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lucozadehulahoop · 1 year

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Star-crossed. Lo'ak x fem!human!reader

This was originally posted on my side blog @thankeywa. It's a brand new blog and tumblr thinks it's a bot so it's not giving it visibility. Please go give it some love, I want all my avatar!related stuff to be on there.

PART 2 HERE PART 3 HERE PART 4 HERE

I know that literally nobody asked for this, but I've noticed a disturbing lack of Lo'ak fics out there, so I've decided to give my input. I've had a story in mind for a while now, and I needed to get it out there. It will be a reader insert to make it more accessible, but it's somewhat based around an original f!character, so I apologize for that in advance if it gets too specific.

WARNINGS: Lo'ak is 20 years old in this and so is the reader, I do not write about minor characters. There will be eventual mature themes in this so MINORS DO NOT INTERACT WITH THIS WORK.

For everyone else, if you like my writing, please let me know if you want to be on the tag list for future installments and SEND ME REQUESTS (head canons, imagines, sfw/nsfw, ecc.) ! I love that shit.

words: around 1.200

summary: reader is a human left behind on pandora, she grew up with the remaining humans who'd been aloud to stay on the planet after the war and has been friends with the Sully clan her entire life. She and Lo'ak were best friends until he began to pull away from her in their teen years for seemingly no reason. This story is about them reconnecting on the day of her twentieth birthday, and dealing with the feelings they have for each other and the obstacles that come with them being from two different worlds.

TW for this chapter: angst, smoking (don't do it, ever), brief mentions of alcohol, brief mention of war and death, brief mention of child birth, reader can breathe on pandora.

Y/n looked at the 'birthday cake' made out of cookie rations that Norm and Max had made for her. No matter how many years would pass, her dads always knew how to get creative.

"I'm twenty years old, you guys don't have to keep throwing me a birthday party." She reprimanded them softly, though her heart was filled with joy. Y/n was so thankful to have people in her life who cared enough to make her day special every single year.

"Considering you spent most of your early existence tied to test tubes to stay alive, we're merely celebrating the scientific marvel your continued survival has been." Norm joked, raising a beer, and y/n shoved him, before blowing out the single candle that had been meticulously re-used each year. It was a wonder how there was any wax still left on it.

"What did the birthday girl wish for?" Max asked, reaching for a dried-up cookie and cringing slightly at the taste as he chewed on it slowly. "The whole point of a birthday wish is to keep it to myself... or it won't come true. Honestly, I question your two's knowledge of Earth's traditions." y/n shook her head, before taking a celebratory sip of alcohol.

Norm and Max left eventually, back to the main base. They were more than capable of piloting a helicopter those days, and y/n was all grown up. More than capable of living by herself. What once had been an avatar lab, smack dab in the middle of the forests of Pandora, had been converted into her home. Pandora's rapidly repopulating fauna had surprisingly left her residence alone, well... mostly. There were still some creatures who couldn't help but keep themselves away. And by creatures, she meant Spider. Y/n was also friends with actual people like Neteyam, Kiri, Tuk, and... Lo'ak. Truth be told, she didn't know whether or not she and Lo'ak were even friends anymore. They'd been thick as thieves for as long as she could remember, always getting him out of trouble and fixing him up after a scuffle with his siblings. But then, around her sixteenth birthday, he'd started pulling away, and y/n had never understood why. They'd had a big fight about it, bottom line, he hadn't wanted to be around her anymore and y/n had to accept it.

"Open up! It's fucking freezing out here!" Came Spider's loud voice followed by an incessant banging on the door that immediately pulled y/n out of her reverie. "Alright, alright..." she laughed a little as she went to let them all inside. The Sullys were always insisting on spending birthdays together, even though some of them were now getting too big to even fit inside her 'home'. Neteyam had to walk around with his back bent forward, and Kiri knocked over quite a few things before they made it to y/n's main living space, which was more or less Na've-proof. "Happy birthday!" Tuk hugged her and y/n struggled not to feel crushed by the embrace. Even the littlest Sully was now nearly as tall as her.

Y/n let them all inside, already giving them dirty looks at the sight of gifts. "I told you guys not to..."

She stayed on the doorstep a little longer, gazing out into the night, desperately hoping one last uninvited guest would turn up. She felt Neteyam's hand on her shoulder. "He's not coming. I tried to talk to him but he was being a skxawng as usual..." Y/n blushed, not really wanting Neteyam to know she was pining for his younger brother. "Oh, right! I was—just checking you were all here..." she closed the door and they both went back to join the others.

___

"Alright come on, your mom is going to kill me if you get back late and I don't have enough space in here for all of you. Spider would have to sleep outside." Y/n teased, trying to let Tuk understand it was time to go. "Hey!" Spider protested at her lighthearted jab, but knew it was time for them to get going. Nobody wanted to get on Neytiri's bad side. Y/n hugged them all goodbye and thanked them for the presents: Tuk had made her a lovely drawing, and the others had collectively made her a rather beautiful necklace, which she immediately wore. Y/n waited on her doorstep till she could no longer hear the sounds of her friends chatting, and then proceeded to do two incredibly dangerous things: she sat outside of the protection of her bunker, all alone in the cold Pandora night air, and lit up a cigarette.

She'd discovered a terrifyingly endless supply of cigarette cartoons back at the base almost a year prior, and as soon as she'd tried her first one, she'd gotten addicted. Y/n hadn't told Norm or Max, of course, as it would have broken their hearts, especially because of how fragile she was. Y/n's mother had gone into labor in the aftermath of the battle for Pandora between the Na'vi and the Sky people. The soldier had lost her life giving birth, but her baby had survived, taking her first breath in the inhospitable Pandora air. Norm was convinced Eywa herself had kept her alive, had given her the ability to take in the air that hadn't previously failed to kill any other human. Sure, it had come at the price of being particularly fragile her entire life. And how was y/n repaying that gift? By cutting her miraculous existence short more and more each day. Thankfully, it was a while since she'd been used as a test rat, or had check ups of any sort. As far as the Sullys were concerned... they were way better off not even knowing what she was doing to herself.

A sudden rustling in the trees instantly made y/n alert and she didn't waste any time getting back inside. She showered, and shamefully hid her smokes somewhere her dads or the Sullys wouldn't look. When she had nothing else left to do, y/n forced herself to crawl into bed, placing a hand over her necklace. Her wish to see Lo'ak hadn't come true in the end, and while not surprising, it still hurt like hell.

"A pack of viperwolves? Seriously, Lo'ak?" Y/n groaned in frustration as she cleared her table for her best friend to lie on.

"I thought I could take them." He hissed as she doused him with disinfectant. "Yeah, well, you know human medical treatment hurts like a bitch, so it's either my way, or you're going to have to fess up to your parents about what you did." Y/n tried to sound cold, but she'd always been too soft on him.

When they were younger, and Lo'ak still hadn't grown to be double her size, they would often fall asleep together in her bed. "You don't have to keep doing this shit to prove something, you know?" She whispered to him one night, turning over to look at him and gently touch his face. "Your parents love you. And so do Neteyam, Kiri, Tuk and Spider. Lo'ak, I— we— don't want to lose you."

Y/n was almost asleep when a loud 'thud' coming from outside woke her. Something was moving on her roof, or rather, someone... Y/n didn't show whether she was dreaming or not as she looked out the window and locked eyes with Lo'ak, because the second she did, he seemed to slide off the top of her bucker, falling down into the grass below with a loud groan.

He'd probably just woken up half of the animals on Pandora.

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thankeywa · 1 year

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Star-crossed. Lo'ak x f!human!reader pt.1

WARNINGS: Lo'ak is 20 years old in this and so is the reader, I do not write about minor characters. There will be eventual mature themes in this so MINORS DO NOT INTERACT WITH THIS WORK.

words: around 1.200

TW for this chapter: angst, smoking (don't do it, ever), brief mentions of alcohol, brief mention of war and death, brief mention of child birth, reader can breathe on pandora.

Y/n looked at the 'birthday cake' made out of cookie rations that Norm and Max had made for her. No matter how many years would pass, her dads always knew how to get creative.

Y/n let them all inside, already giving them dirty looks at the sight of gifts. "I told you guys not to..."

___

"A pack of viperwolves? Seriously, Lo'ak?" Y/n groaned in frustration as she cleared her table for her best friend to lie on.

He'd probably just woken up half of the animals on Pandora.

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acethatlovesdinos · 5 months

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I made a post way early in my blog about how certain fe3h characters would be better if they weren't so dedicated to a single other person or ideal.

for example; Seteth and Flayn are wonderful people, with unique personalities and a well-developed design and backstory.

At several points in the story, regardless of route, you can even see Seteth question some of Rhea's actions and decisions....and it left me longing for a story in which I could fight alongside the Empire but maintain a bond with my beloved saints. (I'm sorry I really just don't like the archbishop leave me be lmao). Plus she kinda loses her mind during CF too, and I'm positive they'd catch on and be concerned.

Anyway so this story is gonna take place at some point along Crimson Flower, and Reader is meant to be the former professor of the Black Eagles. Whether it's Byleth or a self-insert, that's for you to decide, anyway enough rambling let's goooo

