in his arms, cradling her close.

And he runs.

//

Carlisle can fix this. Carlisle can save her.

He never thought of himself as an optimist.

By the time the house comes into view, he has accepted it. Her body is cooling, her heart is still, her scent is more sour and rotten.

Nothing can fix this. He has slaughtered the first person or thing he can ever remember loving. Ripped into her skin and drained her dry.

He emerges from the forest, no longer running. He already knows what will happen. Carlisle will declare Alice dead, dead, perfectly fucking dead, and he will bury her with his own bare hands before he leaves. There’s chemicals in the garage that will encourage the flames to catch, and then the fire will pull the venom from his flesh and he will finally die, hopefully in extraordinary pain. He’d dream of being reunited with her, but if there is such a thing as an afterlife for vampires, it will not be wherever her sweet self has ended up.

Esme is the first one to see him, her lovely smile vanishing as she absorbs what she is seeing. Jasper wonders if Esme will plant flowers on Alice’s grave for him.

“Oh my god,” Esme is there, gently cupping Alice’s cheek. “Oh Jasper.”

She escorts him inside, her eyes so sad. Rosalie is on the stairs, and her rage is extinguished after she glimpses whatever she sees on his face. Emmett swears and jumps up from the couch, reaching for Alice, but Jasper just clings to her tighter.

“I’ll fetch Carlisle,” Esme murmurs, but it is little more than a hum in his ears.

By the time Carlisle arrives, looking worried, he meets a scene he could not have predicted. Esme waits for him at the door, and her alarm is evident.

Emmett and Rose are in the sitting room with Jasper, who is perched on the couch with Alice. He cradles her tiny body, almost rocking it. Her eyes have been closed – Rosalie’s surprisingly compassionate gesture. He is still covered with her blood.

He has never seen Jasper so broken.

He has never seen Jasper look so young.

“Jasper,” Carlisle crouches in front of him, before he realises that he has no words of comfort, of resolution.

“You were supposed to save her,” Jasper murmured.

“I am truly sorry,” Carlisle said.

#TwilightFicMas2019 #twilight fic #twilight #alice cullen #jasper hale #jalice #alicexjasper #my writing #my fic: the dark and the unknown #wip

[erintoknow]

Wait, are we not fighting?

fallen hero fan fiction, with some chargestep ~2.5k words for [12.3/50k] [ao3]

–––

Can’t avoid the Rangers forever.

Julia’s making sure of that now that she’s extracted these promises from you.

First it was ‘fix her computer’ then it turned into ‘help me sort through these old boxes,’ now it was ‘help me organize all these old files.’ At some point on the phone you joked that she ought to start paying you. She called your bluff pretty fast on that one. Offered to fill out a W-2 and to start negotiating salaries.

You’re grateful actually. Between this, your cover job working the tech repair shop, and fiddling with the Regenerator you haven’t had much time to think. Thinking is the enemy right now. Well. It’s always been the enemy, really. The impossibility of a future with Julia. The impossibility of a future at all. How you utterly blew things with Dr. Mortum, –

Had it been a mistake to be honest with her? It’s hard not to feel like it was. You were honest with Argent. Will that also be a mistake?

Lady Argent… You’ve been rehearsing your inevitable encounter in your head, during the dangerously mindless parts of work. Can’t afford to slip up. It’s too much to hope for that you can avoid her forever. At the very least she’ll probably want progress updates. Assurances that you’re keeping up your end of the deal.

The secretary at the front desk smiles and buzzes you in with a hello. Who is it this time? Donna? No, fuck. Why is it such a struggle to remember peoples names without digging into their heads? Feels weird to be recognized like that. Smiled at. It’s all wrong. The two of you trade some perfunctory small talk about the weather before you can slip away. 

Forgot to ask her name. Damnit.

Elevator ride up, up, third floor. There’s so much of the new Ranger’s Headquarters you still haven’t touched but you’re getting to know this route like the back of your hand. Come in, say hello, hang out in the break room until Julia or Herald or whomever you are meeting on any given day.

