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crashdevlin · 3 years

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Leftoverture 3- Carry On

Author’s Note: Don’t get me wrong, I loved the finale, but I was thinking about how much I miss Dean and I couldn’t stop thinking about ways I could have him back so…I’m going canon divergent while being as close to canon as possible. ‘Cause that’s how Cassie do. This is where Leftoverture officially crosses over with Crash Into Me!

Summary: Sam tries to convince Dean to talk to his widow, but it takes a visit from an old friend to get him to do the right thing.

Pairing: Dean x OFC

Word count: 3755

Story Warnings: angst, Post-barn scene sads, mentions of major character deaths (Dean and AU!Sam), mentions of depression, memory fuckery,

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey, get off the phone. Who are you texting?” Dean asked, looking over at Sam’s thumbs tapping out a message.

“I’m...just letting some people know that you’re back, okay? What?” Sam defended, pulling his phone out of Dean’s reach as his brother tried to grab it.

“She better not be part of that group text, Sam. I will kick your lanky ass.”

“Dean, come on.”

“She has mourned me! She’s probably just starting to get okay and you want me to break that? Not to mention the kid. How are we supposed to explain to her that I’m just suddenly not dead anymore?” Dean pulled over onto the shoulder and glared at Sam until he rolled his eyes and sighed, hitting the X to take his sister-in-law’s number away from the list that included Bobby 2.0, Jody, Donna, Charlie 2.0, and Garth. “Thank you.”

“It’s only been a month. You think she’s starting to get over you already?” Sam finished tapping out his text as Dean pulled back onto the interstate.

“I think I’m a threat to her life as long as I’m in her life, man. I mean, that’s why it took us so long to get together in the first place, because I knew that me being a hunter was gonna put her in the ground and it was just lucky for all of us that it put me in the ground before her.”

“Don’t say th-”

“It’s better for her to think I’m still dead!” Dean exploded. “If she knows I’m alive, she’ll come back to the bunker and she’s gonna end up dead and that’ll be on me! Okay, it’s better if she thinks I’m dead and we keep it that way!”

“So, I guess you’ve made up your mind on this one?” Sam asked.

“Yes!” Dean nodded, somehow still keeping his eyes on the road. “You know what, yes, I’ve made up my mind. Because she deserves to live a life that I’m not ruining. She never wanted the job to encroach on her life, or Rebel’s, okay? Fuck, if I ended up getting that little girl hurt, I could nev--and you know she only agreed to marry me in the first place because Chuck was gonna kill us all anyway and he’s not a problem anymore and what happened to my ring when I bit it? You didn’t burn it with me, did you, because that was a really good silver ring and if you melted it with me, I’m gonna be pissed.”

Sam shook his head in disappointment. “Your wife was wearing it on her thumb last time I saw it.”

Dean sighed and licked his lips. “It’s better this way, Sam. I know you don’t see it, but it’s better.”

“Right. You, uh, you remember when you guys were ‘just friends’ and she started dating that asshole that didn’t know what ‘no’ meant?” Dean’s jaw clenched tight at the memory. “You remember how pissed off you got that she was dating someone, let alone a Dom dickbag like him, and how you spent the entire weekend trying to get dirt on him to use to get her to dump him?”

"He was tryin' to put things in her while she was drunk! He deserved a bullet through the skull for that shit and he's lucky she wouldn't let me go talk to him."

"Yeah, I know. He was a piece of shit, but you didn't know that when we got there. You just didn’t like him because he was dating her."

"I'm a good judge of character and she is not. She dates douchebags. She always has. I mean, look at her cheating son-of-a-bitch ex-husband. If she's dating them, they're douchebags."

Sam rolled his eyes, obviously catching Dean’s self-deprecating undertone in that sentence. "Okay, but you're just gonna let her date someone else? You're gonna let her find some other douchebag to date that you won't be able to save her from?"

"I didn't save her from Mike or Drew. She was already half out the door on both of them before I interceded with either. And I know what you're doing and it's not gonna work." Dean pointed his finger in Sam’s face. "You're not gonna get me all jealous so I go find her because I'm afraid of her getting over me and moving on. I want her to move on. I want her to have a good life. That's the whole point here, man."

"Dean, she's not going to move on. She's gonna be devastated the rest of her life because you aren't-"

"So, we should make it worse by putting her through it twice?!" Dean snapped. "We should make her have to watch me burn another time, right? We should make her clear her shit out of the Bunker in a few years too? We should make her live with the hope that one day I'll manage to make it home again? We should put her heart back together just to shatter it into pieces again when I die permanently? Fuck you, Sam. I can't do it to her. I just...no."

Sam took a deep breath and shook his head sadly. "Fine."

"It's better this way. It's just better."

"Sure. It’s better.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There was something cleansing about a simple werewolf hunt. Sam was being a little overbearing, but Dean understood why. Sam didn’t want to see him die anymore than he wanted to die again. There were only two wolves and they went down easy. It was a textbook hunt...just like the vampire cult should have been.

Sam shook away memories of the night in the barn and followed an energized Dean out to the Impala. It wouldn’t happen again. Not anytime soon. Dean was around to stay. Sam would make sure of it.

“So, hit the motel, pizza and beer, head back to the bunker in the morning. Did you report my death to the fire department because I’m still wanting that job and I’ll have to think of one hell of an excuse if you told them I died.” Dean shrugged, continuing before Sam could respond. “I’m gonna need to come up with an excuse either way, but an excuse for a month of radio silence is easier than an excuse for comin’ out of the Lazarus Pit, ya know?”

“I...didn’t say anything to them, Dean. It was really low on my list of priorities to tell the Lebanon Volunteer Fire Department that Dean Campbell was dead.”

“Awesome. I’ll figure out what to tell them. For now...pizza.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“No, I know, it was a crazy situation, but I honestly think getting lost in the Yukon without a cell phone was probably the best thing that could have happened to me." Dean laughed into the phone as he walked into the library. "Yeah, exactly. Never gonna take a warm, dry bed for granted again. Well, thank you so much for understanding, Captain. I'm excited to get training. That's gonna be...yeah, I'm gonna be there. Thanks again."

Dean smiled as he tucked his phone into his pocket. "He bought it. Thanks for putting those fake Canadian news pieces up. Appreciate it."

"Okay, but what if someone else searches your fake name, Dean?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "You think she's Googling me?" He stepped forward and looked down at Sam sitting at the library table. "She Googles me and she'll find a story about a man named Dean Campbell getting lost in the Yukon and surviving on moose and wolverine and melted snow. No pic, no identifying words. She'll look at it, say 'It is a miracle this guy survived' and then she'll move on to the next search result, okay? I don't understand why you're all up in my business about this but-"

"You don't miss them?" Sam asked, pushing his hair out of his face and leaning forward.

Dean bit his lip and shook his head. "No, I do not."

Sam stood and looked down into his brother's eyes. "Well, I do."

"Well, they're staying gone." Dean patted his brother's shoulder and walked toward the hall. "Good talk."

He sat on the edge of his bed and ran his hand down his face. Of course he missed her. Of course he missed the little girl he treated as his own daughter...or...the other Dean treated like a daughter. It was just too difficult. Explaining to his wife was one thing, an easy thing. She’d come back in a heartbeat and it would all be fine between them. She wouldn’t care that he wasn’t exactly the same in body, that he had different scars and a slightly different pattern of freckles or that his hair wasn’t quite right even after trying to make it work for four damn days.

She fell for him because of how he treated her, how safe she felt with him, how he made her feel. All of that was in the memories. How he felt about her was in the memories, too. He loved her in a way he'd never been able to let himself love anyone else. She was so much different than any other woman he'd considered making a life with because she was like all the best parts of them all mixed together. She was smart like Cassie Robinson, badass like Jo Harvelle, understanding of the Life without being part of it...with a kid, just like Lisa. He remembered that...and he knew that he'd never find another woman like her.

That was okay. He didn't really want another one: another woman, partner, wife. He couldn’t see himself opening up like that to someone other than his short little badass. And Sam was right that he didn't really want her with someone else, either...but she deserved it. She deserved to get over him and move on to greener pastures. So he had to stay away. For her good, he had to stay dead.

For the good of the little girl, too. If he just came back from the dead, it would completely fuck that little girl's understanding of life and death. It would fuck her up for life.

Dean sighed, picking up his phone and kissing his lock screen; the picture they took on the beach for their honeymoon. He held the phone over his heart for a minute and lied back, staring at the ceiling until sleep took him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean smiled as he sat in a folding chair on the side of a soccer field, watching a short blonde girl dribble a ball between her feet on the green grass. "She's gettin' good," he commented to himself.

"She missed tryouts this year," a familiar voice said. Dean gasped a little as he turned in his seat to look at the angel in the beige trenchcoat. "They moved back to Florida too late for her to be placed on a team."

"Cas? Are you--is this--this is a dream."

"Yes. But...my presence is not." Castiel smiled as Dean stood and wrapped him in a hug. "Jack saved me from the Cosmic Entity from the Empty. We've been improving Heaven."

Dean pulled back and sniffled as he slapped a hand on Cas' shoulder. "Man, where have you been, then? We've missed you."

"Angels stay in Heaven now. Jack and I thought it was best to keep our interference to a minimum." Cas chuckled. "I'm not technically supposed to be here now."

Dean licked his lips. "Well, then...what's with the, uh, Freddy Krueger you're pulling?"

"Dean requested it. He knows what's been happening on Earth, that you've taken on his memories and essentially become him, and he knows that you are avoiding Cassie."

Dean scoffed and stepped back from the angel. "I'm sure he's got an opinion on all this."

"He does. He has a strong opinion on what you're doing and what you should be doing." Castiel stepped closer. "He told me to tell you to get your head out of your ass. He said that, if you have his memories, you're in love with her too and you need to go to her. He knows you couldn’t live with losing her forever...so don't lose her."

"Cas, she's better off without me."

"Is she?" the angel challenged. "Because she’s Dean Winchester’s widow. Doesn't that put a target on her back?"

Dean pressed his lips together in a thin line and looked away. She could handle it...right? "She's got protections...and we taught her to fight. She's gonna be fine."

"Dean told me to tell you that if you don't get in his car and drive to Florida, he's going to 'rip your pansy lungs out'," Cas said, doing air quotes. Dean scoffed. "He was very adamant that you go to her."

"Fine. But it's gonna hurt her. I'm gonna hurt her." Dean was absolutely serious but Cas just smiled and shook his head a little. "Hey, uh, Cas? Before you go...I'm...I'm not gonna get to see you again, right? So, don't you think we should talk about-"

"I think that would be a bit redundant." Castiel’s smile brightened, crinkles forming at the corners of his eyes. "Dean and I have spoken at length about my sacrifice and the words spoken before Billie and I were taken to the Empty."

"And?"

"And Dean Winchester’s Heaven is full of people who love and cherish him...who see him for the hero he is. He never believes he's going to hurt any of them. You should learn from his example."

"DEAN! Look!" Dean looked behind him to see the girl kick the soccer ball at the goal. He couldn’t help the smile that crossed his face.

"Great job, Youngblood!" he shouted before turning back around. The angel was gone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean smiled tightly at Sam as he walked into the kitchen the next morning. “So, uh...I’m gonna take a few days...drive down to Florida.”

Sam’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah...Castiel came to me in a dream last night. Said the original me is up there in Heaven and he’s very unhappy with my choice.”

“Really?” Sam was obviously amused.

“Yeah. I don’t know if it was really him or not. Maybe it was just my brain kickin’ me in the ass but...I’m gonna go get ‘em back.”

“Thank you. I was hoping you’d come to your senses.”

“Yeah, yeah, anyway...I’ll be back in a couple days. I’ve got training on Monday so...it’ll be a short trip. Maybe she’ll come back, maybe she won’t but…” He shrugged. “Don’t know ‘til I go talk to her.”

“Good luck, man.”

Dean nodded before heading to the garage. He had plenty of time to get nervous as he drove toward his in-laws’ house in North Florida. A month wasn’t too long. She’d gone longer without him in the past, but...he was alive back then. She knew he’d be back eventually.

He parked the Impala down the street. He wanted to see her before he talked to her. He needed to see how she was working through his death...if she even needed him. Dead Dean told him to go, but if she was moving on, he’d just get back in the car.

She was on the porch when he arrived, coming around the neighbor’s house to hide in the shadows around the side of her parent’s house. “It’s still hard. I don’t think it’s ever not gonna be hard. I still keep wanting to hear that damn Impala coming down the road. But even if I did hear it...I know it’d be Sam.” Dean bit his bottom lip. She was still mourning him. “I don’t know, Manda, but Erik has been a godsend.” His eyebrows went up. Who the fuck is Erik? Did she move on already? “He’s the only reason I get out of bed most mornings. He’s been helping a lot with Aria, driving her to school in the morning and making breakfast. Oh, he makes the best pancakes.” She gave a small chuckle. “Not that I need pancakes. I’ve put on, like, fifteen pounds since he died. Yeah, that is a lot. Erik doesn’t think so either...and Dean wouldn’t care...but I care”

Dean watched her shrug before shaking her head. “I don’t know. He seems nice but...my parents didn’t even know Dean and I got married, so of course Erik doesn’t know. He doesn’t understand...but he’s helping anyway.” She sighed and hummed a little into the air, staring up at the moon. “It’s still just really hard.”

Dean watched as she finished her phone call to her best friend and kept looking up into the night sky. He had to force himself to step around the side of the house and toward her. “Who’s Erik?” he asked. It was the only thing he could think to ask. Green eyes behind thick, dark glasses went wide as she turned to look at him.

“Dean?” she squeaked.

“Mostly,” he whispered as she threw her phone to skim across the grass and launched herself at him. He closed his eyes as she wrapped her arms around him, overwhelmed by the feel of her warmth against him. “Come on, Crash, I taught you better than this. Where’s your silver and holy water, baby?”

“Inside,” she sobbed out into his chest. “But I know you’re you. I can feel it.”

He pressed his lips to her hair and took a step back, leaning down a bit to look directly into her eyes. “I am me, but I’m also...I’m also not. Can we...can we take a walk?”

“Of course!” she agreed, sniffling and wiping at her eyes under her glasses.

They started to walk out of the yard onto the street. “Okay, but before I get into my whole thing...who the fuck is Erik?”

“Oh, he’s a maintenance guy, works with my dad. When I moved to the Bunker, Erik rented my room.”

Dean nodded, his lips pursed. “So, he’s your parents’ tenant and you’re letting him take your daughter to school?”

“My parents trust him...I trust him.” She stuck her hands in her pockets and shrugged. “He’s a nice guy...and he’s a writer, too. He was shocked by the number of notebooks I have. He used to do all of his writing on his computer, but he’s started writing in notebooks since I showed him the versatility of handwriting a story. He said it was like going back to simpler times.”

“Okay. I guess...so, he’s just…”

“He’s just a guy that lives at the house.” She looked over at him as he jammed his hands in his jacket pockets. “So, how are you back? Sam burned you. You shouldn’t be back.”

“You remember when Chuck was destroying the other universes and the other versions of me and Sam showed up? They were fleeing their world.”

“I remember. Sam wouldn’t take his hair down.”

“Right, well...um…” He cleared his throat. “Couple weeks ago, Man-bun Sam died in South America. Werewolves...and Dean couldn’t take it and he did a full wipe of his memories so that he wouldn’t have to remember and Sam went to Rowena to get her to fix it. Her version of fixing it was to give him, give me, your husband’s memories.”

“So, you’re-” She stopped in the middle of the street and turned to look at him. “You’re not my Dean?”

“Of course I am. I’ve got all of his memories. I’ve got all of his love.” He rubbed at the back of his neck. “Slightly different body...and a different soul. Your Dean is in Heaven. But I’m just like him. I’m exactly like him, Crash.”

She swallowed and searched his face for a few moments before she looked away. “The day we met...why was I crying?”

She was quizzing him, testing his memories, seeing how much like her husband he really was. “Mike left you,” he said quietly. “It wasn’t the first time...or the last. Rebel was about...two years old and you were tryin’ to hold yourself together. We shared some beer and talked about the monster Sam and I put down...and you gave me your number.”

“You, uh, you had a tattoo that I designed...it burned so you don’t have it now, but what-”

“I’ll get the rune again,” he interrupted. “So you can astral to me again.”

“Oh, it is you,” she whispered.

“It is me.” He wrapped her in a hug again and she grabbed at his jacket to hold him to her. “I don’t know how to go about this, though. How are we gonna explain to the kid that-”

“I-I don’t know.” She pulled back and shook her head. “I don’t know if she even caught on to the fact that you were dead...all I said was ‘gone’. I just said you were gone.”

That might make it easier. “Is she back at the house?”

“No. She’s with her father. It’s just Erik and my parents at the house right now.”

“Do your parents know I died? I’m just trying to determine if we can go in or if I’m sleeping in the car tonight.” He smiled at her as she sighed and looked away.

“I told them you broke up with me.”

“So, can I come inside?”

“You’ll have to sleep on the couch...unless you wanna sleep on the floor in Aria’s room. I’ve been sleeping with her on her loft bed since Erik has my old room and bed and all that.”

He smiled and headed toward the house, her hand in his. “She still have that big pile of stuffed animals under the loft?” She nodded and he smirked. “Then I’ll sleep in her zoo.”

She led him into the house and started up the stairs. They were halfway up the stairs when the door to the room that used to be hers opened. “Cass?” a voice asked. Dean stopped in his tracks.

“Didn’t mean to wake you, Erik.”

“It’s okay. I was just worried when you didn’t come back in. Are you-” Shadows fell over Dean and Crash as a figure stepped to the top of the stairs. “Oh, shit.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed as he stepped around his wife and up a few stairs. “What the hell are you doin’ here?” he demanded.

“You’re dead,” the blue-eyed man squeaked.