1.6k words, angst galore

first person SetethxReader(Byleth?) Alois also makes an appearance

warnings: Literal warzone in the beginning. Reader is shot (with arrows). not sure if it counts as a warning but I used the term "saints" and "goddess" in the context where we usually would say "god" since it seemed fitting lol

~~~~~~~

I sent off the last messenger hawk, watching it fly over the horizon and out of sight.

Communication and negotiations have gone surprisingly well so far, and the Church has agreed to meet up and talk. Edelgard and I agreed that talking it out would be a good first step to avoid more bloodshed, but just in case they had other plans, we would be bringing an army with us.

The day we set for negotiating finally arrived, and we rode up to Magdred in droves. Seemed they had the same idea, as an entire army stood behind Seteth, sat nobly on his wyvern's back.

I stepped off my horse, leaving my sword with it. The only movement in the field was between the high priest and myself, slowly walking toward one another. It was eerily silent, the wind whistling through the trees hushing every other sound.

We finally met in the center of the field, and I parted my lips to speak. "Seteth. I-"

I froze, my ears perking up just in time to pick up an all-too-familiar sound. I knew what it was, but I couldn't react fast enough.

SHNK.

All at once, before I could even move, three arrows found their place deep within my chest.

My heart pounded in my ears. I stared at Seteth, shock, fear, and betrayal rampant in my expression. I was unarmed. I was there to talk. Why did they...? But his eyes seemed to share the same feelings. It...didn't make sense.

Everything was silent, all sides too taken aback to even realize what happened.

My stance swayed, I staggered for a second, then I fell, the metal pieces of my armor clanking as they met the dirt.

Hell broke loose once my head hit the ground. I heard roars from both sides as each army advanced, enveloping the field in violent noise that had been silent mere moments ago.

Someone grabbed me. I...I couldn't tell who. My eyes wouldn't focus, my body felt cold. I was pulled into a protected embrace, and a distant voice echoed in my ears as the warmth of rushed, desperate healing spells washed over me.

"Y/N! Y/N, listen to me! Keep your eyes open! I need you to stay awake, please! Hold on!"

Saints above, everything ached when my eyes opened again. My pained groan alerted the guardian at my side, Alois, who looked like he hadn't slept in days. A shaken gasp made way for a relieved sigh and a tired smile, and I could tell it took a lot of internal force for him not to hug me.

A proper look around made me realize I was in the infirmary back at Garreg Mach, and three bloodied patches of bandage stretched across my torso. Ouch. Manuela knelt by a different cot, no doubt tending to another casualty from the fight.

"I...I don't remember much. I walked up to talk, and I heard the arrows...then...?"

Alois sighed. "Yeah. We had to retreat afterward, but so did they. We're...still trying to figure things out." As if he sensed the rising panic in my mind, he immediately followed, "your class is fine. Edelgard took the lead after you fell." I nodded, relief overtaking the stabbing pain in my chest. They weren't my students anymore, but I still call them 'my kids' now and again. He smiled weakly. "...just like you to be worried about your allies despite your own injuries."

I chuckled, but the moment was brief, and I clutched my chest. The rumble of laughter just shot the pain through me. With a sigh and a stretch, I pulled myself to sit up, getting a better look at the room. As expected, there wasn't a single empty cot in the room, and my heart ached for the wounded. My eyes scanned the room then froze as my gaze set on a guest, sitting in a chair near the door. His emerald eyes locked with mine, and a sneer pulled at my lips. His name fell from my mouth like acid, as if I spat a curse between the syllables.

"Seteth."

He almost flinched at my voice, looking away with so many emotions behind his eyes. Alois put a gentle hand on my shoulder. "Ease up, kid... he's the reason you're still breathing..." I paused. The...reason? No, that couldn't be right. "...he shielded your body with his own back, Y/N. Didn't dare leave your side til the battle ended, and after the fact, he carried you here himself."

So the arms I felt before I passed out...the relief of my injuries on the field...that was...him? I scoffed. "That can't be right..."

I looked back at the holy man, who had stood up and begun to approach. Now that I got a better look at him, he was completely different than how he once held himself. Tired circles lined his eyes, and his usually perfectly styled hair lay askew. His gilded headband was gone, and after a moment's realization, so too were his priestly robes, replaced by one of Hanneman's suits. Unable to help myself, I grinned. "Oh Saints, you look terrible. You a hostage now or something? Did we capture you?" I knew it was petty and childish, but Goddess, it felt good to get back at him in some way. Watching his cheeks redden at the comment made it even better.

He sighed, familiar frustration returning to his tone. "Y/N, the answer to this predicament is simple, you need only to listen." He took a breath, crossing his arms. "I have elected to resign from my position as Rhea's right hand."

...What?

He took a deep breath. "After careful consideration, I determined it would be safer for Flayn and me to make some...adjustments." he sighed. "If you truly are the goddess incarnate as Rhea said, then I have not yet abandoned my faith, but even if you are not, then I will not stray. I...I fear Rhea has...lost herself, in her efforts to overcome this. She is not who she once was, and I feel strongly that she no longer possesses the same values she once held."

I could only laugh, if only at the irony of the situation. "You've suddenly switched sides, and ever so conveniently now that we've got the upper hand. Siding with the victors, I see....can't say I blame you."

He frowned. "Beyond that, the battle that unfolded those days ago was the last time I was going to tolerate her going behind my back." At my confusion, he continued. "I questioned the archers after the fight, specifically the three who fired at you. I had given them explicit instruction not to make a move unless the Empire struck first. We had arranged that meeting out of mutual trust, and I had full intent of respecting that."

That made me frown more. "So then, why did they-?"

He sighed. "Rhea apparently pulled them aside before we left. She told them that you would be conniving and that you would attack me when my guard was down. She told them that once you were in range, they were to fire. Those directions were not known to me until I had practically interrogated them after the battle."

He shook his head. "My negligence caused you grave injury, and I felt...fully responsible for that. At this point I can only beg your forgiveness."

I was quiet for a long while, trying to process his words. "...You and I have stood as enemies for the last five years. Why weren't you just grateful for my downfall?"

"....because...we didn't...I..." he paused, trying to find the words. "I never wanted to be your enemy. But...I was blinded by my obedience to the Archbishop, and my dedication to Seiros. I never wanted this to happen. Flayn has been more at risk in these last five years than she ever was in years past, and the sooner we can conclude this war, the better it will be for us.

I sighed. Of course it was about her. Its always her when it comes to his concerns.

"But...more than that..."

I paused. There's more?

"I am well aware that there are no excuses...but I'd like to explain why I acted how I did." He sighed. "I've seen you fight for years now, watching you lead hundreds of battles to victory. Each and every time, you looked...ethereal, almost divine....untouchable. Somehow, in your incredible strength, your elegant visage, it left my mind that you could get hurt." He frowned. "I'm sure it sounds ridiculous now, but...that was it. And...the moment I saw the arrows pierce your flesh, it felt like the rest of the world disappeared. The realization, that...you could get hurt...that...that you could...die? I just...I don't know. I couldn't....I didn't want to face the possibility of a world without you in it."

He took a deep breath.

"Y/N. That scare made me realize something I should have seen long ago...and that I wish I could have pursued at a better time. But...the truth is...it is that I love you, Y/N."

I sat silent, shocked at every word as I stared up at the fallen priest. What? After everything that unfolded, after all that happened...so much going on...this is what he has to say? I didn't even know where to begin.

My face shifted, void of any feelings, any possible thought. A cold scowl hid my confusion and frustration.

"Get out."

He paused, opening his mouth to speak, but I held up a hand to interject.

"This...really isn't a good time for something like this. Please...just go."

Seteth stared at me, so many thoughts behind his now glossy eyes, so many words under a bitten tongue, but he nodded wordlessly and excused himself from the infirmary. Alois gently put a hand on my arm, but I brushed him away and laid back down. "Not now...please." i let out a shaky breath that I didn't realize I had been holding, and hugged myself as I tried to still my racing mind and heart.

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

Aaaaaaaa that went so much longer than I expected but I hope you guys liked it! Let me know if a part 2 interests anyone! Aaaaa i love writing :]

#angst my beloved #setleth #seteth x reader #seteth x byleth #fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #three houses #saint cichol #black eagles #crimson flower #silver snow #fanfic

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beelmons · 1 year

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How to make interactive stories on tumblr (for writers)

Okay so recently I made The downfall of Spencer Reid which is an interactive (18+) story, reader insert, for Criminal Minds. Making an interactive story is very fun, and I'd love to see more around so this is a probably not so small tutorial for other writers that might be interested in doing something similar.

First of all, what's an interactive story? It's a piece of writing where the choices of the reader affect the outcome of the story, it's also commonly known as "choose your own adventure" story. They are specially fun with reader inserts, since it adds to the fantasy of having control.

Trace your plot and plan for actions

Like any other story or fic, you have to trace your story. While you do that, it's important that you think carefully about what are the possible decisions that the reader might come to face, and the possible consequences they might have on the story. Some common decisions are:

Choosing a piece of clothing

Deciding what place to go/path to take

Staying in or leaving a place

Using a tool, a different tool, or not using tool at all

To say or not say something

A specific action that the reader takes that affects the outcome for either better or worse.

These choices are what you call a "path", the new direction in which the story will go. You can have as many choices as you want on a single story, but remember every choice leads to a different path, and you have to have compelling stories for all of them. I'd suggest start with two main choices, and then a max of 2 choices on each path, this will likely lead to 4 possible endings for the story.

Rammifications and linking between posts

As I mentioned, every choice "breaks" the story into possible outcomes. For this, the specific challenge is to make every piece work between the choices. For example, let's assume you're writing an angst story, and the choices are as follows:

>Say you never loved him

>Say that you love him, but you can't be together.

These two choices will earn completely different reactions from the character that hears them, so you have to write both scenarios. Chances are, that the relationship the character will have after every choice will change. So probably if you choose "I never loved you", the character might go away or stop talking to reader altogether, while if you choose "I love you, but we can't be together" there's a chance the character will remain as a tragic lover and act jealous around reader. Drastic difference in what you need to write, right?

Another advice, if you don't want to make your story as long or have to think too much about the endings and plots, try to make your choices similar to each other, or even in a way that can lead to the same ending.

To do this, you have to take into consideration the following concepts:

Time and place: both choices have to be linear towards the ending, and if they happen on different places, they have to be able to match the place where the ending takes place as well.

Ambiguity: the choices will have different dialogue most likely, so you can't reference only one of the choice's dialogue, otherwise the readers taking the other path won't be able to recognize it or make sense of it, it's better to keep an ambiguous situation that could allow the reader to make sense of what they read before.

Continuity: The ending of both choice's have to match with the next part's beginning, otherwise you might break the illusion of it being the same story.

Example, picking up from the original example we gave on the last section:

X "You said you loved me, and I waited for you because I love you, but I can't keep going on like this, clinging on to faux hope, I should have realized way sooner that your heart wasn't empty because no one would fill you, it's because you won't allow anyone to."

If you used a dialogue like this, people who didn't chose the "Tell him you love him, but can't be together" option would question in what part of the story the words "i love you" were said. An alterative would be.

O "I waited for you because I loved you, regardless of what you said back then, but I can't keep going on like this, clinging on to faux hope, I should have realized way sooner that your heart wasn't empty because no one would fill you, it's because you won't allow anyone to."

With this dialogue, saying "Regardless of what you said back then" opens the opportunity for both choices to work, and now the reader can picture the choice they made in the first place, and it makes sense with the rest of the dialogue. Continuity isn't lost thanks to the ambiguity of the words.

Something similar applies to time and place, don't reference a place if one of the options makes it impossible for the characters to be in said ambience.

Formatting and posting

Formatting can become a bit of a hassle. On tumblr, HTML doesn't allow for different pages on one same container on posts, so you have two options, you can program the story on a single tumblr custom page (if you're familiar with HTML, this could be very fun and more immersive for the reader), or do it through posts, like I did with my first story.

Every choice will lead to a different post, and you will have to post them all before publishing the beginning of the story so you can link them altogether.

Now, of course if you can do that on your main blog, but it might ruin the experience for people who already follow you if they see the choices first and with broken links. I fixed this by making a side blog specifically for posting the story paths. I just used my same username and added -interactive at the end, lols.

Formatting the choices is quite easy, you just add them at the end (it's important that they are at the end) of the story and add the link to the post that they should lead to to go to the new path. I personally like to add "intended" to it so it looks more like a button, but you can use anny styling you like.

Now, the linking is where things can get a bit messy, it's hard to remember which path leads to what post, so don't be embarrassed to use any visual aid or titling system to keep track on what is what and what goes where. For my part, I usually redact everything on Google Drive first and use titles similar to code titles to keep track of them. This is a snippet of my upcoming fic, where we have a very first choice which is a clothing selection, and then the second choice which is the place selection. In this case, the clothing affects what happens in both places, so I have to write 4 different scenarios with both combinations.

First choice

Text where you get a second choice, but both choices have two outcomes from the original first choice.

This way, I can label my scenarios differently to keep track which belong in which choice. Like this:

Sometimes I have to re-read all the paths so I make sure the connections make sense, and if they don't, I have to rewrite some parts, but it's okay! The important thing is that the readers don't lose the engagement. Try to keep the stories short, 1k tops per post, at least at the beginning, so readers also don't feel like they are getting interrupted.

Have fun with it and write without being scared to fail! You can also start with blurbs or shorter stories. For my part, I have played a lot of otome games and choice-based text games so I started with a 4k fic (the one linked at the beginning).

Additional tips and experiences i went through

Try, by all means, to get a beta reader (shout out to my sister wives @ihavemanyhusbands and @cassiemartzz that constantly give me feedback). Beta readers will help you with spelling, continuity, and the overall sense of your story. Bonus if they are your friends and can be honest with you, and double bonus if they are also writers who can give pointers!

Use a flow chart: if you have managed programming before, a flow chart can give you an specific idea of the timeline of the story and the paths that are formed by the decision-making. I will add a picture of my most recent flow chart that I drew (yes by hand) for my upcoming fic.

I posted and reposted a million times (hence, why i needed a blog no one followed) before I posted the original story (which was posted on my main writing blog). I only posted the main story until i was sure all links worked properly.

Don't allow anyone to reblog the path posts, otherwise the experience might be broken for other readers. People mean well when they reblog, but they can reblog the main story (the very first post), you should config the path posts so they can't be reblogged by anyone.

Remember all path posts should be posted on your -interactive blog (or any other side blog you make), and the main story (the start of it) goes on your main writing blog.

Use titles on your tumblr post as well, so you don't miss which post contains what part of the story, you can delete them later before posting the main story.

Hopefully, this will be of help and we can begin to push interactive stories a bit further, they are really fun to write, and really really fun to play. Have a great writing, everyone!

Picture of the flow chart i made for my fic (I suggest only use if you're familiar with programming or flow charting for other disciplines, otherwise it might be just doodles):

#long posts #writing #writers of tumblr #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #criminal minds #fanfic #fanfic writers #prompts for writers #writers tips #writers block #creative writing #writing on tumblr

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distantpagesandpapercuts · 3 months

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GET TO KNOW THE MUN

NAME?: Leah

PRONOUNS?: She/Her (They is also accepted)

PREFERENCE OF COMMUNICATION?: Discord is easiest for me cause I can get the notifications on my phone. (It makes noise so I like HAVE to check it.) Whereas there's days or even weeks I don't check Tumblr. SO- discord is best.)

MOST ACTIVE MUSE(S)?: I only have two. Cicero is usually the most active because he gets more interaction. But I like writing on both and do so as often as my depression addled brain will let me.

EXPERIENCE / HOW MANY YEARS?: Uhhh.... Well, over ten. Maybe... 13 years? 14 Maybe?

BEST EXPERIENCE?: I've made friends and lost friends and seen comebacks and such. But really I just enjoy consuming your guys' stuff. I read your stuff and alot of you do arts in some way or another about things I like so really it's good for me all around even if I'm not interacting with you at the time. I really do enjoy writing stories with you guys though. I wouldn't say I have one single best experience though. (Such a cop out answer I know)

RP PET PEEVES?: I dunno man. Maybe like... people who take themselves and writing silly little mind thoughts too seriously? I do this for fun, yannow? Its not my life. Idk something like that. It's not like I don't like people who are serious about their writing, it's more like having unrealistic expectations and standards pushed on me to fit into your narrative that I didn't ask for. (Or rather, pushing my MUSES into narratives that I didn't ask for. Like.... in a bullying sense. If that makes sense?)

I've been bullied and shamed and lied to in rp communities before. And I'm just like... over that kind of stuff. I just come here to write my little stories with my little online friends and that's as much as it is gonna be. Yannow?

FLUFF, ANGST, OR SMUT?: I love more serious things like angst. But I also like a bit of soft too. I like writing smut, but sometimes it takes me awhile to work up to it because like.... I don't wanna embarrass myself? lmao

PLOTS OR MEMES?: I like both! Memes are easier to just wash your hands of. But also they're great starters and ways to get to know each other more often than not! I'm honestly terrible at plotting cause I'm such a people pleaser. But- I'm more than happy to talk things out with others and see where it goes.

LONG OR SHORT REPLIES?: Both are fine I have no preference. Although I must say I have a tendency to ramble and multi-para even without meaning to. Cicero's got a lot going on in his head specifically and if I don't write it all out I feel like you're missing out on the experience, ya dig? So like... I LIKE writing both. But do I typically write one liners? Absolutely not.

TIME TO WRITE?: Really late at night or early in the morning. (Every so often the afternoon but that's usually when I'm napping. My sleep schedule is shitty cause of my job.)

ARE YOU LIKE YOUR MUSE(S)?: There's some of me in both Cicero and Kira in different ways. They've also defs evolved over the years. Straying from what I intended and such. But I'm not displeased about it. I wouldn't say either are self insert-y though. Cicero is way more confident than I am and Kira is much more hardworking than I am ha ha.

Tagged by: @archerwhiterp

Tagging: Whoever would like to! :)

#OOC #Munday stuff #Thank you!#archerwhiterp

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enchantestuff · 3 years

Text

miscommunication - charles leclerc

in which your Pierres little sister and reap the consequences after an eventful night in Monaco with his best friend

I think I'm going to make this into a series, like 3 more parts maybe??

part two

GIF NOT MINE!!!

warnings: smut, my failed attempt at angst (I tried), language, em yeah

3k words (I have no idea how that happened)

You had known Charles for years, which wasn't particularly surprising considering you were Pierres little sister.

When you were little you envied their friendship, constantly trying to insert yourself in their games and conversations. You had lost count of the amount of times they slammed a door in your face, demanding you to leave them alone. You hadn’t realised how annoying you were being as you followed them around everywhere, even if Pierre had scolded you for it each day.

When you were a teenager, Pierre purposely kept Charles away from you, telling him that if he even looked in your direction he wouldn't hesitate to end their friendship. You, of course, had no idea of the threat not that it mattered as you didn't paid any attention to the infamous duo during those few years, living in your own little world full of clothes , friends and different boys.

Now, however, you were an adult and all you wanted to do was support your brother throughout his career. In recent years you had gone to as many races as you physically could, but of course you had your own job and unfortunately didn’t have the time to attend any race this season.

Pierre was disappointed, he loved having you there to support him, but he understood that you had your own life and never placed any blame on you. After years of the two of you constantly ignoring each other and bickering, you had finally begun to act like siblings and all he wanted to do was make up for lost time.

You had thankfully gotten three weeks off work - well they weren’t necessarily weeks off as you still had to do your job, but your boss insisted that there was no need for you to trek to the office everyday when you were perfectly capable of doing the work at home on your laptop. The timing couldn't have been better with the triple header just around the corner, it almost seemed like a miracle and you were gonna enjoy every minute of it.

You grinned as you texted your brother.

Any spare tickets to the race :)

He replied almost immediately.

You're kidding, which one?

All of them?

Your texting was cut off by Pierres contact photo appearing on your phone. You answered instantly only to hear Pierre screaming through your speakers, he also slipped in a few delighted curse words before finally letting you talk.

“My boss gave me the next three weeks off so I’m going to go support my favourite brother” you grinned.

“Your only brother” he remarked and you could practically hear him rolling his eyes.

You spent the next few hours catching up and retelling pointless stories. You had gone to sleep with a lazy smile on your face and woke up the next morning to a text from Pierre, telling you that he had organized your passes for the three weekends as well as the flights, all you had to do was find a hotel. He slipped in the name of the hotel that he was staying at, and to your luck there was still room available. Now all that was left to do was wait.

You grinned giddy as you stepped off the plane and walked toward the baggage collection area, excited to finally get back to watching races in person. You rubbed your eyes in surprise when you spotted your brother waiting for you. “Pierre?” you screamed delightly, running up to him and pushing his body into a bone crushing hug. It felt like you hadn’t seen him in forever even if it was only a few months.

“Bonjour,” he laughed as he hugged you back.

“I thought you were busy all day today” you exclaimed once you pulled away from him.

He sheepishly shrugged at you with a lazy grin on his face. “I may have lied, are you ready to go?”

You nodded your head at him and for the first time in a long time your mind drifted towards your brother's best friend, Charles, who you hadn’t spoken to since an eventful night in Monaco a few months ago.

You cursed yourself as you thought back to that very moment.

Charles was having a party at his lovely home, you can't remember now what you were celebrating but everyone was ecstatic. You could hear the music from across the street and you knew before you even entered the house that it was going to be a night to remember.

The moment you stepped foot inside you were surrounded by multiple drunk people, all with large grins and hooded eyes plastered on them and you laughed as almost everyone stumbled around the house.