Oh, that’s another knot to untangle. You’ve ditched Herald’s training sessions for over a month now. Is he going to want you to start training him again? Do you want to? It’d be one more way to keep busy at least.

As you walk down the hallway, Chen steps out of a conference room, a packet of paper folded under one arm. Is he going to let you pass without comment? Please let you pass without comment.

He stops, blocking the hallway, staring you down.

It was, you suppose, too much to hope for.

“Becker.” He nods at you, mouth in his trademark tight frown. His thoughts are… hard to read, distracted from the present moment. Still on whatever meeting he just finished?

“Chen.” You answer back, crossing your arms.

“I was wondering why you had stopped showing up, but I see you’ve returned yet again. Like a bad penny.” His stance is stiff, drawing the conference room door closed behind him. Interesting. Something going on in there he doesn’t want you to see? You’re not picking up anyone else in that room.

Just shake your head. “Disappointed?”

“Hardly.”

“Well too bad for y– w–w–wait, what?” You misheard that, right?

“…certain people have grown accustomed to seeing you around.” Chen shifts his weight, uncomfortable as he talks. “I’ll be glad to have Herald and Charge off my back.”

Ah. He’s thinking about the other Rangers. Okay. Everything’s still right with the world. “Well b–breathe easy tough guy. I haven’t fallen off any– any more buildings.”

Chen presses his mouth into a tight line, staring you down. “Are you… doing okay?”

Again, where is this coming from? “I’m… f–fine?”

“You look like shit, Becker.”

Quickly pulling your hand away from the scar on your face, you narrow your eyes at him. “Just had a, uh– bad cold is all. Thanks for your c–c–concern Chen.”

“Hrm.” Chen steps aside to let you pass him in the hallway. “Here for Ortega today?”

“Am I really th–that predictable?”

Is that a smile on Chen’s face? No, that’s crazy. Chen doesn’t give you the dignity of a proper response, heading down the hallway towards the elevator you came out of. You huff to yourself as you watch him leave. Seriously, what was that about?

Whatever.

Whatever’s going on with Chen, it is – hopefully – not your problem. You’ve got enough of those on your plate without piling on more.

The break room is mercifully free of anyone this time. You stretch your arms out, up and over your head as you suppress a yawn. It’s safer to wait for Julia to fetch you, but you’ve half a mind to go looking. Waiting around means time to think. And thinking is the enemy right now.

So don’t.

Don’t think. Pace the room, check the windows, still nothing, no one watching. There hardly ever is. Maybe a starry-eyed kid, once or twice, but not the kind of people you need to worry about. You crack open the fridge for want of anything to do, cool air running down your front as you lean in, sort through the shelves.

Someone’s gone through and labeled them recently. That’s a good idea. Keep everything tidy. Chen, Ortega, Becker, Sullivan, Smith – wait. You run your name over the taped down notecard with your name on it. It’s not a full shelf, more like a basket stuck left on Ortega’s. But that’s your last name alright. There’s some chocolate bars, an apple, one of those pre-packaged salad dinners, a pair of empty plastic containers for keeping leftovers. “W–what the fuck…?”

“Hey.” You jump with a start, slamming the fridge door shut behind you as you spin on your heel. Argent crosses her arms, unimpressed. “If I catch you stealing my food, you’re. dead.”

Fuck! Letting Lady Argent sneak up on you? What the hell is wrong with you? You step away from the fridge as Argent pushes past you. “W–w–wouldn’t dream of it…”

Argent ignores you, pulling out a box of leftovers and sticking them in the microwave. It doesn’t take long for the smell to start filling the room. Chinese takeout? She keeps her back to you, watching the digital timer tick down.

“So, how’s the project going?”

You wince. Does she not get how risky it is to even dance around the subject? “It’s… going. Maybe a month?”

“Maybe?”

“D–d–depends how much time I have for working on it.”

“Good, I’m getting sick of this.”

You don’t hide your frown. “Sick of what?”