“About as dead as you’re about to be, Chuck.”

~~~~

The Kitchen Sink - @emoryhemsworth @flamencodiva @wasabiwitteks @rainbowkisses31 @rissbennett @mariekoukie6661 @officiallyunofficialperson @dolphincliffs @mrs-meghan-winchester @gayspacenerd @foxyjwls007 @ilovefanfic86 @marvelfansworld @f-yeahfandoms @wonderlandfandomkingdom @hhiggs @sev3nruby @hobby27 @paintballkid711 @divadinag @thewhiterabbit42 @fantasymyth-1 @queenoftheunderdark @cosicas-cuquis @superfanficnatural @letsby @supernatural-bellawinchester @onethirstyunicorn @swinchester27 @chalicia @screechingartisancashbailiff @death-unbecomes-you @dayasvalkyrie @paryl @wereallbrokenangels @the-american-witch @that-one-gay-girl @tatted-trina6 @sunshineandwings86 @lunarmoon8 @wheezyeds @vicmc624 @couldabeenamermaid @vulgar-library

#cassie writes stuff #leftoverture #spn fanfic #dean winchester #sam winchester #post barn scene #angst

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highfaelucien · 3 years

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I completely agree with how you feel towards azriel. Thinking about azriel’s character now vs how I used to view him during acomaf times is just... sad and so so so much more complex. Part of me still wants to love him for the character that was presented to us in acomaf and other small good moments, like his friendship with nesta. And then the other part of me is disgusted, disappointed, and honestly kind of terrified of who he may become if sjm allows him to continue acting predatorily/toxic. The whole mor/az situation really fucked me up. As someone who is also a lesbian and an abuse survivor, it broke my heart to watch the situation unfold in acowar. It still hurts seeing many readers (and sometimes even sjm) take az’s side and paint mor as some sort of liar/two faced character that is playing everyone. I kept thinking that things would be fixed in future books, but instead az has grown worse and mor was, once again, sidelined and written out as a character. And honestly... as much as I love the idea of gwyn x azriel ... I think his books would need a lot more focus on his own recovery/growth and not center on a romantic relationship. If anything, I hope it’s written as friends to lovers so az has a better way of interacting and forming relationships with women. Because right now... well, that shit is borderline predatory and isn’t coming across well. And I really really do not want that for him. Basically, azriel deserves a better arc than what has been written for him. I miss him :( he used to be a character that made me feel safe and now :/ idk anymore

I'm going to quote parts of this/chop it up and reply to them a chunk at a time. because there's a lot going on here and I want to try and reply to as much as I can because I resonate with.....all of it. Please forgive me for the length of this.

I completely agree with how you feel towards azriel. Thinking about azriel’s character now vs how I used to view him during acomaf times is just... sad and so so so much more complex.

He feels like a different character? There was always an anger simmering under the calm surface, we knew that. But it was an anger born of love, deep down, and the desire to protect his family, and his court, at the expense of himself. Az was always the first to volunteer himself for dangerous missions, to spare the others.

Now that anger is directed at his family, and at the world, for not giving him what he feels he 'deserves'. That has NEVER been Azriel. Azriel's deepest issues and insecurities have always stemmed from the feeling of being unworthy, and undeserving of anything.

She's just made him into......Every other dude in this series tbh. Snarling, and possessive, and wanting to fuck anything in a skirt that moves.

Azriel was actually somewhat of an original, complex character initially. It's unusual that we see trauma affect men in the way it did Az. Usually it makes them angry, and vengeful, and eager to prove they are the alpha etc. Seeing them withdraw, and think less of themselves/that they're unworthy is something not explored often enough. But bye bye nuance hello #Drama.

Part of me still wants to love him for the character that was presented to us in acomaf and other small good moments, like his friendship with nesta.

I feel this. I found a lot of comfort in Az's character. Particularly the way he reacted with Mor. I was a big fan of their relationship, and I wrote a few 'missing scenes' style fics in the gap between ACOMAF and ACOWAR. One of them was where Az went to her when she had pushed everyone else away, including Cassian, and comforted and calmed her.

I hate that Maas took that away from Mor. I hate that Az no longer does that for her. I hate that Az was the one to betray her along with Rhys and bring her abuser into her safe space behind her back. I hate that he is no longer a symbol of calm, stable, dependable comfort and support for Mor, but is instead a threat. I HATE it.

Every now and then Az has lovely, gentle moments - his friendship with Nesta is a good example, and something I hoped we'd see. But also quieter times with Rhys, and their similarities being explored. And I adored the flying lessons with Feyre in ACOWAR, and the training he did with Cassian and the others in ACOFS.

But then she goes and twists him and does something else that just makes me want to fucking scream. Like the High Lord scene where he 'frightened' Mor. And his entire POV chapter which is frankly fucking gross.

And then the other part of me is disgusted, disappointed, and honestly kind of terrified of who he may become if sjm allows him to continue acting predatorily/toxic.

I agree.

I don't know how she can write a series that explores the effects of emotional abuse so well with Feyre and Tamlin...And then write what she did with Az?

The possession to a traumatised, still impressionable and desperate young woman, who likely finds the same comfort and safety in him that Mor did. Before that got shot to fucking pieces.

He sounds like a whiny toddler 'Cassian has a mate, and Rhys has a mate, where is mine!?!?!?!?' I DESERVE Elain, because I'm your brother and you guys have her sisters and what the FUCK. Who let that shit get published holy mother of god.

It's just...It's so unhealthy? Like, not even talking ship wars here (which I'm aware are rampant, and which I'm trying my best to stay away from). But that just.

How can that ever be a healthy foundation for a relationship? A man who thinks that he deserves, not only to be in a relationship with her, but to be bonded to her. Not because of HER, not because of who she is, or how she makes him feel. No. Purely because her sisters are mated to his brothers?

The whole thing made me feel so uncomfortable. It's predatory and toxic, just as you said. It's not right, it's not fair. Forget alliances and Lucien, even if none of that was a factor, that sort of thinking is still not right. And it's completely unfair to Elain.

But it also just. It didn't read like Azriel. The first part, where he struggles to sleep, and pushes himself until he passes out, and the insight that his shadows are basically hovering beside him screaming SELF CARE YOU DUMB BITCH at all times was very pleasing.

And the part where he goes to Clotho and leaves an anonymous gift for Gwyn. No fanfair. No audience. No pressure on either of them to react/perform. That felt like Az, too.

But everything in the middle. Everything with Elain, was just...Gross and out of character. And this is not because I dislike E/riel as a ship. I could get on board with it, tbh, if it wasn't written the way it was.

But it's not about ships, for me. It's just. Everything felt out of character. The predatory way he was with her. The fact he lies awake and gets himself off to fantasies of her. How apparently quickly he was aroused by putting a necklace on her. Idk, maybe it's my ace ignorance, but that doesn't sound normal/healthy to me.

Nor does him having to leave a room because he can scent her mating bond with Lucien. Or not being able to control himself to sit and eat dinner with her?

This is the same dude who has, apparently, been in love with Mor for 500 solid years, and who never did a damned thing about it. Who always kept himself in check. Even while she's had other lovers. But he can't control himself through one dinner with Elain?

It just. It doesn't feel like him. It feels like...Honestly not even Cassian. It feels like Tamlin on horny, predatory steroids. And that's not something I ever wanted to see from Azriel's POVs.

She could have explored a darker side to him without making it sexual? And misogynistic. And having him treating Elain as little more than a fucking object that he feels entitled to because 'everyone else got one, where's mine?'. What the FUCK???

The more I write it the more angry I get.

Because SJM has consistently put Az in the position of saving women when they were in danger? He was the one who found Mor near death at Autumn. He was the one who rescued Gwyn from her attackers during the war. He was the one to retrieve Elain when she was taken.

She always puts him in this position and, for better or worse, presents him as a safety figure for these women. The first person who they saw come for them, and fight for them, and protect them.

And on the inside she makes him this vile, predatory monster who just thinks constantly about fucking them? Who isn't actually safe at all?? It's sad. And it's infuriating. Because this isn't about ships anymore. This is about female survivors who have an apparent safe person who's presented as almost as dangerous as the people who attacked them in the first place. And that makes me feel so sick and sad that we've gotten here.

It still hurts seeing many readers (and sometimes even sjm) take az’s side and paint mor as some sort of liar/two faced character that is playing everyone. I kept thinking that things would be fixed in future books, but instead az has grown worse and mor was, once again, sidelined and written out as a character.

This is yet another vile thing SJM has done to queer readers with this whole fiasco. Because it puts me in a position where I want to call out her shitty writing, and what she's done to Mor - sidelining her as soon as she became queer. Undermining her power and her strength. Undermining her role as the survivor to look up to. Saying her power is truth but then making her seem like a liar. Which is all shitty, shitty, shitting writing.

But I'm also a queer person. And I will always always ALWAYS want to defend a queer person's right to remain closeted. Regardless of their reasons for doing so. But in this case it's a concern for their safety/a fear of how those around them will react. And I will NEVER condemn that. I will never say Az is suffering more than Mor for her being closeted. I will never call Mor a liar/a manipulator/two-faced when all she's doing is trying to survive.

I WILL condemn SJM for making this a scenario. For putting homophobia in her world purely to cause pain for queer characters, and drama for her straight ones. And for sidelining Mor as soon as she can't write graphic scenes with her fucking men because now she's a lesbian so we best get her off the page so the guys can get their cocks out some more.

And honestly... as much as I love the idea of gwyn x azriel ... I think his books would need a lot more focus on his own recovery/growth and not center on a romantic relationship. If anything, I hope it’s written as friends to lovers so az has a better way of interacting and forming relationships with women. Because right now... well, that shit is borderline predatory and isn’t coming across well. And I really really do not want that for him.

This is going to sound sarcastic but I actually mean it fully and completely genuinely: 95% of the drama inducing problems in this series could be fixed with some fucking therapy.

But I agree with you. I think it's high time Azriel worked on his own issues. Even if they've apparently made a complete 180 from what they were in ACOMAF.

I...Like the concept of Gwyn/Azriel, but I'm not sold on the ship. Not with the way Maas has been writing Azriel lately. That kind of man shouldn't be with any woman right now. But especially not a rape survivor who sees him as one of the first men she's been able to trust in a long time.

Basically, azriel deserves a better arc than what has been written for him. I miss him :( he used to be a character that made me feel safe and now :/ idk anymore

"he used to be a character that made me feel safe" - This shit hit me like a tonne of bricks because this is EXACTLY how I feel about Az, too. You just managed to say it in a few words instead of 12 pages of rambling, like I do.

And I think this was intention. Azriel was presented as a very dependable character. He rescued Mor, and was respectful enough to keep his distance, despite his feelings, for 500 fucking years. Because he didn't think she was ready/interested.

He had a very calm, and calming air about him. Always in control of himself. Without the expected bursts of aggression and temper we'd seen from...Every other male character in this series. He was stable, and solid, and that was comforting. An anchor. And someone who would quietly, and without fuss, seek out Mor/others when they needed someone to talk to or comfort him.

That was a very soothing, reassuring presence in the book, I felt. And now she's made him seem...volatile, and unstable. With this dangerous anger that he can't control, that he uses not to protect, but to intimidate, and to fuel his entitlement and desires.

it's just sad. It's sad that she's taken this away from Mor, but also from other survivors who found comfort and safety in Az. Because I'm sure we weren't alone in that regard.

I miss him. And I mourn the character he was, and feel anger for the character he should have been. but instead he's become yet another possessive, entitled, snarling cardboard cutout dude like...everyone else.

And I ache for the Az/Mor dynamic that we had in ACOMAF. Even without it becoming romantic, there was no reason for that to be destroyed/ruined.

She could have written it that Az is the only one who knows about her sexuality, and that he pretends he's still in love with her as a shield/buffer, so no one looks too closely/to protect her and make her feel comfortable.

Instead she turned it into a soap opera style drama. And wrote it almost as though her sexuality was her cheating on him? Denying him what he deserved. And now she's just...just pussyfooting around it. And apparently he's just. Just moved on. Without them having any kind of conversation or closure at all. He just wanks off to the thought of Elain instead of Mor, now, problem solved /s

I miss what they were. I miss what he was to Mor. I miss when she had that support system, and that safety net. I miss when he protected her. And looked out for her. And understood her in a way that no one else, not even Rhys, did.

Mor deserved that. Azriel deserved that. WE deserved that. And she nuked it for some fucking twisted drama that punishes a lesbian because a man is thirsting after her. it's a fucking disgrace. I'm so fucking done with SJM, y'all. So fucking done.

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innaminitus · 4 years

Text

To meet you again

Pairing: Geralt x reader

Request: Hey! May I request Geralt x reader? Maybe where the reader is a commoner in the kingdom, and while Geralt is there to kill a monster, him and the reader keep crossing paths? But get this: the reader is extremely clumsy and every time they cross paths it’s because of the reader tripping, or running into him, etc ya know? It gets to the point where Geralt starts making small offhand comments about her clumsiness and she shows that she’s actually pretty damn feisty. I’m so excited! Thank you hun! (from @badass-dora-milaje)

and

Hello there. I read your beautiful lake story and just fell in love with your writing style. So I'd like to request a story if I may: Geralt & reader meet up time and time again. She somehow always helps him out (calms a mob, heals his wounds, gives the missing coin he needs) and she's always kind to him. There may be underlying tension between the two, but she doesn't act on it. There is a change in their dynamics though when she endangers her life while trying to help him again and anger and worry finally make him react, pushing her against a wall and showing her how much he truly cares. Now I'd like to leave it up to you if the smut is passionate and either sweet or more angry. I hope this is okay as a request? Thanks so much for sharing your work and doing this! Regards V (from @superconfusedandreadytorumble)

Warnings: smut, language, angst

Word count: 3034

A/N: I didn’t proffread it because i’m a lazy ass

You were… just a nobody, really. Just a clumsy girl, who happened to have just enough healing abilities to help with cuts and burns in the town.

Somehow he always crossed paths with you.

You were picking up the herbs in the forest, finally unbothered. It was the beginning of spring, and the door to your house almost never closed. People were storming you with colds and allergies, sometimes knocking on your door at night. Mothers were… overprotective, bothering you when their sons barely sneezed. In the forest you could finally rest, breathe fresh air and be alone for a change. No one walked that deep into the forest, afraid they might meet leshy and his monsters; you’ve never met him, though and doubted he actually lived in the forest.

That is, until you heard sounds of a fight. Frozen in place, you were too afraid to move. A cry of a beast mixed with hoarse screams and clings of steel, followed by sudden silence. Someone, or something moved for the last time and hit the ground. You waited for any sign that, whoever it was, was still alive.

“Ahh… Fuck.”

Well, that almost definitely was a sound of being alive.

You rushed in the direction of the voice, whose owner, thankfully wasn’t far. A man was on the ground, leaning on the tree, pressing his hand on his thigh. In front of him lied a beast, its horny head detached from its body, slimy blood spilled all over the clearing. Your stomach flew to your throat, but you managed not to vomit at the sight. One deep breath and you looked back at the man. He was bleeding as well, but the difference between him and leshy was that he was still alive.

You walked to him slowly, he turned to you when you stepped on a twig.

“Who are you?” He asked in between sharp breaths. His hair was white and his eyes were oddly yellow.

“A healer. I can help you.” You kneeled next to him and looked at the wound on his thigh. It was deep, and he was losing a lot of blood. You pulled at the hem of your dress and ripped a long stripe, then tied it firmly above the wound. “Come, you need to get up. My home is not far away.”

You held him while he clumsily got up, and supported him while you walked out of the forest.

“So what’s your name, healer?”

“Y/N. And yours?”

“Geralt.”

That was the first time you’ve met Geralt. You healed his wound and said goodbye, believing it was the last time you’d see the white-haired man.

How foolish of you.

He passed your village multiple times, since beasts seemed to adore the forests and swamps surrounding it, and soon the Witcher was a frequent guest in town.

You were reading a book. It wasn’t your fault that you didn’t see him, it was the fault of the heroine in the story, who was making the worst decision of her life.

It wasn’t a pretty picture, really. Geralt was talking to someone, and you just didn’t bother to look above your book. You smashed onto him, hitting him with the book, and hurting your nose badly on his broad back.

“Ouch…”

“What the hell are you doing?” He turned angrily, but his presence softened once he saw you. Not for long, as it seemed, since he started laughing at your miserable form, holding your nose with your palms and tears building in your eyes. He picked up the book you dropped. “I think that’s yours.”

That was the second time. You’ve had pleasant conversation with him, and discovered he also liked books, but haven’t had the time to read them anymore. Turned out he’s not just a pile of muscles and a nice voice.

Finally a day without a single patient. You could spend all calm day on the market, and unbothered buy food. Maybe you’d buy yourself a little treat, maybe a piece or two of peach pie…

You were buying apples when you heard a horse nearby. You smiled softly at Roach tied to a feeder near the inn and walked to her.

“Hello, Roach.” You caressed her head gently. She bumped your basket, full of fresh food. You fed her an apple. “And where’s your owner, huh?”

Suddenly you heard a loud noise in the inn and the door swung open.

“Witch– Witcher!” Geralt stormed out of the inn, the publican right behind him. You didn’t fail to notice how good the Witcher looked, his hair a mess and unbuttoned shirt. “Pay or I’ll swear my boys will kill you in your sleep.”

“You dare to threaten me?” Geralt turned back and faced the publican, who somehow got smaller under his burning sight.

“Geralt,” you called him, stepping closer and placing a hand on his shoulder. “What’s the problem?”

“He haven’t paid for his stay!” The publican shouted.

“I said I’ll pay later!”

“I don’t believe ya Witchers! One day you fuck a whore in my inn, the next day ya dead! And I am left with no money!”

“I’ll pay for him.” You gave the men a few coins.

“That’s not enough!”

“Well, remember about it the next time you drag your pregnant daughter to my house demanding an abortion. And I’ll maybe remember to not tell anyone about it.”

He reddened and, murmuring something under his nose, went back to the inn.

“Abortion?” Geralt raised an eyebrow.

“He has five daughters, and each one is rather frivolous.”

He untied Roach and turned to you.

“Thank you. I’ll repay you, I promise.”

“I know.” You shrugged. “But maybe next time you’re here, stay at my place.”

You tried not to show how many sinful thoughts flew through your head.

He stayed a few times, arriving at the evenings and leaving early in the morning. Unspoken tension between you was enough to keep him away. It wasn’t that you were disappointed, only you were… a little disappointed.

Snow was falling into your eyes as you were trying to make your way back home. You treated a boy with fever, not sure if he would survive the night. The cold was merciless, piercing you through, and you forgot your cloak when you run out to save the boy. Only a thick sweater was protecting you from wind and snow. You cursed your stupidity, dreaming of warm fireplace waiting for you. There was one more thing keeping you warm, but you didn’t really want to admit it to yourself. You just couldn’t help it that his eyes reminded you of the sun.

You stepped onto frozen mud, your poor excuse for shoes not protecting you from sliding all across the puddle. With a squirm you tripped on ice, and waved your hands, trying to catch stability, inefficaciously, only making your situation worse. You were sure to hit the ground, but someone’s warm arm wrapped around you, protecting you from it.

“Geralt,” you gasped, still hanging above the ground.

“Hello, Y/N,” he laughed and pulled you up.

Only this time it was different.

You just… had a feeling. A feeling that you should be out, even though it was night. You wandered around the town, this weird feeling in your guts not allowing you to rest. Your intuition was strong, due to your grandmother being a minor witch, and almost never let you down. It was an unsettling thought, piercing you through, that something bad was going to happen.

You didn’t notice that you left the town and mindlessly walked to the forest. Cold air soothed your burning cheeks and scent of wet grass hit your nostrils. You knew you wouldn’t get lost in this forest, you knew it better than you knew yourself, so you walked deeper, letting your intuition guide you.

Everything was oddly silent. No birds singing, not even the bugs working their way through the bushes. You could barely see in the darkness, but you didn’t need a good sight to feel the blood hanging in the air.

One, two, three vampires, and between them the whitehaired Witcher. You watched the scene with parted lips, as they hypnotized him, one already sucking blood out of Geralt.

You had to help him. A silver knife shone in the moonlight when you took it out of your pocket, glad you took it with yourself. You pressed the blade on your arm and with a deep breath cut the skin deeply, not allowing yourself to whine in pain.

“Blood.” One of the vampires shot his head up.

“Blood.”

“Human.”

You kept squeezing your fist to pump more blood out of the wound.

“Hey, assholes,” you shouted. “How about a dessert?”

Two of them left Geralt and run to you with awful screams, and it was enough for the Witcher to free himself from their power. You didn’t see him killing the vampire still sucking his blood, the two beasts already knocked you down, their cold, dead lips locked on your neck.

A groan was the last thing you heard before you passed out.

The ground was shaking when you woke up. You were flying, you were sure of it. Was this how death felt?

Your eyelids felt awfully heavy when you opened your eyes, the stars were shining on the dark sky. You moved your head. You weren’t dead. You were still in the forest, in someone’s arms.

“Geralt…” Your throat was sore, you were barely able to make a sound.

His jaw was clenched when you looked at him.

“You are… Stupid. Irresponsible. Do you even understand how big of a danger that was?” His voice was shaking from anger, but he tried not to shout.

You moved in his arms.

“Did you kill them?” He nodded. “Geralt, we have to go back.” You tried to fall on the ground, but he was holding you too tight. “Geralt, we need to bury them, their heads apart from their bodies, with iron nails in their skulls… And sprinkle poppy seeds–“

“I did it.”

“What’s with the poppy seeds, though?” You were taking without any sense. “Like… I know they’re supposed to obsessively count them, but do they really do it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Are you mad at me? Don’t be mad at me, please.” You lifted your hand to touch, but it felt weightless. You had no feeling in your limbs, but you could move them. It must’ve been because of the loss of blood.

“Yes, I am mad at you. You should never put your life in danger, not for me, not for anyone else.”

“I wanted to help you.”

“You shouldn’t have. I was dealing with them perfectly fine without you.”

“No, you weren’t,” you snorted. “They were killing you, you needed my help.”

He stopped. You didn’t notice that you already left the forest and were standing in front of your house. He gently placed you on the ground, making sure you wouldn’t trip. Your head was dizzy, but you were able to open the door and walk inside. Familiar scent of candles and herbs soothed you.

“It would be much better if they killed me instead of hurting you,” you said, your back turned to him, as you lit the candles.

He held your arm, and pushed you against the nearby wall.

“No,” he said in a hoarse voice, anger glistening in his amber eyes. “Stop saying such stupid things.”

“Stop telling me I’m stupid!” You were over it. You helped him, and that’s how he thanks?

“How can I, if you obviously are?!”

“You shouldn’t save me then, leaving me as a meal would eliminate me from your life just fine!”

“You must have no idea what you’re saying.” His hands were clenched on your shoulders just like his jaw was clenched when he was talking to you with such anger.

“Enlighten me, then!”

It took him a split second to press his lips onto yours, and to melt you completely.

“Is that clear enough?” He asked in a husky voice, his face millimeters from yours.

“Not– Not really. You’d have to repeat that.”

Only you didn’t give him any time to repeat it, because you threw your arms over his neck and kissed him hurriedly, leaning on him, almost knocking him down. He smiled during the kiss, deepening it, his tongue slid into your mouth, inviting yours to play.

Within a second you forgot about everything, about the vampires, about how bad you felt after the attack. He was more than enough to make you forget.

He lifted you up, and bumped on a closet on the way to your bedroom, making you laugh, quickly silencing you with his tongue. Soon you felt cold sheets under your back, and Geralt’s fingers untying the ribbons of your dress. He slid the material down your shoulders, kissing every inch of the skin that was exposed to him.

He kissed your collarbone, lick the hollow underneath it, his tongue swiped down, to the delicate skin of your breasts and suddenly you weren’t in the mood for laughing. You sighed when he softly tugged the side of your breast, pulling the dress down, exposing your hardened nipples. With a silent groan he closed his warm mouth around one nipple, caressing it with the tip of his tongue. The other one he rolled in his fingers, releasing a moan from you, and you felt him smile at that sound. His big hands kneaded your breasts as he kissed the valley of them before sliding your dress even lower.