You spotted your brother in the middle of the room dancing with a pretty blonde, he had a goofy smile on his face and you knew from that sight of him alone that he was wasted. You were the only sober person there, at least that's what you thought until Charles had made his way to you with two cups in his hand, alcohol for you and water for him.

“I thought you were celebrating,” you mused as you took a sip of the dark liquor.

“Someone needs to keep these drunk idiots in check,” he joked.

“Well in that case” you said as you handed your drink to a stranger and took a sip of his water instead. You laughed at the bewildered look he threw your way before continuing, “I'm not going to let you tackle this party alone.” The smile that formed on Charles was genuine and your breath hitched in your throat at the sight.

You surprisingly enjoyed yourself the whole night, maybe that was because you knew everyone there, but most likely it was because you spent the whole night with Charles.

A few hours into the party he turned to you asking to dance, you didn't even hesitate to say yes, nerves surrounded you immediately and they only got worse when his hands dipped dangerously low on your hips. Your eyes automatically searched for Pierre and you left out a sigh of relief when you couldn't find him anywhere.

The thought of getting caught fueled both you and Charles, so when he spun you around to face him neither of you hesitated to connect your lips. You considered yourself lucky that everyone around you was too drunk to notice your heated make out and used it to your advantage. You pulled him even closer to you, moaning in his ear when he grabbed your bum and giggling at the whimper he let out.

You felt dizzy. The fact that you were both sober made your first kiss even more real.

You were anxious when he asked you if you wanted to go somewhere more private but agreed nevertheless, hoping that maybe he had wanted you for as long as you had wanted him.

He had tenderly kissed you again once he closed the door behind him.

“God, you have no idea how long i've waited to do this,” he moaned in your ear and although you knew that was just something people said in the heat of the moment, you let yourself believe it. You let yourself believe every single word that left his lips and got even more attached to the moment.

You revealed a piece of yourself to him that night, not only a physical part, but a part of your heart as you admitted your deepest secrets to him. “Fuck, Charles, I’ve always wanted you,” you moaned when he gently placed you on the bed.

You attached yourself to the kisses he placed all over your body, you paid attention to every bit of affection that he showed you, never once wanting him to stop. When he positioned himself next to you and asked if you were sure you told him there was nothing you've ever been more sure about.

You had both simultaneously moaned when he entered you, laughing at each other afterwards, which made your heart flutter. He was Charles, your brothers best friend and yet sex with him felt so natural.

He placed a tender kiss to your chest before he started moving and you couldn't help but hold him close to you, he didn't seem to mind however as he nested his head in the crook of your neck, letting you hear all the soft gasps and grunts that left his mouth.

You arched your back in pleasure when he reached the deepest parts inside you, your toes curled and your eyes rolled back and all you could think was God why didn't we do this sooner?

“Don't stop, please Charles, don't stop” you moaned in his ear, and if you weren't in a completely different world you would have noticed the shiver than ran down his entire body at your words.

“Trust me, mon amour, i never want to stop”

You weren't even aware of the moans the left your lips until Charles had grabbed your chin and looked at you with desperation written all over his face, “Merde, Y/N, i want more than anything to make this moment last but If you keep making those pretty little sounds you're gonna make me cum”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words “Shut me up then”

And he did, he grunted as he reconnected your lips, swallowing your moans and letting out his own in the process. From the kissing, to Charles’ moans and the rolling of his hips it didn't take you long to release the knot in your stomach.

You regretted it now, thinking back on it, it had completely ruined your friendship with Charles. Your daily silly texts to each other had ceased to exist, your weekly facetime calls had died and a piece of you had broken.

You didn’t expect any less, he was your brother's best friend and even though you always found him insanely attractive, you knew deep down he would have found your little crush on him weird. You always had the suspicion that he saw you as a little sister, and the way he completely ignored you after your hookup had proven them to be true.

You couldn't hate him, or even place the blame of your failed friendship on him as you also went out of your way to ignore him, something that you really regretted but couldn’t change.

“You alright?” Pierre asked as he grabbed your suitcase in his hand.

“Yeah sorry i - i don't know what happened to me there,” you choked out, walking alongside Pierre to his car.

“It's free practice tomorrow, you coming?” he asked once you were both sitting comfortably in his car.

“Yeah, of course” you nodded as you watched the tall buildings pass by in the window.

“Everyones misses you, you know?” he quickly glanced over at you while he drove, wondering what the hell you were thinking so hard about.

“Yep” you sighed, “Me too,” but all you could think about was the Ferrari driver and how awkward it would be to see him again

You had shut yourself in your hotel room for the rest of the night, the flight and overly long check in had taken all the remaining energy out of you and all you wanted to do was curl into the hotel bed and sleep for as long as you possibly could. So that's what you did, until Pierre rang your phone, telling you that he was leaving for free practice in half an hour, wondering if you needed lift, which of course you did you had mumbled to him while scrabbling out of the bed and running to your bathroom to take the quickest shower of your life.

You had somehow gotten ready in time and before you knew it you were walking around the paddock with Pierre next to you, basking in the glorious sun.

Pierre whistled in excitement when he spotted Charles walking out of the Ferrari motorhome. The brunette quickly turned at the sound, a smile forming on his face when he spotted Pierre, his eyebrows raising soon after as he finally noticed you next to him. Your heart beat loudly in your chest as he got closer and closer to you.

You stood firmly in your spot, uncertain if a hug would be too big of an action after months of silence between you both, quite frankly you didn’t even want to touch him, the pain that he had caused you cutting too deep. Unfortunately, he beamed at you and grabbed your hips, pulling you into his chest and rocking you both side to side.

“Hi,” you laughed, unwilling to cause a scene in front of your brother, you moved your arms to wrap around his neck.

“It's great to see you” he admitted when he pulled away and you felt your throat close up at his words. “I’ve missed you”

“I missed you too,” you smiled and although it wasn’t a lie, the words felt dirty leaving your lips. You shouldnt have missed him, not when he left you lying alone in his bed after you both had sex.

“God, you're acting like you haven't spoken to each other in months,” Pierre laughed, and you and Charles shared an awkward look with each other. The silence that followed was unbearable.

You cleared your throat as you looked around the paddock. “I'm going to get some water” you quickly spilled out and abruptly turned in the other direction, ignoring the confused look that Pierre shot in your direction. You had only taken a few steps when Charles grabbed your arm and pulled you behind a random building.

“Shh it's me” he flinched as you pushed yourself away from him, “it's me” he repeated looking at the bewildered expression on your face.

“You couldn’t have just talked to me like a normal human being?” you argued, “Did you really have to drag me behind a building?”

“I couldn't talk about you know what around you know who” he threw back and you rolled your eyes at him.

“Oh! You dont want to talk about us having sex infronf of Pierre” you snapped and he covered your mouth with his hand. You bit his hand and he gasped in response.

“You bit me!” he half shouted.

“You didn’t seem to mind last time” you commented , relishing in how flustered Charles had gotten.

“We need to talk about that” he choked out, looking absolutely anywhere except your eyes.

“Oh so now you want to talk about it?” you asked with an accusing tone to your voice, surpringing not only Charles but also yourself.

“I know it was a dick move, I just” he sighed “I didn’t know how to bring it up”

“How about maybe not leaving straight away? How about sending me a text explaining how you felt instead of leaving me in the dark for months? If you thought it was a mistake you could have just-”

“I didn't think it was a mistake”

You couldn't help the effect those words had on your heart, but suddenly you were even more furious, he was unintentionally playing with your heart and you didn't know how much more of it you could take.

“Then why didn't you tell me!”

You were frustrated and he wasn’t helping one bit. He had left it too late, the damage was done, you had spent months regretting your decision to climb into bed with him and a few words lazily strung together to form a sentence wasn't going to erase the emotional damage he caused you. It didn't matter anymore whether it was intentional or not

“I didn't want to ruin our friendship”

“That is the dumbest excuse I've ever heard!”

You could feel tears pricking your eyes and all you wanted to do was sob your heart out, but you refused to cry in front of him, you didn't want him to know the effect he had on you. “Look your late and i - i need to breathe”

You didn't give him a chance to reply as you ran away, unable to face the boy who broke your heart: the boy who had given you everything you could possibly want, only to snatch it out of your grasp.

You cursed yourself for getting attached to that moment because now, every time you closed your eyes, all you see was him panting on top of you and all you could feel was his lips on your skin. It was a memory that used to delight you but now all it brought was sadness and pain.

You knew your attachment issues would bring you pain one day, but only now as you crouched down next to some random building, did you realise it would be physical pain. You clawed at your neck in desperation. You couldn't breathe. Your tears were practically suffocating you and you couldn't help but think Charles' hands ripping your heart from your chest was the cause.

Unknowingly to you, Charles watched your retreating figure with tears forming behind his eyes. It had finally hit him how much he fucked things up. He thought he was doing the right thing, he thought maybe you needed space, maybe you would have regretted it.

He wore his heart on his sleeve that day, everything that he told you was true, he was just so scared. So scared that he would be left heartbroken, that his feelings were unrequited, that maybe, just maybe, you would be disgusted with yourself for what you two did.

He left early the next morning to hype himself up, to finally tell you about his feelings for you that had been bubbling around in his stomach for years, but when he returned to his bedroom you were gone.

He didn't realise how much waking up to an empty bed would affect you, just as much as you didnt realise how much leaving would affect him.

He was never good at communication, but it was so easy with you, so why didn't he pick up the phone? He had no excuse except that he was scared.

It was his fear that hurt him the most. It was his fear that broke your heart and that had hurt him so much more than he thought was possible.

#Charles leclerc imagine #Charles Leclerc x reader #forumla 1 imagine #f1 imagine #f1 #f1 x reader #charles leclerc #angst #formula one imagine #formula one x reader #Charles Leclerc smut #charles leclerc smut #formula 1 smut

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wiypt-writes · 3 years

Text

Soft Landing

One Shot

Summary: Vacation get-aways don’t always let you escape the past, but maybe you can help bring Andy back to the present. Just be careful not to pick up too many bumps and bruises along the way… Pairing: Andy Barber x Reader

Warnings: Smut (NSFW, 18+) Angst, language!

A/N: So this is another entry for @imanuglywombat ‘s “Is That Even A Sex Position” weekly challenge. This position is called “Louise”. See here for more information. This is my first time writing for Andy, and it appears I can’t even do a single smutty one shot for Lawyer daddy without inserting a fuck tonne of angst so…sorry!!!

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this story bar the reader and other mentioned OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Tagged my permanent tag list.

Masterlist

*****

You stirred in your bed, turning over and reaching out for your husband only to be met empty space, your fingers grasping at the cool sheets. Blinking, you propped yourself up on your forearms, squinting as your eyes grew accustomed to the low light in the hotel bedroom before you sat up, stretched a little and swung your legs out of bed.

You made your way out of the bedroom, poking your head into the next room down and, satisfied everything in there was as it should be, you made your way through to the living area of the suite and glanced around, spotting that the curtains covering the door leading to the balcony were blowing a little in the soft breeze.

You padded over to the door, pulled back the curtains a little more and you could just make out Andy’s frame, his broad, bare shoulders silhouetted against the early morning sun. Shoulders which carried a much heavier burden than when you had met almost six years previously.

You had been fresh out of law school back then, and he was not-so-fresh out of a break up with his wife. Neither of you had been looking for anything, but as is always the case, you always find the best things when you’re not searching.

Simply put, Andy Barber had swept you off your feet.

At almost 10 years his junior, the comments at first had been unkind but not unexpected. You’d been labelled “the rebound”, his “early midlife crisis”, a “convenient way to keep his dick warm whilst he got over Laurie.” But talk is cheap, as you had both proven when three years to the date you’d met he got down on one knee and you became relabelled his fiancée.

A year post that you relabelled again as his wife. And some twenty one months ago you’d relabelled once more as the mother of his child. A daughter he claimed looked just like you.

Ironically, you’d actually fallen pregnant on the last vacation you had taken. A family getaway to Mexico following Jacob’s acquittal when you’d all wrongly assumed the horrific dream was over, and you could finally wake up and get on with your lives.

You couldn’t have been more wrong.

In some sick twist of fate, you’d discovered you were pregnant the day of the accident that had claimed Jacob’s life, and later that of Laurie’s. The elation you and Andy had felt at the fact you were going to be parents together had been wrenched away from you in a single phone call from the police, and once more that shroud of dark despair had descended on your life turning the dream into a nightmare once more.

And for Andy the nightmares still continued, some two years post Jacob’s death and you knew without even seeing his face that was what had woken him and why he was now sat on the balcony of your stunning ocean view hotel suite in Cascais, Portugal instead of being in bed besides you.

“Hey.” You spoke softly as you slid the door open and he turned to look at you, his eyes carrying the familiar warmth that they always held for you, as you stepped into the balcony, taking care to leave the door open a crack just in case your daughter woke.

“Hey, Sweetheart.” He gave you a smile as you approached the sun-lounger he was perched on, facing out over the Atlantic, the first glimmer of the mid-June sun peeking over the horizon. “I didn’t wake you or Lia did I?”

Lia, or Halia to use her full name. Chosen by you and Andy for its meaning. A Hawaiian name for remembrance of a loved one. In this case the brother she would never meet.

“No, I checked in on her. She’s flat out.” You assured him, as he moved his legs, dropping them either side of the lounger allowing you to sit in between them, cross legged as you faced him. You studied him for a moment, cocking your head to one side as he gave you a gentle smile. “Get out of there, Bubs.” You gently reached up, tapping the side of his temple and he took a deep breath, his hand curling round yours, lacing your fingers together.

“Sorry, just got caught in a memory.” He offered as explanation. And to be fair, you didn’t need him to clarify any further. You knew, you always knew.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Not really.” He swallowed, so you didn’t press further. You respected his wishes, just like he did to yours.

“Do you want a hug?” You offered instead, and he gave a soft smile, opening his arms. You shifted onto your knees, scooting forwards a little, wrapping your arms around him as he pressed his face into your neck, taking a deep breath as your hand ran through his soft hair and down his neck in gentle, sweeping arcs. You sat in silence for a moment, the lapping of the waves against the shore the only noise you could hear as you held him close, feeling him nuzzle further into you.

“Thank you.” He mumbled against your skin and you pulled back a little, sitting back on your heels as you looked at him

“What for?”

“Everything.” He shrugged, his hand reaching up and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his eyes soft as he studied your face for a moment, his gaze flicking to your lips before it went further down and he arched an eyebrow. “And for wearing that.”

You chuckled a little as you glanced down at the pale blue silk slip, one of the thin straps had slipped down your shoulder slightly, your nipples pebbled against the thin fabric. “Well, someone bought it for me.” You looked back at him, smiling as you tugged your bottom lip in between your teeth.

“Yeah?” Andy’s eyes moved back to yours. “Anyone I know?”

“No, just someone very special to me.” You leaned forwards to press your lips to his.

“He’s a lucky man.” Andy whispered against your mouth

“I’m the lucky one.” You mumbled back. “And, whilst we’re on the subject, I would also like to thank you for what you’re wearing.” You grinned, your hands flat on his chest, smoothing down a little before they trailed back upwards, curling over his strong shoulders.

“I’m not.”

“Exactly.” You smirked, kissing him softly again.

Eventually the teasing pecks flowed into something much stronger, Andy’s arms curling round you, pulling you closer, domineering swipes of his tongue against yours set every single nerve in your body on edge. Your hand moved back down his chest, tracing his soft abs before you palmed his growing bulge through the sleep pants he was wearing, causing him to grunt a little.

Without a word, one of his hands trailed up the outside of your thigh, the other making its way along the inside of your opposite knee and you shifted a little, parting your legs, as his fingers delicately danced upwards to where you wanted him the most. When they softly parted your intimate lips he gave a little groan as he realised you were wearing no panties, and you swallowed as his fingers swirled in your slick, the pad of his thumb grazing your nub ever so gently.

“Always so ready for me.” He hummed.

“Yeah, it’s a curse.” You whispered back, as his spare hand slid the other strap of your slip down, his lips pressing a tender kiss to your shoulder as he pulled the front of the garment down, freeing your breasts. As he kissed his way along the swell of your cleavage, his tongue softly teased each taught nipple and your whimper caught in your throat, emerging as nothing but a soft squeak of delight. You felt his mouth curl up into a smile against your skin and you gently wrapped your hand around his wrist, halting his teasing fingers.

“Andy, I want you.” You whispered, your head falling back as you rocked your hips forwards against his hand as you held it in place. “Please.”

Andy didn’t reply, but with a grace unbefitting a man of his stature, he moved, kneeling up as he pulled his sleep pants down, his gorgeous cock springing free and slapping gently against the thin strip of hair that led down from his belly button. He drew his knees apart slightly as his hands grabbed your hips and he hauled you towards him, his lips pressing back to yours.

You positioned yourself over him, your knees hugging his torso as you lowered yourself down, both of you giving a groan as you took him in. Your feet remained by his knees, one hand sliding round his neck, fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck, the other gripping at his forearm.

Andy rolled his hips upwards as you pressed your forehead to his, noses bumping together as he moved you gently, his rhythm slow and needy from the off. Large hands slid along your thighs, gently palming your ass before they slid up the back of your silk slip, coming to rest tenderly on your spine, holding you close. As he rocked upwards, you let your head fall back slowly and let out a soft sigh of delight as his lips caressed your throat, barely there kisses moved down your neck, that beard you loved so much scratching your skin as he went. Your grip on his arm and neck tightened a little, your nails softly grazing the nape of his neck as he once more lavished affection on your chest, and this time it was his turn to let out a soft groan into your skin. He loved when you touched him there, you’d often made a joke about how if he was a cat it would make him purr.

His mouth moved upwards again, tongue dipping into the hollow of your throat, tracing a path up to your jaw before his lips caught yours again, the kiss deep and needy, like he was at that moment. Your tongues danced lazily together, matching the slow, steady roll and rocking motion your hips were making. With a low grunt, Andy broke away, pulling back a little, his nose nudging your chin as he placed a soft kiss once more to your neck, his rhythm never changing as his hands pulled you even closer, pressing your chest into his.

“Baby, look at me.” His voice was a whisper, and it was a request not a demand, but a request you were more than happy to meet. Your eyes locked onto those deep, ocean blues which were blown with love and lust and you simply held his gaze as he continued to rock up into you, stroking that spot inside that drove you wild.

You could feel the burning, deep in the pit of your stomach, and your hips started to move a little more as you ground down against him, desperate for the friction against your clit and you let out a little cry as you found it, Andy bucking up a little deeper and faster, reading your body language perfectly, just like he always could.

Moving your hands, you cupped his face, the pads of your fingers tangling in his beard as he closed his eyes, those ridiculously long eyelashes fluttering against his flushed cheeks and you pushed down again, rotating your hips, watching with satisfaction as he tipped his head back, a groan flowing freely from his lips, the softly whispered “don’t stop” barely audible, his voice was that deep.

Seeing him so suppliant was something you would never get tired of, because you loved this beautiful, wonderful man with everything you had. You’d both been through so much, yet still made it through the other side as strong as ever, the ultimate sign of your love sleeping in the room inside as you gave yourselves to one another whilst the dawn continued to break over the ocean, tendrils of light purples, oranges and yellow snaring around the pair of you, enveloping you in their warmth, heating the very depth of your souls.

“I love you.” You pulled his face back to yours, kissing him once more, your lips resting against his as you told him again. “I love you.”

“I love you too, so fahkin’ much.” His Boston twang grew more pronounced as did the movements of his hips, his rolls turning into thrusts as you met him movement for movement, pushing down, rocking yourself against him. The burn you had been feeling was now boiling hot as it bubbled to the surface, and you knew that any moment now you were going to erupt into flames.

“Fuck, Andy, I need…”

“Take it, Honey, it’s all yours…” He surged upwards, his hands flat against your back, pulling you to him as you kissed him deeply, before you’re head tipped back as the world around you tilted on its axis, your stomach tightening as you clenched down around him, your release crashing over you like the waves on the shore below. Your entire body went rigid, his name on your lips became nothing but a choked, strangled moan as he continued to rut up into you, his face pressing into your neck as he chased his own bliss.

"Fuck, Sweetheart..." Andy growled as with one final thrust upwards, his body stiffened and he spilled himself inside you, his cock twitching as the aftershocks of your orgasm kept your walls clamping down on him. His head tipped back, eyes fluttering shut and his jaw clenched before he relaxed a little, chest sagging as his arms clutched you to him, as if he never wanted to let you go.

Which, if he didn't, that was perfectly fine by you.

You leaned forward gently, sliding your nose along his, your lips brushing together as he gave a soft smile. With a satisfied sigh he leaned back, taking you with him as he made to settle you down against the back of the lounger you were laying on. Only he didn't stop, he kept going, his eyes flying open with surprise as the back of the lounger collapsed and you were suddenly pitched forward as the other end tipped up sending Andy crashing backwards onto the balcony with a loud bang as the metal frame of the lounger hit the sandstone tiled surface, you still clutched securely to his chest.

There was a pause as the pair of you looked at each other in surprise before Andy's head fell back and he gave a huge bellow of laughter and you hastily clamped your hand over his mouth in an attempt to stifle the noise, trying to supress your own giggles. One of Andy's hand's moved from your back as you sat up a little, legs still straddling his waist, his softening cock still stuffed deep inside you. He curled his fingers around the wrist of the hand you had pressed over his mouth and he pulled it away, pressing a kiss to your palm, his beard twitching as he continued to chuckle softly, his eyes crinkled at the corner.

"You okay?" He asked, his lips curling up into a smile and you nodded, running your hands through his hair as his fell to your hips.

“Yeah, I had a soft landing.” You teased, causing him to snort out another laugh. "All these years and you can still make the Earth move for me, Barber."

"Well, I aim to please." he quipped as you leaned down to press your lips to his.

"Is everything alright?" You head a voice say which stopped you mid kiss. Your eyes flew open, as did Andy's and the pair of you looked at one another, as Andy started to laugh again.

"Yeah, fine, just a little...mishap with the sun lounger." You called over to where the voice had come from, the next room down to yours.

"But thank you for asking." Andy added, polite as always.

"No problem!" The male voice shot back, before you heard the sliding of a door and the click of a lock as it shut.

"Reminds me of that time at my parents when we broke my old bed." You giggled and Andy snorted, his hands smoothing over your thighs.