“None of your business.” Argent huffs. “Surprised you’ve got the guts to show up here again.” There’s a transparent change of subject if you’ve seen one. What does Argent want the machine for anyway?

Nervous energy vibrates through you, a struggle to keep your face neutral. “Y–yeah, well… Jul– Ortega k–k–keeps asking me to help with shit, so…”

Argent lets out a sharp ‘hah!’

“W–what?”

“Does she know?”

It takes a moment to catch on to her meaning, at which point your eyes go wide as you wave your hands. “What? N–no! No way!”

“Typical.” Argent raps her fingers against the countertop. “You’ve been a disappointment since the day we met.”

“Excuse me?’ Okay, of all the ways you expected this conversation to go, this was not one  you had anticipated.

“You have no idea how much Julia talked you up, do you?” The microwave beeps but Argent makes no move to open it. “Sidestep always came through, always saved the day. Always had some masterplan to get the bad guy and keep everyone safe, on and on.”

“W–what? That’s crazy, I–”

“You were years dead by the time I met her, and she was still trying to get over you.” Argent huffs. “She’d throw herself into fights like she was expecting to die.” She shakes her head, pulling out her leftovers from the microwave and stirring the noodles before popping the container back in. “On the really bad days, she’d get blackout drunk. One of us would have to escort her home.”

You pull back, away from Argent, as you cross your arms. There’s a coldness to the woman’s thoughts that makes you tense up. The kind of cold that can sublimate into fury at a moment’s notice.

“When Julia called me out of the blue saying she had found Sidestep of all people in some random diner, I didn’t know what to expect. I was… terrified.”

“Why are you t–t–telling me this?”

“Shut up, I’m not done. I’ve been thinking about what I was going to say to you all week.” Argent cuts you off. The microwave beeps again, and gets ignored. “After… you know,” Argent growls. “I had never felt so… Helpless. And then Julia’s legendary asshole – who I could never measure up to – was back from the dead to poke around my head and judge me?” She shakes her head, pulling out her leftovers again and finally turning to face you. “Only, guess who Sidestep turns out to be?”

You try to meet her glare, pulling from your own anger. It’s not enough. You look away first. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t know what I expected, honestly. Say you’re sorry all you want, that doesn’t fix anything.”

“I–I’m trying, okay?”

“Sure you are.” Argent’s voice drips in sarcasm. “If you’re actually sorry, then return what you made me steal.”

Panic at last overrides shame. “Are you c–c–crazy?” You hiss, glancing towards the door.

Argent rolls her eyes. “Relax. I turned off the surveillance equipment before coming in here. And anyway, you could tell if someone’s coming.”

“Not Ortega!”

That gets a raised eyebrow. “Not Ortega?”

Oh. Wait. Did she not know? “Shit.” You stare Argent down. “Uh, it’s n–n–nothing.”

“No, it’s not, what’s this about Ortega?”

“It’s nothing!” You shake head. 

“You’re going to destroy Julia, you know that right?” You flinch at that. Like you haven’t had that line of through running through your head nonstop even before you slept with her. “Unless that’s the whole point?” Argent narrows her eyes at you as she leans back against the windowpane. “Because don’t think I’m just going to sit around while you hurt my friends.”

“Are you two talking about me?”

You jump, heart pounding as you turn to see Julia enter the room. When did the door open? Surprised by people walking up behind you twice in one day? That’s three times too many. “J–j–julia! Hi!!”

“Hey Ari, sorry to keep you waiting.” She pulls you in to a hug. It is mercifully, painfully, short. She raises a hand towards Argent. “Hey Angie.”

“Julia.” She looks pointedly at the two of you, Julia’s arm around your shoulder still. “You two made up, then?”

“Uh–” Julia glances down at you.

You can feel your face heat up as you push yourself free. “It–it–it–it’s not like that!”

There’s a sharp edge to Argent’s smile. “Oh, so you’re still fighting? I told her the dance thing was a dumb idea.”

“Uh, hey Angie,” Julia rubs the back of her neck, avoiding you. “Let’s not get into that right now?”