His lips never left your body as he made his way down, gently biting your waist, leaving a mark. By the time he got to your hips the heat between your legs was noticeable, just as how wet you were for him. He kissed one hipbone, then another, and ignoring your womanhood kept kissing until he reached your knee, and then, and only then he made his way up. In most torturous of ways he licked the skin of your inner thigh, left hot kisses above the wet trail and finally, after almost driving you crazy, reached your heat.

He didn’t plan to work his way fast. Oh no, he planned to feast on you.

He kissed your folds, yet that was enough to make you squirm. He stuck out his tongue and with just the tip licked a stripe through them, parting them for his warm lips.

“Mm,” he groaned against you “so wet already, and I haven’t even started properly.”

His deep voice was giving you goosebumps, but it was his tongue that made you grab his hair. He flattened it on your pussy, rubbing your clit and forcing a moan out of you. His hands massaged your thighs, but one of it slid to your folds, to the aching clit while he pushed his tongue into you. You arched your back as he worked you this way, his tongue in and out of you, his skilled fingers rubbing vicious circles on your clit.

“Fuck… Geralt, please, don’t stop,” you moaned time after time as he mercilessly drove you to the edge of sanity, forcing an orgasm out of you.

You were shaking as you came on his face, whispering pleads and his name, pleasure holding your throat tight enough for you to not scream. You mindlessly held his head pressed onto you, spasms of ecstasy making you come yet again around his tongue.

He pulled away, his wet mouth and chin glistened in the light of candles as he ripped his clothes and hovered over you. You kissed him, your taste spilled in your mouth as his tongue was dancing with yours.

You felt his hot shaft on your stomach, how it dripped on your skin, making you hungry for more, more of his body, more of his lips. He bucked his hips, caressing your overstimulated clit with his tip, collecting your slick. He slid into you easily, you caught his gasp in your mouth.

“So fucking tight,” he whispered on your neck. “So marvelously tight…”

He pulled out only to push back in, and you were lost yet again, only now it was Geralt as well who lost control. As you expected, he wasn’t the one to be gentle.

He rammed into you like a wild animal, sounds of moans and wet bodies smacking filled the room and your ears. You reached above your head to hold the frame of the bed, but he had other plans. With sadistic smile he grabbed your wrists with one hand and held them still as his other hand held firmly your hip, sure to leave bruises. All you could do was to wrap your legs around him to make him reach deeper, and moan when he buried himself balls deep into you.

His thrusts were fast and violent, his eyes travelled from your waving breasts to your parted lips, as you begged for more, for him to never stop.

“Gods– You fill me so fucking good–“ You squirmed as your whole body moved to his pace.

“That’s right,” he groaned, leaning over you as your muscles clenched hard on his length. “I want you to come all over my cock.”

You would never deny that order. A heat wave hit you hard, overtaking your body in its silky arms, as pleasure spilled all over your mind just as Geralt’s cum spilled deep inside your pussy. Your legs were shaking when you rode down your orgasm with his gasps near your ear.

He fell on the bed next to you, panting.

“So… So you care for me. If I got the message right,” you said in between heavy breaths and looked at him.

“Pretty much, yes.”

He also looked at you before you both laughed. He pulled you to a soft kiss before closing you in his warm arms. There was nothing that could disturb that night. Not when you felt so warm, so safe next to him.

You placed your head on his chest and soon the sleep surrounded you like a fog. And you dreamed, dreamed about amber eyes and clear blue skies.

___

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heyitsyn · 4 years

Text

Oh God

TimeTraveler!Son x Haikyuu!! Part 2

a/n: hehe i wouldnt put ‘x haikyuu’ if manager y/n ends up with that certain character. youll just have to,,,, wait for the end 😏

he didnt want to lie but he had to so he could survive

hinata offered his hand to help him up and natsu winced at the scratches and the slight headache as he stood on his two feet

‘you okay?’

hinata asked and natsu nodded

‘yea, just a headache’

natsu tried to play it off as cooly as he could bc this must’ve been from the car hit before and he couldnt just say he got ran over by a damn car

‘where do you live? i can go and treat your wounds there’

natsu was about to respond but he remembers hes not in tokyo anymore and he cant just spout out his address

so he did the thing his mom told him to do whenever it was necessary

he lied

‘i-um,,,’

he fumbled for an excuse but he sighed to maintain the act

‘i got kicked out’

he mumbled and hinata had to make him repeat it twice because he said it so quietly

the tangerine boy gasped and held his arms

‘what?! why?!’

natsu sniffled

‘my dad,,,, he just,,, doesnt want me’

well, that was actually true

so a true statement could equal that lie, right?

thankfully, hinata bought it and he grabbed his arm to walk forward while his other was pushing his bike

‘i hit you with my bike so the least i could do is take you to my house and treat you!’

and that was what they did

natsu’s phone was dead even though he was sure he charged it from denki’s powerbank during practice but it remained its black screen no matter how many times he hit the power button

his surroundings was also something unfamiliar

his mother only kept him in tokyo and never took him to go visit her family because she was kicked out and had to go live with her auntie when she found out about him and his father refused to help her

‘so, sendai, huh?’

he mumbled and hinata looked at him confused

‘sounds like youre not from around here. where you from?’

‘t-tokyo’

he replied and saw hinata’s eyes brighten

‘oh?! you look like youre my age so you must have been in a high school in tokyo, right? what school?’

‘yuuei’

‘hah?! yuuei?! what is that?!’

natsu rolled his eyes and shrugged

‘a school’

hinata persisted though

‘do you know other schools?! any other school friends?! like nekoma?! or fukurodani?!’

natsu shook his head and he was supposed to be happy that he got to meet, even talk, to his idol yet his younger self was much more hyper than his mellowed out behavior on tv

‘i stick to my friends from yuuei’

‘but what are you doing all the way here?’

natsu’s throat dried up and he watched his feet kick the pebbles to distract him of his urge to just whine and throw a tantrum with the confusion from this mess

‘i dont know’

he choked out and he was so tired and confused and all he wants to do is cry in his mother’s arms like he used to but she doesnt even know he exists

hinata sensed the tension and sadness from the boy beside him and tried his best to stay quiet until they get home

to say his mom was angry was an understatement

‘SHOYO, DONT YOU KNOW TO WATCH WHERE YOURE GOING?!’

‘kaa-san i was so angry and bakageyama was yelling at me and hit me and-’

‘THAT DOESNT GIVE YOU AN EXCUSE TO RUN SOMEONE OVER!’

natsu sat there on their couch awkwardly watching the black-haired woman yell at the human tangerine

he coughed in impulse and she turned away from her son and went to sit next to the h/c boy

‘dear, im so sorry for my son and his terrible biking. i didnt catch your name when you entered, what is it?’

even hinata forgot to ask his name but thats such a hinata thing to do though

natsu froze

if he was to say his mother’s last name, it would raise suspicion that he might know her in this time period and izuku has shown him enough doctor who to show him what happens when he messes up in time

again, he lied

‘kiri,,,shima,,, natsu. kirishima natsu’

he inwardly apologized to eijirou for using his last name

mrs. hinata raised a hand to her mouth with a surprised gasp

‘oh! my daughter’s name is also natsu! natsu, dear! can you come here for a second?’

natsu heard soft sounds from the stairs and she shyly walked down

‘come say hi’

she softly urged her daughter to come closer and the little girl ran to hide behind her older brother who gently smiled and held her hand

‘well, thats her. she just turned 10 a few days ago. look dear, kirishima-kun has the same name as you!’

she waved slightly and natsu felt his heart swell at the sight of the adorable little girl

his mother never really had time for relationships so he was an only child and never got to experience a sibling, only hearing the experience of having siblings from his friend, shouto

mrs. hinata placed a gentle hand on his arm to revert his attention back to her

‘shoyo told me what happened and im sorry that this is all happening to you’

he felt guilty at the sight of her sad eyes because this was all a lie but he knew if he told them the real reason, they wouldnt believe him

so he had to continue with the lie

‘everything was falling apart and i wanted to leave everything behind. so i just took the shinkansen to nowhere and ended up here’

mrs. hinata felt her heart tug because he was just a little boy and he was too young to experience this so she offered him something he shouldnt have agreed to but again, survival

‘you can stay with us in the mean time. our guest room has been collecting dust so you can live here’

‘what? no! i can’t!’

natsu instinctually turned it down because he hated people giving him charity

but the woman squeezed his arm to give him a smile

‘i will not allow a child to live in the streets because of something he couldnt help’

‘arent you worried youre inviting a total stranger in your home?’

but she gave him a knowing smile

‘im a mother. i can trust you, boy’

in exchange for board and food, he promised to get a part time job so he could pay her back and get out of their house as quickly as he could

shoyo led him to the bathroom upstairs so he could treat the wounds from the ground

natsu sat on the closed toilet seat while his literal idol was putting cream on his boo-boos

he still cant wrap his head with everything

maybe it was because he was so busy trying to come up with lies that he wasnt able to fully sit down and think about the fact that he just TRAVELED BACK IN TIME and could accidentally change it

‘shoyo, what year is it?’

he mumbled

‘2012′

he answered and natsu sighed but his head perked up

oh god

2012

thats a year away from 2013

the year he was born

that meant shoyo’s team manager was going to give birth to him next year

‘why? did you hit your head so far that you forgot?’

hinata joked but he paled when natsu didnt laugh

‘OH GOD DID YOU?!’

‘NO! AND STOP YELLING!’

natsu shouted, equally surprised

‘whew, thank god. again, im so sorry i hit you’

‘shoyo, dont worry about it, okay? im fine, i swear’

during dinner, mrs. hinata told him about his school situation

‘you can go to karasuno with shoyo. what year were you in?’

‘first’

‘perfect! shoyo is too so he could easily help you around the school!’

natsu nodded quietly, still out of it and his brain finally starting to accept this impossible reality

‘but i dont think i could help you with the entrance exams. im not the most-um-smartest, per se’

shoyo apologized but natsu already knew that

he was no extreme fanatic but he knew quite a lot about hinata shoyo, the player he watched during the 2021 olympics and the reason he started playing volleyball

natsu dreamed to join the msby jackals just like his idol did and eventually reach the national team like hinata did

it was during the olympics of 2021, he knew he wanted to be like him

this boy who sat next to him was the reason he came to love volleyball along with his other idol, oikawa tooru, from the argentina volleyball team after seeing that legendary match

when oikawa hit that service ace, natsu wanted to be able to receive that

he was merely 8 and his neighbor, midoriya inko, was babysitting him and she placed him and her son who was his friend, izuku, in front of the tv where they watched the olympics match

‘someday, ill be someone great. ill be great like him’

he promised and from then on, he worked to achieve that goal

‘natsu? hello?’

he was shaken from his thoughts as shoyo nudged him back to reality

mrs. hinata laughed

‘maybe you should head to bed early, dear. you must be tired after having a hard journey’

he nodded and was about to go and wash his dishes when she stopped him

‘no. go and sleep, ill take care of this’

‘i have to do my part in here, hinata-san. please, let me do this’

she finally agreed and he was scrubbing the plates when his mind wandered over to possible solutions on how he could go back

there was an episode that he watched with izuku that the character had to do something to go back

and he had a feeling that he would have to do the same thing

but what would that something be?

there had to be a reason he was thrown all the way in this time and it couldnt just be a coincidence that supposedly, this would be around the same time his mother would get pregnant

but who would it be?

he finished putting the plates on the drying rack and he felt really thirsty suddenly

opening the fridge, he found no water bottles and natsu had a very sensitive stomach so he couldnt drink tap water

his next favorite beverage was there and he pulled a glass from the cabinet

‘hinata-san, is it okay if i can have some milk?’

he called out and she shouted that it was okay

natsu poured the drink on his glass and started drinking it when hinata entered the kitchen and snickered at him

‘yknow, you remind me of my idiot teammate. none of my other friends drink straight milk except for him’

natsu placed the glass down and wiped his lips

‘chocolate milk make me sick and i hate the taste of flavoring in milk. but i just hate flavoring in general. except for gari gari popsicles, those are good’

natsu reasoned, watching hinata move across the room to get an apple

‘still ew. but come on! lets go to bed so i can show you around school early before practice tomorrow!’

natsu noticed his excitement by the way he bounced in place and he chuckled

it reminded him of his friends mina and denki

hinata led them both to his room so he could check his wounds again just to make sure

then something caught his eye

‘kirishima-kun you like volleyball?!’

that threw him off

partly because he wasnt used to being called by his friend’s last name

but also because of the question

‘huh? how do you know that?’

natsu asked, almost defensively

hinata shrugged

‘i saw your volleyball shoes in your bag’

hinata reasoned and excitedly pointed at them

‘you should play for us! im part of the team too! oh oh! what position do you play?!’

‘l-libero’

natsu stuttered out, slightly overwhelmed by hinata’s energy

hinata started circling him, inspecting his height and looking at him up and down

‘yanno, kirishima-kun, youre really tall. like much taller than the rest of my club. maybe not saltyshima but really!! youre so tall!!’

hinata whined in envy and natsu laughed

‘blame it on the paternal side of the family. my ma isnt really tall’

he laughs but then memories of his mother resurfaced and he suddenly felt gloomy, guilty, even, bc he doesnt know if time stopped there or it kept going and if so, shes probably worried sick

and he knew she was always one who blamed herself

hinata noticed his downcast expression and thought he probably remembers his dad and got sad since he got kicked out

so our baby sunshine freaked out and he frantically waved his hands around

‘oh no! gomen kiri-kun! gomen! i really didnt mean to make you think about him! gomen!!!’

he even bowed which surprised the h/c boy and made him stand back up

‘o-oi shoyo! dont! you didnt because i wasnt thinking about him!’

he fussed and patted hinata’s hair

‘i dont care about him. to be honest, there isnt much to think about’

he didnt think about what he said until he heard himself

natsu’s eyes widened, fearful of how hinata could take it but he flinched when the orange-haired boy’s eyes were filled with his own tears

‘OH NO!! KIRI-KUN!!!’

then launched another series of apologies and natsu had to calm him down

oh dear

it was early in the morning like 5 when hinata bursted into natsu’s room

the loud shout of shoyo made his eyes blink open and he groaned before turning to the side

‘come on, kiri-kun! we need to go to take your exam!’

‘nooooooooo’

‘yeeessssssss’

it was quite a battle for hinata to even just get natsu out of bed but he managed to bribe the latter with some milk bread from the bakery down the street

‘2′

natsu showed his two fingers and hinata sighed before nodding

‘yes. now go hurry so we can leave!’

dressed in his grey sweatpants and a yuuei sweatshirt, natsu cursed as he only has clothes good for 2 days and he didnt want to bother the hinatas so he was at a loss

mrs hinata bid the two boys good bye and natsu was yawning and dragging his body to walk while hinata was skipping over to his bike

then he finally realized the problem

he nervously looked at natsu and the taller boy didnt understand why he was looking at him that way

‘what?’

shoyo pointed at the bike and awkwardly smiled

‘uh,,, you see,,, i dont think youd,,, fit,,, at the back seat’

natsu shrugged

‘then ill bike. ive done it before’

he sauntered over to the bike and swiftly lifted his leg before testing out the brake handles

‘its good and better than mine back home’

‘a-are you-’

‘sit down, sho’

hinata gripped on to the back of natsu’s sweatshirt as he told him the directions to how to get to the school

natsu remembered watching an interview of hinata talking about his high-school life and he remembered the star player talking about his dedication to go to karasuno everyday for volleyball

and the boy couldn’t believe hes doing that right now, with his idol literally behind him, and driving to the legendary karasuno high school

from the jackals to the adlers and even some other teams like the frogs, natsu cheered for them

there was a memory of his mother sitting with him on their couch during one of her rare day offs as they rewatched the recorded copy of the olympics

it has become natsu’s favorite thing to watch

‘with great talent comes great hardships. people don’t become good overnight and i watched those people suffer through it all but look where they are now’

‘KIRISHIMA, WATCH OUT! COWS CROSSING!’

natsu was snapped out of his thoughts at hinata’s shout

then it morphed into pure and utter confusion

‘cows?’

shoyo laughed

‘since youre from the city, this must be a weird sight for you, huh? well, in the countryside, this happens a lot!’

but natsu didnt mind

in fact, he loved cows

he loved any farm animal in general

maybe it was his upbringing in the hustle and bustle of the city that he grew to love the countryside

shoto took him with his family to a trip to the country once and he remembered loving the smell of grass

they were able to do an activity in a farm where they worked in a rice farm and the peace and serenity was something he will always remember

his mother was lucky she grew up in a place like this

‘kiri-kun, ive been wanting to ask, how is your volleyball team in the city? are you a powerhouse?’

natsu felt pride bubble up in his chest

‘of course! we got second place in nationals!’

he boasted and blurted out before he could stop himself

then he felt fear

he shouldnt have said that because for all he knows, yuuei probably doesn’t exist at this time period

hinata had a different reaction and his eyes shone

‘WHAT?! WOAH! SO COOL! I HAVE TO TELL OUR CAPTAIN THAT WE’RE GETTING A POWERHOUSE STUDENT!’

‘uh-i-uh-’

natsu didnt know what to say because he had a feeling he definitely just did an oopsie

so he switched topics really quick to divert the attention away from his past

‘o-oi sho, once youre done being a pro volleyball player and stuff, we should have our own rice farm’

of course it was such a random idea but it distracted the orange boy

hinata shrugged

‘i mean,,, i have to be a pro first but i guess we can!’

‘hmm,,,, i dont think you have to worry about that’

.................................................

taglist:

@hartbeat-art @yakus-yakult @nerdyphantomlady @jollycowboysaladhero @cynicallychaotic

a/n: oh god this sat in my drafts for so long and i really dont know what im doing like i kinda have a rough outline of what im doing but im just going with the flow but i dont think the flow is quite flowy

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cblgblog · 3 years

Text

You know what I think about a lot? The dinner scene in 1X05 where Mildred asks Gwendolyn to the dance. More specifically the, “I was very in love with a girl,” bit from Gwendolyn.

Now this is a Murphy show, so I don’t expect proper follow-up on this, but I do wish for it, and I am endlessly fascinated by it because there’s so much character stuff there, on both sides.

Like on Gwen’s side of it, when did she meet this girl? How and where? We have almost zero Gwendolyn Briggs backstory, and I need it, okay? More specifically, when did this woman die? How recent is that scar when she starts to pursue Mildred? It could’ve been anywhere, roughly, between 1942-1945. Show is in ’47 so, there’s a pretty big range there. How healed or not healed was she when she started falling for Mildred, and had those advances rebuffed so many times?

And then there’s her marriage. She says in 1x03 that it was her idea, that it’s been a 3-year arrangement. Which would mean 1944, roughly. When did she lose this woman, in relation to her marriage? She says it was her idea, was it her idea before or after this woman? Did she lose this woman and then approach Trevor with it? In her grief, did she com up with a plan for safety, security? Security in the world that had been upside-down for years at that point, and then took away the person she loved? Or was she already married to Trevor when it happened? Did she have him around to console her? Did she have him around to unintentionally make things worse, since we know both of them were sleeping with other people? Did he have anything serious going on while she was mourning? Hell, did he have his own soldier boy who was off to war at the same time? Was Gwendolyn married and working for Wilburn when this went down? Did she have to endure the casual hey, how are you and your husband doing, oh great, glad you’re so happy, comments from well-meaning people at work? Did she have to listen to Wilburn and all his grossness, the way he talked about women, while mourning someone she loved? Did she even get to attend the funeral?

Again, 98% of this, at least, will be unanswered, because it’s Murphy and it’s non-essential, and there’s so much else happening at any given time. But it interests me.

And Mildred. Jesus, Mildred. First off, let’s talk about the awful circumstances that led up to that scene. To recap, she pushes Gwen away, multiple times, like Gwen says. Then she essentially blames Gwen for the hitman being dead, you were the intruder, Gwendolyn. And then, when Gwen is obviously screwed up from that very screwed up situation, Mildred comes to her in that vulnerable moment and hey, I just want to make sure you’re alright, you want to have dinner with me after I’ve treated you horribly and now blamed you for a horrific death? Like, it’s horrible, guys. How they got to that dinner scene is horrible. How Mildred got Gwen to that dinner scene is horrible.

To be clear, I fucking love this ship. They live rent free in my brain now, always. Mildred means it when she says her feelings for Gwen are the truest thing in her, and I don’t think she means it to be a manipulative thing, when she goes into that car and asks Gwen to dinner. She is genuinely wanting to make sure that Gwen’s okay. Thing is, no, no Gwen isn’t okay. She couldn’t be after that. And she’s not okay because, again, Mildred essentially put that death on her. Which, Mildred didn’t do that to hurt her. She didn’t. She did it because they were in an impossibly fucked up situation and it was the only way she saw at that moment to survive it. So much of her life has just been about basic survival. She’s had to struggle with that for so long, that at this point she’ll do almost anything just to keep going, for herself and for Edmund. Because that’s how she’s been forced to live, it’s what she knows. She didn’t go into that car, with Gwen at a vulnerable moment, with deliberate attempt to manipulate, but it was a manipulative move. And I don’t even know whether or not she realizes that, which makes it that much more interesting.

So fine, it’s been a long, twisted road, now they’re at dinner, the dinner scene is truly lovely, truly. Gwen says the thing about her dead lover, Mildred says, “Isn’t it funny then, that I’m a nurse?”

So, she isn’t, technically. That’s the first bit of manipulation there. But it’s almost overshadowed completely by her adding that comment at all. She didn’t need to. She wasn’t saying anything Gwen didn’t know already, or think she knew, since again, not technically a nurse. She could’ve just said I’m sorry, that’s awful. She could’ve been silent and just held Gwen’s hand. She did neither. In another vulnerable moment for Gwen, a moment of openness that Mildred arguably doesn’t deserve after how she treated Gwen previously, she draws that direct line of comparison between herself and this person that obviously still has a place in Gwen’s heart. And again it’s such a manipulative thing to do, but that’s not what kills me about it.

What kills me here is that she absolutely does not need to.

Gwen couldn’t be clearer regarding her interest in Mildred. She risked herself terribly on their first goddamn date by taking Mildred to that bar. She risked herself terribly and she had to know that, but she did it anyway, such was the level of her interest in Mildred. The fact she even came to dinner with Mildred after all that bs speaks volumes. And at that point in the conversation, Mildred has already confessed her feelings, Gwen has already agreed that yes, absolutely, we will do this however you need. Only then does she add the bit about her lost love.

Gwen was so gone on Mildred already. And I don’t know if she thought consciously to add the, I’m a nurse line or not. But what kills me is the implication. It could just be that she doesn’t even recognize the irony, the lie, that she doesn’t even register that technically she’s not a nurse, so it’s a bit of a weird line to connect. But it also seems to me—and both of these things could be true at the same time—that she added it because she felt she had to. That she felt she had to draw Gwen closer to her, making that connection, because otherwise, somehow, Gwen might not want her or like her enough, so let’s make this connection to someone she most definitely loved. And it’s so damn sad, if that’s the case, and so telling. Even the possibility that, after all Gwen’s shown her, Mildred still thinks she has to add that detail to keep Gwen interested? It’s just, incredibly sad.

Anyway, it might seem like I’m trashing Mildred here, with all this talk of manipulation, but I’m not. She hurt Gwen in earlier eps because she was confused and scared out of her mind, not out of malice. The stuff pointed out here that comes later, most of it, I don’t think even registers with her as questionable or problematic. Which is what makes it so fascinating character-wise. She’s had to lie and manipulate so much to survive that it’s second nature at this point, as Gwen says in 1x07. She’s not lying about her feelings for Gwen, not the way Gwen says when she says those words. But Gwen’s still right, in the sense that Mildred is draped in so many lies and manipulation that sometimes they don’t even register with her.

She goes to Gwen with actual honesty, for once, after so many lies and half-truths and manipulations. But one of the ones that gets me the most is still the, isn’t it funny that I’m a nurse. Because it’s so telling, and so sad, and so indicative of Mildred’s state of mind.

Mildred was enough on her own. She’s always been enough on her own, as far as Gwen’s concerned, but she couldn’t see that. Not then, at least. Here’s hoping she can now, that those 3 years together got the message across.

#ratched #mildred ratched #gwendolyn briggs #mildolyn

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libsterslobsters · 3 years

Text

I'm Gonna Crawl: Post 2

Post 1

Summary: Five years. That's how long the reader and Bucky have been apart (although for him, it was only five minutes) Now with Thanos defeated and both of them taking up the mantle of Avengers, can their relationship return to what it was? Or will they have to discover a new normal?

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x fem! enhanced! super-soldier! Reader (Reader can see pieces of the future in visions as well as speak every language)

Warnings: Angst, fluff, language, smut (IF YOU ARE UNDER EIGHTEEN, DON'T READ!!!)

*************************************************

One of the perks of being “enhanced” or in this case, a super soldier, is that you heal quickly. Within seventy-two hours, the bullet wound in his leg (not to mention the cut and black eye he sustained from several sharp blows to the face) and her matching one in the shoulder are almost completely healed, only a vague pink mark to show they were ever injured. The downside is-