"In my defence, that thing was almost as old as me.”

"Well that's a load of shit." You grinned, looking down at him, your hands sliding through his rumpled, fluffy hair. "I only got it when I was eighteen, and given that you're ten years older than me that would mean-"

"Yeah, okay, shut up." He mumbled as his hand reached round the back of your neck, pulling you back down to him.

#uglywombatsexpositionchallenge #andy barber #andy barber x reader #andy barber x you #reader insert #andy barber smut #chris evans #chris evans characters

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rikorene · 4 years

Text

𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐢𝐢. // ushijima wakatoshi [reader insert]

[ a/n : my procrastinating ass says hello. ]

genre: angst

“if i had the chance to do it all over again with you, i would.”

[ part i ] [ part ii. ] [ alternative universe ]

Breathing in the nostalgic scent of your favorite café just down the road from your place gave you this home feeling, you felt protected and safe in this space. It was a cozy café that was decorated with things that you can find in your own grandmothers’ house, it gave you peace and quiet, it was also unpopular so it rarely had costumers which was a bonus point for you.

Just one problem, when you turned your head to the right there you saw Ushijima and Semi staring at you when you entered the café, you gave them both a sheepish smile and a wave before going to your usual spot which was on the other side of the café. Far away from the two who just gawked at your presence, Semi nudged Ushijima with his foot and subtly pointed at your direction.

“Go talk to her!” he whisper-yelled at his friend who looked at him with a dumbfound expression as if asking “Why?”

“Go, go!” Semi continued to encourage Ushijima, who just sighed at his friends’ gesture and stood up from his seat. He walked over to your table and you looked up at him with wide eyes as you put your cup of coffee down.

“Is this seat taken?” Ushijima asked, referring to the seat in front of you. He swore that his heart skipped a beat when you smiled at him in a soft manner, it was as if he was his old self again, the one that fell for her that windy spring day.

“No.” you replied, holding the warm cup of coffee with both of your hands. Ushijima nodded and seated himself in front of you, it was an awkward silence, but you didn’t mind it knowing how Ushijima can be with words.

“How have you been?” he asked, putting his hands on his lap, nervously fiddling with his own fingers by lightly scratching at his tips. He could never get rid of that habit, and you knew that without even looking.

“I’ve been doing great. I heard that your team went to nationals for a few times in a row now, congratulations.” You said with that soft smile that made Ushijima’s heart throb in regret. You were such a supportive person that he took for granted, you even learned how to set a ball back then just so he could practice his spikes, yet he had left you claiming that he had wanted to pursue volleyball.

I’ve been a bad person to you, haven’t I?

“Thank you.” Ushijima responded shortly, his gaze dropping onto the table. You took notice of the look in his eyes, so you then reached your hand out on the table and tapped it making him look at you in the eyes once more.

What was that emotion in his eyes? Was it sadness? Or perhaps it was regret. You didn’t wanna know.

“What’s the matter, Ushijima?” you asked, setting your hand on the table. It had been years since you and Ushijima had spoken to one another, it felt a little foreign to you to talk with him so casually even after all the things that has been said and done, but it somehow felt nostalgic to you to be talking to him.

“… Wakatoshi.” He muttered, just a low mumble. You had thought that your ears were playing tricks on you, but then he repeated what he had said.

“Please call me Wakatoshi again.” He said in a low voice, he reached out and held your hand that was on the table. His hand was warm, warmer than the sun. your hearts was beating louder and louder by the second, your silence was something that he didn’t take as a good sign, maybe you were surprised?

“Ushijima-“

“Wakatoshi.”

With a sigh, you looked at him with those eyes of yours, sparkling in the sun. the same eyes that he loved drowning in whenever he got the chance to stare at you, now he was questioning himself why did he even break up with you when you were the loveliest girl that he has ever met.

“Why?” you asked, a sad smile on your face. He froze on the spot. He wanted to respond, to tell you that he regrets every single bad thing that he did to you. But he couldn’t speak, it was as if a cat got his tongue.

“Ushijima, you love volleyball more than anything. I don’t want to be a hinderance to your outstanding career.”

No.

“Perhaps you’re just confused, after all, we were each other’s first love.”

Even so, you are still the one that I love.

“We both know that this can’t work out, you’re aware of that aren’t you?”

No, I still want to try. I want to keep fighting for you.

“Ushijima…”

Please call me Toshi. Call me YOUR Toshi.

“I really did enjoy spending my time with you back then. And maybe…” you voice trailed off and slowly took your hand away from Ushijima’s warm hand.

“In another life, I would fall for you again.” You smiled at him, as if on cue the bell rang at the café door and there stood Kuroo who was holding a red scarf in his hand. You gave him a smile and wave.

“I’ll take my leave now.” You said as you stood up, but Ushijima grabbed your hand, he stared at you for a bit making your raise an eyebrow at him. He reached his phone from his pocket and handed it to you.

“Your number, I want to talk to you again.” He said, and Kuroo’s eyebrows shot up staring at Ushijima with this look on his face. He didn’t like it how Ushijima thought he could slide his way back into your life after he practically kicked you out of his.

You smiled and grabbed his phone as he let go of your wrist, you typed in your number and handed it back to him. You smiled at him one more time and waved at him and Semi, who was watching it all go down, Kuroo wrapped the red scarf around your neck as he smiled at you and the two of you left, Kuroo sent a glare at Ushijima before he went out the door.

You were older, much more wiser than Ushijima himself, you knew your worth and refused to let others drag you down. He knew that as the years passed, you were someone that you were finally proud of.

Semi went to him and coaxed him to get back to the hotel they were staying at. Ushijima was uncomfortably quiet that night, even Tendo didn’t bother him that much, Semi told them the story later when Ushijima headed to the balcony to cool his mind.

It wasn’t that he was angry, no, not at all. He was somewhat wondering; wondering what he could’ve done at that point in time. Maybe he could’ve said to you what he wanted to say, but the words were stuck in his throat.

“Maybe… in another life, I would fall for you again.”

Your words to him ran around his head, trying to grasp the message in between those words. He wanted to believe that he still had a chance for a future with you. As much as he had tried convincing himself, he didn’t want to let you go.

He didn’t want to be loved in the next life, he wanted to be loved in this life. In this life, if he had the chance to do it all over again, he would. With you, he would.

He gazed at the moon and stared at it.

Were you gazing at the moon? Maybe you are, maybe you aren’t. but the thought of being under the same moon, it was comforting. Even if it was the only thing that was in common with you now, he appreciated it.

A faint sound of music broke his thoughts and he looked to the other balcony of the hotel that was in front of him to see a couple slow dancing to a song, they looked like they were in love. So in love.

He blinked at their affection and let out a dry chuckle, it was as if karma was biting his ass even harder now. Oh how he hated moments like these, moments that would remind him of you. But, everything reminded him of you. From the warm sun, to the glistening moon, everything beautiful reminded him of you.

If there was another life, would things even end up this way? Would he keep on breaking your heart for his own expense? He hoped not, may it be in this life, or in the next. He wanted to keep you.

“Wakatoshi!~” Tendo’s voice broke him out of his thoughts as he opened the balcony door. “Let’s go to bed!”

Ushijima sighed in response and looked at the moon once more.

Why would I wait for the next life if I could have you in this life?

“Yeah. Okay” he replied to Tendo, leaning away from the ledge and walked back inside.

#without you #ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #ushijima x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu angst #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu reader insert

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ravenadottir · 3 years

Text

a rocco route

so much love for rocco on my dash got me thinking... what a rocco route would look like if he stayed in the villa on day 8.

everything up to that point could stay the same. his mistakes, the things he and mc say to each other, all of it. perhaps a tweet that would make him think twice though, like:

"______ made a huge mistake. he should've kept in his pants because the girl he dismissed is amazing. he doesn't know what he's missing out."

or something a little more impactful.

rocco anc mc have a dreaded conversation that somehow was provided by bobby, because he would probably tell marisol that no matter how much she likes him, mc deserves an apology.

they occupy a daybed and have a dreaded conversation where rocco might be incredibly lost for words. he makes a comparison to a similar situation he went through before to going to the villa, and there's probably a fun anecdote where he made a huge discovery about himself.

mc can just forgive him, or she can give him a hard time. if he's supposed to stay and be an li, then he'll realize that just because he had feelings for marisol it didn't mean the ones he had for mc were gone.

he's now feeling guilty about the betrayal and tries to find a way of fixing things, but it might be too late. he could be out here making food, mocktails, offering a massage, acting all distracted to pay attention to anyone else that isn't mc.

at the recoupling, mc has the power to pick him. when she does, he shoots an apologetic look at marisol, and that would make her have resentment towards mc.

they have the opportunity to go to the hideaway, and if that happens, rocco might lose his mind over her, because i believe he associates intimacy with love. he's very confused at this point, but the choice of bedding him is yours.

the next day, operation nope happens, which leads me to believe he would be hearing about it sooner than the others. because bobby will ask marisol and she might comment about it with rocco.

he's now worried, that mc would get revenge, and stay put, quietly watching and hoping she won't. if she does, he's disheartened, but doesn't say anything besides "i made a mistake, you made this solely to hurt me, even after what happened between us last night."

he might go to marisol's arms if mc participates actively in the operation. if she doesn't then he's fucked, because now he's sure those feelings are growing stronger every day.

in the meantime, he might've talked it out with gary and apologized for going behind his back, even though he doesn't know it's possible gary had a couple of kisses with mc while they were coupled up.

when chelsea arrives, that's what concerns me, because i really think he would be charmed and that's just another moment that would make mc doubt his loyalty. enough to say something to him.

"no, i made that mistake once. you should know how i feel before thinking i would trade you for someone new."

"rocco... you traded me for someone who was here... i don't know if i can trust you."

"i understand. but i want you to know, i have been rethinking my decisions and the more i do, the more i know for sure you're the girl i want to share this journey with."

things get heated with the tension of operation, and after the disaster recoupling, i would make gary or bobby choose mc, leaving rocco distressed and upset. he could say something to gary like "i thought we had put the past behind us." or if bobby, "that was the snakiest thing you could've done mate, and that's coming from me!"

it depends on who has a higher 'heart score' with mc, and this is the order i would put them in:

jakub = hope

noah = priya

ibrahim = lottie

gary/bobby = chelsea

gary/bobby = mc

rocco = marisol

he's forced to choose marisol, which increases the angst because now he's gonna share the bed with the girl he liked just a few days ago, and who's eager to be with him again.

before anything else happens, casa amor days come, and i would make rocco have the almost fight with the boy that stole mc, and that boy is the one bringing blake back.

mc would have a discussion with them on the roof terrace, and say "i thought you were my friend, and i expected this from rocco, but a betrayal like this coming from you? i don't know if i can forgive you."

at the bean bags the other boys, noah, ibrahim and rocco, are talking and you have the same dialogue. he asks mc for a moment alone and says the same thing the others say on the paid scene. "i missed you, that's all."

during this playthrough i would love to insert some moments where rocco and marisol share the coping of the pool, or the kitchen space while talking, to get that angst high.

the stick or switch brought blake, but the next recoupling is for mc to save someone, and the ones endangered depend on whether mc brings someone or not. if she did:

chelsea stays coupled up with bobby/gary (her partner that stayed loyal)

lottie saves noah

bobby/gary (who stole mc) saves hope

and everyone else goes home, which would be unfair to rocco.

if he left here, i would make him give a really hurt speech. "i thought i could have a second chance, but i understand why you wouldn't be able to trust me again." he sniffs while putting his things in the bag. "i caused this, and i'm really sorry for hurting you. if anything, i brought this on myself."

but if mc stayed loyal, then these islanders are single:

mc // chelsea's partner (bobby/gary) // rocco // lottie

lottie saves noah

mc saves either jakub/elijah or the boy that stole her

chelsea's partner saves hope

rocco saves chelsea (and cmm would make sense, but i digress)

this would be a turning point to make chelsea tell you about her crush, but she doesn't, and tries to shake it off, not saying anything, like she does in the game.

elisa and jo come in, and i think it would be delightful to see how into jo's stories rocco is. same as mc's partner at this point.

once the next recoupling comes, i think it would be feral (but also amazing) to make marisol talk to mc about rocco, because she thinks she has a chance with him. when asked about graham, she responds "graham is nice and all, but i really think i have a shot with rocco."

to which mc would reply "i want him. it's his decision who he wants to be with. we've been through a lot, but i reckon if he likes you, i don't see why i should stay in the way. but marisol, asking me this, after everything that happened, is really selfish. you have someone that likes you, and i should have a chance to be happy."

rocco picks mc, saying "i'm so relieved because i thought you and bobby/gary were getting along... i didn't wanna lose the chance to be with you. already did that once and i'm not gonna repeat my mistakes."

returning!hannah and lurik come, lurik is all over mc, hannah is all over rocco, saying how much she wished she had a shot back then, and that they always shared so much about their vision of what love is.

another angsty moment except rocco is not giving her the time of day, but that's not clear enough for mc to see. he knows if he fucks up, mc is gonna run towards anyone that would take her, which is a lot of people.

after couple trouble, he says 'i love you', and completes with

"i knew it a while ago, i just didn't say anything because i didn't want to scare you, or to put that pressure on you. i know how intense it can be when someone says 'i love you' too soon, and well..." he laughs. "i wanted to do it right."

i would like to see rocco being eager to participate on the 'baby challenge', because i really believe he loves children and would be comparing notes with noah. plus, i know rocco stans would have their uteruses skipping several beats with the edit of him holding the doll in that... thing that carries the doll on their chest lol

i think from here on it's pretty standard. the last date might contain a very sweet speech, but for a rocco stan it would mean the world, because after the mistakes he made, i think this redemption would be great.

everyone in there made mistakes, and the fact that i don't like him doesn't influence on the fact that he was an interesting character. he just had a really short term in there, but if he had stayed, i think his route would be the most flavorful, given marisol would be trying to be with him, and she's charming as fuck!

anyway, hope you rocco stans like this. a post i saw today got me thinking about it and i needed to put it somewhere.

#litg rocco #litg chelsea #litg s2 #litg season 2 #love island the game #love island the game season 2 #fusebox #alternative routes

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binniesthighs · 3 years

Text

two tails | reader x minho |

Three

Pairing: self insert, female reader x lee minho

Genre: strangers to lovers, neighbors to lovers, fluff

Tags: neighbors au, comfort fic, catowner!minho, catowner!reader, author!reader, bestfriend!seungmin, floristnpunk!jisung, gradstudent!jeongin, agedup!skz, slow burn, plot driven, gradual romance, lil bit of angst, strained parental relationship, explicit language, mentions of food and alcohol, mentions of previous kinda sad relationships

Word count: 5.4k (y e e h a w)

Tagging: @lauraneuuh

Chapters

P | ONE | TWO | THREE | ?

zeal noun

: eagerness and ardent interest in the pursuit of something: fervor

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

Seungmin never liked your cooking, or at least, he’d often mumble this into his spoon while beginning his second serving. He was probably just being nice, or respectful. Your best friend of four years had never been less.

Aside from the fact the he had a 70 pound golden retriever, never had you once seen a strand of that golden hair cling to the cloth of his winter coats. In the autumn, he would drive you in his hand-me-down ‘91 Mitsubishi to the city where you would tutor the English students just so you wouldn’t have to bear the cold of the subway. In the summers he would toss soju down his throat with you, sitting on the carpet of your living room and turning his head to the side with a hand raised to hide his glass. In the spring, he would remember your birthday--several months before his--and take you to coffee shops and bookstores, then the grocery store (which he knew you hated) and would buy for you the most expensive beef he could find.

You would cook the meat for the two of you, and he would say that he liked it...even if you had charred it black on the edges.

Seungmin flicked at the little aluminum tab on his beer can while he watched you murder yet another plate of perfectly fine vegetables on your stovetop.

“At least it smells nice.” You flipped the circle of white onion.

“It does.” He returned, nonchalant, flicking the beer tab a little poink.

“You’re being uncharacteristically quiet. Too tired to complain about those dicks from the marketing team? They put you on a shitty pitch again didn’t they?”

“Every pitch is a shitty pitch there. God, you wouldn’t believe the kinds of slogans that they make me say sometimes. It’s humiliating.”

“Hey, you’re the one that took the pay raise over that job at that high school.”

“Well, you didn’t have rent staring you dead in the face and a dog that’s practically active and sentient enough to be a real child.” He slugged down a sip of his drink. “I’m a single father you know.”

“As if!” You choked out your laughter. “Since when did you turn into Hyunjin? You were never one for dramatics anyway.”

“Go get your vegetables, they’ll burn.” He nodded his head to the stove. The thing was, they were already burnt.

You salvaged what you could of the vegetables then placed them over your rice balls (not intended to be balls in the first place) and the chicken strips which had undoubtedly been seasoned just a little too much. You slid the ceramic bowl in front of him. At least it was steaming. That was a good sign.

Seungmin nodded a little in thanks, then let out a less than obvious sigh before taking his first bite.

“Spicy...but good.”

The way that his breath sounded thin made it convincing enough to you that it wasn’t just “spicy.”

He scrunched up his face in that adorably puppy-like way that you had long gotten used to.

“Really. Tell me. It isn’t the pitches. Don’t pretend like I can’t read you.”

Your best friend squeezed his eyes shut with a rather generous slug of his beer. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Whaaaat?” You whined a little while opening up your own can. “Oh my god. It’s that girl from the art division. She has a boyfriend doesn’t she? Dammit.”

“No.” Your friend drew the disdain in his eyes up to you from the chicken that had made his nose start to run. He wiped at it quickly.

“I hope it’s not my mother that’s getting to you. She’s too damn nosy for her own good and twice as cocky as she should be. Don’t listen to her. What did she tell you anyway?”

Seungmin poked at his food with his fork then twisted a crispy-tipped red pepper. “Have you talked to him again?”

“--Minho?”

You shied at the memory of meeting him on his morning run two days prior. He would go out at nearly 8:00 on the dot every morning, just when the sun started to peek into the dewy pink and blue mornings.

“You should put on a sweater if you’re going to get up this early for those plants of yours. Don’t want you catching a cold.”

“Yes.” You answered your friend. A tiny ache pinged at your chest--and it wasn’t the kind that felt all twisted. “He asked me to watch the meteor shower with him this weekend. I hope I can cook something edible for him.”

Seungmin’s knee bounced, “Aren’t you at least at little suspicious of him?”

“Suspicious? Why would I be?”

“You hardly even know anything about him, or where he came from, what he does for a living--”

“--Now you’re starting to sound like my mother Seung. Relax. Besides, sometimes it doesn’t take much to feel...comfortable around a person. I mean, look at us! Soju nights started like, three weeks after we met. And I do know where he works. He works for a company that makes windows; fancy ones.”

“Windows?” He cocked a brow.

“He did say that it was kind of boring...”

“I just--” Your friend sighed out, resting anxious hands on his knees. Here he was again, being nice and respectful, like always. “--You could get hurt if you’re not careful.”

“What?”

“I’m saying, don’t get your hopes up.”

“Geez Seung...” Your voice trailed off with a different pain in your chest. This was the kind that twisted.

His expression softened, and he lent a hand to your shoulder, lingering, squeezing lightly. “Your mom...she told me to look after you...not like I do that already with you falling all over yourself and burning things...I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“Hm. Thanks.”

“You’re also miserable to deal with when you’re sad. You make me blow my grocery budget with how much frickin’ ice cream and freezer tater tots you force me to get.”

“You like those tater tots too though.”

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

Bomi purred in your lap swaddled into a little ball of white, orange, black and brown. She was napping, or rather, trying to nap with the way that her little cat-shaped eyes blinked slowly. You tried your best to soak every little moment of it up: you knew that with her, it would be fleeting. There was something supremely calming about being close to your little furball like this. After all the love that you poured over her in the form of useless cat toys and new cat food every week, this somehow made it all worth it.

You tapped lightly at your keyboard, not too harshly, just lightly enough so that you wouldn’t startle your sleeping cat. The tips of your toes were cold, but you didn’t dare to move to grab a blanket to ruin the moment. Outside, a light spring rain befell on your small cement patio. Droplets of the warm showers patted at the roof of your home softly.

Your eyes had grown tired and dry at this late hour, but the end of the chapter was near. One more time you hovered your mouse over the little notification bar, clicking at it for that one last push of motivation:

Bomi needs to quit MESSING AROUND. Blaze is right in front of her!!! Ahhhh I want them to get together soooo bad

Is Herbie okay?? Poor bb, its so cute how we would do anything for Bomi.

Bomi:

Blaze:

*now kiss*

Are we really getting to the end of Book 1??? This has been such an amazing story N/n, I always look forward to your updates <3 they make my Thursdays hehe

I can feel like something big and bad is coming...oh no...I hope that Blaze and Bomi make it through

A thankful little chuckle hummed on your lips, then you pressed enter to start a new paragraph.

“Oh Bomi,” You exhaled, “If only Blaze knew how you felt too.”

Chapter 27

...The group journeyed through the cavern with flickering white flames dancing and casting shadows on the stone walls dripping in stalactites. Bomi held on to the hilt of her sword tighter with a sense of dread creeping up her throat. Blaze looked onward, much as he had been doing these days.

His leg was wrapped in a bloodied bandage: a reminder of the battle won against the Boar in Hilgram. He had jumped in front of her as he had countless times before.

“Hello??” Blaze’s voice echoed against the long and winding chambers of the cave. In his tone he was confident, but his shoulders still shook with an uncertainty.

Herbie’s little hedgehog feet patted the damp floor, and he looked up at his Princess with fear in his soft black eyes. The little velvet banner wrapped around his body had been torn and tattered from one too many battles.

Had it been darker, Bomi wondered if she had reached out for Blaze’s hand to find in him. She shook her head with her resolve, eyes painfully shut. It was only in the darkness that she allowed herself to want for him.

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

Today must be one of those spring-summer days.

Your warbled reflection chased after you in the blue glass of the university’s library windows. You had hoped that no one was on the other side watching you as you wrinkled up your nose to look like one of those devilish gargoyles that you had been writing of the night before. From the inside, rows and rows of books were lined up perfectly, however there were almost no students inside. It always did make you a little sad how few students would be there when you clocked in for your mandatory office hours.

Spring-summer days meant that the businesswomen on the sidewalks had exchanged with trousers with flowing skirts and little clicky ballet flats and each businessman had his tie and collar tugged down. There was a comforting warmth to the spring air that reminded you of your own college days when you and your friends--long gone now--had stayed up late to study, then would scour the buzzing streets for snacks. Things were much simplier then.