A strange calm settles over your panicked heartbeat. “Julia…” You strain to keep your voice steady. “W–w–what were you t–talking to Lady Argent about…?”

Her response is immediate. “Nothing!”

Argent’s laughter is as loud as it is alarming. “She wanted my romantic advice, because you and I are both, and I quote: ‘loner types.’”

Wait. Julia asked her what? But Argent knows that you’re–

But then she–

But why would–

What?

You cover your face. This isn’t really happening right? Are you really this close to absolute disaster? No. No. This can’t be right. You’re missing something here, right? Have to be. Right??

Next to you, Julia groans. “Angie, that was in confidence…”

Okay, that’s enough.

You grab Julia by the arm and drag her out into the hallway with you. Try not to listen to Argent’s hyena laugh echoing after. Julia lets you pull her into an empty office, an apologetic smile on her face as you shut the door. “I c–c–can’t believe you.”

“In my defense, you two never talk. I thought I was safe there.” Julia rubs at the back of her neck, watch you pace the width of the office. “I’m sorry, okay?”

“I…” You stop, the anger already draining out of you. If it was even anger in the first place. “…you d–didn’t do anything wrong.” The quicker you can move past this whole mess the better.

Julia tilts her head. “Wait So… are we not fighting then?”

“I–I–I guess not…?” You run a hand over your face, rubbing the bridge of your nose. “I just– I panicked I guess.” You pull your purse in front of you and fiddle with the straps before you start messing with your make-up any further.

There’s silence and then the creaking of wood shifting as Ortega sits down on top of the desk. “Hey, Ari…?”

You look up at her. She doesn’t quite meet your eyes, an uncharacteristically vulnerable expression on her face. “No sé cómo decir esto… You’re not like, ashamed to be seen with me, are you?”

Woah, what? “W–w–where did that come from?”

“I know you’ve got other–” she glances at you, “–very mysterious reasons, but… You don’t want to be out in public with me, keep trying to ghost me, don’t like public PDAs, and I know you said you aren’t mad about me talking with Angie, but you definitely aren’t okay with it either so…?” Her hands grip the edge of the desk on either side of her. “Did I mention not wanting to screw this up, before? Because I really don’t want to screw this up.”

You pull your shawl tight around you, a pain in chest and behind your eyes. “W–w–what? N–n-n-no! Julia, I–“ You can’t stop stop yourself from giggling, which only makes you more nervous. “I have a lot of… p–p–problems but that is– that is not one of them. I swear.” You chew the inside of your check. “Hey, I–I–I promised that’d I go out somewhere fancy with you, remember?”

Julia lets out the breath she’d been holding and smiles at you, her confidence slowly returning. “That’s true, I still can’t believe you said that.”

“W–w–well, I can’t believe it either. But I d–did and I will.” The idea just scares the living hell out of you, you don’t add.

“Thank you. I knew I was worrying over nothing,” her smile broadens into a grin, “imagine someone being ashamed of being seen with this?” She gestures towards herself.

Shaking your head, you try not to smile. “Okay, th–that sounds more like my favorite smug idiot.”

“Oh, I’m your favorite am I?”

“Got a whole list.”

“Who’s second place?”

“Also you.” Julia takes a light swing at you, easily dodged even while giggling again. “Actually, the – the whole list is just you.”

#fallen hero #fallen hero fanfic #fanfiction #wlw fanfic #fhr/Ariadne #mc #ortega #Wei Chen #lady argent

[foxydivaxx]

Project Titans Chapter 1

What would it take for the Robins and the Titans as a whole to reunite? Well this....

Oswald sighs as he downs yet another bottle. Project Titans was an awesome dream

So there we go. I edited this chapter again.