“Do you want to punch sandbags until they fly off the hook, or run thirty miles around the compound first? I’ll start with whichever you don’t pick.” -they’re back to training as well.

He almost answers that he really doesn’t want to do either, it’s Sunday morning, for fuck’s sake, but it’s not like this is her first choice for what she could be doing this morning either, so he goes with-

“Punching things first. Think I woke up on the wrong side of the bed, so I’d best get it out of my system.” She nods and, squeezing his arm, takes off at a jog.

“See you on the other side.”

His instinct is to tell her to take it easy, she lost a lot of blood the other day and who knows if there’s been some bone or muscular damage that hasn’t quite fixed itself yet, but again, he swallows it down and focuses on the task at hand. Namely, taking out his bad mood on a punching bag.

Usually, when his body is in motion, his mind is at least somewhat at rest, but this time around, the exertion is just adding fuel to the flames. He’s too pissed off to just zone out and concentrate on hitting the target, still too busy trying to process what the hell happened three nights ago.

It was their first mission together. She’s been on a few separate from him, and he and Sam get called out together on the regular. Stupidly, he assumed that, since her specialty is translating or gathering intel, maybe being the little voice in someone’s ear to direct them through a maze of assailants and twisting corridors her visions had allowed her a glimpse of ahead of time, she’d be out of the line of fire. At the very least, most of the attention would be on him and Sam. But no, she was the bogey. She drew fire while he waltzed through a military fortress, recapturing stolen tech. When Rhodey so much as mentioned that possibility, he should’ve told him no, hard no. If anyone’s drawing fire, it’s him. Still, in his arrogance, he assumed it wouldn’t come to that extreme. Sam’s good at his job, and as much as he hates the reason behind it, so is he. They should’ve been able to hold the line without her painting a target on her back.

That, of course leads to yet another issue. He’s also pissed at himself for instinctively seeing her as more fragile, something that needs to be protected. Even before the same chemicals running through his veins infected her, she’d proven that she’s a damn capable person. He knows that she’s smart, both strategically and academically. Add onto that the fact that she’s fast and strong, not to mention she has visions (less than helpful ones most of the time, but they have their moments), and she’s a powerful ally. He certainly wouldn’t want to be on her bad side. And yet, when he saw that she’d been hit, his mind completely emptied. He wouldn’t have been able to remember which end of a gun to use if his life depended on it, because all he could think was, “Oh god. She’s hurt.” It’s old-fashioned, outdated. He should be past this mindset, at least when it comes to work. Out there, she’s his fellow soldier, not the woman he lies awake next to in bed, sometimes for hours, just to listen to her breath and know he’s not alone. Did Steve ever put Peggy in that box, he wonders? No, of course not, because Steve’s a better man than he ever was or will ever be. So yeah, he’s pissed off at himself.

And finally, although he can barely admit it to his own mind, he’s pissed off at her. Logically he knows it’s mostly fear, some primal instinct to protect what’s his, but every time he imagines her being shot, having a bullet pass by her lungs and arteries by a very narrow margin, and then telling Sam not to let him know that she was hit, it irks him. Did she think he’d come unhinged? Screw up? Or is she stuck in the mindset she seems to have adopted as a response to the last five years of “Screw looking after myself. It doesn’t matter.” A small part of him realizes that he didn’t call in either when he took a bullet, but that’s him! And, now he’s circling back to guilt for treating her like she’s weak.

All in all, he’s so damn furious that he doesn’t realize he’s no longer alone until she grabs hold of his arm just as he goes to swing again.

“Jesus, Bucky. I know you’re grouchy, but don’t you think destroying five punching bags in thirty minutes is enough? Save some aggression for the run.”

He looks up to tell her something (I’m sorry? Damn right I’m grouchy? Let me take you home and wrap you in blankets so that nothing will ever hurt you again?) and catches sight of her sweat-soaked face. He hates how far she takes things with the running. It’s like she’s trying to see what the limits are, how much she can punish her body before it gives out and she drops. That’s what it was in the very beginning after the snap. She’s told him that. Now he wonders if she’s really as recovered from everything that’s happened as she claims.

“Have you had anything to drink? Water, or-” She groans and reaches to detach the punching bag (there’s a decent sized rip in it where he was hitting it over and over), making her shirt ride up. Her clothes were already so tight that just seeing her out of the corner of his eye was making it hard to think, but now they’re completely adhered to her in a way that’s nearly obscene thanks to all the sweat. Dammit. Think about something else. He needs to think about something else.

“Yes, I’m on my second water bottle, thank you Barnes. I’m not stupid, you know.”

“Just self-destructive.” It slips out before he can stuff it down. Her mouth falls open in shock momentarily, but then she squares her shoulders and looks him directly in the eyes.

“You’re one to talk. Always running straight towards the fire instead of putting it out first.”

“That’s my job.”

“It’s your hangup.” She laughs bitterly. “Bucky Barnes, the big, bad Winter Soldier. You’ve decided you’re so fucked up that the only way you can make amends is to run headlong towards whatever’s trying to kill you, without backup I might add, and keep to your mission no matter what your personal damage is.”

“Says the woman who took a bullet and stopped Sam from announcing that you’re hit.” They’re teetering closer and closer to a fight with every nearly snarled word, but he’s powerless to stop it. In fact, he’s ready to go. Have it out. But not right now, because-

“Hey.” He catches her arm just as she starts to hoist another punching bag onto the hook. “Be careful! You’re still healing.” -she’s hellbent on hurting herself. Again.

She whirls around as if he’s slapped her.

“Oh my god. You have to stop.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop treating me like I’m going to break!” Her voice is shrill, rising higher and higher with each syllable. “I love you, but you are driving me insane. I am not your child-”

“No, you’re the person I want to marry!” He takes a deep breath, preparing to follow up with, “-and you keep acting like you have a death wish”, but before he can-

“You won’t even fuck me anymore!” Immediately, her eyes go wide and she slaps a hand over her mouth.

If her declaration surprised her, it absolutely stunned him so, not quite sure what else to do, he takes a few steps back and sits down. A few seconds pass before she approaches and, with a heavy sigh, sinks down next to him.

“Bucky, I am so sorry. I don’t know where any of this is coming from-”

“I think you do, Doll.” Her eyes dart nervously between his face and the floor. On instinct, he reaches over and takes her hand. “And so do I.” He takes a few moments to rearrange his thoughts before pushing ahead. “A lot has changed since-”

“The world ended. We lost. And then we won.” He nods.

“Yeah, and I don’t think either of us have quite wrapped our heads around it. I know I haven’t.”

It’s silent for a moment, and then, voice trembling, she tells him,

“After you went away, I was completely lost. Didn’t know why I had to stay. What kind of cruel trick is it, just when everything was starting to go right-” He finally had the poison of HYDRA sucked out of him, she’d found a safe place where she didn’t have to run and hide because of something she was born with, he’d worked up the nerve to ask her if she’d maybe one day be his wife. “-and then it’s wiped out? You finally went somewhere I couldn’t follow.” He still can’t imagine what those five years must’ve been like, not just for her, but everyone else who survived the snap. “I didn’t want to keep going. But I had to.” She chuckles. “Steve wouldn’t let me throw in the towel.”

A smile forms on his own face. “Yeah, he had a habit of doing that.”

“I guess…” She sighs. “I don’t know. I got harder, rougher around the edges. I thought I could just go back to normal once everyone came back-”

“But old habits die hard.” It’s not a question, but she nods.

“Yeah, and as much as I chip away at it, I’m not sure I’ll ever get back to who I was before.”

“You won’t.” She peers up at him, eyes wide in shock, maybe a hint of sadness. “I can tell you that right now from experience. You won’t go back, but-” He’s had a lot of time to consider this, so he can say it and absolutely believe it. “-I love the girl that’s here now. She’s pretty amazing, rough edges and all.”

She’s sitting so close. He could pull her into his lap, just hold her for a minute. So, that’s what he does, and just like the first time, they fit together perfectly, like she was made to fit in his arms, or maybe he was made to hold her. Either way, it leaves no doubt in his mind that they belong together.

“You changed. Everyone does. You got stronger and tougher, because that’s who you had to be. And I wasn’t there to change with you.” He can feel her shoulders shake, and even though she’s facing away from him, he knows she’s fighting back tears. “But I’m gonna catch up. It’s just taking me a while to get it through my thick skull that my girl’s a badass, and I need to ease off the bodyguard routine a little.” There. That’s more like it. A laugh, even if it’s a small one. “I just worry about you, is all. I don’t know how to stop it, and I’m not sure I can, but I’m working on it.”

“I worry about you too, you know.” She sniffs, swiping at her nose with her hand. “I’m fucking terrified because, now that I’m like you, I know what your limits are. I’m scared you’ll forget them, or you’ll ignore them because you’re trying to be a good man.” She cranes her head, meeting his gaze. “But you are a good man, Bucky Barnes. You never stopped being one, no matter what you think.”

“I think your picture of me might be more flattering than who I really am.”

“Shut up.” She presses her palm over his mouth. “I have visions, so seeing is never my problem. And it’s not the way I’m picturing you. We’ve known each other long enough for the shine to wear off.” Never. It’ll never be possible for him to know her so long that she’s not absolutely golden from where he’s standing. “It’s who you’ve shown me you are. And if the rest of the world doesn’t see it, that’s their problem. Not yours.”

He’s not sure if he buys all that, but it’s enough that she does. She sees him as that man, so he’ll try every day of his life to be just that.

“Come on.” Gently pushing her off of him, he stands and offers her his hand. “That’s enough training for today. We’re still wounded.”

She chuckles. “Is that your excuse for calling it early?”

He nods, barely suppressing a grin. “That, and you’ve gotta change into something that doesn’t fit you like a second skin before my brain permanently short-circuits.”

“Showers, then?”

“Showers.”

___________________________________________________________________________________

The compound sustained heavy damage thanks to Thanos crashing a ship into it, but in the past few months (helped along by Pepper’s billions and the entire galaxy’s appreciation towards the Avengers in equal parts), enough repairs have been done to make it partially usable. In this case, the locker room. Just the one, though. Which, of course means co-ed showers.

She won’t admit it, but she’s particularly appreciative of that little detail today. As she circled the compound on her last lap, she saw that the only two cars there are hers and Barnes. They’re the only two people here, and she fully intends to use that to her advantage.

“Join me? I don’t want to overextend my shoulder trying to wash my hair or back.” It’s a blatant lie, and from his expression, she can tell that he knows it too. But, he nods.

“Yeah, doll. I can do that.” Part one of the plan has been executed beautifully. Onward to part two.

She purposely leaves the travel sized bottles of shampoo and body wash on the floor so that, after rinsing off for far longer than is really necessary, she has to bend over to retrieve them. If it weren’t for her enhanced hearing, she’d completely miss the sharp intake of breath in response to her little show, but she catches it and can’t help grinning to herself. Part two: get him as worked up as she is. So far, so good.

The feeling of his fingers massaging her scalp, working the shampoo through her hair, is almost enough to make her forget that she’s a woman on a mission. Almost. As soon as she’s rinsed the soap out of her face, she turns to him.

“Your turn. Bend.” It’s not the first time they’ve done this, and as always, she has to fight back a laugh as he inclines his head towards her, the entirety of his hair falling forward to cover his face. “This used to take a lot longer before you decided to chop it all off.” He chuckles, eyes closed against the soap.

“What can I say? Seventy-three years without a haircut is my limit.” She can’t blame him, and although it was a shock at first, she’s come to like this new look. It makes him look…younger, somehow. More boyish. Like his life hasn’t contained as many horrors as they both know full well it has.

“You checking for lice or something?”

“Huh?” That jerks her out of her sentimental daze. “Looks like you’re clear.”

There’s no way to put it politely. She’s straight up ogling him as he rinses off. Five damn years…

“Ready to get your back?” And, she just got caught staring.

“Sure.”

His hands are gentle, putting as little pressure on her injured shoulder as possible, growing firmer as they work down her back. She holds her breath as she feels his palms ghost over the swell of her ass, but then he’s back to safer territory. At least, that’s what she thinks until the metal arm snakes around her chest, just below her breasts, holding her in place. His free hand runs down from her sternum to her middle, stopping just above her hips, then- fuck. Nothing. He’s backing away.

“Do you need help with your legs?” No, what she needs help with is located between them. Suddenly, the shower feels far too hot, and she’s desperate to cool off.

“That’s okay.” Her voice is shaky, and she mentally berates herself as she steps under the spray, rinsing away the soap.

She’s not at all sure that her excuse for leaving the shower and going to towel off made any sense, but with a few feet between them, she’s able to breath again. Alright, scratch the whole “shower seduction” idea. It wasn’t that great to begin with. She gets him as hot and bothered as she is, and then what? Shower sex is a slippery affair, and plus there’s the height difference… in the steamed up mirror, she catches sight of him climbing out of the shower and toweling off. Fuck it. What does she have to lose?

“Come here.” As he turns around, she hops up on the counter top (thank fuck Stark went all out and got the sinks that can easily hold the weight of an adult), allowing her towel to slip further down her chest.

She doesn’t miss the way his eyes flit down to her cleavage before settling back on her face as he stands in front of her.

“Yeah, Doll?”

“Let me get your hair. You’ll never get it dry yourself.” She’s really running low on excuses, but if she plays her cards right, she won’t have to keep up this ruse for much longer.

“You know-” She murmurs against his ear as she starts working a towel over his tousled locks, “-if you don’t take me right now, I’m gonna be really offended.”

His head snaps up, and she nearly drops the towel.

“Well, I can’t let that happen, can I?”

She has a smart-ass remark all planned out, but then his lips are pressed against hers, hard, insistent, and her brain completely empties of anything other than pure need. She’s not completely sure how, but somehow the towel wrapped around her torso (it’s so short, it didn’t even cover her ass sitting down) disappears, leaving them chest to chest, both still slightly damp from the shower. On instinct, her legs wrap around his back, bringing them so close together she can feel his cock twitch against her thigh.

“The floor, or-” It’s murmured against her ear between nibbles.

“No. Here.” It’s all she can do to hold back a moan as his whole body rumbles with quiet laughter.

“Someone’s eager.”

She leans back far enough to peer into his eyes.

“And you’re not?” The response is a thumb against her clit, and she has to bite down hard on his shoulder to muffle a yelp.

“If I’d known you were ready, you wouldn’t have gotten any sleep for the past two months.” That would’ve been a very small price to pay.

Five years is a long time, and her body tenses up at the intrusion of his finger inside of her, but she immediately forces her muscles to relax, and within seconds, it’s all she can do not to writhe against him.

“That’s it. Relax. I’ll take care of you.” It’s a lost cause. This is going to be noisy. She hazily thinks to herself that it’s all his fault.

He’s always been one for foreplay, making sure she’ll be comfortable once they actually get around to the main event, but finally enough is enough and, reaching between them, she stills his wrist.

“Get inside me.”

“Are you sure? You’re still tight-” Disentangling one of her arms from around his neck, she gives his hair a sharp tug.

“I’m like you now, remember? You’re not going to break me.”

He pulls back from her, hesitating, eyes darting between her face and the door.

“What?”

“I don’t have-” Oh. She quickly runs the calculations in her head. Given which day of the month it is, the likelihood would be-

“It’ll be fine. Just pull out.” To her relief, he doesn’t argue.

Her breath catches as he pushes inside of her, and if the panting against her neck is anything to judge from, she’s not the only one affected.

“It’s been too damn long.” Despite the situation (or perhaps because of it), she laughs breathlessly.

“You think it’s been too long? Try five fucking years!” His laugh tickles her neck.

“You’re never gonna stop using that one, are you?”

“Nope. I think I’ve earned the right.” After all, he constantly reminds her that he had to wait 98 years to meet the love of his life, so fair is fair.

“Then I guess I’ll just have to make it up to you.”

“Sounds like you just set yourself a challenge.”

“Guess I’d better get to work then.” As he says it, he pulls nearly all the way out only to slam back in again.

It’s primal, the way their bodies move together, desperate for a connection that’s been missing for so long. There’s no room or need for words to be spoken; their gasped breaths and strangled moans say it all. His hand sneaks between them, toying with her nub, and that’s what sends her over the edge. It’s the tipping point for him too because, muffling his cries against her shoulder, he pulls out just in time.

“We shoulda done that before the shower.” She’s still gasping for breath, but it forces a laugh from her. He follows suit, offering her a spare towel to clean herself up.

“You’ve been holding out on me, Barnes.” He shoots her a questioning look as she hops down on shaky legs. “I thought it was good before, but damn.”

He laughs, pulling on his jeans. “I didn’t want to risk breaking the bed. I’m a gentleman like that.” She knows the real concern was her safety, but if she concentrates on that too hard, she’ll start going mushy, and in this instance, crying after sex seems like it would kill the mood.

“You know-” She pulls her t shirt over her head, not bothering with a bra. “-I never really liked the bed I have now anyway.” It’s also really too small for two full-grown adults to share comfortably.

Sliding his duffle bag over his shoulder, he takes her hand. “Then maybe we should go home? Give you an excuse to get a new one?” Before she can answer-

“Go home. Please, I’m begging you, for the love of god, go.” Her eyes dart towards the source of the noise. The door, or more specifically, the other side of it. “Hearing you and the bionic man fucking once was enough. I’m gonna shoot you both and then myself if I have to listen to round two.”

Bucky catches her eye and mouths “Oops!”, sending her into a fit of giggles.

“You know Sam, you could’ve just walked away. You didn’t have to wait outside the door like a creep.” She has to bite her fist to keep from laughing out loud.

“Yeah, trust me. I could hear you from all the way down the hall.”

“Sorry.” She gasps it out between bouts of laughter, and she must be pulling a funny face, because he snickers to.

“No, you’re not.” No, she really isn’t. Just that they got caught.

“We’re heading out. You’ve got the place to yourself.” Giving his hand a tug, she pulls open the door, revealing a flustered Sam.

“I hope you remembered to wipe down the counter, you nasties!”

As they make their way down the corridor, Bucky calls out,

“See you Monday?”

“Yeah. And you’d better be wearing pants!”

#marvel #captain america #the winter soldier #bucky x reader #bucky fic #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #post endgame #smut #part 2

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dovechim · 4 years

Text

a remedy for mondays 04 (m)

01 | 02 | 03 | 04 (final)

➾ 10.1k

➾ summary: all you wanted was just one day off work. but for that to happen, you need to invent a plausible reason. and then somehow, somewhere along the way, things get out of hand, and now people think you’re having a baby with your co-worker Park Jimin after a one-night stand. confused? join the club.

➾ warnings: romantic sex, unprotected/ pregnancy sex, creampie, cum eating... the usuals

➾ a/n: thank you for following through with this series so far. im sorry for the wait, but here is the final part :) I also realised that part 3 was not on my master list, but that has been fixed. I hope everyone is keeping safe during these times.

enjoy, and a happy Monday to you :)

(some people asked to be tagged in this, I think @pjmcth... I and forgot who else 😅)

The first Monday off work, you have grand plans for yourself.

Grand plans that include sleeping in until noon, getting up only to stuff yourself with whatever is left in the kitchen, and then going back to sleep until its dark outside.

It’s your first off day in the longest time that you can remember, and you’ll be damned if you have to move any more than strictly necessary. Finally, it’s time for you to lead the lazy life that you’ve always craved for.

But the best laid plans never come to fruition, and you are left staring miserably at the clock at 7am, wide awake and unable to go back to sleep. Your body clock has been honed after all these years, and it simply will not let you rest. Instead of feeling warm and content, snuggled up in your bed under the covers, you just feel empty and wronged.

Scrolling through social media only delays the inevitable for so long. Looking at all the meaningless memes and watching countless video after video until you finally cry yourself back to sleep again.

When you next wake, it’s noon. You still have the leftovers of the stew that Jimin made the last time he was here, and you spoon it miserably into your mouth after heating it up, but everything tastes like sawdust. The side dishes from Granny are lying untouched in your fridge, and you can’t bear to look at it for a moment longer.

When you lie in bed, you stare at the ceiling motionlessly. Your thoughts are scattered and you can’t help but feel as if your body is not your own anymore. Maybe if you close your eyes, everything will go away when you open them next and this will be just a bad dream.

The first Monday you have without work was supposed to be the best one you’ve had in ages, but instead it passes over in a blur of misery.

The days blur into each other as you cage yourself up in your home, too tired to go out, but too awake to sleep either. It’s only by some primal survival instinct that you keep yourself fed, not to satiate the hunger pangs, but with the lingering consciousness in the back of your mind that whatever is growing inside you at this very moment needs sustenance too, even if you do end up throwing it all up anyway. You’re far too gone to cook anything for yourself, so at this point it’s only Granny’s side dishes that are keeping you alive. What you’ll do when they run out, you have no idea.

You actively avoid thinking about the pea sized bundle of cells growing inside you that very moment. Maybe it’s because you’re scared of having to face a reality where you really might be a single mother, or perhaps it’s because they remind you of a certain man that you loved and lost.

On the third day, your routine of lying in bed is interrupted by a loud and insistent knock on the door that doesn’t go away even when you attempt to ignore it. Dragging yourself to your feet, you pull on a sweater that you pick up from the ground, aware that you haven’t showered or combed your hair in days, but you don’t have any energy to spare in making yourself presentable.

You answer the door, already opening your mouth to tell the delivery person or salesman or whoever that they’ve got the wrong unit.

But it isn’t some stranger. It’s Granny’s kind, smiling face beaming at you as she reaches forward to grasp your hand through the bars of your gate.

“_______!” The way she greets you is as if she hasn’t seen you in years. She looks so happy to see you that it feels as if the whole world brightens up a couple of notches just from her smile alone.

“Gr-Granny! What are you doing here?” Her grip on your hand is warm and reassuring, and she only lets you go for a moment as you move to unlock the gate and usher her in hurriedly.

You’re ashamed at the state of your house. Dirty plates and cups everywhere, empty containers of food dumped in the sink. You are a mess.

But Granny doesn’t say a single word about it as she bustles in, and that’s when you notice that she’s carrying a large bag that she carts over to the kitchen. It’s once again filled with her side dishes, and she stocks all of them into your near empty fridge without a word.

“Granny… that must have been heavy to carry all alone. You shouldn’t have come all the way…” You hesitantly watch her as she organises your fridge for you.

“Nonsense. I only tried that delivery service that one time because all my friends were raving about it. But it turned out to be such a hassle to pack and address everything. I rather do it myself!” She says in a matter of fact tone as she finishes stacking the containers and turns around to face you with a fond smile. “And this way, I get to see how you’re doing too.”

Your eyes brim with tears almost immediately, and you inwardly curse the stupid hormones.

“How did you… how did you know my address?” You watch Granny, and she doesn’t seem to stop moving as she picks up plates, containers and cups, puts them in the sink and wipes down the table counter.

“I squeezed it out from Jimin, of course,” she chuckles at the memory. “Silly boy tried to stop me from coming all the way down here by myself, but when I said I wanted to bring you food…”

Your heart skips a beat at the mention of him.

“But why me? What about Jimin? Shouldn’t you be bringing him food instead of me?” Worse still, the guilt threatens to overwhelm you with how selfless Granny is being, putting you over her grandson when you’ve been nothing but a curse to him.

Granny looks over at you with a confused frown on her face. “What? Jimin? He can take care of himself.” Her kind eyes are smiling as she turns to look at you.

And then it hits you, that she’s only being this nice because she thinks you’re pregnant. A lump forms in your throat as your eyes drop to your midriff. You can’t lead her on any longer. Granny deserves to know the truth, and like Jimin, she shouldn’t have been dragged into this whole mess in the first place.

“Granny… I have something to tell you.”

“Hmm? What is it, Puppy?” Her nickname for Jimin makes your chest ache, and you have to sit down for this. She is scrubbing the dishes at your sink, and the casual, fond way that she gives you his nickname makes what’s coming even worse. God knows you aren’t ready for the impending look of disappointment and anger on her face.

She’ll probably curse you and storm out. Maybe she’ll slap you with the kimchi she brought. Either way, you deserve it.

“Granny, I…” The words are stuck in your throat, and you just can’t find a way to word it. “We lied to you. Back when Jimin and I visited you and your family, and even before that. We… I wasn’t pregnant. We were only pretending to be so that…”

Your voice trails off, and you tire to think of explaining the whole story behind why you even pretended to be pregnant in the first place. You can’t think of a single thing to say that might explain why you deserve her forgiveness.

“I know,” Granny puts down the soapy plate that she was scrubbing. “I didn’t come here to bring you food just because of the baby. Or just because I thought you were pregnant. I came because I wanted to see you, and my silly boy was being so vague and avoiding my questions about you over the phone that I had to come down and see you myself.”