At the library’s entrance, budding tulips and geraniums of light purple hues were greeted by round bumblebees. Had the city not been as loud as it was, you could nearly hear the cicadas in the park on the east edge of the shining silver building.

You bowed slightly to the attendant at the desk who always would smile at you with adorable smiling eyes to match. She would often wear earrings of strange shapes that you had never seen before. She wore a lanyard too that had little cat paw prints decorating it; it was because of this you knew she was someone you could trust.

“Are you having a nice week?” You said to her customarily.

“Oh, I am. It’s always the same around here. My daughter will be having her baby soon! Sometimes I think that I’m more excited than she is.”

“You’ll have to tell me when that happens so I can bring her a gift, okay?”

The attendant smiled warmly, and nodded you off with a little oh, you don’t have to.

“Remember your key card this time?” She watched as you jingled around your own keys with the obsessive amount of plastic and silicon keychains.

You tsked. It seemed like nearly everyone in your life had now known how forgetful you tended to be sometimes.

“Yes. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be over there.”

Once more the two of you exchanged little bows and you made your way over to the back of the four storied library with the atrium of trees in between. There was a marble fountain encircled by the trees that had little oval shaped leaves. Two tiny birds, all black, bounced from branch to branch. It was your secret, but you had written about that fountain many times in your writing, but you were the only one who knew that it was real.

You tapped the reader to hear that familiar do-do doot along with the flash of the green lock. As always, the study room was a bit messy with eraser shavings sprinkled about and the odd dry marker laying next to the trashcan where someone had tried to toss it in, but had missed. The minute hand on the wall clock scooted right on to the 12.

“Are you busy?” That fluff on white hair peeked into your study room just like clockwork.

“For my favorite student? Do you even have to ask?”

Jeongin, the oldest and most attentive student in your class hopped in with his adorably boy-ish charm. Regardless of the fact that he was in the last year of his grad degree, it was impossible for him to look that old. You didn’t have the heart to tell him, but he technically shouldn’t have been in your class for undergrads, but you weren’t going to stop him.

“Why’d you decide to take this class anyway?” You would ask him.

He’d answer, “For fun.” with that cute little smile of his.

“I hope I’m not bothering you.”

“I just got here.” You pulled out a seat for him.

“Oh. Good. I was wondering if you could proof read my short story again. I’m having trouble with the ending. I just don’t think I understand all the way how to make it full circle like you said in lecture.”

He unzipped his leather backpack: obviously a gift from someone in his family that must have thought it would make him look his age. It didn’t. What didn’t help further was how he had adorned it with all kinds of keychains; much like your own keys. It was because of this that you knew he was someone you could trust.

His manuscript already had dozens of scribbles in his own handwriting with tons of question marks riddling the margins.

“Let me take a look.”

You skimmed the pages of the short story--one which you had already read the week prior--for all of his new edits. The notes made it a bit hard to read, but you were used to how he would make a mess of his papers now. He leaned in close to you with glossy eyes that might have even twinkled a little like a cartoon. Both of his knees bounced furiously while he watched you read, and would look from the paper, to your face, then back to the paper, then back to your face...

“Is-is it good? Better?”

Jeongin had written a love story. His first one that you had known of. It was about a boy and a girl who had met on an airplane, and had been seated together. The two of them found out that they had shared so much about their two lives without ever meeting until this very moment. They had realized they went to the same high school, worked in the same building, and were travelling for the same reason: to meet up with someone that they had once loved. It was beautiful, tragic, and in some ways, familiar.

“I think that it’s wonderful Jeongin. The edits that you made to it from last week really help with the narrative flow as well as the vertical plot. You’re really good at asking the deeper questions behind the piece like “why are they really there,” and “why is it important that they are there.” All you need to do is tie it up.”

“But howwww?” Jeongin slumped in his wheely chair. “What should I say?”

“Well...” You tapped your pen to your lip. “The ending scene is when they land at the airport right? Why don’t you have your main character say something that calls back to all of their similarities and makes it seem like they’ve known eachother all along?”

“But I don’t want it to seem like they’re going to forget eachother.”

“They won’t. You established that they’ve both found something different than what they were looking for in the first place.”

Your student’s face tangled up into concentrated knots and he puffed those thin strands of bleached white hair away from his eyes.

“I could say...‘see you at home’? Or...maybe that’s too cheesy--”

“--No it’s not! If you like it, I think that it also fits the story well. Its like, now they understand, and they’ve got something in eachother now that they hadn’t had before; also juxtaposing with your themes of travelling to make a reference to home.”

“Damn, you’re much better at this kind of stuff than I am...” Jeongin wrote down the new ending on his print out.

“Its just...what I like to do.”

“I’m glad I came.” He grinned out with his mischievous and trademark smile. “How’s your story going by the way? Almost finished?”

“Oh...”

A heat rose in your cheeks. You had decided to tell Jeongin about Princess Bomi a few weeks back, but you had neglected to tell him exactly what the story was about. That was a secret better kept to yourself.

“Its...good. I think. My readers seem to really like it.”

“Maybe you’ll let me read it someday. I bet there would be tons of other people who would like to read it too, you know, outside of the internet.”

“That’s what I’ve been told...” Hyunjin’s urgings echoed in your head. “Maybe...” Your eyes wandered to those scribblings of his. “How about we make a deal?”

“What kind of deal?”

“Once we get both of our stories sorted, lets submit them together. I’m sure people would like to read yours too.”

“Mine?!” Your adorable student’s face flushed as deeply pink as the sweater he wore. “Oh no, no no no no no.”

“I’m telling you it’s good! Its relatable, raw, well written. It never hurts to try. How about submitting it for the literary journal they do at the end of the semester?”

“You mean the one that all the arts majors read and fuckin’ eviscerate?? Hell no.”

“Hey, I could get eviscerated too by my chief editor.”

Jeongin gulped with his terrified, brown, cartoon-character glistening eyes boring holes into his manuscript.

You sang, “~Wanna go down together~?”

“A-as long as we’re going down together...I guess it’s worth a shot.”

“Alright then!!”

He made a little sound of disgust, then shoved his papers back into his much-too-old-for-him bag. “That was all I needed to ask you for. Thank you.” He bowed with respect. “I won’t be bothering you for too long today.”

“You wrote a good story Jeongin.”

“Mm. Thank you.” His smile turned into a tiny flustered line.

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

STUPID NEW CAT FOOD. AGAIN.

In one hand, you held the crinkled up grocery list with angry doodles of your cat folded into the corners of the page. You didn’t quite know if cats had eyebrows like the ones you had drawn onto your cat’s smug face, but you were for certain that this cat must’ve had them...and they were angry.

Bomi had selfishly decided at the end of your week that she no longer liked the last brand of cat food that you had found on the shelves of the grocery store. It was the brand stored next to the one that you had nearly concussed Minho with.

You were at your wits end. There must have been something wrong with your cat--to hell with her being a picky eater. Maybe she really was just a little alien inside there. A little alien that hated cat food. The image of you sitting at your dining table across from Bomi eating two plates of people food crossed your mind. She picked up the fork with her white paw and dabbed at her mouth with a cloth napkin. The idea didn’t seem the most out of reach.

In your other hand was your phone opened to the maps app with the small blue dot leading you to the specialty pet store.

“Damn spoiled, stuck up, good for nothing, pain in my as--”

“Hey! Blossom??”

Your head whipped around so fast you cracked the bones of your neck with a startling pop. You rubbed at your neck to ease the pain.

“You okay?”

At first you figured you must have dreamt him up in your neck-induced-pain. You cursed at your overactive imagination, still just as strong as it was when you had been small.

Blaze in the flesh he was alllll the way from his battered Converse to his stupidly handsome curly hair.

You laughed out incredulously with a hand still glued to the back of your neck.

“Didn’t think that I would be seeing you around here again. Or at least, I was kind of hoping that I would.”

He marched right up to you with that same smile you had pictured on Princess Bomi’s companion countless times before. Today he wore a leather jacket over the arms that you knew were covered in all kinds of flowers and vines. It hadn’t quite hit you yet that he had said he was hoping to see you.

“Sorry if I startled you. I was just...really surprised.”

“You’re fine, it’s fine.”

You neck didn’t tell you it was fine.

“What are you doing around here?”

“Pet store.” Was all you could get out. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise to you, but for someone who worked at a flower shop, he did end up smelling an awful lot like flowers. It was a sweet aroma, much like your garden.

“Ahh, I just got off.”

You walked on, also not noticing that he had started to follow you a couple steps behind.

“I realized I didn’t get your name last time.”

“Oh. It’s Y/n.”

He hummed with a smirk. “I do kinda like Blossom more.” He crammed his hands into his pants pockets with a wistful little sigh. “Pretty nickname for someone as pretty as yourself.”

“Psh. Stop.” You had said it sarcastically, but you didn’t intend for your heart to skip as harshly as it did when he had said so.

“You’ve got a pet then? Dog? Cat?”

“Cat. Just one.”

“I wish I could take care of a pet like that. Don’t think I would be too good at it though. I see myself as more of a plant person. They’re quiet, don’t do too much, and they sort of love you back in their own way.”

“How's that?”

“By growing. And flowering. Changing colors and looking good in your windowsill. Nothing too crazy.”

“I...guess I can see what you mean.”

He flicked at the black hoop pierced into his lip in the way that you certainly hadn’t forgotten; and you were one for forgetting much.

“Mind if I go in with you? I don’t have a whole lot going on.”

Jisung. You had also remembered his name. He carried Blaze with him in the way that he had that fiery glint in his eye like he knew he was getting away with something. He was brash and forward, and charming as all hell. The sunset of blood orange and cotton candy pink seemed to melt into his shoulders where he stood before you in the golden hour of the evening. A yellow carnation was tucked into the pocket of his jacket.

“You don’t have to...”

He had already made up his mind, and swung open the door to the pet shop neighboring the floral shop. You didn’t know how you had missed it.

The squawking of birds chimed with the bells hung over the shop door.

“You coming?” He held it open for you.

You sheepishly entered before him, nearly tripping on the little incline to the entrance and catching yourself three seconds before disaster.

Jisung prompted, “Lead the way.”

Normally you would have been concerned over the cleanliness of the store, but that seemed insignificant compared to the way that he looked around all in his Blaze-like wonder. He widened his eyes at the rows of fish tanks and twiddled with the little feather cat toys at the ends of the isles.

Granted, he seemed much more immersed in the kinds of aquatic plants and moss balls that they had rather than the cute bunnies and mice, but still, you couldn’t help but shy away when he caught your glances.

“Glad that I joined ya Blossom.”

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

There was something about Minho that felt like a lullaby. He wore a lavender colored sweater when he arrived at your doorstep: of course it was pooling into paws at his hands as always. The collar dipped deep enough for you to see the tops of his collarbones, and they were gorgeous and curved. His eyes wrinkled a little under his wire framed glasses when he would smile: that of which would also look like the little grin of a bunny. Effortlessly his brown hair kissed his forehead.

He would speak softly and carefully, and listen to everything that you had said to him as if it was the most important thing in the world. His feet were too big for your spare pair of house slippers and he had a tiny hole in his khaki pants right by the waistline. Minho greeted Bomi with a tiny “aigoo” and she let him sweep her up into his arms where he bounced her lightly. She would never let you do that. Traitor.

“Your home is very...you.” He had complimented. You had no idea what that meant.

His lips were pink and glossy with drips of that peach soju that you had bought in the hopes that he would like it. It turned out that it was his favorite flavor.

You wanted so badly to kiss the peachy flavor off of those lips.

He had laughed a little at your array of cat-related home decor, laughing the most at your dish towels that had two fat cats on them that looked like chefs. He said that he had seen a movie once and the characters reminded him of that.

The two of you sat outside on your patio on the wire chairs that would imprint designs into the back of your legs. The air mixed with the smell of your citronella candle and the scent of the roasted duck that you had attempted to make for him. You really shouldn’t have tried to make something for the first time when it was also his first time coming over.

Maybe he was just being nice, but he had said it tasted good.

It did not taste good, but rather harshly of salt and too much rosemary.

Bomi rubbed at his legs under the table and even hiked herself up on two feet to peek into his lap. As much as it hurt to see your traitorous cat act this way, it was because of this that you knew he was someone that you could trust. Minho gave her head scratches and insisted to help you with the dishes--a mistake on his part. It took all of two minutes before you had a mishap with the detachable sink head, and soaked through his sweater.

“Maybe I just shouldn’t trust you with water then?” He chuckled while dabbing away at the fabric.

“That probably would be best.”

Minho was a lullaby in the way that he laid down next to you on that quilt you had made in a crafting class some years ago. All of the patches were disjointed the the color scheme made very little sense, but it was stull functional. He kept his hands folded to his chest with reverence. His chest rose and fell calmly, and his body heat floated over to you. His presence was something familiar and still something that you couldn’t place.

“Are you getting tired?” He asked you gently.

You lied, “No, just resting my eyes.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t have had that much soju then.” He joked into the open air.

“How much longer?”

“At least thirty more minutes.”

He was so warm. Warmer than any chill of the spring night.

First you would have kissed the peachy flavor on his lips. Then you would have cuddled all up into that lavender sweater which you imagined to be even softer than cat’s fur--or rather--it looked like it could have been.

“Do you know any constellations?” Minho pointed up to the sky.

“Not really.”

“Well, that one is Ursa Major...and over there...that’s Leo. Can you see that it sort of looks like a triangle?”

“Yes.” You had said, but really you didn’t have a clue, you liked it more hearing him talk about them. “Where did you learn about constellations?”

“Long time ago. I think it was in school, but, that was so, so long ago.”

The cool grass under the quilt rustled when he had leaned back up to sit, then dragged quilt attempt #2 over your body and his.

“It was getting a little cold.” He quietly announced.

His simple action of doing just that heated up your whole body now knowing that the two of you were trapped together, inches apart.

Minho tucked his arms to prop up his head. “Thank you for cooking for me. I haven’t had someone other than my mother cook like that for me in a long while.”

“I’m sorry...I know that it was pretty inedible--”

“--And thank you for allowing me to come over too. I...realize...I don’t really know what I’m doing that well. I kind of invited myself...I hope that I’m not putting pressure on you or anything...”

“--Doing what well?” Your heart leapt into your throat.

“I just haven’t done this in a really long time.”

This.

What the hell was “this?”

“I’m not following...”

“Letting myself do something fun. Something nice and relaxing.”

You had formed a painful little “Oh.” on your lips. Your idea of this was different from his after all.

“--Something nice and relaxing with you.”

Another “Oh.” formed, but this one was a thankful one.

“Can I tell you something?” Minho’s voice was barely in a whisper.

“What is it?” You looked over at him and he was wrapped in the navy blue light of the night. You could have sworn that you could see the faintest inkling of stars in his eyes.

He looked back at you in earnest. “I’ve been...scared, too, since moving back out here.”

“W-why?”

“There was something in me that was telling me that moving out here wouldn’t fix everything, and that I would be stuck forever on those things that happened, and the things that made me unhappy.”

“Minho...what are you saying?”

“-Got my heart broken. Back then. As cliché as the sounds.” He laughed, and it even sounded a twinge embarrassed. “I ran away from it to here. I had figured that it would give me time to get it all back together again.”

“I-I’m so sorry.”

“Running is good and all when you can physically remove yourself from what’s chasing you, but some things...”

Your chest felt heavy. “I know exactly what you’re talking about.”

“You do?”

The first summer cicadas had started their nighttime chant, and their hisses ebbed and flowed like sea waves.

“I feel like...these expectations that my family has of me, my mother...I can’t ever escape them. They’re always there and burned into my head. I think of them even when I don’t want to: get a better job that “contributes”, get married, have grandkids...”

You paused with your own eyes cast up to the sky. The massive expanse seemed unfathomable.

“Why is it that we can’t ever be happy doing the things that are supposed to make us happy?”

The first meteor flew past your eyes with the speed of light, barely slow enough for you to catch it.

The second was a bit slower, and traced after it a millisecond of white spectral dust.

“Did you see that??” Without thinking, you poked once at Minho’s arm.

You couldn’t see, but he had grinned with a weak smile. “I did.”

All at once, the sky was illuminated with brilliant streaks of light and their white hot heads that would fade and dissapear just as quickly as they arrived. They tore through the sky with astonishing speed and you traced the outline of each line as fast as you could.

“There’s so many.” You wondered aloud.

Under the warmth of the haphazard blanket, fingers twisted into yours: careful and tentative, soft and curious.

Minho breathed out, “I feel pretty happy right now.”

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juniorgman187 · 3 years

Text

The Bones (Reid Series) Part 1

Summary: Almost a year after Maeve’s death, Spencer reaches out to the recipients of Maeve’s donated organs to reconnect with his lost love. However, when the receiver of her heart, Reader, doesn’t write back, Spencer goes on a poorly-motivated mission to find her.

Playlist: “The Bones” by Maren Morris & Hozier (BONUS: song includes major foreshadowing)

A/N: There is an OC in this story because to me, writing “(y/n)” over and over again cheapens the story and doesn’t flow well. It was a personal decision, and to anyone it sincerely bothers, I’m sure there’s a way you can insert your own name instead. This fic is also inspired by “Things We Know By Heart” by Jessi Kirby. Category: Series, Soft Angst, Eventual Smut + NSFW content* Pairing: Spencer Reid POV x Fem!OC Content Warning: allusions to death, mourning, loss, recovery, arrhythmia (this is an intro chapter, so it’ll get more interesting from here I promise) Word Count: 2.2k

This will be a multi-part series.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

It all started that first autumn after Maeve’s death - just five weeks past a year since I parted with her. I was absentmindedly reading when, rather out of the blue, Mary Donovan called to inform me about a Mrs. Rachel Larsen.

Although we didn’t learn her actual name until later, she was first known to us as the recipient of Maeve’s liver. Not a single one of the three of us - Maeve’s parents and me - had expected a recipient to be in contact with us. That inability to predict such an event was caused by my neglect to remember Maeve was an organ donor. It wasn’t particularly relevant in the grand scheme of things, and for that forgetfulness, I was truly ashamed, but after reading Rachel Larsen’s letter together with the Donovans, it all came back to me.

Every single thing.

You see, despite the anonymity of the person writing to us, it was as if I could actually feel Maeve’s soul coming alive again, as strange as that sounds.

She was still here with me ... in some form.

Later that night, when I would return to an empty apartment, I would wonder why I hadn’t thought of reaching out to the recipients before. Even though I’d already started writing a thank you letter back to Rachel, the thirst for more of Maeve became increasingly insatiable.

While I did have fond memories of her to live by, I couldn’t thrive off of them in the way that I did with that letter. Our only moments together worth reliving were those spent over the phone, a time when I didn’t even know what she looked like. But that letter from Rachel Larsen ... it was somehow more wholesome and pure than any memory of the living Maeve that I could cultivate.

You could say I was doing this to ease my mourning, meaning it should’ve made me feel better, but that didn’t stop the guilt from eating away at me piece by piece as I wrote letters to the rest of the recipients.

The Donovans had no idea I was doing this, but I reasoned to myself that they would appreciate the surprise. Though they were still undeniably riddled with grief, smiles embellished their sullen faces when they read about Rachel’s quality of life now with a new liver. So maybe, just maybe, hearing from the rest of the receivers would be good for us all. At least, that’s what I told myself.

In one of those rare moments when inspiration strikes and it courses through your veins at the speed of lightning, I found myself being more productive than I had been in nearly a year. By midnight, I’d successfully composed five letters, each dedicated to the receiver of one of Maeve’s major organs - none of which, though, included my identity.

Given the fragile process of contacting the transplant coordinators, getting consent forms, and premeeting counseling, it would be months, if not years, before I would be able to really speak with these faceless people. Nothing against Donor Family Services - I’m sure they do the best they can - but for me, their best wasn’t good enough. So instead, I enlisted the help of someone I knew could never let me down.

“Are you sure you want me to do this?” Penelope peered up at me from her seat, her pinky finger hesitantly hovering over the ‘enter’ button.

“Yes.”

With just one click, she discovered the addresses of each one of those faceless people. This singular operation, albeit somewhat unethical, was the final piece to my puzzle. All there was left to do now was send the letters to them, with the tenuous hope they might send one back.

Luckily for me, not a single recipient questioned how I managed to find them or why this process wasn’t being handled by Donor Family Services, but I suppose if they did wonder those things, they didn’t feel comfortable asking me. Especially not after they learned who I was in relation to their donor. I didn’t intend to guilt-trip anyone with what I wrote in my letters nor did I want to take advantage of anyone’s empathy, but how could you possibly make a foe out of your organ donor’s grieving boyfriend? Exactly - you can’t. So you don’t. Instead, you send an inviting letter back, telling me you’d love to meet. Which is what four of them did.

Only one person didn’t reply, and while an 80% success rate was great, I simply couldn’t let this one go. Trust me, I would have ... had it been any other organ.

For quite some time, I was the one with Maeve’s heart.

I just needed to see where it was now.

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

The heart has several definitions and corresponding connotations.

Scientifically speaking, the heart is a hollow muscular organ that pumps the blood through the circulatory system by rhythmic contraction and dilation. However, figuratively, the heart can be seen as the central or innermost part of something. The heart of a city, for example. But in literature, the heart is symbolic of love. It is often regarded as the source of all knowledge, which is where the comparison between the head and the heart comes from. The head operates logically, whereas the heart functions emotionally, but despite the rationality the head holds, the heart is what people advise you to listen to because it holds the ultimate truth.

The heart, because it is equipped with your truest feelings, supersedes any logic and reason the head might hold.

But you see, I only ever knew Maeve’s mind. I could understand the inner workings of it - I’d probably be able to navigate through her consciousness if I entered it given the fact that our intellect matched one another’s - and I shared nearly identical thought processes with her, but that was all that I ever knew.

And if that was how much knowledge she held in her head alone, then, undoubtedly, her heart held so much more.

Science defines the heart as an organ. Figurative language uses the heart to establish a focal point. Literature likens the heart to love. But I compare her heart to the ocean. Like the sea, Maeve’s heart was 80% undiscovered, and exploration was simply calling my name.

For that reason, and that reason alone, I couldn’t abandon my pursuit of it.

That’s not to say I wasn’t ashamed of this mission, though. If anything, shame for the man I had become in the face of Maeve’s death was the only feeling I was truly capable of anymore. Any other emotions were fleeting or insincere.

Unfortunately, that slimy, disgusting feeling was only amplified times ten when I found myself driving two hours and forty-five minutes to get to Virginia Beach.