#dick grayson #richard grayson #nightwing #robin #dc #dcu #dc comics #fanficiton #barbara gordon #batgirl #damian wayne #bruce wayne #batman #batfamily #terry mcginnis #batman beyond #jason todd #red hood #tim drake #red robin #dc popstar au #teen titans #titans #young justice

[laketaj24]

Played Pt 3

A/N: Hey! Hope you enjoy! It’s drama filled. If you want to be added or removed from the taglist say the word.  Part 1, Part 2 Read First in Series Here: GAME ON

The storage place was on your ass about the payment for the lot. Three hundred dollars was not easy to come up with, especially with all your other bills raining down on you like confetti at a parade. You check your account. $192 would be left after you paid the storage company then you needed to get everything out and the drive alone was at least four hours away. This is the only thing on your mind for a few hours as you sort the mail for the carts. You could ask Ubbe, he’d help you in a heartbeat but every time you looked at him all you could see is the mistake you made and all the other things it spiraled.

“What you staring into space for?” Chance was a beast sorting mail, he tossed it like Frisbees into the right bin and he rarely looked. The time you two had spent together was one of the only perks of working at Lothbrok Holdings. It’s was surprisingly not filled with awkwardness and he was great at keeping the PDA to the locker rooms or not at all. No one guessed a thing.

“I’ve got to move all of my things from across state into my apartment in the next two weeks.” You say. “And I hate driving trucks you know? They just freak me out.”

“Aight, you want me to go with you? We could make it a little trip. All I ask is that you feed me, and we don’t have to listen to that old ass Chris Brown CD in your car.”

“Exclusive is lit! You were freaking dancing to it two days ago.”

“Wall to Wall was tight, but that cd is ancient. You ain’t even gotta feed me if you let me be the DJ?”

“Deal.” You silently fist pump because Chance could eat, and you needed gas money. “Are we going to get dinner tonight or does Thursday night TV win again?”

“I like you, but I’m not missing my shows and you have virtually stated you’re not watching them one hundred times. So, you can come over and be quiet and sit back while I watch TV or I’ll pick you up Friday night.”

“No, this weekend I am busy. But I’ll come next with you. I swear it.”

“Bet.” Chance smirks at you pushing his cart out of the room. He went through his routes fast in comparison to you. Your short legs hated the twelve floors you were assigned. By the time you got to the last one you were misted with sweat only to come back and still must do it again

The day continues to be good besides the loom of responsibility Hvitserk watches you as you place the mail in his box, swaying continuing to sing with your music. “Y/N!” He called signaling you to remove the headsets.

You do trying not to let the annoyance blows through your facial expressions. “Hey.”

“How are you?”

“I’m well Hvitserk. How are you?”

“I’m well.” It’s awkward for a moment as you both avoid eye contact and sigh.

At one point in your life The Sun rose and set for Hvitserk, even when you were Ivar you had a soft spot for him but the spite in his attitude when you left definitely was stuck in your memory. “It was good seeing you.” You say turning away from him.

“Y/N, I’m sorry.” He blurts. “I was unfair to you.”

“What? You have no reason to apologize to me Hvitserk. I done some shitty stuff to you and what I’m realizing with my Years is that karma is a bitch. I shouldn’t have cheated on you. I should’ve broke up with you.”

“You weren’t alone on your infidelity.” He says with a slight glance to Margarethe, Who was watching like a hawk from across the room. “I just wanted to say, I miss your friendship. And you don’t have to act ostracized Ivar’s the only dick in this family. And I shouldn’t have black mailed you and all that. I was Childish.”

“We were all pretty childish.” You blush remembering the wild times you and all the Lothbroks had. “But thanks for apologizing even though I don’t accept it.” You laugh.

“Are you going to the Gala Ball in a few weeks?”

“I’m a damn mail lady?”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t come, it’s company wide. Come.”

“Sure.”

  “She had a man at her house.” Ivar said tossing the circle stress ball into the air. He hadn’t found a way to control his rage just yet, it was always addressed with silence or breaking things. Not to mention Ubbe wasn’t listening. “Did you hear me?” He says throwing the silver ball at Ubbe.

Ubbe catches the ball not looking up. “She’s a grown woman. She can fuck who she wants. And you know Ivar you haven’t been the most welcoming to her. I know she left you but you don’t have to be a dick. You’re not the only one she left.”