Her response catches you off guard. “Wait, you knew that we were pretending all along?”

Granny only smiles. “Not all along, dear. But when you were at my house, I was packing up the room that the both of you stayed in, and I found your bag of pads and tampons. Now, that wasn’t enough to make any solid conclusions, but combined with the fact that you weren’t showing yet…”

Your shoulders slump. “So you knew. Why didn’t you call us out on it? We were… we lied to you. No, actually, it was me all along. I dragged Jimin into this and made him lie to you. You should hate me, curse me, anything-!”

But Granny doesn’t do any of that. Instead, she approaches you, placing her hand on your shoulder in a warm, reassuring touch. “I could never hate you, Puppy. Not after I’ve seen how much Jimin likes you. You know, he used to be such a shy little thing. But after he met you, I saw how happy you made him. It’s like we all saw a side of him that only you could bring out.”

There is a moment of silence as you digest all this.

“And it’s not just because you made him happy either,” Granny continues. “______, it would be an honour to have you as an addition to my family. Baby or not. We all really like you. You’re strong, you work hard and you’re an intelligent young woman. What more could we want?”

“Granny…” your eyes brim with tears and they spill over, as you clutch her hand, feeling the guilt squeeze your heart over and over. Granny has treated you as part of the family from day one. She saw the good in you even when you couldn’t see it yourself. Her kind eyes and warm embrace makes you feel safe enough to pour everything out to her. The years of mistreatment at your job, all the humiliation that you endured from Bae Joohyun, how you got fired for committing fraud, and the ultimate irony of it all…

“Granny, I messed up. With Jimin. With everything. We said we’d try for a baby for real so that we wouldn’t get in trouble with the company, but they ended up finding out anyway, and now I’m really…” you stop to wipe your cheeks. “Really pregnant.”

A chuckle of disbelief leaves your lips. This is the first time you’ve said the words out loud, instead of just denying it and hoping that it will just go away on its own. You expect Granny to jump for joy or cry with happiness, but instead, she squeezes your hand.

“Does Jimin know?” She asks gently, handing you some tissues and stroking your hair.

Granny’s tender loving touch makes more tears well in your eyes. It’s been forever since you received the love and care that only a maternal figure can provide, and the thought itself reminds you of the tiny little spore that is probably growing inside you at this very moment. Your emotions are just all over the place, and one thought easily snowballs into another.

“No, he doesn’t,” you press the tissue to your damp cheeks, and it soaks through instantly. “I couldn’t tell him… not after everything I put him through. What kind of sick game would I be playing on him?”

Granny only lets you wallow in your ocean of self-pity for a tad longer before she tsks under her breath, straightening up.

“Well, that’s the least of your worries for now. If I were you, sweetheart, I’d think about suing that company of yours. Or at the very least, getting some kind of compensation from them.” Granny’s voice is a no-nonsense one, and it reawakens the rage and indignance that had been drowned out.

She’s right. Being down and feeling sorry for yourself like this is not going to accomplish anything. You’ve never been one to take things lying down, to take the cards as you’re dealt them, but somehow, somewhere along the way after working at this company, you changed. You got beaten down, slowly but surely, and you didn’t even realise it.

Hastily, you wipe your cheeks dry and try to push yourself to your feet. Your movements are fumbling. Where is that notebook with the evidence of all the mistreatments and humiliations you’ve endured over the years? If you’re going to retaliate, might as well mount a full scale attack against those corporate bastards.

But the lack of nutrition over the past few days gets to you, and your vision blacks out for a moment when you stand up, causing you to wobble dangerously on your feet.

Granny sees the look of resolute determination that comes over your face, and she reaches out to steady you. You make a weak attempt at reassuring her that you are alright, taking a few steps forward, but she stops you again.

“Where do you think you’re going, Puppy?”

“To- to get my notebook. And then… I need to get dressed.” Thoughts are racing through your mind of how you’ll storm into the office, fling the doors open with a cup of hot, steaming black coffee in hand and not-so-accidentally-

“You’re not going anywhere,” she says with a firmness in her voice that matches her grip as she forces you to sit back down.

Appalled, you open your mouth to argue back, but Granny shakes her head.

“Not until you’re eating properly and regaining your strength,” she clarifies, pushing up her sleeves once more. “And I’m here to make sure of that.”

The next few days, you’re treated like royalty. Even though you feel bad for making a woman of her age do all the housework, cook you meals with ten side dishes three times a day, Granny won’t have it any other way. Even when you try to sneakily help out with folding a piece of clothing or washing the dishes, all you get are looks of disapproval from the warm old woman, and you feel too bad to keep going.

You’ve never eaten so well before. Chicken, beef, fish, pork. Vegetables of every kind, roasted, stir fried, steamed and blanched, and plenty of fruits too. And along with all that are all the essential pre-natal vitamins that you’ve neglected to take up until now. Granny feeds you better than you could ever feed yourself, and you wonder how you lived without her all these years.

No wonder Jimin turned out so well.

Slowly, the colour begins to reappear in your cheeks. Your hollow, sunken face begins to fill out again, and you find yourself more energetic. Granny looks on with approval as you work at your desk, writing down a long list of everything you’ve ever wanted to say to Bae Joohyun. She listens with a beaming, proud smile on her face as you rehearse your figurative war cry, giving suggestions on where to embellish with more emotion, where to really let them feel the full extent of your wrath.

And on the day itself, she helps you pick out your outfit.

“This one, you look good in this,” Granny says finally, after you have tried on five different outfits.

You look at yourself uncertainly in the mirror, not used to what you see. The light makeup that you had applied for the first time in ages sits unfamiliar on your face. You’d given up on wearing makeup to work a long time ago. Your figure is clad in black from head to toe, dressed in a power suit that you could never bring yourself to wear. You had bought it on impulse years ago when it was on sale, and ever since then it has lived in the back of your closet, waiting to see the light of day. The lapels are made of satin, the suit jacket nips in at your waist snugly (thankfully not toosnugly, considering your current condition) and your legs are somehow longer than you remember them being in the tapered, slim fit dress pants.

Your hands linger on your lower belly for a moment, self-consciously turning to the side to see if it protrudes visibly. But at this stage, it’s barely visible. Then your gaze travels down to your bare feet, and Granny’s voice matches your thoughts.

“You should wear those,” she suggests, pointing to a pair of strappy, low heels that would compliment the outfit, lengthening your legs even more but still providing enough support so that you’ll be comfortable.

But you had something else in mind, and you have to tear your eyes away from the pair of plain old battered flats that you used to wear every day without fail. Similar to the power suit, that pair of heels has been sitting in your cabinet for as long as you can remember, never having the courage to wear it out.

“Women who wear heels with a suit are dressed to kill,” she says by way of explanation, and she sounds so logical that you can’t turn her down.

You bend down to pick up the pair of heels, placing them by the door as you head back to the kitchen, ushered by Granny, to finish the breakfast she made. Today it’s an omelette egg roll and soft tofu soup with pork slices. The egg roll has ketchup squirted on it in a smiley face, and you can’t help but laugh when you see it.

“Granny, I’m not five years old you know,” you pout at her, folding your arms in a gesture that would suggest otherwise. But the following grin on your face as you stuff your mouth with the warm, soft and savoury egg roll is unstoppable.

Granny only laughs as she sits down beside you with her own portion. “You and Jimin are the same. That’s how he likes his ketchup too.”

At the mention of Jimin, your chopsticks freeze in the midst of spearing another egg roll. Your hand shakes a little as you set the utensils down. The thought of running into him only to be faced with his cold look of rejection just chills you to the bone. There’s no way you could stomach that from him.

“What if… what if I see him?” You say in a small voice.

In all your practice runs, you had only gone over what to say to Bae Joohyun and HR. You kept yourself focused on the task ahead, not sparing yourself even a moment to indulge your emotions. But you hadn’t thought of what would happen if you run into Jimin, how you’ll tell him about the baby, or how you’ll make everything right again.

When you start to think about running into Jimin, your mind starts to overthink about what it’ll be like to step foot into that place again. The workplace that you suffered at for years, enduring all sorts of humiliation and injustice just to get to where you are right now. Your breathing involuntarily speeds up- some kind of post-traumatic response, and for a second, you think you might just chicken out of all this.

Just then, your phone placed on the table beside you lights up with a text.

Kim Taehyung: hey… um… i know it’s weird of me to be asking this since u already left us but… Kim Taehyung: if u can, can u come in today? we r rly shorthanded and could use ur help. Kim Taehyung: if it helps, bae joohyun said she’ll buy you a nice lunch if u can come in today. Kim Taehyung: please?

And then just like that, all the feelings of insecurity and cowardice disappear. The nerve of this fucking company. They fire you for fraud and then beg for you to come back and work for them for free? You honestly doubt that Bae Joohyun actually said that, but that’s not the point.

You can almost feel the rage heating up your entire body. Granny takes a look at your screen and tsks under her breath.

“I don’t know what kind of company that is, Puppy, but I’ve never seen one that treats its employees like that.”

Your fingers are trembling as you type back a reply. First, you type out a curt rejection, adrenaline filling your entire body as you imagine what Bae Joohyun’s reaction might be when she learns that for once in your entire miserable career working for her; you turned her down. But there is also a chord of fear that strikes you through the heart, borne out of an ingrained instinct to submit to your inner yes-man in order to please them.

You hesitate before pressing send, taking a moment to compartmentalise your emotions and think this through. There’s a chance that when you get to the office building, you might be turned away by security because you don’t have your access card anymore.

Deleting your entire message, you rack your brains to figure out how to field this situation to your advantage.

Up till now, they still think you’re this pathetic little girl who’d roll belly up to please them at a moment’s notice. They don’t even have the decency to feel a shred of guilt for asking you to come in and work practically for free.

Except you’re not intimidated by them anymore. Now, you are in the position of power.

And this is how you’ll take them down.

Holding your breath, you type out a short reply to Kim Taehyung.

You: I’ll be there at 10.

Granny nods her approval over your shoulder as you put your phone face down, not even bothering to check when Taehyung’s reply comes back.

“You know… I don’t think you’ll have to worry about Jimin. When he sees you dressed like that, he won’t be able to resist. He’ll fall at your feet,” Granny says with a mischievous smirk.

“Granny!” You chide her with a blush heating your cheeks.

“What? It’s true,” she says with a pout that looks oh-so-familiar. “Just be natural, Puppy. Say whatever that comes to mind. That silly boy is probably dying to see you but is too stubborn to come all the way here. Why, he probably looks a right mess too. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s been crying his heart out the past week.”

You start to open your mouth to contradict her, but all Granny does is push another egg roll into your mouth as she urges you to finish your breakfast. “Eat up, Puppy. You don’t want to be late.”

It’s funny what a change of outfit and shoes can do to a woman. It makes you feel like an entirely different person as you walk into the office building at 10 am on the dot. You’re no longer the meek little employee stuck in a dead-end job who can’t stand up for herself.

No, today you are brave, you are confident, and you are here to give back everything that’s been dealt to you all this while.

Security stops you as you enter. You’re already kind of used to this, since you were never once assigned with your own photo pass in all the time you worked here. Everyday, you had to sign in as a visitor and go through the security checks only for visitors, which more often than not, made you late for work when they hit a snag in the process every now and then. Being made to feel like a visitor at your own workplace does things to a person’s self-esteem, but you grit your teeth and remind yourself that this is the last time you’ll be doing this.

“Who are you here for?” A burly security guard asks you with a stern expression, even though he must have seen your face on a daily basis for the past few years.

“Kim Taehyung.” You say truthfully, and the guard just nods as he waves at you to put your bag through the scanning machine.

Waiting at the other end after having stepped through the metal detecting gates, you scoop up your bag and walk to the elevator. Seeing as it’s past the usual reporting time, it is empty, and your heart pounds in your chest as you watch the numbers go by on the elevator display.

When the doors open, you have composed yourself again, a straight face as you stride towards the doors. You wave your temporary access card and enter, once again struck by the ominous familiarity of the entire place.

Kim Taehyung spots you from his workstation immediately. “______!” He calls out your name in nothing short of a yell, and you fight the urge to cringe, watching as multiple heads turn around to look at you.

Including Park Jimin’s.

Granny was right. He does look a lot worse for wear. He resorts to hiding behind his enormous geek glasses again, blonde hair limp and dull over his forehead, his pretty brown eyes no longer have that warmth anymore. His usually plush, luscious lips are pale, and he looks as if he hasn’t slept in days.

Out of the whole office, even with multiple eyes on you and voices whispering out of curiosity, he is the only one you can look at.

“I’m so glad you could make it!” Kim Taehyung is almost at your side as he spreads his arms in welcome. There is a wide grin across his face, not unlike how he was before. “We really, really need you here.”

Hearing those words makes you break the eye contact with Park Jimin to look at Taehyung. For a moment, you desperately want to believe that those words are true. And it makes you doubt yourself, makes you think that maybe this company isn’t so bad after all, maybe they do treasure you after all. If Taehyung says he needs you, then maybe they really do need you to help them out with a piece of work that no one else can do.

But no. They had years to realise your worth. Why are they only doing it now, after they fired you so unceremoniously?

So you placate him with a bland smile. “Sure. What would you like me to do?”

Taehyung practically skips to his desk. “Ok so we need you to go through some of the brochure material that we’ll be pushing out soon. Just another pair of eyes to make sure that we didn’t miss anything. I know you don’t have your laptop anymore, so you can borrow mine. Oh, and…”

You watch his eyes slide awkwardly to where your old desk used to be. In your absence, they had replaced the smaller desk with a full sized one, currently occupied by someone you don’t recognise.

“…uh, we’ll get you one of the empty meeting rooms to work in,” Taehyung motions for you to follow him, and it’s all you can do not to look in Park Jimin’s direction as you turn away. “You look great, by the way. Hardly recognised you.”

You clear your throat awkwardly as a way of responding as Taehyung sets his laptop on the table for you and plugs it in. He opens the required documents for you as you seat yourself in the hardbacked chair.

“So… here are all the things we need you to look through. Let me know when you’re done, okay? Thanks again, ______!” Taehyung beams at you as he lets himself out of the room.

Left alone, you relax a little. At least things seem to be going your way for now, even the parts you didn’t plan for. Minimizing the word document window, you open Microsoft Outlook and navigate over to Taehyung’s calendar. There, you scroll down to find Bae Joohyun’s calendar and all her appointments and meetings for today.

There. At 11.30am, she has a meeting with the Policy team, with HR in attendance. When you scroll down to the meeting details, you see that Park Jimin has been appointed secretariat for this meeting. You ignore the flutter of nerves that arise at the sight of his name to open up Taehyung’s instant messenger. What you’re doing could really get him in trouble, but then again, a part of you simply doesn’t care. He was complicit in all of this. You have no sympathy for him at all.

You send a quick instant message to one of the Policy team to let them know that the meeting has been cancelled so that you can hijack it for your own purposes. When they reply with an acknowledgement, you sit back in your chair, letting out a sigh of relief before quickly deleting any signs of evidence from his chat log history.

You spend some time going over what you prepared to say when you finally meet the witch, everything from past payrolls where you were underpaid for your overtime work, a draft from a lawyer threatening to sue for illegally divulging your medical information to a doctor’s letter proving your current pregnancy. Everything you need to take that witch on is right here.

A soft, timid knock sounds at the door, and you hurriedly gather everything into a pile and shove it into your bag. Can’t have your plan given away before you’re ready. You expect it to be Taehyung coming to check on your progress, but when the door cracks open, you see a flash of blonde hair, followed by a soft, sweet voice that you missed so much.

“Can I come in?” Jimin asks with his eyes trained on the floor in front of you.

“Come in,” your hands twist together out of nervousness, and you see that Jimin is carrying a cup in his hands as he approaches you.

“I uh… I brought you this. I know you need coffee every day at around this time, so…” Jimin gingerly places the cup on the table without taking a single step forward so that he remains as far away from you as possible. You can see that he is nervous, all the tell-tale signs are there. From the way he keeps running his fingers through his hair to the way he bites his bottom lip and avoids eye contact.

You never really realised it, but you do always go to the pantry at around this time for your before lunch coffee. It gets worse when you realise that Jimin used his cup to make you coffee, and as you stare at his beloved One Piece mug, you have to stop yourself from crying.

Jimin mistakes your silence for something else, and he clears his throat awkwardly as he takes another step backwards. “Well um… let me know if you need anything. I’ll just be… I’ll be outside.”

A part of you wants to call out after him. There are so many things you want to tell him, but before you can gather your scattered wits, he lets himself out of the room.

It’s okay. It’s the wrong timing anyway, you tell yourself in an attempt to calm down and put all thoughts of his sad puppy eyes out of your mind. There will be enough time to talk to him when this is all over. Right now, you have to gear up for the biggest battle of your life.

When 11.30am comes, you shut the lid on Taehyung’s laptop and let yourself out of the room. You know Bae Joohyun always likes to stroll into her meetings exactly 2 minutes late, so you take your time walking to the meeting room. When you are 10 steps away, you see her black clad figure just ahead of you. You watch her push open the meeting door, and you have to consciously fight against back the pulse of intimidation that runs through your entire body. You quicken your steps and push the door open after her.

Just as you’d hoped, the only people in the room are the witch herself, Kim Namjoon from HR, and… Park Jimin as the note taker. He looks surprised to see you in the room as he straightens his posture, eyes widened almost comically in the way that you’ve become all too familiar with.

“What’s this?” Bae Joohyun doesn’t look the least bit bothered, just continues to tap away on her special iPad without even looking up. “Why is she here? Isn’t this meeting with the Policy unit?”

Kim Namjoon looks flustered as he looks at you, gesturing with his chin for you to get out. When you don’t make a single move, he turns back to Bae Joohyun, visibly sweating. “Um… there must be some kind of mistake… _____, we could talk about this later?”

The way his voice rises in a desperate plea only makes the victory even sweeter.

“No. It’s not a mistake. I’m here to dispute the terms of my termination.” You take out your folder of evidence from your bag and drop it on the table. “Of course, we could invite our colleagues from the Policy Unit to sit in on this meeting as well, but something tells me that you won’t want them to hear about what I have to say.”

There is a beat of tense silence as Bae Joohyun contemplates what’s on her iPad screen. She hasn’t looked up even once since you walked into the room. She lets out a soft sigh, as if all this is beneath her and just a waste of her time. Seeing as you aren’t about to get her attention any time soon, you shift your gaze to Kim Namjoon.

“First of all, I would like to bring your attention to the unfair compensation that I have been subject to all these years. According to my calculations, I have yet to be compensated for 136 hours of overtime.” You push a stack of timesheets towards Kim Namjoon’s shocked face. “Time and time again I’ve submitted these, only for them to be rejected.”

Bae Joohyun doesn’t react at all.

“Secondly, I have consulted my lawyer about the illegal release of my medical information. He has advised me to take legal action both against the doctor who allowed my medical information to be leaked, as well as the company itself who illegally utilised the information.”

You pause for a moment to let the words sink in, and at the very same moment, you see Kim Namjoon’s face turn slightly green as he processes the meaning of this.

“Sure, you might be thinking that it’ll be easy to win a lawsuit against an individual like me, being a huge company and all that. But I don’t think it will reflect too well on your organisation as a whole, will it?”

Bae Joohyun blinks once, then taps a few times on her iPad so that the screen goes black. Then, she shifts her gaze to you, her face still unreadable, but you detect a hint of uncertainty in her eyes.

“So? What’s your point?” She folds her arms and addresses you directly.

A good sign. A very good sign.

It’s time for the final blow. You brace yourself with your fists clenched by your side, aware of the mounting tension in the room. Namjoon is practically holding his breath, you can see him shaking in his seat with his eyes darting back and forth between you and Bae Joohyun. Jimin has given up all pretence of typing and hiding behind his laptop, and he is looking at you with nothing short of awe on his face.

You reach in for your last piece of evidence. “You are aware that in this country it is against the law to terminate a pregnant woman without a thorough inquiry? And if a pregnant employee must be dismissed, it has to be based on relevant and objective performance criteria?”

A small raise of her eyebrow as her head nods imperceptibly, but you can see Bae Joohyun’s expression waver.

“Yes… we are well aware of that. It is a policy I have helped to implement,” the witch says with a hint of pride in her voice.

A satisfied smile spreads across your face as you draw out the doctor’s letter. You can hear Jimin’s sharp intake of breath in the otherwise silent room, and the shifting in his seat as he leans his elbows on the table. His mouth is slightly open, but no words are coming out.

“According to this letter, you’ll find that I am currently almost 2 months pregnant. As such, having been terminated whilst pregnant without further inquiry or offer of wage compensation, I am entitled to further legal action against you and the company.”

You toss the letter directly to Bae Joohyun, and it lands heavily in front of her. You can see Jimin’s fingers twitch as his stare burns a hole into the letter, before looking back at you with an unreadable expression on his face. The witch herself lets out another sigh before meeting your eyes, completely ignoring the letter.

“We will look into raising a fair and just inquiry.” Her words are brief, and she casts a sideways glance at Namjoon as she says this, as if this was all his fault to begin with.

Namjoon, on the other hand, rushes to accept the blame. “O-of course! We will ensure that the entire process is as transparent and fair as possible.”

“No need for that,” you say with an indifferent wave of your hand, and the satisfaction grows when the witch herself does a double take.

“What… what exactly do you mean by that?” Bae Joohyun is unable to believe her ears.

Jimin is looking at you as if you just saved the world from total destruction. The admiration in his eyes can’t be hidden as he grins. Namjoon looks sick.

“No need for the inquiry,” you say just to make things clear. “I’m aware of how things are done at this company, and sad to say that it’s anything but fair. I’m quitting. Notice effective immediately. You’ll hear from my lawyer regarding the compensation that I owe for my notice period.”

You reach into your bag for the last envelope, tossing your resignation letter onto the table with a practiced ease. Then, you gather your bag and make your way out the door, Bae Joohyun’s shocked expression burned into your retinas.

It feels like you’re walking away from an explosion like the cool guys do in the movies. For once in your life, you feel like the protagonist of your own movie rather than the side character.

Everyone else in the office is still working quietly, so you escape the office without being pursued further. When you stop to press the lift button, you hear the doors fling open, and a panting Park Jimin appears.

“Wait!” Jimin has his hands on his knees. “Le-let me drive you home.”

His eyes grow desperate as the lift doors open.

You owe him an explanation too. You hold the lift button as you turn towards him. “Will you?”

The drive home is silent up until he parks in front of your apartment. Neither of you make a move.

“2 months?” Jimin finally breaks the silence. “When did you find out?”

“After… after they fired me. They called me with the results from the free checkup. That’s how I found out.”

“So you knew when I called you?” Jimin’s heartbroken voice stabs you right in the gut.

There’s no excuse you could make for yourself. “It- it’s true though. Everything I said.”

“What?” Jimin looks and sounds like a puppy that’s been kicked.

“I did drag you into all of this. It was selfish to use you as my excuse the first time, and I couldn’t let myself go down that road anymore. You made all my Mondays better, but I made yours worse. You don’t deserve this. You deserve so much better than me, than all of this-“

“-but I want this,” Jimin grasps your hand and pulls it to his chest. “I don’t care if it’s selfish. All this while you’ve been assuming that you dragged me into this, that I was the unwilling party all along. But have you ever stopped to consider for one second that I might want this too? With you? That you made my Mondays better too?”

When you take a moment to look at his face, the Park Jimin that you’ve come to know and love over the past few months, the familiarity of him soothes you. The plump cheeks, rounded eyes, and the special smile he always has just for you. And he’s right. Never had you thought that he might want this- because why would he? How could he?

“You want this? But… why?” You are incredulous, unwilling to believe.