No sane man would drive this far on a weekday for even their most prized possession, and yet here I was, exactly 180 miles away from home, seeking out someone who hadn’t had the courtesy to even write me back, let alone agree to meet with me. Who knows if she’d even give me the time of day.

She being Valerie.

“Valerie Elise Bishop was born on August 5th, 1988 in Henderson, Nevada, to parents Andrew and Sara, but when Valerie turned seventeen, she was diagnosed with arrhythmia,” Garcia explained to me over the phone on the car ride here. “It’s when-”

“When the electrical impulses that coordinate your heartbeats don't work properly, causing your heart to beat too fast, too slow or irregularly,” I accidentally cut in. Realizing I interrupted Garcia, I brought her back into the conversation by asking, “I know there are more than 3 million cases per year in the U.S, but isn’t it usually common for ages 60 or older?”

“You are most certainly correct, Boy Wonder. It is more common in ages 60 and older, however, her maternal grandmother passed away from arrhythmia, so the family history increased the likelihood.”

At the sound of this news, I had to pull the car over and physically stop just so I could grasp the weight of what I was really doing.

“In Henderson, Nevada ... maternal grandmother passed away ... family history increased the likelihood …” Garcia’s voice rang in my head.

It was then that I came face to face with the gravity of reality.

Valerie wasn’t just a faceless name or a recipient of Maeve’s heart, she was a person. And her humanity only became more apparent to me the more Penelope spoke.

For god’s sake, she and I grew up in the same state. She and I saw the same sunsets from the same little corner of the earth. She drove down the same highways and byways - we might’ve even crossed paths at one point or another! Not to mention that she lost her grandmother to the same disease that she was suffering from, and if there was one thing consistent about arrhythmia, it was very likely she’d been living with it for decades, if not her entire lifetime. It’s a long term disease that takes years to improve but only seconds to kill. All it would take is just one irregular beat, and she’d be dead. How can you possibly live with that constant fear looming over your head?

She is a person. I had to remind myself. Not just a means to explore more of Maeve.

“Hey, Garcia,” I turned the car back on. “I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

“What do you mean?” I could just feel panic begin to rise in Garcia.

“No, I’m not talking about life, I’m talking about this.” Though she couldn’t see, I grandly gestured to the location, the car, and the passenger seat that was cluttered with files on Valerie. “I don’t feel right invading her privacy like this. It’s just selfish.”

I wasn’t the only one mourning something here.

“Are you sure?” Penelope clarified. Which was ironic considering she was the one who was unsure of doing any of this, to begin with. What was I thinking? I shouldn’t have dragged Garcia into this. Something as immoral as this was totally against her character, but she did it anyway because her loyalty to her friends conquers all.

Like I said, my shame multiplied times ten. If not for Valerie, then certainly for Penelope.

“Yeah, I’m sure. I’m heading home.”

“Okay,” She softly returned. “Be safe.”

“Oh, and Garcia?” I asked before ending the call. “Thanks.”

“Of course. Anything for you, Dr. Reid.”

By the time I ended the call, the sun was already setting - that’s how long I’d been on the road for. The nearly-three-hour drive I would have to make for the second time today meant I wouldn’t be home in time to beat the pitch-black sky, so considering I was already in for a long night, I made a little detour for the one thing I couldn’t go home without.

A piping hot cup of coffee.

I felt something as rewarding as caffeine was well deserved for the self-restraint I demonstrated minutes ago. And maybe it was my exhaustion, both mental and physical, that brought me to the near conclusion that I would truly let this go, but I was honestly feeling like I could accept this. An 80% acceptance rate. Not bad, right?

Though I was basically half-asleep while waiting for my coffee, I could not miss the barista when she said, “Valerie! Your order’s ready!”

What are the chances?

A jolt of energy surged through my body and brought me back to life, causing me to whip my head around at the slightest semblance of movement. On instinct, my gaze gravitated to the woman walking towards the front counter. My pull to her was so strong that even if I hadn’t studied file upon file on her that included pictures of what she looked like, I still would’ve recognized her in a heartbeat.

I just knew. That’s her.

I had no plan whatsoever for how I should approach this, and yet I still rose from my seat, motivated by nothing more than the single belief that I needed to.

Was this the universe telling me that I was meant to run into her after all? That I needed to meet the woman with an oceanic heart?

But when I finally got to where she was, she glided effortlessly past me, not paying any mind to my presence. Why would she though? To her, I was no one. To her, I was the faceless person.

“Excuse me!” I bolted to the front counter after realizing I might’ve just missed my opportunity. The barista, stunned and concerned, furrowed her brows while she waited for my question. “Is that girl a regular here?”

“Valerie?” She pointed in her direction, to which I nodded rapidly. “Oh, yeah. She comes in here all the time. She works just across the street.”

When I came to this coffee shop, it was simply by chance. It wasn’t even the closest cafe, but it was the one I chose to go to for some inexplicable reason.

I’d like to think it was fate. I was meant to be here after all. Because right behind me stood the storefront of a building I had only briefly read about in Valerie’s file.

The Bones, Art Gallery & Studio

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

PART 2 HERE!

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sybilmarlowe · 3 years

Text

Since I joined the One Piece fandom, I was asked different times which character I ship with Doffy the most. Given I'm usually into self insert things, I'd firstly go with "my OC, of course 😛"... But let's talk about what I think of Doffy's most famous ships 😁

DISCLAIMER: all of what follows is TOTALLY my own opinion, don't want to judge anyone who thinks differently than me. OP is a fictional world made of fictional characters and anyone can ship whoever they likes!

So, here's the ships:

Doffy x Viola

Ok, let's start with what many people's don't want to hear: this ship is canon. Yeah. Like it or not, it's a matter of fact.

I honestly like them together, they're a weird couple but somehow they work. I like to imagine how could have been the dynamic between the two of them, and I'm more than sure there was nothing abusive from Doffy's side. I mean, sexually at least. I agree with the fact destroying one's whole life and Country is pretty abusive, but I'm quite sure the feelings between Doffy and Viola have been real for a while. Maybe the concept could sound trivial, but no one chooses who to love and Doffy has many characteristics which may definitely make a person fall for him. Not totally sure HE has ever truly loved her, but I like to think so. After all he does have a weak side and Viola might have been one of the few (even thanks to her powers) who managed to see it and knowing him deeply. This surely strenghtened their bond and it might have finally resulted in love...

My vote is a 8/10

Doffy x Cora

This is incest. I know. And it's indeed problematic and controversial. Irl a thing like this isn't exactly acceptable.

BUT as I told before, OP is pure fiction, so... I have to say quite like them tbh. In my opinion, as long as a relationship is adult and consensual there's nothing deeply wrong in it IN FICTIONAL WORLDS. (I know, there are fanfictions in which their relationship is abusive, but since we’re talking about headcanons here I like to think it’s not). Have you watcher GoT? Cersei and Jamie were one of the best written pairings in the whole series, the same goes for this situation imo, we have all the conditions to make this ship a sensible one.

They’re a realistic couple cause they went through a lot of difficulties together and, even if they chose different paths of life, their bond is very very deep. Their love is a desperate one, like “you’re the only one in this world I can REALLY trust”. This from both sides. The difference is that Cora is a pure person who just want to love and being loved while Doffy... well, he’s not exactly mentally healthy and he’s like “all or nothing”.

A lot of angst and stuff, of course, for this reason my vote is 7/10

Doffy x Crocodile

I’m sure someone out there is going to want my head for what I’m about to write, the DoffyxCroco fandom is huge after all... but...

I don’t like this ship at all.

Given one can ship two people with no reason or just because they wear matching colours and look good in fanarts (?) imo DoffyxCrocodile has no sense. They interact, yeah, but nothing about their dialogues or shared scenes makes me thing they could be a good couple. Even that most famous encounter at Marineford which made fanpeople scream... They looked just like contenders who quite disliked eachother, nothing less and nothing more :/ and Doffy saying “I’m jelous!” just gave me the same vibes of a childish sacrastic way to piss off a person, pretty much like the stupid classic “you fight like a girl!”.

They’re aesthetically beautiful, nothing to say, they’re both among the most handsome characters in OP and have a similar story, so I’m not saying I don’t understand the reasons of those who ship them... Just... I want ships to be stronger and more credible than this :/

6/10 just because they look good in fanarts XD

Doffy x Luffy

This is pretty diffused, but..... why.

I mean... what happened between the two of them which could have made them fall for eachother?? D: Have you ever tried to date a person after trying GearFourthPunch them out of the troposphere? °A° (Also, Luffy could LITERALLY be Doffy’s son. This is weird. Not the weirdest thing, but still.)

Srsly... If you like them together I ask you to tell me which dynamics are there behind this ship. Cause I really can’t see WHERE do you see even a little trace of feelings between the two of them D:

Sorry D:

3/10

Doffy x Law

Gods, yes. YES.

This ship HELLA works from every single point of view. Doffy and Law are two of the most (if not THE MOST) well written characters in the whole series. They have a complete and complex background, a deep and multifaceted personality and, above all, an extremely strong bond.

Ship them or not, they’re literally OBSESSED by eachother for different reasons.

Law is the ONLY man Doffy considers almost his equal, he thinks he’s like the only person worth being his right hand man and I’m quite sure he’s galvanized by the idea Law is the one who’s gonna sacrifice his life to make him immortal. Like... a great life to complete an even greater one? This is insane. And yet beautiful.

On the other hand, Law’s thoughts have been completely centred on taking revenge on Doffy for 10 years. Like, he was literally obsessed by that man, consumed by the hate he felt for him which obscured anything else, even his maniacal good sense in the end.

Turning this all into a tragic and tormented love story is as easy as drinking water. A long-term reciprocal hate mixed with a deep admiration for eachother (even from Law’s side, after all Doffy was the one who thaught him almost... everything?) which slowly turns into something terribly different. Imagine the tension between two arch enemies who have to admit their hate melted into passion... and yet still have this latent feeling of wanting the other’s death.......

Don’t know what’s your opinion about this kind of stories, but for me, the self proclaimed Queen of Angst, in love with the most tragical Theatre and Literature... THIS IS GOOD STUFF.

10/10 HANDS DOWN.

Doffy x Trebol

What tHE ACTUAL F***K.

-10/10

Doffy x Bellamy

Please, no.

Alright, I hate Bellamy. He’s exactly the kind of character I find terribly pathetic and incomplete. He barely has a personality of his own, he’s a wild fanboy with nothing original (not like Barto. Barto is the best fanboy ever. All my love goes to Barto.).

Now, he spent all his 34 years of life trying to... imitate Doffy? And yet he doesn’t even manage to truly understand him. So he’s worse than a fanboy, he’s attracted to the idealization of a man who’s not even half of the things he expects him to be. This is sad. Really sad. And call me a sadist, he deserved being humiliated imo. Maybe this helped him open his eyes and getting a life. Seriously.

It goes without saying I totally can’t see how a relationship between him and Doffy could work. Doffy despises him, the only kind of plot this thing could have is a quite abusive one :/ and since I deeply dislike abuse.... no. This ship is totally out of question.

0/10

Doffy x Monet

This is another ship which barely touches the canon. I sincerely think the "love" between the two of them is pretty much unilateral. Doffy respects Monet, he deeply appreciates her abilities, intelligence and loyalty, she's clearly among his closest subordinates, but... He doesn't love her in a romantic way. As for Monet, she's totally in love with him, she'd kill and die for him. And in fact that's what she does in the end.

Monet is not among my fav characters, but I still feel quite sorry for how things went for her. She gave her everything away for a helpless, almost obsessive, love.

If something between the two of them really happened for real, I think it was merely physical.

For this reason, tough I have to admit they'd actually look beautiful together, I can't ship them :/

5/10

Doffy x Vergo

Ok, I dislike Vergo. He's quite a flat character imo, don't even like his design 😅 I don't ship him with Doffy for this simple reason, but being honest they could perfectly work as a couple.

Vergo was among Doffy's very first "real friends", he was among those who were considered a family by him and, most importantly, he was the only one around his same age. They literally grew up together, likely supporting each other, and I wouldn't be honest if I said this has no chance to be a good assumptipn for a love story. A quite simple and basic one, if you want, but it's the most realistic kind of bond two people can make.

Still not shipping them, my vote is a honest 7/10.

Guess that's all?

Let me know what do you think about this 😆 do you agree with my votes? Or there are some points you totally disagree with?

Well, anyways. I had fun 😂

#doflamingo headcanons #doflamingo #donquixote doflamingo #one piece #one piece hc

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famouskittychild · 3 years

Text

Cheeky Mandos - Five: Coming home

Word count: 2828

Summary: They’re coming home! They’re coming home... a visit to home and facing some important questions.

Rating: M

CW: multiple references to sexual activities, relationship talk, references to polyamory (OC's parents) and open relationships, some angst, pining

Author’s note: Lots of pick-and-choose world building here. I mostly disregard / am not familiar with Legends except for the language, I love languages ( *insert Penny loves steak* gif here) and there’s barely any canon/also am not very familiar with whatever there is so I made up what I would like mandos to be; which is a very open and egalitarian society with a focus on family that comes in many forms (and is sometimes a single person with five tookas, other times it’s your three buir’e, your five vod’e and about thirty cousins.). Din is so alone and his covert has (had? :( ) to fight so hard to survive, I gave my Armourer a big, loving family and a community that fared much better.

Series: Prolouge - One - Two - Three - Four (NSFW Din/Cobb special)

Cheeky Mandos - Five: Coming home

When you get back to your covert, you leave Djarin behind as soon as politely possible. You need your friends, you need advice, and you need company that isn’t confusing you.

You find your friends at Thlolla’s place; they have small ones so the rest gather at their quarters, scattering in the kar’yai’s couches and on pillows on the floor. You commed them before you got back. They would’ve gathered anyways for the occasion that you came home, but your message made sure that everyone showed up for at least a little chat.

They know what it is all about, of course. They know you well enough. They saw the shiny armour. It’s easier than putting two and two together.

“It’s basically like putting one and one together” Tav winks at you, and Hill’it smacks their back.

“You are so bad at math, that’s the only thing you could ever calculate” and you all laugh at that because Tav is terrible with numbers.

All the couches and floor pillows are occupied as your friends and some of their families lounge around the karyai of Thlolla’s home. You stretch out on the soft rug, resting your limbs on as many people as you can. You missed them dearly. Jama, who has your left leg draped over his knee, rubs your calf before speaking.

“So. What is your problem, mate?”

He knows you the longest. You lived at the same covert from the time you were entrusted with your own rifles, moved three times, and only separated years later after you both went through your verd'goten. His clan is the reason you still have the same accent as him when you’re tired or angry: that was the first time you were around more people than your immediate family.

You let your thoughts linger on the past because it’s safer than the present. Or the future.

“No problem. Just the usual ‘I’m an idiot, innit’ situation.” You pause, and try to swallow your regrets. “When was I good with choices?”

There’s a collective sigh and rolling of eyes, but you can’t help to feel that way and voice it. All your friends have found their places a long time ago. Some on their own like Haika; others have families, some with children like Thlolla does, or with partners of some kind. Except you. To-Ran, Tav’s foundling, crawls over to you and leans against your chest. They have been formally adopted by their current clan only recently and probably feels you are in something of a similar situation. You squeeze their shoulders reassuringly.

“Let’s be honest, hun” Jama says, “Neither of us has the burden you do. We don’t have to vanish off to space for weeks at a time, or if we have to, we can work together.”

That is the crux of the matter. Unless you get with another Armourer, your professions would pull you apart.

“I’m just thinking… maybe it’s because I was alone for quite a while now. I just latched onto the first person that came along and stayed for a bit.”

Hill’it pulls up an eyebrow before answering.

“Maybe you need a friend so you won’t feel so alone.”

There are small ones in the room hence the careful wording, but the adults understand the added meaning. They offer friendship, yes, but the definition of that word can vary. You aren’t sure how outsiders do it exactly - you have met people who have definitely had a more stricter separation between friend, person to have feelings for, and person to have sex with, than your people do. But they didn’t seemed to navigate things any better, so you stick with what you know and what worked.

But your people, at least those you know closer, tends to deal with problems head-on. You can’t fight well if your thoughts linger on problems in your private lives. You were thought early on to face your doubts and fears and anything that could be a distraction - and how that includes feelings and libido too. How people have needs for emotions, attachments and intimacy, that those varies, each their own way and degree. And that these are some of the things that can spur people to make rush decisions the most. You and your friends watched others make those mistakes and made some yourselves too.

Life thought you that if you have people around to talk to and to hug and to trust, you wont jump on a stranger you’ve barely met and feel attracted in some way just to fulfil those needs. You can wait until you get to know them, until you actually want them for themselves, and not just for the feelings or the intimacy, emotional or physical.

Hil’it is a good partner, familiar and fun, and tonight, extra caring. You wake up together sometime way before dawn, and the worry must still be on your face.

“Rivets for your thoughts?”

You sigh, and try to gather said thoughts. You remind yourself at another hard learned lesson: talking about a problem is often half the way of solving them.

“I’m just wondering… “ you start, than your words stuck in your throat.

“..what if it works out?” Hil’it smirks at you, lips pulled into a lopsided grin as they rest their head on their arm. You furrow your brows in disapproval.

“No, don’t try to derail the conversation. What if I say something, or do… and he takes it as an offence?” You stop their objections before they could open their mouth fully. “I’m serious. He was sent on this… mission. From high up. Pissing him off can have political consequences.”

“You mean that he could take your advances the wrong way and exact vengeance on your clan, or even the entire covert?” They look at you with an eyebrow raised. Put it like that, you know that’s not very plausible. “We are talking about a vod who was basically ready to enter your service and accept any of your terms, after seeing you for the first time three minutes prior when you said ‘hey I’m a wandering armourer, I visit some coverts sometimes’ - all so he can reach more of our people.”

“Yeah… he won’t turn on us just because I make him feel a bit uncomfortable.”

“Not very likely.”

You nod, glad you managed to voice your worries.

They lean their forehead to yours, and you share a breath, the tradition as old as the Creed. Hil’it than tugs on your arm, pulling you closer onto their chest. You scoot over and snuggle up beside them with your back to them, their arms around you and resting their hands on your chest. You sleep much better until dawn.

Three of your buirs live at a smaller enclave some distance from the main hub of the covert. You go over to them for breakfast after Hil’it leaves for her job early. It’s only Tis-buir who’s up, as usual, pattering about in the kitchen making long breakfast just as you expected.

He pulls you close and touches your helmets together. He didn’t need to wear his helmet in his own home, or even his armour, and definitely not at this early hour, but he got into the habit since you became a Master. His set was forged before you were born and you’re grateful that he’s still around, together with your other buirs. Every time you get home, they seem to look older and older though. You wonder whether part of your panic about relationships comes from the dread that they might not be able to give their blessings to you.

“How are you doing, ad’ika?” he asks, and the way he says it is always with so much more meaning than people usually throw that question around. When Tis-buir asks it, he means it. He wants to know if you have any fears, if something bothers you, if there’s something that made you happy but don’t talk about it because you think it’s too insignificant to talk about. You hesitate, and that’s an answer in itself that he understands. “That bad, eh?”

He chuckles and steps away, back to the steamer. He checks the rice cooking there before turning back to you.

“What is it, cyare? Pirates? More beskar thieves? Or that stowaway getting in your way while you work?”

Your helmet is on so he can’t see your face, luckily, and you’re quick to deny anything.

“No, it’s not that. It’s something more… personal.” You could just end the conversation, like you often do when you don’t want to trouble your buir’e, but you came for advice. You nudge yourself mentally. Better to spit it out - it’s nothing to be ashamed about catching feelings after all. Your buir’e told their stories enough times to know they have no problem hearing about the topic.

“Oh. So, it’s about a special person. And they are.. an aruetii?” He asks, and he keeps his helmet on still, to allow you to do the same. As much as you’d like to see his face, it’s better this way.

“No, it’s… he follows the Creed too.” You admit, and your stomach is doing a flip. It’s entirely different talking to your family about this. With your friends, they’d just say their opinion and you can take it or leave it. With your aliit, you want their approval.

Tis-buir nods slowly, weighing your words. Then he reaches for his helmet and takes it off, placing it on the shelf near the counters that is there for this purpose. He leaves his scarf on, the handwoven fabric soft around his white hair and beard. You may take off your own helmet now, and you do that, placing it on the shelf beside his. You turn your snood down from your head and fold it back around your neck. He’s smiling at you.

“Shall I put two and two together, or…?”

“Why does everyone want to do math around me all of a sudden” you mutter under your breath, turning your face away in embarrassment.

“Because your friends and us know you well enough, Buy’ce’ka” he winks at you while stirring one of the pans; he knows you met your friends last evening. Using your childhood nickname brings a smile onto your face. You took into your head to became an armourer the moment you touched your first helmet. You wore it all the time even though you didn’t needed to and told everyone who would listen that one day you’ll be making buy’ce’se, helmets, yourself. Even some of the tutors called you that instead of your real name.

You go to help with breakfast. It’s not the usual simple fare but the multi course, heart-warming, belly-filling affair for a special day. You remember with a sudden pang how Djarin is probably having ration bars on his own in a sparse guest room, or maybe some porridge if he remembers to go to the communal dining hall. You somehow hope he has company, even if he is fine with solitude. You are too, but you have all these people to recharge with. How alone is he?

You almost burn the mushrooms while getting distracted. You focus back on the food, and as the house slowly stirs awake, the members of your family show up one by one and greet you over stirring pots and chopping vegetables. When all is ready, Tis-buir calls to table and you move everything into the karyai. The heart of every home where most of life happens - eating, living, receiving guests, defense during a battle - is a spacious room, and you only half fill it.

It’s only your three buir’e who live here now, and one of your vod’e lives next door. She comes over with her riduur and their usually grumpy teen who fails to hide how happy they are to see you. You don’t even make an attempt to hide anything and after touching foreheads, you pick them up and give them a hearty squeeze.

“Ba’vodu! I’m not a child anymore to just pick me up like that” they grumble after you put them back down, and you pat the top of their head.

“You’re going to need to grow a little more, vodu’ad.” You smile at them, but they suddenly go nervous.

“Are you going to come home to my verd'goten?” they say, face solemn and showing them older than they are. You see this often: the fears of a foundling, someone who lost their roots once already. The little things that a person born into a mandalorian family would never worry about rear their head in them, and you hug them close.

“Well that’s an unnecessary question. Why wouldn’t I?!”

They make you promise to come back, and you let them make a reminder of the date and time in the form of a holo message on the comm of your vambrace. You have made their first helmet years ago and they barely can hold themselves back for a few minutes before asking about the possibility of vambraces. Their new pair, forged to include pieces passed down at both side of their family’s, are hidden in the house, finished months ago, waiting for them to prove worthy to receive them.