“Are you talking about yourself? Hmmm? You two were nothing. Hvitserk and her had more to salvage than you two. Now shut up trying to gain pity from of my situation. Fucking politician.” Ivar scoffs spinning around in his seat. “But I was mean to her, I realized that yesterday and I went to her to apologize. And then I basically called her a whore.”

“You’re fucking insane.” Ubbe stands from the couch grabbing his briefcase. “She has to get out of the mailroom, either you do it or I’ll do it and I’ll take her out of this building period. And you know I think you need to learn to chill the fuck out. You’re fucking a woman too and you aren’t in a relationship with Y/N.”

“Get out.”

Ubbe laughs at his brother opening the door and making his way through the busy hallways. He spots Y/N singing her music and handing her mail out and he walks over to her. “Y/N! Good afternoon.”

“Hey.” She doesn’t have the same feel of disdain she had with him a few weeks ago. “How are you?”

“Well, headed to my office. Do you have a moment to walk and talk with me? I swear I won’t keep you from your work long.”

“Okay.” Y/N walks with Ubbe removing the small buds from her ears. “What’s up?”

“I just want to know how you are doing and is there anything I can do to help you?”

“Uhm, actually.” Y/N pauses. “I have to get some things from storage and move them and I am broke. I can pay you back. I swear it. I just need to get everything settled here and get back in the swing of things.”

Ubbe reaches in his pocket and hands you the black card. You look down, Y/F/N Y/L/N. “This is yours anyhow. Get whatever you have to and it’s not my business of how you spend it. I won’t say anything to him but take care of yourself.” He merges back into the office traffic and you stand a tad bit dumbfounded. Damn Lothbroks.

 Ivar’s estate was on the edge of town, on a bluff that overlooked the entire city, and he liked it that way. But he still missed his childhood home. The estate was missing things he hoped he would have by the age of 26, with Y/N for sure. He sits in the window watching the maids tend to the garden he had built on honor of his mother. The orchids and Lillie’s were here favorites.

His mind continued to roam back to Y/N as it always did. Even when he was content in his own world he would wonder what she was doing or where she was going. Then the new guy, whomever he was had caught her attention fast. Ivar didn’t even know why he was at her doorstep that night.

“Are we going somewhere tonight?” Nia said entering the room. “I know you said you were tired and all.” Nia sits across from him sipping her wine. “You’ve been a funk. I know your dad died but you knew it was coming.”

“I knew it was....” he cut off his words. “You should go home. Like now.”

“Ivar, what’s the problem?”

“I don’t want you around anymore. So leave, please?”

“Fine.” She rolls her eyes kissing him lightly on the cheek. “I’ll call tomorrow.”

He doesn’t respond staring down into his phone knowing that he shouldn’t text her. Texting her would do him no good.

Ivar: Still got me on block?

The three dots appear and then disappear. He wasn’t on block.

Y/N: I should but I don’t. What is it that you want?

Ivar: Can you come by?

Y/N: I’m actually tired. So no.

He growls typing quickly.

Ivar: I just want to see you. Please.

Y/N: You can come here. You knew how to get here last time.

 You can’t believe he said that he was coming but you try to get what’s in your apartment organized so he won’t see you’re living out of a few boxes. He knocks on the door about an hour later and you try not to run to the door.

“Hey.” He says actually not in a suit. And for the first time since you’ve returned he looked

d like the guy you left. Dressed down in sweats and a shirt with his hair draping his shoulders. “You look nice.” He sounds genuine accepting your invitation in. He sits on the couch awaiting you to join him.

You sit next to him and try to keep your distance but you’re drawn to him as touching his hand. “Well, spill it.”

“I should not have spite fucked you. It was mean, and I don’t want you to think that I don’t like you. I’ve perhaps gotten worst at being understanding and shit.”

“I see. But you’re successful you don’t need feelings.”