“Because I love you. And the thing growing inside you right now,” Jimin lets his emotions get the best of him, all the better to say the words he’s been struggling to say ever since he saw you that morning. And maybe it’s not the most romantic, but it’s filled with sincerity at the very least. “I’m in love with you, rash decisions and all. The day where you dragged me into your mess was the best day of my life. My Mondays have never been the same since.”

You can’t help but laugh aloud at how realistic his confession is. Classic Jimin style, savage as always. At the sound of your laughter, Jimin grins also, slightly shy from just pouring out his feelings like that, but proud of himself all the same.

“Granny knows, you know,” you say in between your laughter. “She knows we were faking it all along. And- oh! She came to visit me, you should come in and say hi to her.”

“What?” His comical gasp only sends you into another laughing fit. “Since when?! You could have told me sooner! She’ll spank me so hard for lying to her…”

“She’s not the only one who’ll be spanking you,” you can’t help but tease him, the opportunity is just too perfect.

“Agh! Don’t talk like that when my Granny is involved!!” Jimin buries his head in his hands in embarrassment.

You tug at his hands, opening your side of the door. “You have to come in, at least! She’ll be so happy to see you. To see us together again. She was the one who helped me with all of this you know.”

You drag a grumbling and still embarrassed Jimin inside, stopping every few seconds to tease him about his red ears and pinch his cheeks.

“Oh come on, Granny won’t be mad when she sees how cute you look. Wait, no. She’ll insist to feed us like there’s no tomorrow. She’ll say you lost your chubby cheeks,” you grin at him as you unlock the door, fully savouring the bubbly feeling in your stomach that makes you feel as if you are floating.

“Isn’t it good, though? It means I lost weight,” Jimin places a hand on his own face, as if to gauge whether his cheeks have slimmed down or not, still fretting over how Granny will react when she sees him.

“No! Of course it’s not good! You shouldn’t be losing any more weight, you’re perfect as is,” you drop your bag at the door and kick off your heels, groaning in relief. “Granny! We’re home!”

“That should be my line,” Jimin mutters under his breath as he braces himself to see Granny. But minutes pass, and he doesn’t see his beloved Granny.

“Hmm? That’s strange. Where did she go? She was just here this morning,” you mumble to yourself, walking towards the kitchen and wondering if she might be too immersed in cooking, but then you spot a scribbled note tacked to your fridge.

I left for Busan already, Puppy. You did well… I’ll leave you two alone. Side dishes in the fridge! Stay safe!

“Oh? Puppy? Why did she write that note to me? How did she know I’d be here?” Jimin is confused as he reads the note from over your shoulder.

You can’t help but smirk at his confusion. “Sorry, but Granny decided that the nickname belongs to me now.”

As Jimin protests with a pout, you can’t help but smile at Granny’s thoughtfulness. Seeing that your thoughts are somewhere else, Jimin rests his chin on your shoulder to demand for your attention like a cute puppy.

You turn to him and your attention is drawn to one of your favourite parts of him- his lips. Noticing that they are still a little dry, you frown and reach inside your pocket, taking out your favourite lip balm.

“Hold still. I’ve wanted to do this since this morning,” you place a hand on his chin and uncap the lip balm, dabbing and swiping it gently across his full lips. Though slightly dry, his lips are so soft and pliable under your touch, and the way he closes his eyes to enjoy your touch has you clenching your thighs together. With every swipe of the lip balm, his bottom lip looks plumper, and you can’t help yourself any longer.

Carelessly tossing aside the lip balm, you chase after his lips with your own, tasting the sweet peach flavour of the lip balm and feeling just how soft and cushiony Park Jimin’s lips are. He makes the cutest surprised little sound, eyes open for a second before he kisses you back with equal fervour.

You make sure to scrape your teeth against his plush bottom lip, fulfilling one of the fantasies you’d been dreaming about since this morning.

When you break away, Park Jimin has a teasing smile on his slightly swollen lips. “I guess that’s an efficient way to put lip balm on for two people.”

“Shut up already,” you say before you start to giggle all over again, and Jimin takes this as an invitation to go in for seconds.

“Since… since Granny said she’d leave us alone… shall we?” Jimin is somehow endearingly shy even though the two of you aren’t strangers to this.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

He tugs you into your bedroom eagerly, and on the way, you can’t help but grab a handful of his ass through his dress pants. Park Jimin pretends to be shocked as he turns around, arms around your waist as he makes you sit down on the bed gently.

“That’s sexual harassment, Ms.” His words contradict his actions as he runs his palms down your thighs, fingers dancing up your inner thigh.

“But I like your ass,” you say with a pout, imitating him and the way his cheeks puff up.

“I like yours better,” he says with an unabashed grin. “And I fucking love this suit on you. The moment you walked in this morning… I think Taehyung saw my boner.”

You can’t hide your squeal of embarrassment as you clasp a hand to your mouth, but Park Jimin only grins as he invites himself to undo the button on your pants.

“I said I really liked it… but I’m changing my mind. I want it off, now.” He bids you to lift your hips so that he can peel the pants off your legs, exposing your bare skin. His fingers on your skin makes your temperature skyrocket, and even more so when they tease at the edges of your underwear. He sees the damp patch in the centre, and glances upwards with raised eyebrows. “Are you wet already? I haven’t even done much yet…”

The cute way he glances through his bangs with the slight smirk on his lips makes you feel brazen. “I’m pregnant… I’m always wet these days.”

Park Jimin lets out a sharp exhale as he drags his thumb against the wet patch to feel for himself. You would be embarrassed were he not so clearly turned on by this, demonstrated by the urgency with which he pulls your underwear down and wedges his shoulders between your thighs. Without a single word, he kisses the inner flesh of your thighs, working his way up to where you need him the most.

It’s torture to watch his plush lips get closer and closer to your centre, until they finally envelope your swollen and aching clit. He wraps his lips around them and sucks, thick fingers digging into your inner thighs to keep them spread as he licks up every drop of your arousal. He eats you like a man starved, and your back arches under his ministrations. He gives your poor clit a break as he switches to broad flat licks with his tongue, and everything just becomes so much wetter. You can see that his chin is glistening, but he doesn’t mind in the slightest as he only spreads your legs wider, one thigh on each shoulder.

The lewd position in which you are in, seeing his golden head in between your thighs makes you want him even more. You are aching to feel him, to be closer than physically possible to him.

Jimin satisfies your hunger by introducing two fingers into you, and you whine at the stretch. His fingers have always been so deliciously thick, and he basks in your reaction.

“You like that? Like being filled with my fingers? Tell me how much you like it.” His vulnerable side shows through as he glances up at you while you thread your fingers through his soft hair.

“I missed this… missed you so much,” you voice comes out in a breathless whisper as you clench around him. You glance at him to see how he’s rolled back his sleeves to above the elbow, using his other hand to push his hair back and show off his forehead glistening with sweat and you swear you get a million times wetter at the sight.

“Like what you see baby?” Park Jimin shows off with a cocky little smile, pushing his hair back again just for good measure. He can feel how much wetter you are, and you can bet he’s not going to let this go just like that.

“Good looking bastard,” you swear under your breath as he rubs your clit with his thumb. “I sure hope our baby takes after you.”

“The good-looking part or the cocky part?” Jimin has the nerve to tease you, but you don’t have your wits to answer any more as he flattens his tongue against your clit, driving his fingers inside you just to send you over the edge.

Maybe it’s because you were deprived of his presence for the past week that this orgasm makes you realise how much you were starving for Park Jimin. Your thighs clench around him, shaking with mind numbing pleasure as he continues to thrust his fingers inside you.

He shows you no mercy as he continues to rub your clit slowly, the other hand stroking your inner thigh to soothe you. It’s characteristic of him, getting you used to the overstimulation whilst comforting you at the same time.

You push yourself up on your elbows, seeing the bulge in his dress pants and feeling the impatience fuel your actions. “I want to see you. Why are you still wearing these?”

He is preoccupied with licking the rest of you off his fingers as you struggle with the button on his pants, setting him free and reaching past his underwear to grasp his cock. The feeling of his thick length in your hands ignites a hunger inside you as you stroke him, running your thumb across his tip as he kicks away his pants. His abs tense as you palm his cock, and your mouth waters at the thought of running your tongue across them.

“I can’t wait to see you round and swollen with our baby,” Park Jimin says out of nowhere, his eyes hungry as he pushes your blazer off your shoulders, fingers working magic on the buttons of your shirt. He pushes that off your shoulders as well, eyes feasting on your breasts sitting so prettily in the cups of your bra. “And these. They’ll look so beautiful leaking with milk just for me.”

Jimin undoes your bra with ease, slipping the straps down your shoulders. He drags his thumb across your peaked nipple painfully slowly, then he pinches it sharply, eliciting a cry from you.

“The milk isn’t for you, it’s for our baby,” you remind him with a warning squeeze to his cock, sliding your own thumb through the messy tip.

Jimin meets your eyes with the cutest pout ever. “The baby can share. They’re not getting here for another few months yet.”

How he can look like a kicked puppy with your hands around his cock, you have no idea. The duality of Park Jimin will be the death of you someday. He crawls forward as your hands rid him of his last article of clothing, hungry to touch his bare skin and feel it against your own. Jimin makes sure your head is nestled comfortably against the pillows as he kisses his way down your body to your breasts, taking one nipple into his mouth and sucking, giving you a glimpse of what it would feel like when you do start producing milk later on.

You can feel his cock against your inner thighs as you cradle him with your body, feeling the hardness of his abs against your softer body, the curve of his ass. Jimin is still satisfying himself with sucking on your breasts, licking and teasing you to his heart’s content.

You twitch in response, feeling much more sensitive now that you’re a few months along, but Jimin looks as if he’s enjoying your breasts so much that you don’t have the heart to stop him. His fingers are delicately stroking your lower belly as he worships your breasts, muttering sweet nothings about how perfect you’ll be as the mother of his baby.

“Want your cock, now,” you urge him with your voice and reinforce it with your thighs nudging him into position. You feel the head of his cock blunt against you, and without taking his mouth off your nipple, he positions himself with one hand and enters you with a fluid thrust of his hips. As if he can’t take his mouth off your breasts for one second.

He continues to suck at your breasts as he fucks into you, the stretch of his cock and the welcome burn making you curl your thighs around him. Once he’s certain that you can take it, Park Jimin starts to pound into you with his cock, his rough thrusts contrasting with his gentle sucking and kissing.

He finally lets up with the assault against your breasts, pushing your thighs together and putting them on one shoulder. This suddenly display of strength has you gushing on his cock, and it only strokes his ego even more.

“You like getting fucked like this? Hm?” Jimin punctuates his filthy words with a particularly hard thrust that you can feel all the way to your cervix. “You like getting fucked so much, it was only a matter of time till you got knocked up like this.”

He watches your breasts bounce so deliciously, knowing that it is because of his fucking.

“I love it, fucking love it. Love you,” your reply is disjointed, every thrust of his hips sends his cock so deep inside you. “Want you to keep fucking me.”

“I will, baby don’t worry,” he places one hand on your hip and the other just under your breasts as he buries himself deep. “Give you all the babies you want.”

“Want you to cum inside me, give me all your cum,” you watch as his expression twists in pleasure, his cock twitching inside you as he pulls out almost all the way, only to slam back in. “Fill me up the way you did when you fucked a baby into me. Then I want you to fuck your cum into me.”

“Ahh, fuck,” he swears harshly under his breath, you always know just how to get him. Your cunt is so tight and warm around him, everything is so wet and he’s missed the feeling of you wrapped around him. He holds a tender hand to your lower belly. The thought that you’re giving him a baby, and he gets to be the one to hold you and fuck you and kiss you makes him feel like the luckiest man in the world. “I’ll come so soon.”

“Cum for me baby please,” you play with your nipples, putting on a show for him as he groans, thumb finding your clit as he struggles to hold himself back. “Want to feel your cum inside me. I want to be dripping with your cum.”

Jimin quickens his pace on your clit as his thrusts start to become sloppy, and he throws back his head as his abs tighten. With three more thrusts, he buries himself as deep as possible into your warm cunt, feeling himself unleash ropes of cum into your depths. You can feel how warm and sticky everything is, and the feeling of his cock pulsing inside you sends you into another orgasm as well.

True to his word, Jimin doesn’t pull out immediately, giving you lazy little thrusts to fuck his cum back into you as if the two of you were still trying to get pregnant. It’s the little, silly things that he does- making you prop your hips up, pulling out his cock so slowly and plugging you up with his fingers that makes you fall even deeper in love with this fool.

“I heard cum is good for the cervix if you’re pregnant,” he says by way of explanation as he watches globs of cum escape from your lips. He indulges himself by spreading it a little, before pushing it all inside you. “Softens it so you’ll have an easier birth.”

“Bullshit,” you giggle at him. “Next thing you’ll be telling me is that cum facials make me look younger.”

Jimin frowns indignantly. “I would never say something as ridiculous as that!” He’s never really been into painting your face white with cum, he’d rather save it all for your sweet pussy. “But that cervix one really is true- I read it on the internet!”

Jimin swipes two fingers through the mess that is your pussy, bringing it to his lips for one last suck before he cuddles in beside you. Suddenly, he freezes.

“I wasn’t too rough, was I? I didn’t hurt you?” He runs his hands down your body as if to check for any sore spots.

“It’ll be a while before I’m at that stage- so we should have all the kinky sex now before I’m too fat for you to tie me up,” you reassure him with your hand over his.

Jimin releases a breath against the back of your neck. “Kinky sex hm? I could be down for that.” There is a moment of silence as he draws mindless patterns on your lower belly, and your eyes flutter closed before you hear his soothing voice again. “I’m so excited to see our baby. I want more babies after this. Hey, we should have a gender reveal party. Or a baby shower. For real this time.”

It’s so adorable that he’s so excited about all this. “We should invite Yoongi too. I think they should have popped out their baby by now. I want to put Yeji to shame by being hotter than she was when she was pregnant.”

“Of course baby,” Jimin muffles his laughter into your shoulder. “We’ll do that.”

You hear your phone ping from somewhere far away, and it wakes you up just as you’re about to drift off to sleep. You stir Jimin awake with your elbow and make him fetch your phone for you. With many grumbles about how he better get extra kisses for this, he leaves the bed for a moment, and deposits your phone in your hands before snuggling back under the covers.

You unlock your phone and open your mail app. Your delighted gasp wakes Jimin once more, and he’s wide awake the next moment.

“What is it!? Did the baby kick?” He doesn’t stop to think when he’s alarmed, but it’s adorable.

“It’s too early for that,” you say as you do a double take at the words on your screen. You can feel the smile spreading across your face as you read the email again. Jimin sits up in bed and squints at your phone screen.

“I got a job offer!”

#bts smut #bts #bts park jimin #bts park jimin smut #bts jimin smut #btssmutclub

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flowerflamestars · 3 years

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Effloresce: Secrets and Silence

I II III IV V VI VII VIII IX X XI

Elain had fallen asleep just as the sun began to rise.

No true excuse to have stayed awake- but, for the first time, Lucien had drifted off first. His head propped against hers, the arm extended along the back of their shared seat toppling to catch her waist.

The glow of victory, settled to something softer. He was a furnace, shifting with every hour. Tangling their limbs together like in sleep, in this utter, foreign vulnerability, all Lucien sought was closeness. It kept Elain awake: a little too warm, her grin hidden against a shapely muscled shoulder. Even High Fae as powerful as Lucien slept. She known it, but it was another thing to see. There were a hundred lies they’d told together. And this, her youngest, foolish sister, insisted was one of them. That Elain, because Feyre had a High Lord at her back, didn’t need the safety of a marriage. A High Lord, blood bound in fact, not that Feyre could know it, to deliver on promises to safeguard the people of the whole ancestral Archeron lands. A fact, that Feyre failed to see: that she’d doomed them so thoroughly that the entire damning list of lies for humans would cease to matter, that Elain and Nesta would lose their mortal lives no matter what came next. Respectability wouldn’t matter, not the gentry, not the arbitrary, entrapping rules. It was too late. That there was no guaranteed safety in the war to come, in the ancient feud coming to swallow the Archeron sisters whole. They could lie all they wanted, would fight every way they knew how, but in the end, there was only this- Elain didn’t know how long she had to live. She’d never known how long she had, what decades would come. She didn’t know what would be safe, in the choices she and Nesta and Lucien were making. But there was a safety she wanted, and it was this. Lucien’s arms around her. His sly voice and teasing smile, the burr of an accent in tiredness, telling her of faery knowledge. Joking with Nesta, who he loved too. Sharp teeth and hungry flames, ferocious loyalty- the family they’d made. Elain wanted the ring on her finger, wanted it to be real. So Elain was ready when sleep came. When she rose, untangled, to find her sister.

***

Nesta wasn’t in the library. Her office, the kitchens, her secret, glorious armory beneath the ground. Not even her bedroom, the location of which Cassian had shamefully memorized by sheer scent. She wasn’t anywhere, and the last time he’d seen her she’d been covered in blood. Azriel had seen her, come back and laughed in Cassian’s face, in fact, a drink in hand. Promised that not only was Nesta Archeron alright, she was extraordinary. That Cassian was in trouble. Just enough assurance that Cassian was a twitchy wreck by morning, trying desperately to pretend he wasn’t stalking the palatial halls chasing the scent of fire. Ash wood. Anything of her- too densely laid in this place she lived to get a clear trace. He couldn’t find her. So it was with typical dramatic timing that Rhys found him. His High Lord- his friend, his brother, even when Cassian felt like pummeling him into the floor- Nesta, in the snow, in the storm, bleeding- who clapped him on the back like absolutely nothing was wrong. Like nothing had changed. “Breakfast with the allies,” Rhys had purred and led the way, Cassian helpless not to follow. It could not have been clearer, as he pushed open the doors with a billow of darkness, that the comfortable little nook of a room where the eldest Archeron’s where cloistered, was private. That Rhysand was absolutely not invited. Warded in fact, Cassian would bet on it, magic a faint shudder in the air as Rhys strong-armed them both past the threshold. He sat down. Cassian, eyes on Nesta’s stilled, wrathful face, head still inclined toward Elains over a little table holding tea, stayed exactly where he was. “Wards,” Rhysand drawled, legs kicked out, hands in his pockets as he leant back. “I thought we were all friends now, bloodshed settled. No need to hide, little Archerons.” Crisp, clear as the fact Rhys was taking being thwarted as a call to be an absolute ass, Nesta made obvious effort to slowly set down her cup. “Do you misunderstand the concept of privacy as much as you clearly do friendship, Rhysand?” Braced, Cassian still had to swallow a little flinch at the light laugh that followed. Rhys hated her- but Nesta was going to slaughter him. High Lord, Feyre’s, promise bound or no, Cassian didn’t want to imagine what exactly retribution would entail from the eldest of the Archerons. “Have you spoken to your sister today?” It was Elain who answered, sipping her tea like nothing was wrong. “We’ll see her at breakfast.” “Ah,” Rhys sighed, laying it on thick. “No.” Nesta’s lips had pulled back from her teeth, a low hiss echoing. “We’re going to head out to the woods to train. I think she could use the distraction. She has nightmares, you know. Being here, in the human world where she grew up. That she might lose another parent”- “Feyre,” Nesta all but snarled, near faery- savage and utterly vicious, “Doesn’t even remember our life before. She doesn’t remember our mother. She has no idea what our father was like, who he was before the world punished him.” Rhys had frozen at the horrible twist of Feyre’s name from her elder sister’s lips. Quick heartbeat fading out of his ears like a battle oncoming, Cassian fought the urge to get in between them as Nesta rose to her feet. “You don’t know anything,” She said, devastating, a pillar of rage. Not for the first time, Cassian looked and thought, lllyrian. “And I don’t owe you answers, High Lord.” The title was an insult, sneered before she walked away, head held high. An ugly twist had taken over Rhy’s face in response. Cassian sank down onto one of the comically plush purple chairs, the sigh that escaped him as he ran a hand through his hair buried in the sound of a distant door slamming. He ignored the impulse to pull on it, and groan. When Cassian looked up, he found Elain watching him. Still perfectly composed, for the first time he saw some of Nesta’s exact steel in the set of her shoulders. If he hadn’t been startled into looking back he would have missed the breathe of a nod as she inclined her head- as though Elain Archeron, like her dream, nightmare, perfect sister also saw exactly what he was thinking across his Cauldron-damned face. He also saw the moment that resemblance became even truer. “Feyre told me your mother died fourteen years ago,” Rhys had reined himself in enough to speak softly to this sister, a less visible threat, “Her family name was Seren, yes?” Elain’s face went colder than Cassian had imagined it could become, light draining from dark eyes. With perfect human manners, she sipped her tea and set it back on the saucer, before standing to smooth her skirts. “We do not say that name in this house.” And she curtsied her goodbye. But unlike her sister, she paused before sweeping out the door. The face Elain eventually turned back to Rhys was utterly level- frightfully so, Cassian had seen that look on High Fae courtiers. Control, the equalizer: what made ageless High Fae a horror, what gave Illyrian’s a hold over killing power. Elain’s was absolute, a slate wiped clean. “Feyre doesn’t remember,” She said, calmly, “And she’s lucky not to."

***

Elain had taken a second over their now routinely fraught breakfast to tap the back of Lucien’s hand with her pinky, their standing signal to escape. It usually meant she wanted a break from the suffocating gentry, or to speak privately. So he barely blinked when she walked into the library wrapped in a white fur cloak, and announced much to the benefit of the General glaring at him beside Nesta that the sleigh was waiting. Without so much as a breath, Nesta stole the pen from Lucien’s hand and pulled the rest of the documents to her side of the desk. “Lady Isabeau hates to be kept waiting.” There was no Lady Isabeau. Nesta was saying get out- get away. Escape. Concern, spooled tightly beneath Lucien’s ribs since he’d overheard Elain get in the last word with Rhysand from a room away, became a sickening weight when he sprang to his feet. Elain didn’t wait for him to offer his arm, her hand landing familiarly against his bicep, grip iron. Automatically, Lucien curved toward her. Courtesy from the outside perhaps, but the closeness of his body also screened her white knuckles from Cassian’s view. The Illyrian treated Feyre like a little sister. Fascinated by Nesta yes, protective of Elain perhaps, helpful- Lucien suspected of all this inner circle, Court of Dreams, Cassian was the one he might trust one day. But not today, with Elain’s unhappiness sending him careening to the edge so fast Lucien could barely control his voice. “Maybe if we’re late she’ll have run out of that wretched tea,” He carefully joked. “Yes,” Replied Elain, dark eyes strange in her utterly contained, utterly cheerful face. Her grip would have left bruises on a human. “It does always taste of roses.” Roses. To Lucien roses were love- were home, not just a long lost mother- but the deepest red blossoms he’d ever found that he’d woven into Elain’s hair for midsummer. The smell had lingered on Lucien’s skin for days- roses and honeysuckle, embers and warmth. It tasted like her laugh. On that same night, Nesta putting white blooms in her own hair. A declaration of intent to the community that she planned never to marry at all. Together, the three of them had made that option safe for her. Freed her and them both from the prison of human expectation, the rules they had to play by to survive. Elain was telling him this was important. Like they had a hundred times before, they swept from the room together, continuing the easy rhythm of meaningless chatter. A clean exit, a smokescreen- courtly grace and charm. In their wake, Lucien could hear the shifting rustle of Cassian’s wings moving and re-settling, a near sure sign that Nesta had begun to smile.