You wouldn’t miss the occasion for the world. You’ve been there for all your vodu’ad’s, the children of your siblings; and even some of your younger cousins and unrelated ade in your clan. As you eat with your aliit, your thoughts go back to Djarin again. He must be missing that foundling he was responsible for. Who does he have for family? He mentioned some friends who helped him through bad times lately. You hope he’s on the comm with them right now, using the covert’s better equipment to reach them after having to do with what the Brick has for weeks.

You spend the day chatting, visiting the elder of your clan and more family, and one of the old warriors of the clan too, to receive her last blessings. She might still be alive the next time you visit home; she might not. You are thankful for being able to say goodbye to her. You visit the Forge last, and help out with whatever work needs doing with the other masters, until it’s time to leave for the dock.

You almost start to make excuses to prolong your stay before steeling yourself. Twenty-four hours, a standard day, that was the schedule you agreed on with Djarin. Unless he comms you that something came up on his end, you’ll leave in the evening.

The first thing you spot in the hangar is the shiny armour. That suit looks good at every angle, at any distance. Than you feel your ears flush when a little voice says in your head how that might be partially because the person under it makes it look good. You try to shove the thought to the back of your mind.

As you draw near, you can see he’s talking with your elder Thrilla. Your heart does a double-beat as all your thoughts from before come flushing back for a moment. No. They must be talking about his mission, not you. And he’s basically clan-less, or at least elder-less. It’s good to see him seeking the guidance of an elder too.

He’s standing in that hip-twisty way you’ve seen him do, with one hand on his belt. It’s a strangely relaxed and playful stance from a person who’s usually as focused and sombre as him. Thrilla glances up at you, the black of her visor glinting in the blue and green helmet. Than she shoos you away with a barely visible battle sign, turning back to Djarin. You’re a bit surprised, but make yourself scarce. Than you spot a grey head near the cargo ramp of the Brick. It’s Kad, Thrilla’s riduur and a mechanic who had helped to rebuild your ship. You go over to greet them before getting on with the preparations to leave.

This time you two will be away for longer and will travel further away. The trail to known coverts had dried up, and from now on you will be going by uncertain informations and rumours. You have experience in that, but the fact that he used to be a bounty hunter should help. You often spend days just trying to pinpoint which spaceport, which town, which mountain or cave or farmstead is the one you are looking for. You hope his expertise will help.

Your hopes are proven right. He reduces the hunting time to hours, and you scramble to finish preparing your tools and equipment.

“Nice job, hunter” you smile at him. His helmet turns towards you and he nods.

“You’re welcome, armourer” and you hear the smile in his voice too. Than you mentally chase away the butterflies that suddenly seem to have taken over your stomach.

#din djarin x gn!reader #din djarin x tall reader #post season 2 #mandalorian oc #armourer oc #cheeky mandos #my writing

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rouiyan · 4 years

Text

𝘖𝘝𝘌𝘙𝘊𝘈𝘚𝘛 𝘚𝘒𝘐𝘌𝘚 𝘈𝘕𝘋 𝘛𝘏𝘖𝘚𝘌 𝘞𝘏𝘖 𝘋𝘐𝘌 [ 𝘭.𝘫𝘯 ]

⧏ the second volume of rouiyan’s debut series, till death do us part ⧐

synopsis: “i will keep you,” he says softly, as sweet as black tea, “and i will keep you warm.” (Catherynne M. Valente, Deathless)

✧ prince!lee jeno x crown princess!reader ✧ royalty au

✧ genres : fluff, angst ✧ word count : 5.0k ✧ disclaimers : brief descriptions of nudity (nothing sexual), allusions to sex (nothing explicit), malintent

read volume one here: of the heart.

when the moon, in all her glory, begins to set, Mother Nature begins each new day by inhaling the misfortunes of the day before and blowing out frigid breaths in their stead. this morning is no exception for nothing is so clear as the wisps of fog that lie just beyond the horizon, a velarium of sorts, over the forest canopy. the sun is a little early today, but it is for naught, since its rays are caught between the tendrils of fog right as they begin to show. perhaps Mother Nature woke up in a bit of a fit today, seeing as the skies are already oozing the grays before the blues have yet to surface. Her fingers gently stir the clouds to ensure that they collide right where the earth most needs it and She's joyful in the sense that Her work can be admired from far down below. after all, the paintings She conjures in the skies are nothing short of masterpieces.

like a ceiling folding in with the pressure of water leakage, the clouds from down below give off an air of distress. the air itself is heavily encumbered with a clarity found only after the rainiest of days. and if not for the sake of the story, the author could spend hours droning on about Mother Nature's tour de force, she really would, but instead she will insert a few lines from a symphony:

The autumn mist drifts blue over the lake,

The blades of grass stand covered with frost,

The flowers' sweet scent is gone,

An icy wind bends down their stems,

My heart is weary.

Der Einsame im Herbst (The lonely one in autumn), from Mahler’s Das Lied von der Erde

in the exact opposite sense that Mother Nature loves her leaves, with tender fondness and a forgiving hand, prince jeno's father has never loved his second son more, with an impassioned sneer and a bagful of riches in mind. at least, that is exactly what prince jeno himself thinks as he skims through yet another letter, this time from his father.

son,

never did i think i would enjoy the prospect of a winter ceremony as much as i would this, perhaps you would also like to see an early coronation. i've made the necessary arrangements, i assure that you will not be suspected in the least but keep caution and wariness by your side, our family name is already a great deal tainted. thought not for long, i'll be sending a carriage to retrieve you for your rounds back home, we've ought to get going on them. the damsel is a sight for sore eyes, i presume, i'd hate for her to foil our ambitions; she is much in your hands to attend to now. i'll see you by the throne soon, my lad.

king of the southern mines, your father.

the prince's vision narrows upon the words 'coronation, arrangements, suspected, foil, throne,' and he is already a sight of frustration, fingers gripping the paper with such force that his short nails are digging into his palms through it. seething, he tears his eyes from the script before him but instead, they land on the previous letter sat atop the open escritoire. the one from his mother. the stamped edge of the paper lifts with the wind that filters through the window just above it and he has the sudden urge to let it be carried away wholly. jeno crosses the room in four steps.

with both the pages collected in his hands, jeno crouches by the mantle, the roar of a fire licking up before him. his face is drawn in concentration, jaw stiff and clenched. the lines of his brows are met with a furrow in between, set above the meek lines of his eyelids. his pupils dilate, albeit out of habitual need, in the reflection of the inferno before him. he's ever-so-aware of the distinct scent of burning coals that siphon and sharpen his reminiscence of home. it's sentient, the feelings of familiarity that overcome his senses, halting his movements, his fingers clutching the papers in a way that almost tells of longing. longing of a seemingly different world entirely, one that he has only ever known until a few weeks prior. being washed anew in distant lands and over the course of a single lunation, jeno finds that he's never felt more mismatched from himself, disconnected from the people who raised him in contrast to the people who have brought out the better in him. but the embers are not the only thing he smells, not the only he sees, or heeds to.

the pearly carrara marble of the mantle tells stories in the grayed lines that trail across its posh surface. his eyes rove over the white, the faith and purity of your heraldry binded with the emblem of your family. the white of angels, of untainted relations, sterility in empowerment, the inviolable you. the white tells stories that the black never could.

so jeno finds a warm pleasure in the way the flames overwhelm the papers with eager enthusiasm, the damned words of his parents receding into mere ash. prince jeno thinks he could forever part with the world if it asked him to feast his eyes on this very sight until the end of time.

despite arousing before the sun, you are disappointed when it starts to chase your wakefulness. there is something edging the growing unease in your mind, as if time is trickling down the drain of the past, too fast and too unforgiving. as if time is berating at your senses, telling you there is much more than what meets the eye but for the life of you, you cannot pinpoint what. for now though, you tend to the pressing matters at hand, jeno has been called home for his rounds, rather abruptly.

"perhaps i should go with you, rounds don't always have to be made by one per-”

jeno cuts you off effectively, "they are very much a one person duty," he assures pointedly. your nose scrunches, the light inconveniences starting to rub off on your exasperation. in a tired voice you mumble, "we could always change it up a bit, i'm sure." jeno chuckles heartily at that, his hand coming up from his side to rub out the lines of stress in your forehead.

"little miss princess, you're saying that as if you do not have rounds to complete of your own. i'm almost certain you host are a far greater amount of people that wish to be invited to the ceremony than i have-"

it's your turn to cut him off now, "why don't you stay with me then?" in attempts to enhance the force of your resolve, you uncover a hand of your own from under the sheets to comb through his locks. the way his eyes instantly close to relish in your touch paired with the little purr he gives is almost telltale of your victory. almost.

jeno pauses, his eyes flicker back open, and a soft knowing smile runs along the features of his face as he shakes his head, in knowledge of your artful tactics to wear him down. "and neglect my kingdom and their desires?"

you've left the feelings of frustration behind, instead deciding to fool around with the boy, to see what you can get out of him for good fun, "but we've yet to decide what flowers to use as centerpieces. and whether we're throwing a private or public ball. wedding preparations are surely more important than handing out personal invites…we can cut corners one some niceties." jeno knows better than to let his guard down. the jeno around y/n isn't to be trusted as easily. he settles for words of comfort instead, "i'll write."

"well, that's of course. silly of you to voice something as unequivocal as that."

a pause and his resolve is slipping, "maybe a few short visits back wouldn't hurt." you lick your lips in good-natured fun, another pause, "i'm sure my father wouldn't half mind if we cut it a week short." your eyes look hazy to him, though in reality they are simply amused, and drawing words from him he isn't even sure he's saying. "or- or maybe i could convince him, or try to at least…," he trails on and on.

your satisfied a certain amount and, suppressing a smile from giving away your plotted schemes, you mutter quietly, mostly for your own pondering, "i'm thinking alliums would make a statement, blue alliums." jeno gives a noise of confusion, unsure of how you've suddenly come to talk of flowers. "the centerpieces, i mean." jeno's silence only urges you on, "alliums, or blue alliums at that, are symbols of unity and good fortune. i think that'd make a nice combination with a base of milkweed, dignity and freedom, if my memory serves me right."

the prince has found his voice, "what of the rounds?" but he's met with a small chortle, "nothing, a month is a month, i'm sure we'll work around it."

"but, i- i'm not sure i understand. you were adamant enough a millisecond ago, and now-"

"and now i'm telling you i was toying with you, dear sir. such fun it is when you let on more than you'd like."

jeno's cheeks flush, the warm color dusting the bridge of his nose, apples of his cheeks, tips of his ears. your warm smile and benign banter bring him the simplest of joys. he's not sure he's ever felt this way before. familiarity. and, not the familiarity that comes from his assigned butler since birth, or the old lady at the apothecary he's been to all his life that's paid to tend to his wounds. not the familiarity that comes with blood and playing house, the type of sickened familiarity he feels with his brother, doyoung, that every second spent with him is forced. the familiarity he feels with you is by choice, by genuine and sincere desire. you want to wake up in the mornings with him by your side. you want to spend breakfast pushing each other's toes away underneath the table. you want to hold his hand when he walks you to your carriage. you want to make love with him in the most ungodly hours of the day. which is exactly what happens that morning.

a day is barely enough to do all the things you've penned in your journal. things to be done before you were to be married, with the one you were to be married to. the list had been written, curated, and refined by nine-year-old you, who you must say, had some very good ideas, though verily a romanticist.

jeno is departing tomorrow morning, as early as the sun will permit, and suddenly you wish that it would never rise again. whatever the case, you set out first thing this morning, hand tugging along a very tired prince, for the bathing pool. nine-year-old you must have misinterpreted the meaning of 'skinny dipping' for swimming but you thank nine-year-old you because things seem to have worked out in your favor either way. jeno is jolted awake by the gelid water, the seasons now mark three-quarters into fall.

"go in first," you state simply, hands on your hips and eyes drawn down into the water. the single toe you had dipped in to test the waters is frigid and frozen. jeno, who has yet to finish undressing himself, nodded at your words. if he were looking in your direction he would've noticed the smirk on your face. he stands straight, boxers on the ground behind him as he takes place by your side, "cold?"

"not at all, surprisingly," he's looking at you now and your countenance can't help but decompose in front of him, a small, unsuspecting smile adorning your lips. "oh really, can you attest for that?"

the smile is now blossoming unto your cheeks, "are you telling me to go in first?" the prince nods at that, fully aware of your schematics, "yes, i would like to see you enter the warm water."

"you agreed to go in first just a few seconds ago, don't tell me you've backed out on your word," a feeble matter against the boy but he defends himself by saying, "devious little princess, as if this wasn't your idea."

you're equally defensive when you point out, "not me, directly, but rather me as a child-" he pushes you in. lee jeno, second prince of the esteemed southern kingdom pushes you into the subzero degree bathing pool.

assuredly though, he dives in a few seconds after he's had time to relish in your shocked expression and piercing screams. he's coming up for air, his hands have found your bare hips to make sure that you resurface together. or drown together, you think, because it seems his foot is caught in the crevices between two rocks and since he's writhing like a madman, you're writhing with him too. it's a strange sight, two very beautiful individuals, absolutely in love but absolutely inane, for if jeno had thought to let go of his grip on you, you might've been able to unlodge his foot altogether if he had not been set on wrangling both your bodies about.

it's four minutes later that the two of you are on the leveled bronze rock, now, absolutely loosing it over jeno's lack of common sense. both of you are having trouble breathing, spurts of water still occasionally gushing past his lips. he thinks you're most beautiful in your bare skin, with nothing to define you but yourself. he's running his fingers up and down your torso, lips connecting with the surface of your neck. he appreciates that you kiss him with such avidity, you always do. jeno loves that you make it known to him, that what you say, you mean. and that even if you were never to utter a word again, he would still understand the sheer vehemence with which you love him.

you cross off paragliding, building a snowman, and studying together for a test. not because they've been completed but because there simply is no plausible way to get them done with the deadline closing in fast. the next activity you present to jeno has his eyebrows raised in intrigue. he's quick to reply when you ask him.

"a moon, a quartered moon." the knowing smile that grows on your face tells him he's chosen correctly.

jeno gives a squeeze to your hand as the needle comes in contact with your clean skin. the first few minutes are highlighted by the sensation of a million bee stings, racking through your brain, but the rest is relatively smooth sailing. yours comes out just as good as jeno's, a small moon, a quartered moon, tattooed into the skin just behind the left ear. there specifically, so that it's known by each other and each other only.

there will be months passed before the moon becomes a sort of unspoken but affirmative communication instrument. when jeno loves you a little too much, he rubs the inked skin softly. his sleepless nights are cured with the pad of your finger upon the spot. between the many general meetings you're required to oversee in a day, jeno waits outside the conference room for you to exit, his fingers stroking the moon for the duration of the few seconds allotted to him before you're whisked away again. the symbol of night is translated into accounts of bonding, the smallest of things giving way to happiness.

you would say the uses of the 'lovemark' are amplified as the sun retreats and the mascot of your relationship shines brighter than ever. it's evident in the look on jeno's face, especially, a few feet below you, peering up your skirt with a dumbstruck look on his face.

"jeno, dear, now is really not the time." the boy clears his throat and looks away, baffled at how you'd caught him anyways. your position is so frightfully awkward, one foot on the top end of your chamber's windowsill, another bent and hoisted onto the flat ledge of your roof. "come on up now, and get those dirty thoughts out of your mind. for heaven's sake, we're here to watch the sunset and stargaze, not to pound into each other."

the prince laughs at your offhanded remarks, arriving himself on the platform. the view is expansive in the way that you can see the forest from here, the ocean if you squint, the hills set in the far distance, and the sky has never felt closer to the earth while the things you've always known to be near appear smaller and more distant than ever. even the gregarious tree stalks of the forest rise to what could be measured as an only inch from this outlook.

"nine-year-old y/n seems to have known nothing but fun days." jeno muses, leaning his weight back upon his hands. your eyes are glazed in an omniscient mist, "i'd expect so, she was born and raised with everything." the prince picks up on the tone of distaste with which you'd spoken your words. he turns to you and studies the hairs that fall in your eyes, "hardly fair."

you reply not a beat after, "not at all fair. if i were to accomplish one thing during my run as queen, i'd give the children opportunities of a lifetime." the thoughts tumble out of your mind, as if you'd known of this conviction of yours since you were but a child. your drive as a ruler, firm and headstrong to implement your values and beliefs on your subjects has been the sole idea that's grounded you in the castle for your entire time being.

"and what if you cannot?"

your first reply is dealt with in humble humor, "at the very least, i'd like it to be engraved on my tombstone that i tried." the second, is laden with a sorrowful undertone, "housing, schooling, meals and warmth in the winter. we have it the worst here up north. if they are without school, they are left with nothing." jeno's head turns to yours, he sees the slip of a tear and he wipes it away, only to be met with another. your voice cracks in despair, "there are no mining jobs to take up, no farms to harvest, aqueducts to run. i dread that one day i must rule a kingdom of arts."

jeno tries, he really does, to gather you in his arms but your sobs rack your body with such force that he is left to comfort your desolations with words and a hand on your back, "what is there to dread? are the arts so difficult to maintain?"

bitterness forms at the tip of your tongue, "no, jeno. i regress in the face that art is invaluable. but the world seeks to attach a price to every viable thing, to label the passion of others. and now, now the arts are for the rich, only for the rich. have you ever heard of a hungry man paint instead of seeking shelter from the rain? a woman who writes prose instead of feeding her dying children? there is no one who can live solely on art but the heavens have sent me to rule a horde of those very people."

the prince knows you need to voice the thoughts weighing down your mind, so he gives them a platform, a nudge, "a kingdom of arts would be blessed to house a queen with intentions such as yourself, surely there are others who hold the same principles as you."

"no doubt," your eyes cast on the forming stars, "but as much as i would love to trail a path of meliorism and say that with a tide of willingness, there will be change, i must not forget the real nature of the world we live in."

"and what is this nature that you speak of?"

"the drive of greed and sadism, in exchange for the feeblest of pleasures."

the world comes to a still in this very moment. the moon begins her ascent. the stars unsheath their full luminance. the whites of their gleam reflecting on the rooftop on which the two of you are sat. time and space shrivel in the potency of untainted humanity.

"we will bring change, you and i."

you feel your heart calm as your rambling ceases. jeno looks over at you and smiles.

prince jeno is scheduled to return in twenty seven days time. there is something that feels wrong about him leaving. a feeling that if he leaves, all hell with turn loose and you will be unleashed unto the dogs for ravaging. there is a coated and unspoken thought that splutters in your mind whenever you even dare so much as to begin to think of it. the possibility that with jeno's leave, you'll be left with the realization that it was all a phase of infatuation. that when you see him again, all the feelings that you'd built up over the course of a month and a few days was just a glamourized dream. that he was never real; the real that you needed.

"i'll be forever thinking of those lips on mine, maybe even missing them," you let, comically. jeno eyes you conspicuously, "and i'll be forever thinking of you, as a whole, not just the lips unlike you. a little fixated you sounded there, mind you." his little sniggers are given in response to your hands pushing his chest in frisky response. the prince pulls you closer into a final embrace, the coachman of his black carriage is awaiting his departure.

he parts from you and you can't help but trail behind him down the paved path. he's over his shoulder now as you let loose a sliver of your deepest worries, meekly, "i hope we never change, jeno."

the prince halts at the bottom steps that curl into the palace. he sees you, feels you, knows you, for he quotes, “i will keep you,” he says softly, as sweet as black tea, “and i will keep you warm.” (Catherynne M. Valente, Deathless)

jeno can hear the light pellets of raindrops hit the roof of his carriage. the gray skies are darkening by the second, it's telling him something that he's sure he doesn't want to hear. his fingers fiddle with the cuffs of his tailored suit jacket, something you'd requested be made for him when his stay was first prolonged. the prince is entirely clad in white and he knows enough to imagine the face his mother will make when she first sees him home. lee jeno doesn't remember a time when he's donned a color other than black, but somehow, the white doesn't feel too far from home.

with the white, his mind flashes with the events of the past month or so spent in your noble abode. you, on the other hand, rarely ever wore a color other than white, the most differing shade being a cream or beige. but even with all the lights, you never seemed to mind when they were dirtied. almost always, a day in the fields or by the bathing pool would drench a good six inches of your skirts in mud and the unfurled hems of your frocks or crinkled fronts of those sweaters you so often adorned were always beyond your notice. you were free in that way, never stopping to fuss over the little things you deemed unimportant. jeno thinks if he could live that way too and though he isn't sure if he can, he knows he wants to.

jeno can hear the spindles of the carriage gyrating with added resistance against the now watered-down mud of the trodden roads. his eyes are caught in the sky that looks as if it's to detonate at any given second. he predicts the thunder before it rings loud in his ears and he hears the coachman slash a whip to a trepid horse, an echo of the natural phenomenon. he wonders what it would feel like to be the coachman, out in the clamorring downpour, or perhaps the horse, blindlessly running to the crack of a whip, or the trees even, awoken by the threat of a fire. he wonders if he has any desire to be the lightning itself, to jab at the delicate foliage as he'd like, to set fire to that of which he doesn't like, to wield destructive power. he wonders, but he knows he doesn't want to.

lee jeno is in his carriage when he realizes what it means to be free, but not in the hindrance of others. he realizes what it means, not to rule but rather to guide without the oppression of others. lee jeno is also in his carriage when the skies turn black and a deluge of rain is unleashed upon the castle of white.

a man a few inches brief to the prince, but of higher rank in swordsmanship, is propped on the limestone trellis that holds the awning in place, his two feet hooked between the vertical balusters of stone and fingers clung onto the ridge of the balustrade. he finds it ludicrous that every individual of importance he has ever met, is so caught up in their own belief that they are untouchable, where in reality they are the most vulnerable of all. he thinks this, specifically, as he upturns himself over the railing and onto the landing, only to see that the king's door are left wide open, the only shield of protection being the pristine white curtains glinting a sheen of blue in the moonlight.

renjun is humored when, upon drawing the curtains back, the king himself is simply laying there on the ground, unconscious as he was informed he'd be. the knight presses two fingers to the inner wrist of the withered man and finds that he still has a job to finish. brandishing a blade from the underside of his calf, he deems the inscription on the handle fit for the deed. he drives it into the gut but makes quick work of it, the sputters of blood that erupt from the now-awakened royal something he wishes the guards just outside not to hear. renjun makes further assurance that the blade is firmly put in place, the stout palladium shaft protruding from the king's abdomen like the ring of a windup toy.