“Why did you leave me?” The question hovers over the two of you for a few moments until his fingers trail up your arm and he shakes his head. “Why did you leave me?” He whispers again, pleading. He leans towards you placing his lips on your collar bone and the tingle of what was covers you. He breathes deeply as if he’s scared you might leave and he tugs you to him. Instinctively your arms drape around his neck and he’s over you.

His weight is comforting and hypnotizing almost until you snap back into reality. You kiss him once more and then stop pulling his hair from around your face. “We can’t. Ivar, we have too much to talk about okay?” You whisper into his ear.

He shakes his head still not sitting up from hovering over you. He sighs. “Why did you leave me?” He asks again.

“There was a ton going on and I felt as if I wasn’t becoming the person I wanted to be.”

“Yeah, how may times did you practice that shit Y/N. I just want the truth for one fucking second from you. Do you know what the fuck I went through when you left? I lost my mom and the love of my fucking life a few months apart. And all I got from you was a letter. I deserved more than that.” Ivar’s hand shake at his side and he breathes. “I searched for you.”

“I’m sorry. I left for me and it was selfish.”

“Right.” He says nothing looking over her. “I wanted to follow you. I would have followed you anywhere and I mean that, I can’t even focus now that you’re back. You consume me. So I guess that spite fuck was really just me losing control. I lose it all when I’m around you.”

“Ivar.”

“No! Don’t try to sugar coat this shit okay, tell me where you went.”

“I left because…”

“Spit it out!”

“I slept with Ubbe.” You blurt out. “I didn’t mean to, I was at his house and shit just happened and it shouldn’t have, we were waiting to hear where you were.”

“What?”

“It’s in the past Ivar.”

“I would have forgiven that.” He whispers. “You jumped the gun, I don’t care about you fucking Ubbe.” He shrugs. “I would have been angry, but I would have never left you. You left me for you and that was selfish and unfair. I love you Y/N.”

“You have someone and so do I at this point Ivar.” You swallow turning your phone over. Your mom always chose the most ideal times to call.

“I don’t love her.” He confesses. “I don’ think I can continue it while you’re here and I don’t want to continue pretending that you don’t have unfinished business with me.”

“I have a ton to tell you Ivar. More than you can take in right now.”

The doorbell echoes throughout the apartment and you hop up off the couch. “I don’t know why people never call before coming over.” You gripe. You swing open the door and his little piercing blue eyes bare into yours. “Ian.” You’d missed his warm tanned skin was the only feature he had inherited from you. He was Ivar through and through. “Baby boy, you ready to have fun?”

“Mama.” He says toting his backpack into the apartment.

Your mom turns her attention to Ivar. “I guess I had perfect timing. Your father and I are headed out of town for the next few days. You knew this, but the date got moved up. I’m bringing this little minion to be a roommate.”

“Mom, I haven’t…”

“Well you better.” She kisses your cheek leaving you to stand at the door alone.

You hesitantly turn to Ivar and Ian. “Sup little dude.” Ivar says fist bumping him.

“Are you my mom’s boyfriend.”

“Ian Lothbrok, shut your mouth and go put your bag in the room so you can eat.”

“Loth…”

“Ivar,” you say once he’s in the room. “That’s your kid, Ian Lothbrok.”

“Y/N.” He swallows. “Tell me this shit is not real.” His face is red.

“I can’t, it’s why I came to your office that day. I was trying to tell you and you assumed.”

“I ASSUMED! You should have told me a month ago, you should have brought your ass back immediately when you’re pregnant!!!” He yells. “You’re fucking horrible, you know that? You torture me and I’ve never given you a reason to.” You watch the streams fall straight to the floor. “I have to go. I will be back, okay.” His voice breaks.

“Yeah.” You breathe. “Of course.” You watch him grab his cane and slam the door on his way out.

“FUCKING HORRIBLE.” The little blue-eyed devil giggles. “Fucking horrible.”

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#vikings #modernviking #laketaj24 #Hvitserk #ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #ivar #ivar x reader #ivar x woc #woc fanfic #ubbe lothbrok #ubbe's wolfpack #ivars heathen army #gameon #played #Laketaj writes