***

Out in the frozen day, the newly fallen snow as even and thick as any Winter Court vista, Lucien guided draft horses in a steady clip down the road that led as easily to the Archeron’s forest as it did to the nearby estates. Luckily, it had recently become fashionable for noble human men to drive their own curricles and sleighs. Elain didn’t look at him until they’d cleared the house grounds. Onward, toward tenant farms and the warm stone buildings where cloth was woven, the smell of fires burning strong in the air. The whole world was dazzling whiteness, and her silence. They were utterly alone in the still winter’s day. Finally, Elain sighed. “Feyre,” She started and stopped, biting her lip. Lucien directed the horses into a glade of trees, coming to a smooth halt hidden from the road. He’d thought it might be this. The complications of family that didn’t want to outright stab you were new to Lucien, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t see the betrayal on Elain’s face every time Feyre mentioned their parents. Their father, who Nesta and Elain both so clearly despised. That, Lucien knew very much about. The reciprocal action the three of them banded together to accomplish: the entrapment of Feyre’s High Lord, a secret she would absolutely treat like vengeance. Selfishness. Feyre, who saw so very little, who believed absolutely that Rhys could and would, keep them all safe. That there could be a difference between alive and alright under the authority of a High Lord had already, it seemed, melted from her memory. “You don’t have to agree with Feyre,” Lucien said softly, “To make up for everything that’s happened.” Surprise, warmer than any fire burning in his blood to protect him from this day, bloomed as Elain smiled. She shook her head, curls slipping from beneath her hood. “That’s not it,” She said, cheeks dimpled, like somehow, Lucien had said the right thing. He could charm and he could lie and he would do both for her- but this dance, this endless reel he no longer understood the tempo of- Lucien had lost track of where the story ended and his own enormous wanting began. Friendship, affection, family, but- He dreamt of her scent. Bloodmoons nights across her skin, the impossible, deadly danger of Autumn’s might bound to this one mortal woman. Of that damning scar on her wrist, hidden from their faery incursion only by the season. He knew exactly how she acquired it- but that didn’t stop his sleeping mind from conjuring much better, impossibly different circumstances. Rumor had always been that Rhysand was of mixed blood, had been raised away from the High Fae gentry. Lucien had to hope it was true. Not for his sake, but for Elain’s. “What does Lady Ingrid say about our grandmother?” She asked him, throwing Lucien back into this snowy day with her. Drawing him in. Those nearly faery black eyes said, secrets. Clever, careful Elain. Said that there was one more Archeron mystery to join their covenant, the value of which Lucien would burn and burn for. Lucien leaned against the padded sleigh seat to face her. “She mostly talks about how beautiful she was,” He said, gaze steady on Elain’s face, “She says you have her eyes, like your mother." The amused breath Elain let out painted the air white. “I have Archeron eyes, actually.” Here, where no one could see, Lucien gave into the urge to tilt his head like a predator. It wasn’t just human manners Elain and Nesta had mercilessly drilled into him- until Lucien could take them on and off like any garment- but body language that hid the extra flexibility and strength, utter stillness and instinct that said other. He never hid the otherness from them. Nor did they, his small, precious family, hide from him. “Have you ever heard anyone mention our mother?” She asked him, those eyes- Acheron eyes- that he couldn’t imagine on the face of anyone else bright.

Over-bright. The part of himself that Elain made all the louder wanted to burn to the ground whatever had upset her. Ash and bone wasn’t enough. Whoever- Lucien suspect the dark couldn’t put out flames, anymore than he could burn it away. But Mother embrace him if he wouldn’t have tried. Instead, he answered her. “Yes,” Lucien said, “There’s a story people tell, about her getting roses to bloom in winter. I assumed your greenhouses were built on the bones of hers, like the rest of the house.” Again, Elain smiled, but finally, Lucien saw the sadness. “No,” She murmured, “She made them bloom right up out of the snow.” Lucien’s heart seemed to stop. Shuddering, to resettle somewhere around his throat. “Lady Ingrid never knew your grandmother,” He heard himself say. It was starting to snow again. Soft as a dream, flakes smaller than a fingertip made their slow, slow way onto Elain’s delicate shoulders. “No, she didn’t,” Elain agreed. White billowing briefly in the air as she took a deep breath. “We didn’t realize until we rejoined noble society,” She began quietly, “But everyone seems to remember her strangely.” Lucien didn’t have to ask to know she wasn’t speaking about her grandmother now. “Everyone describes her just a little differently. Off. Or remembers the same events like they didn’t experience them at the same time or the same way.” She sketched a glance over his face. “Someone remembers the snow and drinking too much, someone else remembers a greenhouse- but everyone remembers the roses.” Taking his own deep breath, Lucien reached out to brush some of the snow from the velvet and fur of her cloak. At her slightest lean, he settled one hand between Elain’s shoulder blades, buried in softness. Her heart hammered beneath his palm. “Glamour,” Lucien whispered. The gift of all faeries, a natural toxin they could seep into the human world. Memories differed to the shape whoever remembering wanted most, magic safe in plain sight. Roses, conjured alive out of ice. Elain nodded. “I imagine it’s been fading since she died.” Her mouth twisted ruefully, lips bright as the flush of cold on her pale cheeks. “We just assumed it was safe, because Feyre still doesn’t remember.” Faery blood. He’d dreamt of Elain, glowing with immortality, on full moon nights. Had the forest tried to tell him? Had wondered if maybe Nesta had some of the latent capabilities of a human witch- with the ease which her blood mixed with warding. How much? He remembered, all at once, Elain asking him if all magic smelled like fire after encountering some of his power. How many years? She could smell that- she could- “Wait,” Lucien said, more to himself than Elain, “Feyre was glamoured? When you told Rhysand she was lucky not to remember- someone made her forget your childhood.” Absently enough that Lucien would feel it again and again, Elain flicked snow from the front of his coat. Not a returned gesture- her comfort so great between them that Elain touched him like it was nothing. Finally, the flakes temporarily cleared and her damp fingertips leaving lines down the deep grey of his coat, Elain met his eyes again. “Our mother made her forget.”

***

Nesta stayed in the library all afternoon, through dinner and into the cold evening. For reasons Cassian wouldn’t quite let himself name, he stayed as well. Her usually stormy scent was awash with lightening now- anxiety coiled tight and controlled, but so much of it that it was nearly making him sick. Nesta watched Elain and Lucien return through the wide windows, in silence. Cleared what seemed like more correspondence than any Night Court official Cassian had ever met received. Not a word, only the weight of her eyes in acknowledgement as he slid beside her without invitation, melting wax for each missive before the press of the Archeron seal. Wings, stars, a sextant- in bloody, beautiful red. The hours passed in Nesta’s ceaseless steady motion, not a single outward sign of the tension that had begun to grown teeth as night fell. Four chimes of the clock past sunset, Cassian, stupidly, found himself speaking. It felt like shedding skin. “I know something about the worst possible fathers.” Straight-spined and so graceful she called to mind a wraith, drifting- but wraiths didn’t have so much steel- Nesta stood and crossed the room to one of the tall windows that made up the easternmost wall. Stopped there, deep cushioned seat before her ignored to stand. Cassian honestly thought she wasn’t going to bother to answer. Braced himself for another silent nighttime hour, watching that relentlessly gorgeous, exhausted face grow pale, before her voice cut through the stillness. “I imagine you would,” Nesta said, eyes on the falling snow. “You don’t introduce yourself with any family name.” Slowly, like coming a long way back, Nesta turned to catch his eyes. “Because you don’t have one?” Bastard. That she didn’t say the word was the only thing that surprised Cassian- of course Nesta Archeron remembered every detail. Joints locked, Cassian braced himself. For the word from her perfect mouth, maybe. For dismissal, for what had always been coming. Instead, wavy hair, luminous in lamplight, fell across the sharp line of her jaw as Nesta tilted her head thoughtfully. Looked at him, leaning, wings tucked anxious tight, against the soaring shelves behind her slab of a desk.

“I’ve read about your people in books,” She said, after a long while. “There’s not a damn thing known about the Night Court. But Illyrians are a legend, as far away as the Weeping City.” He wanted to memorize the sound of her saying Illyrian- had heard it a thousand times from the mouths of others, spit like any curse. The blood that ran so strong in Cassian’s veins it could never be denied- a burden. Lesser faeries. Savages. Something to be feared, above all else.

But from Nesta? Curiosity. Maybe he was imagining it- hoping it- but wonder? Not the first time, Cassian imagined flying through the skies with her. “You’ve been to the Weeping City?” Beneath the largest waterfall the world over, surrounded on all sides by three more. It was a continent away, the crown jewel of an old faery kingdom whose people believed their great stone monuments were carved by the hand of a mourning goddess- a beautiful place, where her tears would forever touch her people. Nesta’s mouth twisted. “No. But as you can see, faery gold buys lots of books." Something in the bitterness- rage surely, but Cassian was learning that all of Nesta’s emotions wore the shape of rage, no matter what they were- made him ask. “What Rhys called you, Banfhlaith,” He repeated careful- as careful with her words as she’d been with Illyrian, “That’s your title?” Nesta turned back to the window in a snap of movement.

“No,” She said, low, “I can never be Banfhlaith, Lady of the Archeron lands.” When he didn’t reply, Nesta laughed, an equally quiet, terrible sound. “Do Illyrian lords allow their daughters to inherit?” And Cassian couldn’t stand it.

“You and Elain take care of all those people,” The words burst out from where they’d had been sitting in his chest since that first time he’d argued with her. Fought her- asininely unable to stay away, equally lacking the ability to resist challenging her- and flown away glamoured, deeper into Archeron lands. It didn’t calm him down, but eventually Cassian had landed on a snowy roof, so tangled in his thoughts he didn’t immediately realize he was surrounded by the noise of happy children. Dozens of them, and women of all ages too, but more young ones than there could have been mothers. Something molten in his bones, growing every minute, hadn’t let him leave. So Cassian listened and watched. Found that Nesta Archeron- pillar of rage, warrior of a woman- had started a home for orphans. For women who didn’t have families- or did and needed to escape them. That the sister’s paid for doctors and teachers, clothes, and a sprawling home. The building he was perched on was a weavers hall- Nesta had allotted the home fields. Fallow and covered in snow now, but in spring they’d grow flax, the woman would tend the trees he found now that he was looking that would feed silkworms. Later, Elain would tell him the adults here kept the profit of their labors, the cloth they could produce and trade, without paying tax to the estate. But the children. They spoke about Lady Nesta constantly- excited for the winter holidays, dinner at the estate, gifts from the Lady. Not in the distant way of a benefactor- but like the fond favorite aunt Cassian might imagine existed in some happy distant world to ask about childhood studies and bring treats. They knew her personally, not as a lady above them. He’d flown back, not to her side, but to find Azriel. And Az started listening for more than threats. Together, they learned that no matter that any humans with power looked to Lucien Vanserra hiding behind a false human face for authority, the people loved the Archeron sisters. That by retaking the fiefdom of their great- great grandfathers they hadn’t gained a profit. They might in a year, or two, if things continued as they were. What they had done was take a half of what their closest fellow landowners took from their people’s yields. Rotated the crops and changed the largest tenant farms to more profitable growth. Abolished the law the banned villagers from hunting on their land. Built a free school with teachers paid and brought over from human continental cities to teach the village children more than just their letters. Nesta herself, under the name of her fathers judgement, granting divorces and never turning away a single person in need. Plans and schemes and shipments of poison, turning the tide of a war that wasn’t hers to keep her people safe, endangered for every act. She was gods damned impossible, a miracle. Cassian couldn’t understand it. “You take care of all those people, and Vanserra takes the credit to keep you safe.” Cassian snarled, angry even to his own ears. “Feyre told me you going to marry some Lord twice your age to protect Elain. The title should be yours.” Lack of recognition was something Cassian had felt his entire life- had told himself didn’t matter again and again. Hadn’t allowed to matter when he brought back legions safely, kept the fragile peace in the Steppes no matter what it cost him. But this- like so much of Nesta- crawled right under his skin and burned.

Couldn’t be called poison, just sparks catching on so much ready kindling. Not agreeing- not acknowledging the cauldron damned ocean that filled him at the thought of Nesta Acheron, saving everyone she could find as it bled into his tone- Nesta looked at him with those dawn blue eyes. “I’m going to tell you a secret,” She announced. It was so far from what he’d expected her to say that Cassian froze, words on the tip of his tongue to tell her no. Not because he didn’t want to know- Cassian would have lit himself on fire to know- but because she was in a house with a Shadowsinger. And something told Cassian Nesta’s confidence was the rarest of possible gifts. A gift he wanted- her faith, her trust, a real reason to stand at her side and belong. A smile, so fast he might have imagined it, flickered over her face. No less sharp, but lovely. “The room is warded,” She told him. Looked up and up, leveling him from across the room. “Do you want to know why I hate my father?” She waited for him to nod. Cassian was afraid that answering aloud would break this moment. Behind her, the sky glowed with the captured light of a heavy snow, framing her in the surreally lit night. Grey eyes, white, white skin, pale sky- no matter the golden lamplight. Somehow all the more real, fragile, than Nesta asking his help to plan for the battles to come. Be careful, Cassian. Like he’d ever lacked care, like Cassian would have ever survived this long without his eyes open. As though Cassian, his whole life wrought in blood, inked in promise marks for the whole open, glorious sky, had ever taken a single disloyal breath.

Before the words ever came Cassian’s heart had clenched with a phantom pain, a sword straight through. “It's not the title. Or the business, or the fact that he’s never, ever coming home.” Nesta’s eyes moved over his face. “My father killed our mother.” Cassian was across the room and at her side before another breath could be taken.

***

“The Archeron name is old. Royal.” Elain whispered, to the grip of Lucien’s hands where they’d come up to catch her wrists, held captive against his heart. “But our grandfather was ruined. Our father had just enough money after his death for a single trading voyage. He had nothing to lose and went along to the continent. To Hesperia.” Lucien had been raised by monster. Whatever doubts of his parentage that lived in his heart, whatever questions could be drawn, nothing could ever change those first decades under Beron’s monstrous eye. That Lucien was called to his ancient throne by blood and birthright and act, every bit as dangerous as Autumn could be. The Archeron’s had grown up dangerous too, but he’d never questioned, imagined, it might be for similar reasons. “It was a great love story,” Elain hissed, a harsh, beautiful sing-song. “An heiress, who left her country to come live beneath the Wall. Seren is the name of an extinct merchant clan- I don’t know how he convinced her to use it, to marry him in human law- any of it. But overnight, the Archeron name was saved.” Helpless, Lucien dipped his head. Brushed his lips over the tangle of her knuckles, pressed hard to his chest. She sighed. Slumped, tipping forward, until her cheek rested against his shoulder. It was only after Lucien curled his body around hers in the snowy cold that Elain began speaking again. “Nesta thinks she might have been very old. That it was something new, to try to live a human life. The thrill of a secret.” She shifted, slipping closer, words a warm breath to Lucien’s neck. “I don’t know. I imagine she was young- she must have been. That perhaps she really fell in love and was ruined by it, I don’t know.”

No, Nesta had promised, the favor she wanted a shadowsinger for was not murder. Good, Lucien thought- he wanted to be the one to skin the absent Lord Archeron for every bit of pain in Elain’s tone, every bitter drop of grief.

He wouldn’t kill him- no, Elain and Nesta deserved that privilege. Lucien would just make it possible. Ensure, if that was their choice, they never had to see their father’s face again. “Elain,” Lucien whispered, unsure he even wanted the answer he could feel trying to burst from her, visible tension limning her entire body tucked in his arms, “What happened to your mother?” Elain sat up. Looked at him head on. “He killed her. Poison. Worthless parasite- do you know what we found among the treasure he’d hid from the creditors? His journals. I hated him for years for not caring when she died- but he killed her. He killed her and he wrote about it.” Mist billowed around her furious face. Not mist- snowflakes melting to steam before they could reach even her hair, Lucien’s power alive in the air. He ripped off his gloves, pulling at the fine leather with his teeth. Moved faster than could be seen to catch her face- to cup, gentle, the curve of Elain’s cheeks and catch those first, enraged tears as they fell. Lucien said nothing, wished he could bleed the whole force of his heart into the simple touch because he knew- he knew, Elain wasn’t done speaking yet. “Feyre’s very like her, you see. Joyful. Reckless. She loved above all beautiful things- strove to be the best, to have the brightest. After years of living among humans, of having half human children, she stopped being careful.” “The roses,” Lucien whispered. “The roses. Healing little scrapes and bruises whenever Feyre fell,” Elain audibly swallowed a laugh, “Fey always was the favorite. Magic- she was so magical, maybe she simply couldn’t hold it in any longer. But that drew talk. Whispers. No one marries faeries- to know them is one thing, legal if they’re from across the sea. But even the rumor that magic could have come into the nobility from over the Wall- the newly reborn Archeron name couldn’t have that.” “She took ill in winter. Normal- we didn’t understand, but she’d never been ill before. Dead in a week. A formal funeral, but we weren’t allowed to attend- to- to say her name.” Her black brown gaze flickered up to capture his, two burnt out suns. Elain smiled- dimples lovely, her beloved face, so damned faery as he’d thought a hundred times before- how had Lucien missed it? How did anyone? “And then, of course. The curse came manifest.” So plain to see, so wondrous to behold, the pieces that had been missing and clicked so easily together. The Archeron sisters- their mother’s daughters. Their history, so much more extreme than human folly. “The curse,” Lucien breathed, “On the merchant contract with your bloodline. What allows Archeron ships into faery ports, your people into faery land.” “No hand in violence may be raised,” Elain recited, “Against magic folk. No innocent faery blood shed, lest the seas themselves rise in revolt against mortal passage. His ships sank, his life unwound.” Lucien stroked beneath her eye, sliding warmth into her cold-flushed skin. “You needed a man’s presence to keep you safe from other humans, but you never wanted him to return. Hated him- for the negligence, for abandonment, for that need, for existing. He deserves worse. Say the word, and I’ll weave a curse of my own.” Every bit Autumn, his words embers burning. Flame to follow for the foolish, death all the way down, no light to lead out of the dark. Elain wrapped her hand around his, pressed Lucien’s calloused palm harder to her cheek. “Blindness? Ill-luck? A damning wish?” The curses of faeries in stories- lies of their own people Elain and Nesta had been deprived the truth of until Lucien crashed into their lives and found a home. A home that wouldn’t disappear. Not a hundred years. Not stolen decades Lucien would burn the whole damn warring world to hold unto each second of. Elain- who wasn’t afraid of him, who could smile and say such things- who might live as long as him, a crown of bone in her hair. It was with utter honesty that Lucien murmured, “Anything.” “Anything you’d like, Elain.”

***

When the war came, it started with a wardrobe. Red leather, once and half over again human height and twice as wide. Landed before the great doors of the manor, a soft thump in snow that went unheard. White drifted down and down still, no eyes out in the storm to see that the flakes didn’t touch that supple surface. Unblemished through ice and damp, red shone through the softly quiet world. Impervious, to the wards that sang strong, no warning gifted to the Lady of the estate, occupied entirely by her own white knuckled grip on the shaking Illyrian beside her, tales of mother’s lost exchanged.

Of vengeance, offered free.

No alarm to break through the soft clink of crystal, a midnight drink shared by the lady the ground beneath that snow loved and the man who’d bled to make it safe. Only this: flaming, fire-bright magic, and awed assurance that humanity would fade. A future that stretched forward, risk taken with assurance and this- Brighter than the leather, than the seal of the House it had been delivered to, untouched by the weather and all the more horrifically real for it, blood began to seep out onto the snow. Unfrozen, fresh, through the night. A message waiting, for Archeron hands.

@breath-of-sindragosa

@flxwer-petals

@ladyvanserra

@illyrianinterrasen

@missanniewhimsy

@tntwme

@ourbooksuniverse

@pitterpatterpot

@thestarwhowishes

@abillionlittlepieces

@my-fan-side

@the-eightofswords

@wonderland–memories

@ourbooksuniverse

@cohen-theeleven

@donnarosemary

@keshavomit @superspiritfestival @court-of-fandoms-and-art @sunsummoner @iwastoowildinthe70s @courtofmadness @oonjiawen @ashiok @caotica-e-quieta

#kicking down the door with PLOT #I'M BACK BABES #and it is straight to murder time #this au really boils down to three things: what if Feyre's bad plan had consequences #what if the sisters were allowed to know things #and what if every important acomaf thing happened...while Feyre and Rhys were busy making out in the woods #guys #I hope you saw this coming #Lucien every ten seconds: Nesta you ferocious faery sister of my heart #Elain you'd kill in the courts #god Feyre seems even more human than Nesta even now that shes A FAERY #the fundament bit is that....they don't know anything about themselves #who their mom was but rich and magic #what kind of faery she was #they've been aging like humans so far they think they're going to have a human life #but its ALSO always there in background #Remember Az promising murder?#REASONS #yes of course Rhys is going to be a dick #the single romantic loop #Elain trying to poison Lucien #learning all the faery stories are wrong from him #and Lucien learning finally from Elain now that she's ready #that the human story of HER is wrong too #because they're one in the same #next up: Cassian losing his mind #A Hug #the story descending into a wartime comedy #with Lucien and Cas in a deathmatch to be more husbandly #OH YEAH

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l-wannabe-l · 2 years

Text

I posted 852 times in 2021

73 posts created (9%)

779 posts reblogged (91%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 10.7 posts.

I added 456 tags in 2021

#terminator - 82 posts

#the terminator - 67 posts

#terminator 2 - 58 posts

#terminator judgement day - 57 posts

#t2 - 53 posts

#t800 - 38 posts

#t-1000 - 34 posts

#john connor - 26 posts

#sarah connor - 26 posts

#aria connor - 15 posts

Longest Tag: 115 characters

#the contrast between the t-800 immediately being called perfect while the t-1000 is just some guy. very funny to me

My Top Posts in 2021

Do you think John would do the whole "my dad/mom could beat up your dad/mom" argument

I think he would because he knows he'd win

T-800/Uncle bob: What is the purpose of this?

Sarah: John needs to win a bet.

John: Uncle Bob stop smiling!

36 notes • Posted 2021-04-17 22:01:10 GMT

Javelin Headcanons

For @the-schizotypal-cryptid. This was fun to do. I'm gonna work on my Polkadot Man stuff next.

An absolute flirt

This man looks good and he knows it

Definitely has spent time in front of a mirror. Just admiring himself.

Impeccably well groomed.

You think he doesn't take care of himself. Lies.

You all saw his lovely golden locks.

That is the result of the best kind of product.

How he managed to get them into Belle Reve no one's really sure.

Even though he's German, his accent is not 100% authentic.

If anything he exaggerates it most of the time.

He tends to use it just to keep up his image.

He thinks people's reactions are funny when he drops it.

In the comics Javelin had a variety of javelins each different and engineered by him.

But because he only has one in the movie and the fact that it managed to pierce Starro when little else could.

I'm going to say it's magic.

The javelin is magic and no one can convince me otherwise.

Most definitely acquired through sheer dumb luck.

58 notes • Posted 2021-08-07 06:17:34 GMT

So I watched suicide squad yesterday, which was great btw, and now I just have a lot of feelings.

Anyway I'm going on a bender (writing fanfiction) I'm gonna make some Polkadot man stuff, anyone want anything?

234 notes • Posted 2021-08-07 04:42:52 GMT

Polkadot Man Headcanons

A request from @loonylunalovegood77 I love this man with all my heart.

Was likely the oldest and most successful of his mother’s experiments.

Unfortunately most didn’t survive.

He does still have living siblings, living being a generous term.

He killed his mom when she was planning to start experimentations on his youngest sibling who was a teenager at the time

It's what landed him in Belle Reve.

Favorite treats are dippin' dots and nerds.

Basically anything round and colorful.

Spots go out spots go in.

He thinks it's hilarious in an ironic, morbid sort of way.

Has tried his hand at poetry.

It's not very good.

He just has a lot of emotion to get out.

If not poetry, then just a basic journal/diary.

Probably some sketches strewn in.

He seems like a doodler.

They're hopefully not all of his mom.

Once he learns Harley is a licensed psychologist he makes sure to not be left alone in the same room with her.

He knows he's got issues.

But he'll be damned if he has to learn exactly how many there are.

This man said fiddlesticks in an R rated movie.

You cannot convince me he doesn't have more family friendly swears in his arsenal.

When emotions run high though all bets are off.

He will throw "fuck" around like it's just more of his dots.

237 notes • Posted 2021-08-09 06:12:50 GMT

Homeward Bound.

Requested by @loonylunalovegood77 had to rewrite this one cause the first came out more angst then fluff.

The ride was silent. Everyone felt exhausted, physically and mentally, after the fights at Jotunheim and against Starro. Leaning against Abner, hands entwined, you let your head fall against his shoulder. The others all melted into their seats as the events of the day settled onto their bodies. No one had any energy left to make small talk, Cleo is just dozing off while using Nanaue as a pillow. Abner’s hand was the only thing reminding you that he’s still alive. Thinking back it was nothing but pure fear and adrenaline that pushed you towards Abner and it was luck that you reached him before Starro’s limb did, pure stupid amazing luck that for the first time in your life your intangibilty spread to another living being. If Abner had died you’d hate to think where that would have left you.

“Thank you.” Abner says to you, breaking you out of your musings, his voice a whisper. These are words for only you to hear.

“Even superhero’s need help from their sidekicks.” You say back with a smile. A slight tease but after what happened seemed to be an abt description.

“... you want to be my sidekick?” He asked, hope and disbelief could be heard in his voice in equal measures. You both know what he was really asking about. You don’t answer him right away just letting out a low hum as you think about it. It wouldn't be easy, the slightest slip up would have Waller after the both of you, but a life together...

“Yeah, that sounds nice.”

Abner’s head falls down to rest against yours. You can tell by his deep even breathing that he’d fallen asleep. Smiling softly you nuzzled into his shoulder and let yourself drift off until the helicopter made land.

379 notes • Posted 2021-08-17 04:33:56 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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agreementtale · 3 years

Text

Chapter 27: The Great

Taking advantage of the fact that both human and skeleton were distracted with greasy breakfast, Flowey disappeared on the ground.

The last thing he wanted was to leave them alone with him, but after a week of nothing but jokes and not lethal pranks, he had to make a choice.

And there wouldn’t be much more time, if the determined hue of their eyes this morning was any indication.

~*~

Since he woke up on the true lab, Flowey had to make a lot of hard choices.

Abandoning his name or being guilty of all the events his previous life triggered.