a black body bag is used to sheath the quickly-paling bag of bones. it is left under the light of the moon, through a skylight rounded in the dead center of the palace. around the malefaction, stairs wind in all directions from the ground up and if there were even one maid to have crossed the landing once in the night, she would have been met with what looked to be an unassuming trash bag. but fate had it so the sun would rise before your dead father was stumbled upon, an inscribed shank planted between his internal organs reading, this star-like solitude (Giuseppe Ungaretti, from Last Choruses for the Promised Land: XVI (tr. by Patrick Creagh)).

the blood that seeps from the measly opening in the bag is not silver, nor is it gold. it is blood red. the red of a brazen senex that perhaps preceded and proceeded his times, entangled in the intricacies of the new age, the new game of politics he simply had no means to play at. akin to the webs of an arachnid, the string of fate hung around his neck, thin and unnoticeable, cinching with each passing second until Mother Nature deemed his time up. the blood that seeps writhes in the rays of the sun, twines like the veins in the marble beneath it. it seeps until the figure in the sack is drained and the clumping skin of human remains is the same shade as the white tiling. red against white, white against black, the black of a crying sky.

read volume three: dearly departed.

✧ end note — i had such a hard time trying to pull this outta my ass in a way that captures everything i wanted to say. so thank you for reading this piece. it’s one of my most favorite things i have ever written, undoubtedly.

#nct fics #nct scenarios #nct ff #nct jeno #nct lee jeno #jeno x reader #jenoxreader #jeno imagines #jeno fluff #jeno angst #jeno blurbs #rouiyan fics #rouiyan writes

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thestruidora · 4 years

Text

Landslide

The Avengers (MCU) Fanfiction

Rating: Explicit

WARNINGS: This story will contain but it’ll not be limited to explicit 18+ content including Obsessive Behavior, Smut, Shower Sex, Edging, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Fluff, Oral Sex, thigh riding, Dirty Talk, Praise Kink, Jealousy, Possessive Behavior, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Dominance, Submission, Knotting, Scenting, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Rutting, Rut Sickness

Category: F/M

Pairings: Steve Rogers/Reader, Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov

Summary: Steve was never quite sure if he truly was an alpha. Genetically he should be, coming from a long line of alpha males. But due to the several health conditions in his youth, his poorly functioning body never presented. But now, because of the serum reacting to his true designation, a terrible case of rut sickness takes hold of the super soldier, threatening his life. Being a beta, Natasha can’t offer him what he needs, and since omegas are rarer today then ever, she is forced to hire a foreign girl to tend to Steve during these desperate times.

Author’s notes: So the reader is finally introduced in this chapter, and since she is foreign and I’m Brazilian, she’ll be from Brazil as well, as is easier for me to include a language that I already know (Portuguese) and also cultural curiosities. But our similarities stop there, I’m not trying to make the reader into me, that’d totally defeat the point of writing a reader insert story.

Shout outs: @captainchrisstan, @keenkiddeputynickel, @danidv011, @ballyhoobarnes, @pophbfdsxa, @crashbarbie, @readermia, @musicnowandforever661

Thank you so much for you guy’s support!

Chapter Three

For those who missed it >>

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Miscommunication

“This not a good idea.” Bucky spoke, for what it seemed to be the hundredth time.

“So you’ve said, over and over again. I didn’t ask you to come, you know? ” Natasha sighed, focused on steadfastly driving the plane, her hands firmly planted on each side of the control wheel. “He’s in pain, Barnes. And if Bruce’s right about his diagnosis, it’s only going to get worse.”

“I’m the last person in the world who wants to see Steve suffering. He’s my best friend, Romanoff.” The Soldier’s shoulders were tense as he looked straight out of the aircraft's window, seeing the big building in the approaching horizon. “But we have to think about what he would want for a second. I mean, he fights to get these kinds of places shut down.”

“Well, Captain America’s moral code is the least of my worries right now.” The redhead’s voice came out in a harsh bark, jaw clenched as she smoothly landed the machine. Once the engines stopped and they took off their seat-belts, she looked over at Bucky, who’s face was series and unreadable. Before he could get up, she stopped him. “Look, I despise this too. But we’ve looked everywhere, Barnes. This is the only way and I… And we have to save him.”

Bucky shook his head, eyebrows knotted in a frown, but eventually opened his expression to her, knowing she was right.

“When he finds out that we came here…” He murmured, letting out a long breath and getting up from his seat, Natasha hot on his tail as they left the plane.

“He’s not going to find out.” She said, voice low but never faltering. He stopped dead in his track, noticing the obvious threat in the Russian Agent’s voice. She kept walking as if nothing happened, never looking back, her stride straight and calm. “Right?”

He looked up at the imposing structure of the building ahead of them, the entire place looked dark and mono-toned, as if it had come out of a horror picture. It was a skyscraper, tall with many floors and windows. Tons and tons of windows, all square and sealed with fat metal bars. A shiver went up his spine when he thought of what was being kept inside of that prison, and Bucky wondered if Steve not knowing about any of this wasn’t for the best after all.

“Right.” He let out, following her to the entry with reluctant feelings.

They stopped at a massive closed gate, noting the security cameras surrounding the whole area. Natasha approached the scanning mechanism at the superior right corner of the iron door, letting it scan her retina. After a couple of seconds, a loud buzzing ringed through their ears and the gate opened slowly.

Surprisingly, the place looked extremely luxurious, thou clean and minimalist. There was a grand open space, completely grassed and filled with flowers, like a secret private garden. There were a couple of trees with comfortable-looking swings on them, providing a welcoming shadow to cool off in summer days. But at the sides of the garden, they could also see two tall stone towers, where armed man monitored Natasha and Bucky’s every move.

Stunned at the juxtaposition of the whole thing, they kept walking towards a fancier looking door than the ones before, this one made of a glass-like material that led to a reception area, where they could see a blonde woman typing away in her computer. Her posture was straight and her physique was lean. Her hair was pulled back in a slick bun, not a single strand out of place, making her forehead look bigger than probably was in reality.

There were a few leather sofas on the lounge, but not one single person in the waiting room but the receptionist, and with the level of security and organization of the place, both agents were willing to bet that whoever came there, didn’t have to wait around for long.

“Merhaba, size nasıl yardımcı olabilirim?” The receptionist spoke once they approached her, not ever looking up from the keyboard she typed on, her clear polished nails nothing but a blur as her fingers moved at top speed.

“Hum… ” Natasha turned to look at Bucky for a second, checking to see if he knew Turkish, because that was, unfortunately, one of the few languages that she was not fluent on. But the brunet simply shrugged, looking at her with an impassive expression taking over his features . “Hi!” She tried, and the second that that simple English word left her lips, the blonde woman behind the desk quit typing, her hands stopping mid-air as she finally looked up at them, a spooked look in her face, her skin tone getting even paler than before, almost as if she had just seen a ghost. “We’re here to speak with Mr. Bürsin, actually.” Natasha continued, sharing an uncertain look with Bucky due to the woman’s reaction .

“You are Natasha Romanoff? Mr. Bürsin had already let me know you were coming, but I was told that you’re Russian and… Alone.” She had a tick accent a strict-looking face, even though her scared expression, her royal-blue blazer just a little too tight for her chesty frame.

“Well, there was a minor change of plans.” Romanoff’s voice and posture shifted, mimicking the blond’s, an old manipulation tactic that always seemed to work on Alpha females, like this one, her pheromones strongly wafting out, overpowering her overly sweet perfume and making Bucky want to growl, but instead, he simply rolled his eyes, not at all caring about the dissatisfaction that his presence caused . “I’m sure he won’t mind, thou.”

“I’m sure he will.” With a frown she picked up the phone on her desk, dialing only one number and then proceeding to have a long conservation in Turkish, before finally hanging up. “Mr. Bürsin will see you now.” She gave off a tight smile , knuckles turning white while she still held on to the phone, and before they could move, she spoke again. “But only Miss Romanoff, not the Alpha.”

“What?” Natasha and Bucky said at the same time.

“Why?” The redhead crossed her arms under her breasts, trying really hard not to get visually annoyed.

“Ma'am, we have protocols in place, he cannot come in.” The woman’s tone was polite, but still condescending.

“Don’t ‘ma’am’ me. Do I look like a ma’am to you?” Her eyebrows shot up, completely giving up on the previous plan by now. “I’m probably younger than you.”

When the receptionist expression didn’t change, Bucky touched the Russian woman in the arm, getting her attention.

“Romanoff, it’s fine.”

“No, you-”

“This is more important than any of that, remember why we’re here.” His voice was but a whisper, so that only she could hear. “Besides, I pity the fool that tries to mess with you. You can handle yourself, with or without me.” She smiled at that, looking at him for a while before nodding.

“Alright, let’s go.” Natasha said, giving the blonde a pointed look as she got up from her seat and away from her desk, starting to walk towards one of the many corridors of the building.

“Follow me, please.” Her accent hanged heavy, her hips swinging while she strode atop of her hills.

In the hall, Natasha saw many doors, all closed and guarded b y strong, armed man. There was an ample opening at the end of the hall, where the receptionist stopped, indicating for her to continue with a nod of the head.

When she walked in, noting as the woman closed the door behind her, she almost blacked out from the sheer smell of the room. The whole place looked sterile, but still reeked of Omega pheromones. Even for Natasha, a Beta, it was dizzying. Now she understood why it was so imperative that Bucky was not allowed to come inside.

The room was packed full of chairs, placed in a big circle that led to a stage. There were only man sitting in those chairs, all extremely well dressed. Some old, some young, but all clearly rich. Not one of them gave her a second glance, all to focused on what was about to happen on that stage. There was a narrow hallway in the center, in between all of the chairs. And right next to the stage, in a front-row seat, she saw the back of his head, and noticed the empty seat next to his.

Making a beeline for it, she sat down, yearning desperately for a take of fresh air right about now that she was so close to the stage, where the Omega smell was the strongest, being slowly mixed with all of those Alpha’s scents.

“Do me a favor and warn me next time you bring a friend, will you?” Emir Bürsin’s voice was low and raspy, the light golden hair in his head tinning out and turning grey with age. But still, he was a very handsome man. Strong and muscular, but not bulky, with long, big arms straining inside of this tailored suit jacket.

“There will be no next time.” Natasha was quick to answer, not at all impressed by his imposing build. He gave her one fast look, a crooked smile plastered on his face as he sat down in his front-row chair like a king, legs crossed in a nonchalant display.

“Oh, I bet. Once you try one of my girls, you’ll never want for seconds.” His smile became even bigger when Natasha couldn’t control the disgusted look in her eyes. “But you’re not shopping for yourself today, are you, Widow?”

She didn’t appreciate the use of the nickname, turning to stare at the stage as the lights of the room stared dimming and a cold-toned spotlight shone brightly at the center of the stage.

“No, definitely not.” He laughed to himself as she continued to ignore his remarks, frowning a bit when slow background music started to play. “You know, in this business people talk. And I happened to hear such an interesting tale.”

“I’m dying to hear it.” She murmured, the sarcasm strongly embedded in her features by then.

“I heard- oh, thank you.” He was cut off as different Beta woman, clearly assistants of the place, began to give out number plates to each and every man sitting in the room, making a point not to give one to Natasha. She frowned again at that, getting more and more confused by the minute. As they continued to work the room, he proceeded . “I heard that one of your brand-new, shiny superhero friends got himself into a pretty sticky situation, if you know what I mean. Apparently — and again, this all word-of-mouth —, he succumbed into such a bad rut, that he may actually die if he doesn’t get his hands on an Omega, can you imagine that ? Dying from horniness?”

His scoff was loud on Natasha’s ears, and she never had to restrain herself from punching someone so bad.

“And after years without speaking, completely out of the blue, you call me up to ask for a favor.” A man appeared on stage and, wearing a suit and tie, he stood behind a podium, turning on the microphone in front of him and shuffling through cards. “And that favor just so happens to be exactly what our favorite Captain needs to survive, isn’t that such a funny coincidence? Don’t you just love when the universe plays this crazy pranks on us? I mean, what are the odds of these two situations not being connected?”

By the time he was done, the man on stage had started to talk in Turkish, and the audience cheered on to whatever he was saying.

“What do you want to keep your mouth shut about this, Emir? More money?” Natasha asked, mouth forming a little circle when an entirely naked woman entered the stage, s topping in the middle of the stoplight. Her hands were mechanically stuck to her sides, her limbs clearly trembling as she just stood there, completely exposed for those man’s eyes.

“Money? Fuck money, I got enough of that. I want security.” Natasha wasn’t fully processing the conversation at that point, looking over at Emir who had picked up his number plate and put it up, waiting for it to get acknowledged by the man behind the podium before putting it down.

“What do you mean?” Her lips were moving, she knew she was forming words, but a big part of her brain wasn’t truly there.

Her eyes scanned throughout the room, seeing as other men were also putting their plates up, and that’s finally when it hit her. Her blood ran cold when she realized what was happening, and her vision got stuck on that poor girl standing there, her body shaven from eyebrows down, beginning to follow the instructions of the spokesman, turning around to show the audience her form from behind, and them proceeding to slightly open her legs to show the inside of…

Natasha closed her eyes, not wanting to see more, turning so that Emir couldn’t see her face. She felt like throwing up, a little lightheaded as well. So this was what he did here, he ran auctions, Omega auctions.

“I want the security of knowing that no matter what happens, neither you or anyone of your super assholes are going to come busting through here and ruin my business, that’s what I want.” She tried swallowing down the knot that had formed in her throat, putting on her best poker face to look back at him, only to find the man smiling over winning the bidding. He turned to her, putting the plate down on his lap as the girl left the stage and another waked in right after. “ Do we have an understanding ?”

“We do.” The steadiness of her voice shocked even Natasha herself, but Emir didn’t seem to notice a thing, looking comfortable and relaxed, not taken aback one bit by the situation that was taken place.

“Lovely.” He quickly got up, leaving the number plate on top of his seat, and closed his jacket, exaggerating the slimness of his waist. “So, now that we got that out of the way, do you want to come and meet the present that I hand-wrapped for Mr. Rogers myself?”

Natasha got up as well, trying to ignore the raging feeling running through her body, forcing herself to think of Steve, to think back to the reason she was there, and nod in response to his question, instead of doing what she really would like to, which would be betting him into a pulp.

“I just hope I got the right size.” He chirped as they star ted walking out of the auction room, out into the corridor and entering one of the many doors, where a small bedroom was home to a frightened-looking young woman.

Everything hurt.

His whole body ached, literally. He could literally feel the muscles underneath his skin contracting and expanding, and the pain was all so bad. He could feel his lungs enlarging as he breathed air in and shrinking as he exhaled it out, and the burn was almost maddening.

This wasn’t what a normal rut was supposed to feel like, of that Steve was sure. No other person should ever have to feel the way he was feeling, ever.

This was hell.

His own bedroom ha d become hell.

His back was pressed to the bed, the sheets were so soaked with sweat that he felt like he could drown. He tried showering, but that had been a bad idea altogether.

He hated the hellfire that his skin had become, that he had passed the point of feverish a long time ago and now whenever the cold water hit his flesh, vapor could be seen wafting through the air.

But that wasn’t even the worst part, it was the smell. The simple smell of soap, from that ‘vintage’ brand that tries to recreate the classic scents from older eras, the one that he used to love. Now, that smell made him want to trow up.

Now, most smells around his house hit him differently, making his stomach turn and nausea overtake him. He definitely hasn’t eaten in a while, he could see it too, in the quick passing glances he gives to the mirror, how skinnier he has gotten.

The bed is the only place where he doesn’t feel like putting his guts out. Because it smells of him. Only him, and nothing else. No one else. Isn’t that sad? That his body so desperately earns for another, but since it can’t have it, it prefers to slowly shut down and die alone.

All of a sudden, the doorbell rang, and Steve berried his face in his pillow, a growling noise involuntarily coming from his chest at the idea of having to come to the door. That was the worst part of his apartment. The one that smelled the least like him and more like others, especially like Alphas. Oh, god, he hates Alphas. And yes, that includes himself.

“Steve?” He could hear a female voice from outside the door, calling out to him, and the Alpha inside got excited for a second, before the scent of Beta hit his nose, making his face contour into a grimace. “It’s Natasha, can I come in?”

He could hear keys jiggling before he could even answer. Hadn’t he made her give him the keys to his apartment last time?

“No!” He screamed at her, his voice hoarse due to the lack of use.

He wanted to die, in private, was that so hard to understand?

“Well, too bad.” He could hear when she closed the door behind her and began walking towards his room.

“Don’t come in.” He barked as her shadow stopped outside of his door, which was almost completely closed, if not by a tiny slit.

“What? Why?”

Because your mere presence makes me want to break every single square inch of this bedroom while I trow up on top of the debris. That’s what he wanted to say, but instead- “I’m naked.”

“I’ve seen you naked already.” She sighed from behind the barrier that separated her from entering his room, invading his space. And he really didn’t want to be rude to her, not again, but Natasha could be really push y , and it’s not like he could control most of the words that come out of his mouth in the state’s his in.

“And I didn’t like it then, nor will I like it now.” He tried to stop the relief that rushed through him when he heard her murmur a small ‘ok’. “What do you want, Nat?”

“Look, we don’t have much time now, and Banner says the only thing that’s keeping you alive after all these days suffering through what your body’s been suffering is also the thing that made you sick in the first place: the serum. He says that the only thing that you’ll get better and survive this, is seeing your rut out with an Omega.”

At the mere mention of the word, his dick twitched, a wave of pleasure-laced pain cutting through his lower body, and Steve had to contain a moan, embarrassment warming his cheeks even more than they already were.

“I already heard all that before, Nat. I know my situation, but it’s too late now.” He gritted his teeth against each other, getting pretty good at coasting through the pain by then. “And I’m fine with that.”

“But it doesn’t have to be like that.” Maybe she could hear his eyes rolling, because before he tried to ask her to leave once more she spoke again. “Listen, Steve, I know you didn’t want anyone to know about what is happening to you, and I wanted to respect that, but I… But none of us could just sit by and watch you die.”

Her mouth was suddenly dry, her vocal cords scraping against each other ruggedly, creating an unpleasant sound and making it clear that she was nervous, but Steve let her continue, his heart beating faster with her every word.

“So Tony put out an ad, letting people know that Captain America was in need of help, and if any Omega out there was willing they could come to the facility and get tested to see if they were compatible with you. A lot of women showed up — shocker —,” She let out a humorless laugh, listening to nothing but silence in return, “but most of them weren’t even Omegas, and the ones that were weren’t compatible with you. But finally, yesterday, this foreign girl showed up, she doesn’t know much English, but she says that you saved her in Sokovia and that she’d like to save you now. So, if you still want me to go and leave you be, I will, but if you’re done with this whole self-loathing and self-harm thing, I could invite her in, and you two could have tons of savage sex and also not die.”

A long time went by after that, a long period of silence, where only Steve’s labored breathing could be heard. He didn’t say anything, but that wasn’t intentional. He was stunned, actually, still trying to digest everything that Natasha had said. Considering every word, processing it slower than he usually would in his natural state.

“Steve?” The redhead’s voice ringed, waking him up from his trance. “Did you even hear what I said?”

“She’s outside?!” Was the first thing that he could think of saying, voice strained, sounding a little scared, even.

“Yeah, me and Bruce brought her over. Like I said, she knows very little English but she was clear on the fact that she wanted to help you.”

“And we’re compatible?”

“Yes!”

“Are you sure?”

“Oh, my God. Just put some clothes on and get out here!” She demanded, bossy as always, but his Alpha wouldn’t take that, not right now. A loud growl emerged from him, and Steve had to physically restrain himself from breaking something.

Still, he took a deep breath, his head hurt so bad that he wasn’t sure he was capable of getting up. But he pushed through, having to hold his head with both hands to try and make the room stop spinning. Very slowly he got out of bed, immediately missing the familiarity that it provided him.

He looked over at his closet, seeing all of his clothes laid out neatly, and only the thought of having any of that fabric on top of his skin was painful enough to make him give up on that premise entirely and put on his robe instead. Th e feel of it was still very much wrong, but knowing that he would be able to take it off much quicker than any other piece of clothing was just a little more soothing.

If there was one thing you needed to understand about Steve Rogers, is that he was a planner. He not only loved to plan, he was good at it too. He’d plan his missions, his day s , his meals, everything meticulously. That was when he was at he’s most comfortable, making up a plan and following it through. He wasn’t completely against making things up as he went, but saying that it didn’t make him anxious would be a lie.

He always preferred to know how things were going to play out, and this wasn’t any different. He had already created a route for this whole rut sickness deal: he was slowing going to die alone inside of his room, leave his shield to Sam and his comic book collection to Bucky, maybe his record player and records would go to Tony, and he would leave that pretty brooch he got from his mom to Natasha. That was it. It was a date.

But all of that changed now and he had to reroute his way around this. And that’s precisely what he was doing as he approached the door, already having wrapped himself in his robe.

He was going to go out there, tell this poor girl that she didn’t owe him anything, that he was happy to know that he had saved her life in Sokovia, and that she should go out into the world and find love, not wait around like had. Then he would apologize for his friends bringing her here, tell them all to leave him alone for good, and he’d even keep his posture throughout the whole ordeal.

That was the new plan, and he was happy with it. Yeah, this was good. This could work.

“Finally.” Steve heard Natasha say when he left his bedroom, entering the living room, a weird fuzzy feeling catching a hold of him for some reason. “So, can I tell Banner to let her in?”

He simply nodded, not sure what to do with a different kind of sensation starting in his lower abdomen. It wasn’t necessarily good, but it wasn’t bad either, which was surprising, because all he could feel of lately was bad. An uneasy, unplaceable feeling forming. And it was something completely new. Was it… Excitement?

Natasha opened the entry door of his apartment again, getting out but leaving it open. He could hear her and Bruce talking softly in the hallway, but he didn’t care to try to understand what they were saying, he didn’t care about anything, not anymore.

Because even before they walked back in, with a young woman following close behind them, with her hair pulled back and a makeup clean face, eyes glued to the ground and hands closed together in front of her body, he had already smelled her. He had already taken a big whiff of that intoxicating scent, goosebumps staring at the back of his neck, travelling all the way to his cock and making it leak precum. He had already set his eyes on that Omega.

And by then, he knew.

Fuck the plan.

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