Not meeting his father or being held expectant to what he used to be.

Never seeing his mother or being swallowed by her madness.

Give up on trying to help people or being merciless murdered.

Kill and live or hide and survive.

And after many and many failed resets, he had learned his lesson.

For a long time he had chosen to sneak around the cities, to help just enough so he wasn’t caught. To live just near enough to meet people and preach a more pacific way of life, but distant enough to flee at the first threat.

~*~

“Are You Ok?” the concerned voice had cut through his fear like the sharpened bone sword would cut his vines at any moment now.

It hadn’t yet, that had been last timeline, before he was captured and sent to the labs, this time he dodged the attacks in time. This time the guard looked at him with an expression he hadn’t seen in years.

“You Aren’t Dusting Are You?” The monster looked frantic, abandoning the fight instance, concern and guilt making him lower his guard “I Didn’t Lower Your HP That Much” not that Flowey could do anything to harm him, his pellets were too weak to harm a guard’s HP.

But if he lowered his guard, maybe a surprise attack now would dust him and allow Flowey to escape. He couldn’t go back to the labs, he would do anything to not go back at the labs! He thought about taking the easy betrayal kill, but he knew sooner or later he would regret the idea, and go back to his last save file.

“Your Soul” Flowey stopped, his body going colder than the snow below him “What Happened?” he looked at the new guard, really looked for the first time.

He was a skeleton, instead of eyes he had two holes on his hollow head, dim white lights trembling inside his skull. It was nothing he had seen before, it wasn’t nostalgic, it wasn’t relatable, it wasn’t recognizable in any way… But looking at those fearful eyes, something inside coiled at the genuine show of feeling, even if Flowey couldn’t feel it, he was compelled to say something to the monster in front of him “I’m fine”

“NO! YOU–/” He stopped himself and looked back to where he came from “YOU ARE NOT FINE, I CAN’T SENSE YOUR SOUL” Flowey never thought that shouting and whispering could go together, but the skeleton just proved him wrong.

“I don’t have one” There was no sense in lying, not when he could experience a reaction so genuine from a new monster, he was tired of the same faces.

“You Don’t…”

There it was, the moment of realization where every monster sported an horrified face, and gave him either pity or disgust, he wondered which one of the two his reaction would be.

“FEAR NOT” but the skeleton got on one knee, getting near his height, chest puffed with pride, like a real knight “THE GREAT PAPYRUS WILL FIND A WAY TO FIX THIS” and extending his hands he started to heal him.

A guard that was ordered to find him, dead or alive, actually healed him.

And on his magic he could feel, all the kindness and sincerity of his words, not a speck of malice, nor the lingering residue of disinterest of the paid healers, no, this monster wanted to heal him, not because he agreed on a price, but just because he wanted Flowey to be better!

Flowey was capable of healing, he had learned it from his parents. But being healed was so much better…

The feeling… that someone cared… that someone was there for him…

The new monster’s magic spoke more than he could ever describe with a straight face. He would cry, if he still had the ability.

“THE DOCTOR SHOULD KNOW WHAT TO DO” the sentence drowned all the warmth of his chest, or lack of it.

“No, please!” he tried to retreat, startling the monster before him “Not her, anyone but her!” but he was caught on his grip and couldn’t stop trashing “She will cut me open, please!” but he was trapped again, that’s what he got for dropping his guard “Please, don’t let her experiment on me again”

“AGAIN?”

“It’s her fault! I’m like this because of her!”

The lights in his head went out, he was terrifying like that “She… Took Your Soul?”

He wanted to say yes, but he was scared the skeleton could see through his lies, skeletons were powerful monsters, he remembered the stories his mother would tell before he slept.

“She… didn’t build me one”

The silence was palpable.

Neither of them moved.

He wanted to escape of the other’s grip, but it was useless.

His lights were still out.

He didn’t know what to think, and the environment was too charged for him try to say anything without being prompted.

“Cadet!” Came the strong yell, the monster went stiff, getting up abruptly, and Flowey saw himself free, but more trapped than before “What are you doing standing there?!?”

She approached, and he knew that at this distance, if he so much as tried to move she would see him, if he kept completely still the skeleton’s boot gave him the cover he needed.

“FORGIVE ME CAPTAIN!” yelled, body completely stiff “I WAS LOOKING FOR THE FUGITIVE”

“And did you find him?”

“I” that was the moment they sent him to the doctor “COULDN’T FIND A SOUL, CAPTAIN” was… was he covering for him?

She shouted aggressively, hitting the trees behind with spears “What are you waiting here for?! Move!”

“YES CAPTAIN!” he made a symbol with his finger… ‘up’, Flowey climbed his boot. Hiding inside.

~*~

The first person to try to help without knowing him… The first person to still treat him as a monster once he found out he didn’t have a soul.

This memory had been lost in time, many, many resets ago…

Papyrus didn’t need to remember that. No one need to know that. He escaped the lab before the scientist could know of his existence, made a point to avoid Undyne this timeline, and was sure that this timeline neither Papyrus or Sans had the chance of using the blue magic directly on him, and finding out his secret…

This timeline he did everything right… he tried, he really tried to make a difference… but it always got to the same point…

~*~

“But... Papyrus... You are my only friend...”

The lieutenant sighed, not looking at him “YOU ARE MY FRIEND TOO, FLOWEY, Just Not In Public, Ok?”

“But…” no matter what he did, it always came to this.

“NOT IN PUBLIC! I CAN’T BE SEEN HANGING OUT WITH A FREE-EXP!”

He took a brief moment to think, was there anything he hadn’t tried to say? “... No one is going to hurt you for it” he was sure he hadn’t said that one yet, but it seemed to be the wrong choice either way.

“ARE YOU SUGGESTING I AM SCARED?” He was scared of be seen as weak, of becoming a target, everyone in the underground was, and everyone would kill before admitting that.

“I can protect us!” but Flowey had to try.

“HA! YOU SHOULD GIVE MY BROTHER SOME LESSONS ON HUMOR!”

“It’s true!” He didn’t want to lose his best friend.

“YOU CAN’T.”

“I can! I can tell what is going to happen and–/”

“AND I WILL HAVE TO DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT. OR WILL YOU RETHINK YOUR FOOLISH IDEA OF MERCY?” He didn’t understand, Papyrus didn’t understand what he was asking.

“But no one has to die! If monsters can just–/”

“WOULD YOU KILL FOR ME FLOWEY?” He just didn’t understand… He had killed, and then he hadn’t.

“...” He always reseted after killing, it was just wrong, even Papyrus agreed that if something like this could be avoided, it should be.

“WOULD YOU KILL SOMEONE IF I ASKED YOU TO? IF I NEED YOU TO?” But he was insistent.

“I... could avoid us having to kill them...”

He gave an empty laugh, and Flowey knew he had lost him again.

Like all those other timelines.

“It’s Funny, Because Until Now I Would Kill Almost Anyone For You” Papyrus got up from the rock and walked slowly before turning to him “SEE WHO IS A TRUE FRIEND, AND WHO IS A FILTHY LIAR!”

“Wait, Papyrus!” He tried to follow when the skeleton started to walk, but a bone attack materialized in front of him

“IN THIS WORLD IS KILL OR BE KILLED, FLOWEY! I DON’T WANT TO SEE YOU AGAIN UNTIL YOU’VE LEARNED THAT, AND IF YOU STILL HAVEN’T, I WILL MAKE SURE YOU UNDERSTAND!” he threw a wave of bones in front of him, uncomfortably close, and disappeared on the snowy path.

So this time instead of resetting a few days and trying again, like he did so many times he could swear an entire year had passed. This time Flowey left his only friend at his own luck, and went to the Ruins, to talk with the flowers.

He knew no one was listening, but it had become a habit.

He was glad he did, because a human fell the next morning.

~*~

“WHAT IS THIS OBSESSION WITH THE HUMAN?” Papyrus always paced when he was conflicted “FIRST THE DAMNED DOGS CLAIM THEY ARE ONE OF THEM” It was a sign that there was still a chance “THEN MY USELESS BROTHER TAKES THEM TO THAT GREASY TRAP EVERY MORNING” The harsh movements and the agitation were scary, but gave him hope at the same time “THEN YOU COME BEFORE ME ASKING ME TO SPARE THEIR LIFE? HAVE YOU LEARN NOTHING ABOUT THIS WORLD FLOWEY?”

Apparently not, since he was standing in front of the Lieutenant of the Royal Guard, trying to convince him to commit treason and let a human reach Waterfalls.

“I WILL TELL THIS ONLY ONCE, DO YOU WANT THEM TO LIVE?”

He nodded profusely, his leaves were trembling, Papyrus last threat still hanging in the air, only now he couldn’t come back to life if he died.

“THEN DON’T LET THEM FACE ME” His right eye light flared red as he stared directly into Flowey “BECAUSE I WILL KILL THEM AND BRING THEIR SOUL TO THE KING”

“Papyrus...” he was so tall standing in front of him.

“OR BE KILLED TRYING, IN NAME OF ALL MONSTERKIND”

“Please...” standing still…

“I ALREADY WARNED YOU, SO CONVINCE THEM TO STAY IN SNOWDIN OR DECIDE WHICH ONE OF US YOU WANT TO SEE DYING”

“There is another way” Floyey pleaded, but he had seen this end too many times to hope.

“MAKE YOUR CHOICE FLOWEY” and with this the skeleton left.

~*~

Flowey couldn’t make a choice…

It was not his choice to make, not anymore…

And somehow he was glad.

One of the two would die… many, many times… until they gave up.

He just hoped they gave up from the fight, and came back to Snowdin.

He just hoped that they weren’t like him…

That when they got stuck in a challenge too big to surpass, that they didn’t got angry… and striked the enemy down.

They were human, and humans could deliver so much damage when they were angry…

He didn’t want to see it…

He didn’t want to see his sibling’s blood… over and over again staining the snow.

He didn’t want to see his – former, he forced himself to think – best friend’s dust… blowing on the wind, just like any other monster… not even a proper burial…

But even if they did kill him in the end, they would certainly be guilty and try again, right?

They wouldn’t go ahead if they killed, right?

They wouldn’t save over a monster’s death…

They couldn’t…

He…

His leaves were still trembling, even without the eminent danger, if he still had emotions he would think he was scared.

But he wasn’t.

He didn’t have emotions.

He didn’t have a soul.

And if he, who didn’t have a soul, still had the hearth to do the right thing, and not save after killing someone. Then they could do the same.

And if they didn’t?

Well…

He just had to make sure to remind them.

The easy or the hard way.

Luckily for him, he learned a thing or two with past resets.

______________________

First

Last

#AgreementTale #undertale #AGF!Flowey #AGF!Papyrus #fanfiction #archieve of our own #long fic

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not-close-to-straight · 4 years

Text

Lost and Found (Final)

Final Chapter! Special shout out to @striving-artist who has been waiting since October 2019 for her turn on the commission list. This storyline was one I had never considered and wholly enjoyed writing, I loved the different versions of Winteriron we got to meet in this fic and as always, I loved re-writing the movies to better fit our HeadCanons.

@striving-artist thank you for trusting my words and commissioning me!

Cheers!

MASTERLIST HERE

******************

“Mr. Stark?” Steve knocked on the wall of the living room before coming inside. “Your uh-- your robot butler let me in, I hope I’m not intruding.”

“You’re certainly not intruding but I will absolutely put you out on your spangled ass if you call me Mr. Stark again.” Tony did up a few buttons on his shirt and then stood to shake the Captain’s hand. “Please, it’s just Tony.”

“Tony.” Steve grinned. “Sorry, old habits die hard. I might not be the upstanding citizen everybody likes to say I was, but it sure is hard to drop those sir’s and ma’ams.”

“Did you call Auntie Peggy ma’am when you saw her again?” Tony motioned for Steve to sit. “I heard you only managed to see her the one time before she passed, and you couldn’t show up to the funeral without revealing the whole out-of-the ice-thing.”

“I did only get to see her the one time close to the end, but Tony believe me, I called Peggy ma’am even when we were in bed.” Steve deadpanned, and Tony snorted a laugh until the Captain said, “No seriously. Seriously.”

“I’d say I was surprised by that, but Auntie was far too open with the details of her past for me to be surprised she liked to be called ma’am in bed.” Tony laughed louder at the Captain’s semi-horrified face. “But hey, I’d rather not talk about my dearly departed Auntie and her bedroom gymnastics with the still weirdly young guy in my living room. What can I do for you today, Captain? Come by to see James?”

“Actually came by to see you.” Steve sat down and spread his arms out along the backrest of the couch. “See how you were doing and if there was anything I could do to help you along the way.”

“Well, I’m doing fine.” Tony flipped his shirt open to show the Captain the still beautifully blue arc reactor and the distinct lack of black sludge in his veins. “Close to a month of rest and relaxation and the palladium’s pretty much out of my system, my mental focus is back to a hundred and ten percent according to the tests I’m sort of obsessively taking, and now that I can eat without vomiting, I’ve even put on some weight. Doing just fine.”

And then with a smile, “And no offence Captain, but I doubt there’s much you and your pretty muscles could do to solve something like how to create and stabilize a viable element that very well might be the key to unlocking clean, sustainable power for generations to come.”

“Clean sustainable power for generations.” Steve repeated. “Gonna get all that from the battery in your chest?”

“The one in my chest is just a first step, and now that I have a new lease on life?” Tony inclined his head towards a set of blue prints on the side table. “There will be one powering my new place in New York, Stark Tower.”

“I’ve seen the plans.” Steve nodded. “It’s ugly. Big mark on the New York skyline, what uh-- what does Tasha call it? Some sort of phallic over compensation?”

“Ms. Romanov’s wit wounds me even from afar.” Tony snorted. “And it’s Tasha now, huh? You two gotten any closer to dating, or are you still fore-playing by way of intense fire arms training and weirdly long early morning runs?”

“Eh, we’ve moved up to foreplay by way of Terminator movies and Brazilian Ju-jitsu.” Steve replied as if he didn’t see the absolute hilarity in his words. “Slow but steady wins the race, isn’t that right?”

“I’ve always been more of the drive by and snatch guy myself.” Tony tossed Steve a bottle of water then gestured briefly. “I know you didn’t come here to make small talk, and even though I’m always glad to see James’s best pal and a living American icon, let’s just get to it. What’s on your mind?”

“Sure.” Steve drained the water bottle in one go and wiped at his mouth. “We did some checking into Vanko and his story about your Dad. Turns out the claim and accusation was pretty solid, Tony. I know you want to believe the guy is just a victim of the circumstances out of his control but the fact is, his dad was a bonafide bad guy and by crashing the Grand Prix, Ivan headed right down the same road.”

“Damn it.” Tony swallowed and looked away. “That-- that sucks. I’m sorry to hear that.”

“You’d rather hear that Howard framed someone for the patent to some tech, than hear a baddie is a legitimate baddie?”

“I don’t know.” he shook his head. “After hearing that story he told about Howard, I wanted to believe he could be reformed or maybe it was a mis-understanding. I know what it feels like to be painted as a villain cos of my dad-or dad figure choices. Granted, I didn’t blow up a race, but what Stane had my company do is worse by about a thousand times. I hoped Ivan was the same. Maybe inadvertently a bad guy because of the stories he was told, even though the stories were lies.”

“Well they weren’t lies.” Steve countered. “And by the way, you’ve done a great job recovering from what Stane did. Turning around from ‘whoops we’re selling weapons of mass destruction to terrorists’ to being the guy blowing up the weapons-- you should be proud of yourself, Tony.”

“I’m proud of Pepper for not cracking under the pressure of keeping everything together while I went through some pretty spectacular self adjustments.” Tony deflected. “But thank you for telling me about Ivan. Any word on why Justin Hammer was asking about him so much the last few months?”

“No idea what that was about, but Fury moved Vanko before Hammer got too close.” Steve rolled his eyes. “Smarmy, self satisfied prick. The guy actually looks physically oily, like a damn snake.”

“He definitely does.” Tony grinned. “What else is on your mind, Steve?”

“You asked Fury to check in on Pierce?” Steve wanted to know, and Tony nodded. “For all sorts of need-to-know and security clearance reasons, you gotta stop asking questions.”

“The hell I will--”

“Tony.” Steve’s voice dropped at least an octave in warning. “I’m telling you. Stop asking questions. I can’t do what I need to do with you poking around.”

“No offence Captain but sometimes--”

“--sometimes problems are solved with brute strength and not politics.” Steve cut in again. “That’s how I dealt with bad guys back in war, that’s how I deal with them now. The people who did all that shit to Bucky don’t deserve to keep breathing and by the Dawn’s Early Light, they won’t keep breathing, you understand?”

“...you’re going to kill him.”

“I didn’t survive seventy years in the ice to wake up and deal with Nazi’s again.” Steve confirmed. “Don’t care which flag they’re marching under. Fury knows where I stand with that, and since there’s not much he could do to stop me anyway, he just wants me to be at least slightly subtle about it all.”

Tony put both hands up peacefully. “I’ll stay out of the way and let you work.”

“Thanks.” Steve folded his arms and tapped his foot on the floor a few times. “You aren’t going to make fun of me for swearing by the Dawn’s Early Light? I’ve been working on that line all week, thought for sure it would get a rise outta you. I’m trying it out for some new propaganda films SHIELD wants to put out to officially announce my return from the ice. What do you think? Too much?”

“I think it’s exactly the sort of patriotic bullshit we all expect a newly risen Captain America to say.” Tony confirmed. “And trust me, JARVIS recorded it, and it will be your ringtone and notification setting from now until the end of time.”

Steve cheesed a grin at him, and Tony gestured for the soldier to keep going. “Alright, baddies and Nazi’s aside, what else did you come this way for?”

The Captain leaned forward and clasped his hands loosely between his knees, rubbing his thumbs one over the other for a minute as he thought. “Tony, I wanted to talk to you about Bucky.”

“...sure?”

“I would like to know your intentions with my best friend.” Those All American blues hardened like steel and Tony raised his eyebrows in confusion. “I grew up watching Bucky hide everything about who he really was and that always killed me. But after everything that’s happened---”

Steve pursed his lips. “Tony, I won't stand to see Buck’s heart broken. I won’t.”

“Oh my god, is Captain America giving me the shovel talk?”

“Steve Rogers is giving you the ‘please treat my bud right’ talk.” Steve corrected. “The Captain America shovel talk will involve an actual shovel and it will be a one sided conversation, you understand?”

“Steve.” Tony chuckled and tapped pointedly at his watch, the one he’d finalized with the nano tech gauntlet design and was only ever 2.4 seconds from blowing someone through a wall. “Are you threatening me?”

“I’m fuckin’ begging you to do right by my best friend.” the Captain answered bluntly. “I know all about that fancy gauntlet and if this were you coming into my house like this, I’d probably have put my shield through your throat and dropped you in the river--”

“Seriously, Captain America. Work on the violent tendencies.”

“--I was five and a half feet tall and didn’t break a hundred pounds until I was in my twenties.” Steve said bluntly. “You wanna talk small man syndrome and hair trigger temper, we can talk it all day. But for right now? I just need to know you’re not setting out to break Bucky’s heart now that you’re healthy and Tony Stark again.”

“Does Tasha know about your small man syndrome? Cos I feel like she would have several pointed and devastating below the belt comments to lay on you.” Tony quipped, and the tension broke when they laughed together. “Alright Spangles, less than thinly veiled threats and worries aside….?”

“Bucky says you make him feel found.” Steve said softly. “Does he make you feel that way, Tony? Do you love him like he loves you?”

“Ask me again next week.” Tony took a sip of his own water. “Yeah?”

“What’s next week?”

“Next week is six months to the day that Bucky and I met in that diner over pancakes, so I figure that’s as good a day as any to uh....” Tony paused, shy. “To make it official. You think he’ll say yes if I pop the question?”

Steve’s eyes widened first in surprise and then in hope. “Can I be there to take a picture?”

“Oh absolutely not.”

“I’ll stand in the background and no one will notice!”

“You are six and a half feet of corn fed bullshit, Mr. Rogers. No way.”

“Tony, this is my best friend--!”

“And you can congratulate us along with everyone else when we make the announcement at a dinner date to be determined.”

“I’ve waited seventy years to see Bucky happy!”

“Not a chance.”

“Damn you Stark!” Steve burst out, and James walked in just in time to hear Tony crack up laughing over it.

“Stevie.” He tossed his friend a salute, then bent and kissed Tony for a long minute. “What’cha doing cussin’ at my fella?”

“Over reacting when he doesn’t get his way.” Tony pulled James down onto the couch and turned obediently into his arms, snuggling close to his left side. “The usual. “

“That is not my usual.” Steve huffed and James corrected with a quick, “Oh Stevie, that is always your usual. What are you over reacting about this time? Tights too tight? Glitter not smudged on your cheeks just right? Spend too much time polishin’ your--” he coughed pointedly, “--shield alone these days?”

Tony cackled over Steve’s scandalized expression. James was so fun these days, rarely serious and almost always laughing, teasing and flirting and giving Steve the sort of hell Tony had always thought Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes would give each other.

And Steve was way more fun than Tony could have ever imagined, quippy and sarcastic, stubborn to the point of jack-assery but also quick to apologize and quicker still to try and make it up. Tony had never thought he’d be dating Bucky Barnes and calling Captain America a friend but here he was anyway.

In love.

Friends.

Found.

“Tony!” It was Rhodey coming to pick him up for dinner, and James nudged Tony teasingly when the Captain automatically jumped to his feet and snapped off a quick salute. “Oh ho, easy does it, Spangles. No need to salute when we’re just hanging out.”

Rhodey waved the Captain off, then kicked at James’s foot. “Move, Snowflake, let me at Tony for a minute.”

“Glad to see all the nicknames are catching on.” Tony cheesed a grin up at his best friend and accepted a kiss on his cheek. “Is this your official ‘I’m ditching you for dinner’ kiss?”

“You’ve ditched me for at least a thousand dinners.” The Colonel informed him dryly. “And you know better than anyone that when Ms. Potts demands lobster, you take her beautiful self to Maine for some fresh ass lobster.”

“You two going to bitch about how mad you still are I didn’t tell you I was sick?”

“If you mean we’re gonna hex a voodoo doll of your dumb ass and poke it with shit as revenge for you not letting us know you were purposefully, slowly killing yourself?” Rhodey flicked Tony in the ear. “Yeah, that’s exactly what we’re going to do. Besides, you’re clearly tangled up with Big and Blond and Bigger and Brunette, so it’s not like you’ll miss me. I’ll call you when I get back. Love you.”

“Love you too, Rhodey.” Tony waved until the Colonel had gone, then nudged James gently. “What are you doing tonight?”

“Mini golf with Happy.” James ran his fingers through Tony’s hair and kissed his temple. “It’s Tuesday, babydoll. Can’t miss it. You and Stevie wanna come?”’

“Captain?” Tony raised his eyebrows. “Mini golf? Might soothe your wounded feelings after being left out of other things?”

“What other things?” James asked, but Tony just hushed him and waited for Steve to answer.

“Putt putt golf?” The blond thought about it for a minute, then nodded emphatically. “Square up.”

“Square up?” Tony whispered. “Is he serious with that?”

“God, Tony. You have no idea.” James whispered back. “This will be the most intense night of putt-putt in the world.”

“Can’t wait.” Tony leaned in for a kiss that went on and on, James’s hand creeping up by habit to rest over his heart, Tony’s fingers digging into the scars where metal arm met immovable muscle. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” James caught him up in another kiss, and when they parted, Tony couldn’t help thinking about the ring he had tucked away in a drawer in the lab.

Soon.

“Hey sweet thing.” James tipped Tony’s chin up. “Can I ask you something real quick? Something important.”

“Yeah.” Tony smiled and then shot a look over at Steve. “Captain? Wanna leave us alone for a minute?”

“Not...super.” Steve stalled, but when James rolled his eyes, Steve huffed and headed out, mumbling about having to buy golf clubs for putt putt.

“I gotta say, I had no idea Captain America was such a goofy gooberson.” Tony decided. “That was definitely left out of the history books. One minute he looks like he’s going to patriotically rampage, the next he’s threatening violence, then he’s pouting about mini golf. How did you deal with him?”

“Put him over my shoulder and carry him away when he got obnoxious.” James shrugged, and when Tony asked, “You mean when he was small?”, the soldier answered, “Nah, I mean last week when he got weird about a smudge on his new shoes.”

Tony laughed and laughed until James kissed him just to shut him up. “C’mon Tony, I gotta know somethin’ important.”

Tony obediently sobered up and James kissed him again as a thank you. “I uh-- I wanted to know if me only knowin’ my last name for a few months now affects how we should hyphenate.”

“Hyphenate.” Tony repeated blankly. “Hyphenate what?”

“If we’re gonna be Barnes-Stark or just Barnes.” James explained, as if that clarified anything at all.

“James, I don’t--”

“Our last names, babydoll.” The soldier pulled a simple gold band from his pocket and held it up to the light. “You wanna be Mr. Barnes or Mr. Stark-Barnes?”

“James.” Tony gaped at the band. “What-- are you-- are you proposing right now?”

“Sorta terribly.” James admitted. “But yeah, Tony. I got some of my things back from the museum and on the loop next’a my old dog tags was my Dad’s old ring and I figured, why wait? I love you and you love me and hell sugar, I’ve been waiting for so long to find someone and then you found me and now I don’t ever wanna lose you again.”

“You’re proposing to me.” Tony repeated. “James, I--”

“You don’t gotta answer me right now.” James whispered. “I know this isn’t romantic and fancy like you deserve but--”

“Yes.” Tony blurted, and James stopped, eyes widening. “Yes. Fuck yes, I’ll marry you.”

“I haven’t even officially asked you yet!”

“Well I learned my lesson about waiting till the last minute to say important things and then almost missing my chance.” Tony took the ring carefully and fit it onto his left hand. “So yes. The answer is yes. And later you’ll just have to act surprised when I propose to you--”

“--what?!”

“-- I was waiting till next week when it was our six month anniversary but this is better.” Tony pulled James in for a long kiss. “This-- this is better. I don’t want to wait anymore or take our time or any of that. We’re not running out of time anymore but I don’t want to waste what we do have. The answer is yes.”

“When ya get around to asking me next week, my answer will be yes too.” James promised and Tony closed his eyes when his soldier pulled him in close again. “Love you so much, sweet thing.”

“I love you too.”

**************

Happy was all huffy when they finally made it out of the house holding hands and trading kisses, and Steve waiting impatiently by the limo holding a hilariously small set of golf clubs and scowling impatiently.

“What’d you guys do, get lost?” Happy demanded and James just smiled down at Tony.

“Yeah. But we found each other again, so everything’s just fine.”

Everything’s just fine.

******************

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